Heinz noticed it, all of a sudden.
It was no longer falling.
The world stood still.
There was no gravity, not even a sense of time. Only silence remained.
Beneath his head was something softer than fabric, quieter than sound.
And someone's hand gently stroked his hair.
He knew who it was.
"…Still not used to it?"
Beno's voice was soft, light as the wind.
Heinz didn't answer right away.
When he looked around, he saw a library stretching endlessly.
Bookshelves extended into the far distance, and the books floated, unbound by gravity, glowing faintly.
Each and every one of them held a world inside.
He slowly sat up.
"…How many times has it been this time?"
"Thirty-two."
Beno answered. "Not counting recursive worlds."
Heinz fell silent again, thinking deeply, then spoke quietly.
"…Even so, I still wonder. What is 'reality'?"
Beno gave a gentle smile.
That was the signal.
He sank back into memory.
He had once lived in a world where nothing could be trusted.
He was a soldier. But not for the sake of war.
In that country, machines made to kill were built before people could dream.
His post was in the "Silent Zone."
In the age of drone warfare, humans were "unnecessary,"
but had yet to be "discarded."
One day, due to a mishap at command, both sides—during a ceasefire—were accidentally wiped out.
Heinz was the only one left.
No one asked how he felt at the trial.
Only one question was posed: "What did you do?"
His answer was—"Nothing."
It wasn't an excuse.
Just a fact.
After his release, the news moved on,
and the world continued forward.
But he alone remained behind.
He watched people swipe away their pain.
Watched families turn into clusters of pixels.
Names, memories—everything melted into data.
He stopped talking to his friends. No one noticed.
He stopped going to counseling. No one came after him.
And in the end—he even stopped opening his eyes.
And then, one night.
In a room far too quiet, he muttered:
"…Is this really all I am?"
Silence answered.
The air shimmered faintly, folded like paper—
and from that tear, she appeared.
Like the first line of a story.
Wearing a silver-white dress, like ink spilled on snow.
Just her presence was enough to return shadows to their proper places.
She didn't glow. She simply was.
He stared at her.
"…A grim reaper?"
Half-joking.
"No."
She answered gently.
"I'm Beno."
Her eyes were like a reader opening a story they had reread countless times—
As if hoping this time, the ending might be different.
"You were the only one who never got lost."
"…Is that a good thing?"
"It's rare. So—come."
There was no reason to refuse.
——And now.
He once again sat across from her, in the "Infinite Library."
In his hands was a book. One Beno had given him.
—His own story.
From childhood to the present.
Every thought, every word, every choice, recorded with delicate care.
He couldn't stop turning the pages.
"This… it was all decided?
Even my breathing, my silences?"
Beno rested her chin on her hand and answered softly.
"Do rivers choose their own flow?
Or do time and pressure carve their path?"
He looked up.
"That's not an answer."
"Nope, it's not."
She smiled.
"But isn't that more interesting?"
He snapped the book shut.
"So you're saying free will doesn't exist."
"It does.
Even the wind makes choices sometimes.
The path you chose was the path you were meant to choose.
Even if that 'you' was already shaped beforehand."
He stood.
She stood as well.
They were the same height, yet she always felt taller somehow.
"Then let's find out."
When Beno raised her hand—
Countless books rose into the air, opening their pages.
Lovers torn apart by fate,
Tyrants crushed by conscience,
The nameless becoming legends,
And legends choosing silence.
"These are all 'characters.'
But do you really think they're just 'fake'?"
A boy collapsed, crying out for his mother's name.
"Just because they were written,
does that mean their pain is any less?
Just because they're fictional,
does that mean their hope is any smaller?"
Heinz's voice trembled, just slightly.
"…They're still just constructs."
"So are you."
" ..."
Beno took a step closer.
"Read.Live among them.
And if even then, you can still say they're not 'real'—
then, and only then, we'll end it all."
He said nothing.
After a long silence—
He dropped his gaze.
"…What if I can't?"
"Then you'll learn."
She whispered.
"A pen is heavy, you know."
Beno gently reached out her hand.
Soft light spilled from between her fingers.
From that light, something took shape—
A book.
Bound in white leather, sewn with threads of gold,
And though there was no source of light, it faintly glowed.
The book floated down into his hands and settled softly.
It had no weight.
Yet it carried infinite presence.
Inside—were blank pages.
"This is yours."
Beno said quietly.
"A guide, and a mirror."
He traced the cover with his thumb.
"Sarasvati."
"It's also called the Inkpot."
"Sara… I like the name."
He murmured, then fastened it to his belt.
——The Present.
"If I had to read one more pitch deck, I think I actually would've jumped from the thirtieth floor."
Heinz lay slumped across a low marble table, propping his head up with one hand, wearing the face of a man who had given up on everything.
His jacket was wrinkled and draped over his shoulders,
and his shirt sleeves were rolled up like he'd gotten into a fight five minutes ago.
Meanwhile, Beno was elegantly seated with her legs crossed, wearing a lavender dress embroidered with tiny stars, happily munching on a mango tart like a squirrel.
"Mmm~ But I like this one. So good~"
She puffed out her cheeks.
"So you were a businessman this time? That's, like, super normal!"
Heinz stared at her expressionlessly.
"In a five-hour meeting, no one understood their own product."
"Whoa, soul-crushing."
Beno laughed, delighted.
"Exactly."
He sank further into the sofa.
[And whose fault was that, exactly? Yours.]
Sara's voice echoed through the library.
Heinz turned his head just a little.
"Shut up, Sara."
[I told you not to wear the blue tie. It attracts shareholders.]
"So it was the tie!"
Beno exclaimed.
"I knew you looked unusually competent that day!"
Heinz let out a long sigh.
"It was silk. It felt good. I didn't think it'd cause a hostile takeover and a merger mistake."
[Also, you kicked the regional manager in the shin.]
"That's awesome. That's called character growth, right?"
Beno laughed even more.
"More like character regression."
[And now you're back here. Unemployed, malnourished, and covered in tart crumbs.]
Heinz looked down at his shirt.
Sure enough, there were tart bits scattered across it.
He brushed one off with a finger, as if personally offended by it.
But then, the mood quietly shifted.
"…So,"
Beno murmured.
"Did you find anyone?"
He was silent for a while, then shook his head.
"…Not yet."
A deep silence settled over them.
Even Sara, for once, said nothing.
Beno smiled gently, nodded, and reached for the next tart.
"Well, it's fine. Next time, you'll find them."
"…Yeah."
He finished his tea, placed the cup gently on the table, and stood.
Sara gave a soft hum and returned to the belt at his waist.
The white leather cover glimmered faintly beneath the skylight.
Beno, chin resting in hand, lazily watched his back as he walked away.
"Bring back something weird, okay~"
He waved without turning around.
"Don't count on it."
[——He'll bring something back. He always does.]