Editor’s Survival Guide - Chapter 163

—————
This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
—————

The Editor’s Survival Guide: Episode 163

ep22. Ⅻ(2)

I grasped her meaning through the fog of shock.
She was saying she’d euthanize me now.
Not for any other reason—just because she liked me?
Goodwill converted to a calculation of murder.
My mind couldn’t process such twisted logic.
I’d become an abandoned animal waiting for euthanasia.
Forced to wait indefinitely for my own disposal.
……What is this, really?
My situation struck me as deeply bewildering.
I wasn’t dying immediately, nor was I locked up or bound.
And I still had the pistol Cha Si-eon gave me.
“Don’t do anything foolish.”
The woman spoke as if she’d read my thoughts.
“You can’t escape from me, and you can’t hurt me.”
“……What do you mean—”
“I’m not speaking lightly. The causality here doesn’t arrive slowly like in the world you came from.”
Her voice remained tender.
As though my resistance or escape attempts posed no threat whatsoever.
And that composure wasn’t carelessness or arrogance.
“You could attack my sister because she killed you first—so she became a being capable of being killed. But not me. I remain unblemished, and you cannot harm me.”
Kill first, and you become killable.
Was this the law that governed them?
“……Then wouldn’t it be better to stay unblemished? If you kill me, you’d become something you could be killed by.”
“No. My killing you isn’t a flaw or a crime. I’m simply taking back what I gave you.”
…….
“Besides, we made a promise. Save my friends, and you’d stay here and become mine.”
That was true.
She’d given me a choice, and I’d chosen.
Since I’d made the promise myself, I had to honor it.
Even if there were room to resist or flee.
And right now, there didn’t seem to be much room at all.
“My ownership over you is absolute. So killing you is my rightful prerogative and lawful. This bond that restrains me from exercising that right is the illegal act.”
The woman’s declaration was flat.
She merely listed facts, as if emphasis were unnecessary.
I lost my words and stared at her, and she smiled innocently back at me.
With the face of an author I knew well.
It was then I wondered what nightmare this truly was.
The white veil beyond her shoulders began to flicker madly.
Like camera flashes bursting toward a red carpet.
In that chaotic light, the woman murmured.
“Noisy.”
Noisy?
Right—that flickering meant ‘speaking,’ she’d said.
“……They’re speaking now?”
I recalled what she’d said before and asked.
She nodded readily.
“Yeah, and their response isn’t good again.”
“What response?”
“They’re protesting what I just said. Demanding I keep you alive, all of them.”
So it was an internal split.
I alternated my gaze between the woman and the white space beyond her, then ventured carefully.
“You keep saying ‘we’—do those lights have selves?”
The woman didn’t answer, just watched me with smiling eyes.
So I pressed on, hiding my tension.
“What exactly are those lights?”
“Just bored souls.”
The lights flashed louder at her casual remark.
She responded with a dry mutter.
“No point. Go back inside. We’re done with the fun now.”
…….
This woman—the sister of the Big Cat—seemed generous compared to that monster.
She appeared to have her own principles, her own rules.
She wasn’t purely malicious, that much was certain.
And what she’d said earlier, reading my suicide note—

-Pretty good. Setting this up and then dying? That’s cruel……

To read someone else’s final words and immediately estimate others’ reactions.
It wasn’t a common thought pattern.
Only someone whose profession was reading the crowd would speak like that.
Then there was still room, wasn’t there?
If this woman and the lights exchanged grievances like this.
If they operated like an author and her readers—showing something and demanding something in return.
And if these ‘bored souls’ were obsessed with entertainment.
“No, the really fun part is just starting.”
I cut in gently on her words.
“Until now, it’s been frustrating wandering—we’re only timing-wise arriving at the part where something actually gets done. Stopping here would be such a waste, wouldn’t it?”
The lights flickered brighter in response.
I continued, hoping they were supporting me.
“Wrapping things up so sloppily would be disrespectful to everyone who’s watched so f……”
Not people—a better word.
“……the readers.”
Twinkle, twinkle—
The lights flickered as if applauding.
Whether I was imagining it or not, the woman covered her ears with her hands.
Then she looked at me with an expression of mild disbelief.
“They seem to agree with you. Or am I wrong?”
Twinkle, twinkle—
And she pressed her fingers to her temple.
The woman seemed tormented by that flickering for a moment, then exhaled deeply.
And smiled wryly at me.
“Still trying to do editorial work here?”
“It’s an occupational habit.”
“Impressive.”
The woman smiled brightly, and I smiled faintly back.
But my smile was forced, a counterfeit squeeze.
How much does this woman know about me?
My old profession wasn’t exactly a secret, of course.
But a non-human being knowing it and mentioning it was something else entirely.
And this woman’s appearance.
Right now—Nabbit.
Earlier, she’d been Baek Sa-ra from the National Theater, then Lee Sol in surgical scrubs.
Were these imitations mere coincidence?
And she’d read my suicide note.
A note that had never been shared anywhere.
Could she really be seeing into my very mind?
Her ability unnerved me, but I continued as if unfazed.
“It’s a disease, plain and simple. When I see authors who spread things wide open and then run away without properly cleaning up their mess, I can’t sleep. I think of the readers whose hope will turn to disappointment.”
“But none of your authors were like that, were they?”
“No, thankfully, all my authors were conscientious.”
A question meant she couldn’t read my thoughts directly.
But why ask this now?
And why did she seem relieved by my answer?
……Could this woman actually be Nabbit herself?
No, that made no sense.
I trust in Nabbit’s fundamental incompetence.
Nabbit couldn’t look down on me with such casual composure.
Besides, I watched her change forms just moments ago.
This must be something that steals my memories and mimics them.
I brushed aside the needless suspicion and continued.
“So even in death, I think I couldn’t rest if my story ended like this—as a failed work.”
“A failed work might be too strong……”
Sure enough, she reacted to “failed work.”
She must be from our world.
“It fits the definition perfectly. You set up the entire build-up and recovered nothing. That’s worse than never starting at all. All you’ve done is steal time from the readers who watched.”
The woman’s expression, which had been smiling, noticeably hardened.
Behind her, the lights continued to flicker more intensely.
Let me think.
A woman who just declared she’d euthanize me.
A woman insisting it was her rightful prerogative.
Her claim that she’d given me life so she could take it is nonsense—but since I agreed to the deal, her right has substance.
So if that’s her will, I have no choice but to accept it.
……But what if this woman simply didn’t go through with it?
The woman who decided my euthanasia didn’t seem solemn or grave at all.
Only apocalyptic to me—for her, it felt far from a serious decision.
And those lights flickering behind her back.
The tastes of these “bored souls” who watch because they want an interesting story don’t seem all that different from human nature.
Could I sway them to overturn her decision?
If this woman’s resolve to kill me wasn’t as firm as it seemed—
I spoke to her with this in mind, addressing more precisely the beings she carried within her.
“No, it is a failed work. Look—I’ve only ever been dragged around, acting like I was doing something. I’ve barely arrived here under my own power, and now suddenly this ending? That’s not a three-act structure; it’s an incomplete one. The best part was thrown away, and that’s a fatal mistake no one but a total amateur would make.”
Twinkle, twinkle—
…….
“And if you do this, the entire narrative you built from the moment you resurrected me until now becomes worthless. Why resurrect me at all then? Especially if you granted me a special ability to stop the Core—shouldn’t I get at least one chance to use it properly? You started all this and abandoned it midway? And it’s not like I’m writing in a private diary—there are people watching. When you have an audience, it’s no longer just the author’s story. You can’t claim only your rights while dodging your responsibilities. An author who runs away mid-story because they lost interest is disqualified. Even a complete amateur shouldn’t do this.”
Twinkle, twinkle—
…….
“And if I die here, the Management Bureau will go back to square one. That’s what you’ve already watched for years, isn’t it? You don’t want to keep watching that same futile cycle, do you? If you have no preference between sides and only want entertainment, then keeping me alive is the right call. My death here is wasteful both subjectively and objectively. And if you’re truly an author, you should be able to make a judgment like this yourself. Unless you’re a complete beginner.”
Twinkle, twinkle, twinkle, twinkle—!
The lights flickered with fervor.
And the woman grew visibly dejected.
Perhaps because she wore Nabbit’s face.
It wasn’t hard to crack her resolve.
“Stop it, I think I see where this is going, don’t make me……”
She pleaded with the flickering lights, not with me.
The woman shook her head as if her head ached.
Then she sighed deeply and murmured.
“Is it that?”
“……?”
“This bond keeping you here.”
The woman examined me carefully as she spoke.
“I wondered what was holding back what should naturally fall into my hands…… In a sense, it’s remarkable. An occupational habit that overrides causality itself.”
She chuckled, as if struck by absurdity.
What is she talking about?
She’s saying the reason I didn’t get dragged away was my occupational habit?
……Surely I’m not that fanatically work-obsessed.
“Fine. If your being anchored here stems from a refusal of failed works and incomplete narratives, then I’ll set it straight for you.”
The woman spoke as though sighing.
Then she smiled again and asked me.
“So—would you have plausible reason to survive here?”

—————
This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
—————