Clara remembered a certain floor quite well. This floor wasn’t too complex, nor was it too interesting outside of what happened the night of it. Clara was reading something never published in Forsivo, allowing the tower to grant her a taste of something new.

  That’s when Bariton approached her, the only member of the party at the time who could view the future at all. He approached her with an odd question, one that she would’ve thought the Bard would’ve had experience with already.

  “Hey, if someone just couldn’t catch on to hints, what would you do?” Clara let the question take her off guard, and also catch her curiosity. The battle between asking whether to ask a minor question back instead of answering was a tough mental one, at least it was temporary.

  She decided to answer first, giving an answer she’d learn to either regret or enjoy the consequences of from afar. “Well, I suppose you could be less… hinty? Just give them the answer.” Clara’s answer allowed Bariton’s mind to wander, to find an answer himself.

  “Hm, thanks.” The bard was quick to move away, and Clara didn’t quite think much of the interaction outside of the pure boredom she let sink in after. Floor 24 wasn’t too fun, nor interesting in many ways…

  69 - Confession

  Clara and Judine approached the bar; but the owl masked friend simply smiled a light, but one that bore no true emotion. It was one without life, and clearly it unnerved Judine all the same with how sweat began to bead her brow.

  The Demigod of Life’s own smile greeted the owl masked friend, and now they spoke. Their voice felt more like a facade than a real voice, a voice heard in a dream. “So, how are you two doing here?”

  The owl masked friend or foe revealed very little within their words, or their intonation as well. However, the ouroboros of violence and cold shoulders needs to end. “We are doing quite swell, and you?”

  Clara answered for both herself and Judine, and the owl masked stranger simply nodded. “I’m doing well myself.” The voice flowed through the air without life, akin to a golem’s. “I do wonder though, why conversate?”

  The question caught Clara off guard, and she was suddenly reminded of her time on floor 24. Back when she knew so little of her party, but even then they were growing closer together every day.

  Judine was the one to answer this one. “Why not conversate?” Judine turned the question around akin to snapping an opponent’s speartip off and using it to threaten the very past owner. “Even if you were just a mere construct of the tower, would it not still be valuable time spent?”

  “Hm, I suppose one could argue that…” The person nodded and looked somewhere beyond Clara and Judine, into the chaos of the party. “But would more valuable time not be spent via getting closer to those you already know?”

  Judine shook her head at that, and Clara spoke up. “Just because there is a better way to spend it doesn’t mean this isn’t a good way to.” Clara’s answer was swift, and now she got would get this point through to the stranger. “But we have plenty of time to do that. We have years left with the quest, with the same burden.”

  The person with the mask was silent for a time. Their response time lengthened. “But you don’t even know what the Tower made me for. Whether it made me to be slaughtered like a lamb, or if it made me to fight you to allow a progression through the tower…”

  The voice had a sadder inflection, but the way it held such a tone… Felt wrong. Similar to if you kept someone hidden from reality; only learning tonal indicators from not their instinct but instead how writings describe it. How random noise led them to believe it to be.

  “And why would it matter what you were made for when the System praises a world where people fight to be different, fight to be better than what they were made for.”

  Judine’s words stood out after a few seconds silence, but it was clear Judine meant every letter that formed the words. The life that spewed into them didn’t prove whether it was true or not, but it was a deep belief she just spouted. The person made by the Tower had no response either.

  They simply stopped. Stopped moving, all micromovements, mini adjustments they made that made them seem human, came to a halt. All at once. Judine and Clara shared a glance of discomfort, feeling the tingle down their spine, the cold sweat forming.

  The person finally blinked out of their trance. “You may be right, but after living 27 years without it…” They smile the same emotionless smile they grinned beforehand. “I think I’ll pass.” The masked person walked away, allowing the two to sit in their discomfort once more.

  Clara didn’t quite enjoy it, and rather went ahead to watch Pallad learn/teach Shammus slow dancing. She knew precisely why Pallad was doing that too, it seemed everyone but Shammus in the party knew how Bariton felt about the swordsman.

  ******

  Bariton finally built up the nerves after winning at the few gambling tables they had at this party, at the cost to other people. Of course, Bariton gave the chips he won to the people he won from, he wouldn’t… openly steal like that.

  The bard skipped along the party, allowing all sorts of people to gawk at the wonderful outfit Shammus picked out for him. He would finally do it, finally go all in for the action. He would just… Stop besides the bar first.

  He asked for whatever the strongest drink there was. It was the usual high end drink, not even a Dwarvish whiskey. He still downed it, and let the fire of the internal blaze go down. The drink didn’t even make him feel a little bit more daring, as his constitution just filtered the alcohol far too quickly to have any sort of effect, even with his impossibly high agility.

  The frown that formed after was unfortunate. Not only did the drink taste outright horrible, but it didn’t even get him a little drunk, at least then he’d have an excuse to fall on if Shammus were to reject him.

  The lack of the booze was no issue though. Bariton could… do this, right? He won at least one of each game, so clearly his luck was blessed… Not by any gods he knew, but it was a blessed luck. One that he would probably have to abuse.

  He simply muttered a prayer he was taught many a time by Clara and Pallad, but mostly by Clara for this genre of prayer. “Oh, Brightness’s Delight, please shine thy holy light upon my day, night, and banish thine brother’s evil dark from this attempt.”

  Bariton stood up, feeling the magic of the prayer, the rhythm of such a statement settling in his bones. He allowed the prayer to filter through to the divine, passing through his own sliver of divinity to act as a catalyst.

  Is that how the saintess felt her prayers work every time beforehand? Bariton wondered internally, allowing his thought process to wander as he walked along the ballroom floor, far away from the bar in its worthless attempts to help him be a bit braver.

  To have an excuse to fall back on when his goal tonight inevitably fell short. When his efforts came to nothing, something common outside the Tower, but surprisingly uncommon within.

  Bariton’s feet fell hard onto the wooden floor, and he marched forward. He was going to settle this matter of his heart, and this matter of his personal wants. His greed, that would allow him to write a symphony.

  This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version.

  ******

  Pallad’s teachings were really not quite perfect, but Shammus knew his weren’t either. The swordsman did have a natural talent in moving his body, as his own personal training featured capabilities of swordfighting.

  Swordfighting allowed going against the tide of the battle the system set up, allowing personal skill to take over. But even then, the difficulty of slow dancing was not lessened. The precision required in it was both similar but also different enough to be a challenge.

  Pallad apologized every time he had messed up in Shammus’s own teachings, his metal armor clanking with the slow dance Shammus taught him. And here, Shammus was left nearly in the dust.

  Pallad decided to split up the dance into 10 sections, of 4 moves at first. It moved akin to a ritual; an older ritual Shammus could’ve sworn he’d learnt with the nobility leading him to war. It was odd to see the differences however.

  The ritual left them making an outline on the ground. This was one of the more difficult ones too, being the one only Aedipus had managed to succeed at. It allowed the gap of power to get closer, and even left him having to use a Legendary skill to win against the kid.

  The kid with the green lightning, who egged him into a battle. He wondered if the Tower revived that kid with this revised version of the ritual to steal from a God. He believes the young swordsmaster stole from Heavenly Dealer of None actually, the current godly foe that is antagonizing the party he found himself with.

  The ritual drew upon the ground an odd symbol, difficult to tell from just the footsteps. It was a curved S around a staff you drew with the first group of steps. The ritual needed to be done quickly, but this slow dance was far easier.

  It was also changed. Where one stepped in, it complexified it as a turn out and then step back. It was also transformed into a partner dance. Now, some of the more complex moves were turned into a spin of the partner, allowing the dance to move eversmoother.

  Shammus kept these secrets of the origin of the dance to himself, as Pallad was trying his damnedest to teach the most clumsy man in the history of the System how to slow dance, just as Shammus was just a moment before.

  He taught Pallad a simplistic line dance, whereas the parting between partners signified the joy in life, the joy in change. It was supposedly made by the god of Greed, Fortune of One, but from how none of the seven sins, especially Greed, didn’t respond to the teaching, he doubted that myth ever so slightly.

  The dancing continued on, for minutes upon minutes, until Shammus finally got the 57 move long dance down enough for Pallad to simply shoot a thumbs up across the dance floor, when Shammus attempted to follow it, Pallad turned his attention back to him.

  “Thanks Shammus.” Pallad did a light courtesy that left Shammus feeling a little confused. “You didn’t have to learn the more modern one, but I’m grateful you did anyways!” Shammus tried to look over to where the thumbs up landed, but nothing was quite there.

  ******

  Clara received the signal. “Alright Judine, The plot to get those two to finally hook up is a go!” Clara waited for a few seconds, before speaking more bluntly. “In other words, plot Hook Up is a go.”

  “Did you really have to name it something like that?” Judine was moving through the crowds already to find Bariton, with Pallad vanishing in them as well. Clara wasn’t too proud of the name, but now was her time to set the music for the play.

  She snuck through the crowd, careful to avoid bumping into anyone, or running into a certain swordsman. The plot revolved solely on Bariton being the next person Shammus talks to. It was an odd plot, but it would work better than doxxing Bariton to everyone involved.

  She finally made it to the person playing the organ, and slipped them a slip of paper. “Hey, could you play a song by request?” The person looked up angrily from the organ, not quite stopping playing.

  “Hey, miss, I dunno if you can’t read or somethin, but I don’t do req--” The person was shut up pretty quick when Clara hit the side of the organ with the bag of coins. It was around 4000 Gold, a bit much for this.

  “I think you can change your mind.” Clara shifts the bag onto the seat, and the person scoffed. “Play the song when the man over there; in the black and red suit with brown long hair, strikes up a conversation with the next person.”

  The person nodded, and took the money. “Got it, so you want me to play… Claire De Lune? All that for one of the easiest pieces?” Before Clara could answer she was off, she did her part.

  *****

  Judine’s part was easy. She saw Bariton playing cards and finally decide to do something other than gamble. “At least he’s making it easy for us…” Judine didn’t quite enjoy the silly name Clara gave this job.

  But, t’was accurate at the very least. In fact, one could even say it was too accurate with how it’s working out. Judine simply swapped out all the booze in the bar with the cheaper stuff, removing most of the dwarvish liquor.

  The bartender tried to stop her, but despite what Marxillious did to the legal system, she still knew to pay for the merchandise, plus a little extra. “Here, have 1,000,000 Gold + 2,000 for inconvenience fee, will that be enough?”

  The bartender stuttered a bit, before nodding. “Aye, it be plenty lass.” Judine gave the bartender another nod before vanishing, now a million gold less rich but definitely having enough alcohol to get arrested for running a brewery without a license.

  She was now good to spectate, and all that remained was Pallad’s part…

  ******

  Bariton was walking from the bar when Pallad wound up right in front of him. He said just two words. “He’s ready.” Bariton tried to ask what Pallad meant, but when he finally processed it, Pallad was gone.

  He took a deep breath as he remembered Clara’s advice. “Just make it obvious… Just make it obvious…” He felt his cheeks redden as he repeated it in his head, and slightly under his breath as well.

  He pulled out his harp and thought a long hard minute, about singing a serenade. Then, he decides to pull a trick he saw the red haired guy pull back in the capital. He allowed the world to be his instrument, allowing his divinity to open the magical gates.

  Allowing his domain of godhood allowed him to play instruments that didn’t quite fit in this world; weren’t quite made. He finally found Shammus in the crowd, and watched it sorta thin. He wondered if this was his party’s group.

  And then, he felt his voice act before his mind did. “Hey baby, won’t you look my way~” The music was already playing through his divinity, he wasn’t trying to play anything, but it was just occurring. Bariton knew he would’ve been afraid, but… He felt safe facing Shammus here.

  “I can be your new addiction~” Bariton let the words flow, allowing time to feel like it comes to a stand still. Shammus didn’t quite react just yet, but now he’s just playing a song of his own. “Hey baby, what you gotta say?”

  “All you’re giving me is fiction!” Bariton let those words fall from his lips, and watched as Shammus got much closer. The song was interrupted for just a moment, as the swordsman simply muttered something.

  The whisper in Bariton’s ear wasn’t quite understood fully, his brain trying to make sense of the past two minutes already. The bard felt his face keep up with the heat his mind felt like it was under.

  “I mean, I suppose you could be my new addiction if you want it.” Shammus’s words pierced through the veil Bariton tried to set up in his mind, and he almost fell from the shock. “Why not dance?”

  “Of course!” Bariton’s acceptance to the dance was absurdly quick, just as quick as his mind. Shammus let out a light laugh as he took Bariton’s hands in his own, and pulled him along for a slow dance.

  This one was unfamiliar to Bariton, but then he noticed which one it was. “Wait-” Bariton tried to stop the train, but he was having fun. “I don’t think I know how to dance this one-” Bariton’s attempts had fallen short, as he felt himself expertly guided.

  The warmth on his waist he instinctively leaned into, and it led his feet across the floor. The song now playing wasn’t coming from his divinity, instead it was coming from the organ up on the stairway.

  It was the perfect time to confess, as Bariton was dipped down. Shammus seemed to be deepish in thought, but he was also staring into Bariton’s eyes with an intensity the bard could not describe. “I love you.”

  Shammus didn’t seem taken aback, instead lifting up Bariton to continue the dance, until finally, the second dip. Bariton was so close to him, and he was expecting to be dropped after the moments of silence to Claire de Lune. “I love you too.”

  The response wasn’t quick, nor was it expected at all. Bariton was about to sputter all sorts of excuses, reasons to not love him. But Shammus silenced them all with a light move that Bariton could’ve sworn the church would’ve banished from this dance.

  Actually, he was sure Brightness’s Delight’s church did ban it, as he felt Shammus’s lips on his own, and Bariton couldn’t help but nearly faint. He managed to stand tall, allowing his feet to stay planted.

  Rather, he was guided through the rest of the dance, red as a mushroom he was sure, he was certain, with the heat he felt in his face after the kiss. And then the dance had finished, the two simply devolved into a sort of swaying motion.