The floor was set like a royal banquet hall.
But everything was wrong.
The chandelier flickered backward, casting reversed shadows. The plates were full, but none of the food had scent. The table stretched endlessly through a mirrored hallway that reflected no one—just empty chairs and untouched silverware, a scene both opulent and hollow.
Ayato's stomach twisted as he stepped inside.
'This is a trap. It has to be. Nothing in the Tower is ever what it seems.'
He looked around, his eyes lingering on the empty seats, the glimmering plates, the way the light bent and twisted around them.
'Why does this feel familiar? Why does it hurt to look at that fourth chair?'
Mio walked beside him, her fingers brushing the pendant at her neck.
'This is the False Feast. The one the runes warned about.'
She felt the weight of every lie, every secret, every memory she'd carried since the first cycle.
'It's going to make us face what we've denied. And I'm not ready.'
Her breath was shallow, her heart a drumbeat in her chest. She wanted to run, to hide, to scream—but she kept walking, because stopping meant admitting defeat.
Ren trailed behind them, his hands clenched at his sides.
'Another damn floor. Another damn test.'
He felt the rage simmering just beneath the surface, the pain in his shoulder a dull throb, the memory of every loss a wound that wouldn't heal.
'Why do we keep doing this? Why do we keep letting the Tower win?'
He clenched his jaw, his mind a storm of doubt and anger. He wanted to fight, to scream, to make the Tower pay for every scar, every loss, every memory it had stolen. But he kept walking, because stopping meant giving up.
A system notification blazed in the air, casting eerie red light across their faces.
[Floor 13: The False Feast]
"All that you denied will now be offered. Refuse, and the feast will consume you."
– Objective: Partake in the course that mirrors your guilt
– Rule: Do not lie. Do not fake hunger.
– Penalty: Truth corruption and role destabilization
Ayato sat first.
He didn't want to. But the system compelled his knees.
'Why does this feel like a funeral? Why does it feel like I'm mourning someone I can't remember?'
He looked at the empty chair beside him, the glitch in the air where a fourth person should be.
'Who's missing? Why can't I remember?'
Ren sat across from him, his face set in a grimace.
'This is cruel. Even for the Tower.'
He felt the weight of every loss, every lie, every secret he'd carried since the first cycle.
'Why do we keep doing this? Why do we keep letting the Tower win?'
He clenched his fists, the pain in his shoulder a dull throb. He wanted to fight, to scream, to make the Tower pay for every scar, every loss, every memory it had stolen. But he sat still, his mind a storm of doubt and anger.
Mio sat next to Ayato, her hands folded in her lap.
'This is it. The moment the Tower makes us face what we've denied.'
She felt the weight of every lie, every secret, every memory she'd carried since the first cycle.
'It's going to hurt. But I have to do it. For her. For all of us.'
She gripped the pendant at her neck, the silver cool against her skin.
'This Tower kills people in more ways than one.'
The table shifted, and plates emerged, one for each of them.
Each meal was wrong. Not rotten, not tainted—just too perfect.
'This isn't food. It's a test. It's a trap.'
Ayato stared at his plate, his hands trembling.
'Why does this feel familiar? Why does it hurt to look at it?'
Ayato's Plate: Hope
A bento box.
Hand-packed, neatly arranged. Identical to one he'd received on his last day before the Tower.
"This is... from my sister?" he whispered, his voice cracking.
But he didn't remember her face.
'Why can't I remember? Why does it hurt so much?'
The system spoke:
"You denied hope. You led with cynicism. Eat, and accept you once cared."
Ayato stared at the bento, his hands shaking.
'This is a memory. A real one. And I've been running from it.'
He took a bite.
Warm. Familiar. Kind.
He wept before he realized it.
'Why did I forget her? Why did I let myself become this?'
He ate slowly, each bite a knife in his chest, each memory a wound that wouldn't heal.
'This is what I denied. This is what I lost.'
He finished the bento, his tears falling onto the empty plate.
'Maybe I can't get it back. But at least I remember.'
Mio's Plate: Freedom
A bowl of clear soup.
No spice. No distraction. Just clarity.
It was the first thing she cooked after moving out of her family's house.
The first time she ever tasted self-choice.
"I thought I left this behind," she whispered, her voice soft.
The Tower replied:
"You did. And buried yourself here."
"You liked the cage."
Mio stared at the soup, her hands trembling.
'This is the moment I chose myself. And then I let the Tower take it away.'
She drank the soup anyway.
Tears ran down her cheek, silent and slow.
'Maybe I can't get it back. But at least I remember.'
Ren's Plate: Family
Cold rice. Grilled fish. Water with lemon.
Nothing fancy. Just a meal his older brother used to make every week after practice.
Ren didn't look at the others.
He picked up his chopsticks.
"I told myself he was weak for dying. That I had to be stronger."
The Tower said:
"You weren't stronger. You just got angrier."
Ren's hands shook.
'This is the memory I've been running from. The one I've been too afraid to face.'
He finished the plate.
"He deserved better than me," he said softly, his voice breaking.
'Maybe I can't get it back. But at least I remember.'
The Glitched Chair
The fourth plate hovered in the air.
None of them could see what was on it.
But they all knew who it was for.
And Ayato—
He still didn't ask.
'Why is there an extra chair? Who's missing? Why can't I remember?'
He looked at Mio, his eyes searching.
"Why is there an extra chair?" he said aloud, his voice hollow.
Mio almost answered.
Then stopped.
'He doesn't remember. He doesn't know what he's lost.'
Ren stared at the empty chair like it was on fire.
'She's gone. And he doesn't even know.'
Final Course: Self
The table changed again.
Now each character saw themselves—younger, happier, untouched by the Tower.
They were offered a single dish:
"You. Before all of this."
"Eat it, or you will forget it forever."
Ayato saw himself laughing. Carefree. Wearing a school blazer with paint stains on the cuffs. A script book in his bag.
"This isn't me anymore," he whispered.
The Tower lied:
"It could be."
He picked up the fork—
Paused.
Put it down.
"I don't want to forget who I've become. Even if he was better."
The image of his past self shattered.
He passed.
'Maybe I can't go back. But at least I remember.'
Mio didn't hesitate.
She ate her past with calm precision.
"I don't want her back," she said.
"She was scared of everything. Even her own shadow."
The bowl cracked in her hands.
[Karma Shift – Mio: +2 Willpower, -1 Emotional Resilience]
'Maybe I can't go back. But at least I remember.'
Ren refused.
"I'm not ready," he admitted.
"But I don't want to eat him either."
The image nodded. And vanished.
'Maybe I can't go back. But at least I remember.'
System Response
[Floor 13: The False Feast – Cleared]
All players passed through hunger. Final karma adjustments applied.
– Ayato: Memory Lock Stabilized
– Mio: Soul Division (Fragment of Self Stored)
– Ren: Dormant Karma ignited
Next Floor: Floor 14 – The Archive That Eats
As the table dissolved and the floor beneath them shimmered, Ayato stood.
But instead of relief…
He felt emptier than ever.
'What did I lose? Who am I missing? Why does it hurt so much?'
He turned to Mio.
"Why did that fourth chair bother me?"
Mio's voice caught.
"You know why."
"No… I don't."
"Then don't ask again. Not unless you're ready to bleed."
Ayato didn't respond.
He walked ahead, his mind a blank where the memory should have been.
'What am I missing? Who am I forgetting? Why does it hurt so much?'
He clenched his fists, the frustration bubbling up inside him.
He wanted to scream, to rage, to make the Tower pay for every loss, every lie, every memory it had stolen. But he kept walking, because stopping meant giving up.
Mio walked beside him, her heart heavy, her mind a storm of confusion and pain.
'He doesn't remember. He doesn't know what he's lost.'
She felt the weight of every lie, every secret, every memory she'd carried since the first cycle.
'This Tower kills people in more ways than one.'
She turned to follow him, her heart a drumbeat in her chest, her mind a storm of confusion and pain.
Ren trailed behind, his hands shaking, his mind a storm of doubt and anger.
'We're all breaking. And there's nothing we can do to stop it.'
He clenched his fists, the pain in his shoulder a dull throb. He wanted to fight, to scream, to make the Tower pay. But he kept his mouth shut, his mind a storm of confusion and pain.
The three of them moved forward, their hearts heavy, their minds a storm of confusion and pain.
They were all breaking.
And there was nothing they could do to stop it.
The Tower whispered.
"The teeth are in now.
Act II begins."
(Chapter 20 End)