“Multi-user entry ticket?”
Huh. Beom held a cigarette in his mouth.
He looked a touch spooked. The regressor who’d supposedly seen it all was just as taken aback.
“Is that… even possible? As far as I know, a Constellation’s sphere of influence is limited to its own avatar. That’s Babel’s rule.”
Babel is both the middle bridge connecting stars and humans and a sieve. Think of it as a control tower that filters things just enough so the server called “the world” doesn’t go down.
Stars can only reveal their presence through a “Covenant” that Babel has notarized. No matter how great the star, there were no exceptions.
But where there’s light, there’s shadow.
Even if you make a crying face and plead, “Sir, you can’t do that here” for a hundred days, there will always be some balance-wrecker digging in his ear like, “Not my problem.”
[Your Constellation, “Reader of Fate,” scoffs that the rules of the world are nothing but trifling specks of dust before this one’s transcendent and magnificent love.]
[Is my baby-darling watching? To your starlight eyes—cheers. Your Constellation lifts a whiskey glass with languid grace.]
‘This Unnie is giddy because she pulled one off.’
“It works.”
“By what principle…?”