LimbusStaticData/Localize/en/StoryData/EN_P10415.json

{
  "dataList": [
    {
      "id": 0,
      "model": "료슈",
      "teller": "Yoshihide",
      "title": "Blade of the House of Spiders",
      "content": "Cut and sever."
    },
    {
      "id": 1,
      "model": "료슈",
      "teller": "Yoshihide",
      "title": "Blade of the House of Spiders",
      "content": "Let all be severed and burned away, until not a single strand of their frayed threads remains."
    },
    {
      "id": 2,
      "model": "료슈",
      "teller": "Yoshihide",
      "title": "Blade of the House of Spiders",
      "content": "The House of Spiders..."
    },
    {
      "id": 3,
      "model": "료슈",
      "teller": "Yoshihide",
      "title": "Blade of the House of Spiders",
      "content": "All of you Nursefathers..."
    },
    {
      "id": 4,
      "model": "료슈",
      "teller": "Yoshihide",
      "title": "Blade of the House of Spiders",
      "content": "Every last trace will be scraped out."
    },
    {
      "id": 5,
      "content": "I see a thread."
    },
    {
      "id": 6,
      "content": "A thread I failed to sever. A strand I must cut off. It gleams with terrible clarity."
    },
    {
      "id": 7,
      "content": "And along that vision, crashing upon me are waves of sights I wish I'd never have to recall, leaving behind only the futile wish of never returning..."
    },
    {
      "id": 8,
      "content": "Like a hollow seashell washed ashore."
    },
    {
      "id": 9,
      "content": "The entangled clew of time devours my consciousness."
    },
    {
      "id": 10,
      "content": "There's no calendar in here, but I know how many days have passed."
    },
    {
      "id": 11,
      "content": "No clock either, yet I can tell whether it's day or night."
    },
    {
      "id": 12,
      "content": "Some things, though, elude all attempts at understanding."
    },
    {
      "id": 13,
      "content": "Why do I have to be locked in the Vault? Why do my moms and dads always try to keep me in here?"
    },
    {
      "id": 14,
      "content": "Am I being grounded? Or... am I useless to them now?"
    },
    {
      "id": 15,
      "content": "Questions that remain unanswered, all."
    },
    {
      "id": 16,
      "content": "With those doubts lodged deep in my mind, I again endure the day not knowing when it ends—even as I was certain of its eventuality."
    },
    {
      "id": 17,
      "model": "료슈",
      "teller": "Yoshihide",
      "title": "The House of Spiders",
      "content": "I... I won't make a sound anymore! Even when I'm scared!"
    },
    {
      "id": 18,
      "model": "료슈",
      "teller": "Yoshihide",
      "title": "The House of Spiders",
      "content": "I'll memorize everything you like, too."
    },
    {
      "id": 19,
      "model": "료슈",
      "teller": "Yoshihide",
      "title": "The House of Spiders",
      "content": "I'll... I'll learn how to use a sword. I'll learn it real fast."
    },
    {
      "id": 20,
      "model": "료슈",
      "teller": "Yoshihide",
      "title": "The House of Spiders",
      "content": "I won't run away even if it hurts."
    },
    {
      "id": 21,
      "model": "료슈",
      "teller": "Yoshihide",
      "title": "The House of Spiders",
      "content": "So please... Please lemme out..."
    },
    {
      "id": 22,
      "model": "료슈",
      "teller": "Yoshihide",
      "title": "The House of Spiders",
      "content": "Dad... Mom..."
    },
    {
      "id": 23,
      "content": "Just as I was growing numb to every shade of darkness drowning me,"
    },
    {
      "id": 24,
      "content": "the door—which would not budge no matter how many times I banged on and clawed at—opened with such ease that what I'd had to endure seemed absurdly pointless."
    },
    {
      "id": 25,
      "model": "료슈",
      "teller": "Yoshihide",
      "title": "The House of Spiders",
      "content": "D-Dad... I promise... From now on, I'll..."
    },
    {
      "id": 26,
      "content": "I had no expectations."
    },
    {
      "id": 27,
      "content": "Didn't hope to find any kind words or concerned eyes. Those, after all, belonged to a world as distant as one end of a Corridor from the other."
    },
    {
      "id": 28,
      "content": "But I wanted answers, that's all."
    },
    {
      "id": 29,
      "content": "Why did they seal the Vault? Had I done something wrong? Is there something I could do to be better? Questions like that."
    },
    {
      "id": 30,
      "content": "However... even that seemed to be too much to ask..."
    },
    {
      "id": 31,
      "teller": "???",
      "title": "Nursefather of the House of Spiders",
      "content": "... You have yet to enter an Entanglement."
    },
    {
      "id": 32,
      "teller": "???",
      "title": "Nursefather of the House of Spiders",
      "content": "Let us check again in 2 days."
    },
    {
      "id": 33,
      "content": "... as the Nursefathers returned to their Corridors each, leaving behind nothing but an uninterested comment or two, dry as dust."
    },
    {
      "id": 34,
      "content": "The cycle of beatings that continues without any purpose."
    },
    {
      "id": 35,
      "content": "The ever-changing whim that seeks to force me into the frame of arbitrary tastes."
    },
    {
      "id": 36,
      "content": "The reveling applause, accompanied by observant contemplation."
    },
    {
      "id": 37,
      "content": "The excruciating agony that comes from being treated as mere \"material.\""
    },
    {
      "id": 38,
      "content": "These four threads twine to make a rope that tightens around my neck."
    },
    {
      "id": 39,
      "content": "Each pulling without end from their own direction,"
    },
    {
      "id": 40,
      "content": "Each egregiously making their presence known."
    },
    {
      "id": 41,
      "content": "That is why they will never be able to go on living without me."
    },
    {
      "id": 42,
      "content": "They are dregs that have been abandoned. There is no other thread that they can cling to."
    },
    {
      "id": 43,
      "content": "And so, I will cut off the only strand they have left."
    },
    {
      "id": 44,
      "content": "And if I am to sever myself away, I must do it by means of severing other things."
    },
    {
      "id": 45,
      "content": "I swing my blade with reckless abandon, cutting down everything that enters my sight."
    },
    {
      "id": 46,
      "content": "Here is a father so vacuous that he cannot hope to capture hellscape without seeing it with his own eyes."
    },
    {
      "id": 47,
      "content": "The fool that craves for parched inspiration and stone-dead creativity without ever realizing that the tip of his brush has long dried."
    },
    {
      "id": 48,
      "content": "Whenever I open my eyes, I am almost stepping over the threshold of death, standing on the far shore of the hereafter."
    },
    {
      "id": 49,
      "content": "With each carve that sheds the spalls from me, with each brushstroke that paints the drawing paper over with the horrid scenery of hell, my throat tears itself hoarse, and the beating of my heart grows so rapid it feels ready to split my chest open."
    },
    {
      "id": 50,
      "content": "A dramatization meant to stage the cruelest magnificence."
    },
    {
      "id": 51,
      "content": "The pain is unbearable. It convinces me that I will die from it, but the Nursefather knows the limits of my body all too well."
    },
    {
      "id": 52,
      "content": "The material that I am is trimmed and shaped until I am gasping for my last breath, screaming at the top of my lungs in impossible pain—just not close enough to black out."
    },
    {
      "id": 53,
      "content": "And so..."
    },
    {
      "id": 54,
      "content": "And so, whenever I feel the black-and-blue bruises on my body smarting and throbbing, I trace back my mutilated memories."
    },
    {
      "id": 55,
      "content": "<i>When</i> is this pain from? The present? The past? Or perhaps, some day in the future that has not arrived? If it comes from \"the present\"—then it should have already ended, because \"now\" is just too brief. The moment the word touches the tongue, it has already passed and become the past."
    },
    {
      "id": 56,
      "content": "This pain, this wound, this scar, however... They never pass. They would stay where they could be seen, and the next moment, they would take root where they could not. Pain always intends to be a thing of the immediate past or the immediate future, and even in pain I am denied the experience of living in the \"now\"..."
    },
    {
      "id": 57,
      "content": "Like a butterfly that mourns its flower, even as its body is torn apart."
    },
    {
      "id": 58,
      "content": "Like a butterfly that refuses to fly away, no matter how many times it is stomped upon."
    },
    {
      "id": 59,
      "content": "To say that the butterfly stayed would be wrong. Or that it forgot how to fly, for that matter. It is simply that it has never learned how to fly in the first place. From the moment it emerged from its chrysalis, its wings have been caught in the spiderweb. Fluttering is not flying. Wings that have only fluttered are wings in name only."
    },
    {
      "id": 60,
      "content": "This butterfly is but myself, but cannot be myself, but doesn't know how to fly either. It cannot pass like \"the present.\" It simply stays—here in this place."
    },
    {
      "id": 61,
      "content": "The Nursefather knows this better than anyone. That is probably why fists are raised at me without even a moment's hesitation."
    },
    {
      "id": 62,
      "content": "I am beaten to satisfaction. Whatever is within reach is thrown at me in a fit of rage."
    },
    {
      "id": 63,
      "content": "The profanities pouring out become needles stuck embedded in my heart, but the Nursefather knows I can never run away."
    },
    {
      "id": 64,
      "content": "Yet even as I find myself at the receiving end of the fist, day after day, hoping that the Nursefather's anger would subside... I still find myself unsure of where that fuming wrath stems from, or why I must withstand all the thrashing."
    },
    {
      "id": 65,
      "content": "Each bout of blind rage that leaves me scarred..."
    },
    {
      "id": 66,
      "content": "... also leaves a lesson."
    },
    {
      "id": 67,
      "content": "The lesson that living in the hereafter is no different from trying to live through the dark of the night with nothing to rely on but a single lamp."
    },
    {
      "id": 68,
      "content": "I could step onto any strand of time, but in none of those strands did I manage to leave this Corridor. So I tried to find a reason to live. The smallest attachment that would somehow make it bearable, the fetter that would keep me bound to life. The lamp that would help me last through the night."
    },
    {
      "id": 69,
      "content": "Sometimes, I would go looking for it in those who came to the House as \"tutors.\" At other times, in the most insignificant things strewn about the floor."
    },
    {
      "id": 70,
      "content": "But whatever I manage to find would be pushed away from me, or smashed broken, even, always just because it's not what one of them wants. The things that pity me and the things I pity are all ruined and destroyed alike at a single whim of the Nursefathers."
    },
    {
      "id": 71,
      "content": "Shaved down—no, hacked apart... no. Sliced off and severed. Sliced off and severed in savage rapture, and yet, even then... remains unsevered. That anxious, unpleasant aftertaste of looking upon loose ends that are not tied."
    },
    {
      "id": 72,
      "content": "Then there's that immature, cowardly mind, unable to bear even the slightest discomfort and would not relent without immediately destroying each and every annoyance. By the mere act of such an existence, the threads around me snarl and knot."
    },
    {
      "id": 73,
      "content": "In those moments, I would remain in the empty room where the Nursefather had left, failing to hold back the tears that streamed down my face."
    },
    {
      "id": 74,
      "model": "료슈",
      "teller": "Yoshihide",
      "title": "Blade of the House of Spiders",
      "content": "......."
    },
    {
      "id": 75,
      "content": "Perhaps the me of tomorrow had snatched all of the reserves of sorrow meant for me and spent them empty,"
    },
    {
      "id": 76,
      "content": "because today, no tears come out, as though the wellspring had run dry."
    },
    {
      "id": 77,
      "content": "I hear it—the sound of rusted shackles dragging heavily."
    },
    {
      "id": 78,
      "content": "It doesn't come from beneath my ankles,"
    },
    {
      "id": 79,
      "content": "but instead, rustles up from the deepest reaches of my memory."
    },
    {
      "id": 80,
      "content": "Everything that surrounds me—layered around me—is full of lies. Things painted over with anguish, steeped in more anguish, twist and coil through my life, entangled with such complexity that they can no longer be untangled. They're packed so tightly that I can feel myself choking."
    },
    {
      "id": 81,
      "content": "I want to get out. I <i>need</i> to get out..."
    },
    {
      "id": 82,
      "content": "But desperation alone does not open the door."
    },
    {
      "id": 83,
      "content": "Darkness without a single crack, a silence swollen out of all proportion. That is what this Vault is, and I have grown too big to fit inside its tiny space. I could step outside, but there will be no place for me in that narrow room. And yet, because I live in that narrow room, in the House of Spiders, I have ended up in this tiny, lightless Vault."
    },
    {
      "id": 84,
      "content": "My little world. My cramped room. The birdcage I can never escape from. Perhaps a place that makes me homesick. A place that does not welcome me. Why am I even trying to leave? The door won't open, will it?"
    },
    {
      "id": 85,
      "content": "And even if I go outside, who would be there to welcome me?"
    },
    {
      "id": 86,
      "content": "As though to bury the fear that follows that question, afterimages painted over with anguish, steeped in more anguish, twist and coil through my life, entangled with such complexity that they can no longer be untangled. And all of them crash over me."
    },
    {
      "id": 87,
      "content": "They're packed so tightly that I can feel myself choking. Layer upon layers of afterimages, lives, selves, all surrounding me..."
    },
    {
      "id": 88,
      "content": "I am born from myself. I grow helplessly. I grow relentlessly."
    },
    {
      "id": 89,
      "content": "<i>You have entered a Temporal Entanglement, Yoshihide.</i>"
    },
    {
      "id": 90,
      "content": "Only then does a thin strand of light make its way into the darkness."
    },
    {
      "id": 91,
      "content": "They are needles that prick my eyes—the beginning and the end I am to meet, the threads that are nothing but pain."
    },
    {
      "id": 92,
      "content": "Some things cannot be lost merely by forgetting. There are things that can only be forgotten by losing them."
    },
    {
      "id": 93,
      "content": "I must sever away every thread wrapped around me."
    },
    {
      "id": 94,
      "content": "I must cut the Nursefathers down..."
    },
    {
      "id": 95,
      "content": "... so that not a single strand may surface again, nor look up at the sky. So that no one and nothing at all may call my name."
    },
    {
      "id": 96,
      "model": "료슈",
      "teller": "Yoshihide",
      "title": "Blade of the House of Spiders",
      "content": "……."
    },
    {
      "id": 97,
      "content": "My head feels light."
    },
    {
      "id": 98,
      "content": "I no longer sense the omnipresence of the horrible memories that had taken up residence on the countless strands of time,"
    },
    {
      "id": 99,
      "content": "as though swinging the blade—Arayashiki—has severed the binding thread that had been weighing me down."
    },
    {
      "id": 100,
      "content": "I inhale deeply, then exhale. I close my fingers into a fist, then open them again. Even that small gesture feels almost refreshing."
    },
    {
      "id": 101,
      "content": "Yoshihide. Yoshihide. Yoshihide."
    },
    {
      "id": 102,
      "content": "The Nursefathers cry out, calling my name. What makes them, the heartless men and women who merely watched in silence even as I writhed in pain, scream with such despondence?"
    },
    {
      "id": 103,
      "content": "I had been called by that name countless times, yet it carries a disquieting echo today."
    },
    {
      "id": 104,
      "content": "So, I wait for the pain to end."
    },
    {
      "id": 105,
      "content": "... To end? No, not to end. There is an undeniable dissonance in my saying it. Even if it ends, what good would that do? What would I do in the aftermath, anyway?"
    },
    {
      "id": 106,
      "content": "A pain that has ended is an unfurnished room. There's nothing after the end, just like in the picture books a Nursefather used to read me. It's a little too late to face the ending now and hope that something would change."
    },
    {
      "id": 107,
      "content": "I floundered in suffering because I was unable to recognize that truth. I would scratch away at the walls, suppress the welling tears, and sometimes sit in expressionless silence as my mind raced in aimless terror."
    },
    {
      "id": 108,
      "content": "The Nursefather read me a story once."
    },
    {
      "id": 109,
      "content": "The story was about a man who weaves a pair of wings for himself, soars up high, and faces the brilliant light in the sky. But the story did not end there. It ended when the man plunged into the lapping waves, screaming as fire consumed his wings. The Nursefather's tale continued stubbornly until it reached its disturbing end."
    },
    {
      "id": 110,
      "content": "I would ask for another tale, hoping to wash away the unsettling aftertaste of the one before, but it all ended the same way:"
    },
    {
      "id": 111,
      "content": "In tragedy. My choice of books was limited to what the Nursefather had given me, my will trapped in this narrow world the Nursefathers made. Every choice a meaningless formality."
    },
    {
      "id": 112,
      "content": "Whichever path I walk, I remain in the House of Spiders. No matter where I go, I remain at the very heart of the spiderweb."
    },
    {
      "id": 113,
      "content": "Though sleep was my only refuge from the despair that weighed me down like waterlogged clothes, even there, the terrible moments would come to me uninvited, shackling me to the waking world."
    },
    {
      "id": 114,
      "content": "But no, perhaps it isn't that my sleep is stayed; I slept yesterday, so I am awake today. Yes—that's all this is."
    },
    {
      "id": 115,
      "content": "What comes after today is yesterday, not tomorrow; the sleep will soon claim me, with or without my permission."
    },
    {
      "id": 116,
      "content": "I open my eyes, welcomed by unyielding inevitability and the blue, dimming lights."
    },
    {
      "id": 117,
      "content": "Every story that is told is designed to end."
    },
    {
      "id": 118,
      "content": "Because as twisted and tangled we may have become, we've all gazed at the same, single world..."
    },
    {
      "id": 119,
      "content": "So that no entangled thread of time goes lonely..."
    },
    {
      "id": 120,
      "content": "So that I won't be lonely."
    },
    {
      "id": 121,
      "content": "I must read the tale to its end and steep myself in the tragedy I already know all too well."
    },
    {
      "id": 122,
      "model": "료슈",
      "teller": "Yoshihide",
      "title": "Blade of the House of Spiders",
      "content": "You people wouldn't know this, but... every single one of myself has held on to one another, refusing to ever let go, no matter which strand of thread I peered into."
    },
    {
      "id": 123,
      "model": "료슈",
      "teller": "Yoshihide",
      "title": "Blade of the House of Spiders",
      "content": "That's how I know the end and the beginning of this House of Spiders that has encased me for so long."
    },
    {
      "id": 124,
      "content": "A tiny world that was mine only because I was born. Because I exist. Because someone remembered me."
    },
    {
      "id": 125,
      "content": "They were here, the Nursefathers, in each scene that I was a part of, in every single one that took place in the House of Spiders."
    },
    {
      "id": 126,
      "content": "Not even a day or an hour of my time has gone by without them being a part of it."
    },
    {
      "id": 127,
      "content": "And the spiders built a house in the corners of my memories, the Nursefathers tainting every hour of my life they inhabit."
    },
    {
      "id": 128,
      "content": "And of course, even that memory I abominated, and there was nothing to stay my sword hand."
    },
    {
      "id": 129,
      "model": "료슈",
      "teller": "Yoshihide",
      "title": "Blade of the House of Spiders",
      "content": "You nurtured my world into a world of you—a world of pain and sorrow where its leaves seek not the sunshine but death."
    },
    {
      "id": 130,
      "model": "료슈",
      "teller": "Yoshihide",
      "title": "Blade of the House of Spiders",
      "content": "Let's put an end to this tragedy. It has long overstayed its welcome."
    },
    {
      "id": 131,
      "model": "료슈",
      "teller": "Yoshihide",
      "title": "Blade of the House of Spiders",
      "content": "Let's cut and sever."
    },
    {
      "id": 132,
      "content": "Because I relish in the silence that always follows every time you are ripped away."
    },
    {
      "id": 133,
      "content": "The Nursefathers' voices grow faint even in the moments that ambush me."
    },
    {
      "id": 134,
      "content": "Everything falls away, severed, burned into empty whiteness, delaminated from the world,"
    },
    {
      "id": 135,
      "content": "leaving only scattered instants undulating between the shattered memories."
    },
    {
      "id": 136,
      "content": "The screaming, the struggling... all of it is then reduced to inconsequential instants that lie beyond the edge of perception."
    },
    {
      "id": 137,
      "content": "String severance."
    },
    {
      "id": 138,
      "content": "Severing the memories, severing the Nursefathers, severing myself."
    },
    {
      "id": 139,
      "content": "Everything that comprises a man is cut away, slice by slice; even the things that would've filled the void become hollow themselves."
    },
    {
      "id": 140,
      "content": "Without anything to want."
    },
    {
      "id": 141,
      "content": "Without anything to look back on."
    },
    {
      "id": 142,
      "content": "Here comes ineffable grandeur. Here comes ineffable delight."
    },
    {
      "id": 143,
      "content": "Here comes ineffable emptiness. Here comes ineffable suffering."
    },
    {
      "id": 144,
      "content": "Here the ineffable comes..."
    },
    {
      "id": 145,
      "content": "Here they come from the end of the road."
    },
    {
      "id": 146
    },
    {
      "id": 147
    },
    {
      "id": 148
    },
    {
      "id": 149,
      "teller": "???",
      "title": "The Thumb's Consigliere",
      "content": "And so the project has finally come to an end. *sigh* Well, it seems to me that it has been completed exactly as the esteemed Capo dei Capi has envisioned."
    },
    {
      "id": 150,
      "teller": "???",
      "title": "The Ring's Maestro",
      "content": "Gorgeous. I would have loved to have it exhibited at my main gallery, had it been something that could even be transported."
    },
    {
      "id": 151,
      "teller": "???",
      "title": "A Star of the Pinky",
      "content": "... The Tiansha Star. The star that sees not a field of variegated existences and moments in the continuum of time, but instead a universe-encompassing landscape, shining the light that enables temporal entanglement..."
    },
    {
      "id": 152,
      "teller": "???",
      "title": "A Star of the Pinky",
      "content": "It is as though that selfsame star has risen before me. Its gleaming is as sorrowful as that of a pearl."
    },
    {
      "id": 153,
      "teller": "???",
      "title": "The Thumb's Consigliere",
      "content": "Speaking of which, I believe it is about time we discussed rewards for those who managed to complete it."
    },
    {
      "id": 154,
      "teller": "???",
      "title": "The Thumb's Consigliere",
      "content": "I mean, <i>someone</i> must have played a central role in seeing Project House of Spiders to its completion, yes? Too bad, though, whoever it was seems to have been consumed by their own creation."
    },
    {
      "id": 155,
      "teller": "???",
      "title": "The Middle's Great Sister",
      "content": "Well, probably some useless trash."
    },
    {
      "id": 156,
      "teller": "???",
      "title": "The Middle's Great Sister",
      "content": "This thing's a <i>landfill</i> after all, ain't it?"
    },
    {
      "id": 157,
      "teller": "???",
      "title": "The Middle's Great Sister",
      "content": "Whoever got sucked into it was probably some nasty piece of shit that deserved to get discarded."
    },
    {
      "id": 158,
      "teller": "???",
      "title": "The Index's Messenger",
      "content": "... The Prescript dictates that the Index will take over the management of this phenomenon. Effective after 3 days' time."
    },
    {
      "id": 159,
      "teller": "???",
      "title": "The Middle's Great Sister",
      "content": "Oh, you Index dickheads—"
    },
    {
      "id": 160,
      "teller": "???",
      "title": "The Index's Messenger",
      "content": "Hnnh...!"
    },
    {
      "id": 161,
      "teller": "???",
      "title": "The Thumb's Consigliere",
      "content": "Under no circumstances should any of the Fingers express the intent to take sole ownership of our shared property. Does the Will of the Prescript care so little for the lives of its Messengers that it would send them to die? Its objectives are as enigmatic as always."
    },
    {
      "id": 162,
      "teller": "???",
      "title": "The Ring's Maestro",
      "content": "What's to say that the Index won't receive a Prescript before 3 days pass, instructing them to share the right of possession equally amongst the Fingers? Let us wait and see how things develop before leaping to action."
    },
    {
      "id": 163,
      "teller": "???",
      "title": "The Middle's Great Sister",
      "content": "As for the Messenger... Let's chuck 'em into the \"landfill.\" It's where garbage's supposed to be \"buried,\" right?"
    },
    {
      "id": 164,
      "teller": "???",
      "title": "A Star of the Pinky",
      "content": "... Then the star will glimmer for yet another fleeting moment."
    }
  ]
}