Chapter 63
The Wish and the Golden Scripture
The inscription on the last page had changed — into something entirely different.
Like this:
<I will tell you my wish after giving it a bit more thought.>
I had been inwardly tense, wondering what kind of wish it would make.
Then, just like that, all the tension drained out of me.
“Is this revenge again?”
If this was how it was going to act, then why did it say earlier that it couldn’t interfere with my assignment?
Anyone could see this was another one of the Golden Scripture’s tricks.
But apparently, even tricks required a price.
For some reason, the Golden Scripture suddenly offered me a favorable condition — something it had no reason to do.
<In exchange… I will first grant you a single, appropriate wish as payment.>
Unlike before, the letters appeared slowly this time, as if written reluctantly.
It was clear how unwilling the Golden Scripture was to offer this.
Perhaps that was why…
<However, please note that if you request a wish that does not match the grade of your wish level, your opportunity to make any wish at all will be revoked.>
A ridiculous condition was added.
And of course, it was one that could only work against me.
I had no idea what the different wish “grades” meant or what level of wish was considered “appropriate.”
At first, I was dumbfounded — but then I decided to take it positively.
After all, it was basically a free wish.
Even if I didn’t get anything, I wouldn’t lose anything either.
So, if it didn’t work out — so what? I’d just wish casually.
<Please state your wish.>
Even as the Golden Scripture urged me, I took my time, calmly thinking about what I should wish for.
In the process, my gaze drifted toward the White Tiger’s mansion that sustained this world.
‘There’s no way a mere “appropriate wish” could create something like that.’
It would’ve been nice if I’d asked Baekho beforehand.
But then again, would Baekho really have stayed silent out of ignorance?
No — there must have been some restriction preventing him from saying more.
So now wasn’t the time to dwell on Baekho.
It was time to think about how to make the most of this free wish.
‘The wish must be simple to fulfill but still beneficial to me.’
A difficult wish wasn’t necessarily a good one.
If it came true but served no use to me, it was meaningless.
So rather than being greedy, I thought carefully about what I truly needed most right now.
And thanks to that, an idea suddenly came to mind — a clever one.
A wish that would be worth trying even if it failed, but excellent if it succeeded.
Right on cue, the Golden Scripture’s impatience grew.
<If you do not state your wish by the count of ten, this opportunity will be considered void.>
<One, two, three…>
Even as it began counting, I didn’t panic.
I organized my thoughts calmly, taking everything so far into account.
And just as the Golden Scripture reached “nine,” I opened my mouth.
“Let me make my wish.”
The counting stopped.
Although no new words appeared, I continued without hesitation.
My wish was this:
“I wish to change this single ‘appropriate wish,’ which I must make under pressure, into three ‘small wishes’ that I can make whenever I want.”
In other words — trade one moderate wish for three minor ones, but with freedom of timing.
That was my idea.
The one-to-three ratio came from what I’d seen when the pages flipped earlier — roughly three small wishes for every moderate one.
Some might call it a loss, and I wouldn’t say they were wrong.
But for me, this was absolutely the right choice.
If the Golden Scripture could grant all types of wishes, then three well-chosen small wishes could easily exceed the value of one moderate one.
Especially since I’d added one extra twist —
no more forced wishing, only when I choose to.
Three well-considered small wishes would surely be better than one hasty moderate wish made under pressure.
Honestly, I wasn’t sure this would work.
It wasn’t a “normal” wish, after all — the Scripture could easily reject it as invalid.
“Why isn’t there an answer?”
The Golden Scripture’s response was unusually slow.
It had been so quick to pressure me before — now it hesitated.
It was clearly debating whether to accept my wish or not.
And the longer it hesitated, the more confident I became.
If it were truly impossible, it wouldn’t be struggling this much.
Maybe it already had an answer — it just didn’t like that answer.
I had planned to stay quiet to avoid provoking it, but now I changed my mind.
“Since you’re not rushing me this time, I guess you understood what I said. What’s wrong, need me to repeat it?”
Perhaps that jab worked.
New letters finally appeared on the Scripture’s surface.
<To confirm, your wish is to replace one appropriate wish with three small wishes — is that correct?>
So it was clarifying, huh?
I shook my head.
“Why did you leave out the part about being able to make them whenever I want?”
If it dared to claim that counted as a separate wish, I was ready to argue.
Freedom of timing was a condition, not a wish.
If it insisted otherwise, I’d demand to split the wish — and the Scripture would lose that argument instantly.
Fortunately, it surrendered quickly.
<It seems I misheard. Correction: Your wish is to replace one appropriate wish that must be made under pressure with three small wishes that can be made whenever you desire — is that correct?>
I chuckled.
Didn’t it say we couldn’t “talk” before granting wishes?
This was practically a conversation.
Clearly, it had tried to sneak something past me, only to realize it couldn’t win this time.
But the Golden Scripture didn’t yet know — I’m not one to forgive mistakes easily.
Especially when the other side admits to them.
“You were so strict about your rules, and now that you’ve made a mistake, there’s no restriction on that, huh?”
Just like when the Haomoon swordsman had made a blunder, I pressed in harder.
Even if it didn’t work, I had nothing to lose.
The Scripture’s own restrictions must apply to itself too.
Otherwise, with its arrogant personality, it would’ve just acted freely.
It had obviously tried to brush this off as a “misunderstanding” to avoid punishment.
And, as I suspected, it finally raised the white flag.
<As an apology, please state one thing you desire.>
Had it resisted longer, I would’ve asked for something big.
But since the victory came easily, I decided to go light.
“What can a ‘small wish’ accomplish? You don’t have to list everything — just tell me the maximum possible result.”
It was the kind of question it would normally refuse to answer.
But since it had broken its own rule first, I could safely push the boundary a little.
I was tempted to ask ten questions, but I figured that might genuinely offend it — and the Golden Scripture didn’t seem like the forgiving type.
I must’ve been right.
It took a long time before new words appeared.
<Very well. As an apology for my mistake, I will now tell you the maximum power a “small wish” can achieve.>
A deal successfully struck.
And then it revealed the answer:
<The maximum effect of a small wish is “to duplicate an item you own.”>
At first, I simply nodded.
“I see.”
But then I realized — this wasn’t so simple.
“Wait. Does that mean I could duplicate the Demonic God-Slaying Sword or the Road Pouch?”
If that were true…
That was hard to believe.
But the Golden Scripture remained silent, as if saying, Try it yourself if you’re curious.
“So you’re telling me to test it by using a wish, huh.”
That was the surest way to know — but I didn’t like it.
“I already have one of each. Another would be pointless.”
Even if I made another, it would only be useful if I had someone trustworthy to give it to — and I didn’t.
“A treasure you can’t protect yourself is nothing but a disaster.”
Both the Demonic God-Slaying Sword and the Road Pouch were treasures any person in the world would covet.
I had to think carefully about who, if anyone, deserved such things.
Unfortunately, no one around me yet met that standard.
“And I can’t give them to Saheon either.”
If Saheon were just a normal human, maybe I could.
But he was a reaper from the underworld — so that was out of the question.
That left me with nothing I truly wanted to duplicate.
“And wasting a wish on something trivial would be foolish.”
After some thought, I decided to hold off on using any wish for now.
Since the Golden Scripture could no longer rush me, there was no need.
I didn’t even have an urgent desire at the moment.
Just learning how the wishes worked was already a huge gain.
“So unless you’re going to give me another task, maybe go back inside for now.”
I pulled the Road Pouch from my robe and looked toward the Golden Scripture.
Not that I expected an answer — and indeed, there was none.
So I simply spoke to the pouch.
“Road Pouch, can you keep this safe for me?”
Normally I wouldn’t even ask — but the Golden Scripture was no ordinary relic.
If I stored it carelessly, it might harm the pouch itself.
Fortunately, the pouch assured me it was fine and easily absorbed the Golden Scripture.
“Alright, that settles Baekho’s gift then.”
I turned to head back — but then stopped.
Because I no longer needed to walk.
ROAR!
From the direction I was facing, the White Tiger came bounding toward me,
a massive bundle slung across its back, made from the hide of the Imoogi, bulging with who-knows-what.
