Vivian glanced back. Hedges stretched back infinitely, nothing behind him but the roses bobbing on the breeze. He rubbed the back of his neck. I feel like someone’s watching me, but I never see anyone there.

Shaking his head, he pushed it to the back of his mind. It’s not important. For now, let’s focus on training!

An open space stretched around him, about as large as a living room. In the center, an overgrown yew tree, the same variety that made up the walls of the hedge maze, stood. Dense branches spread in all directions, wild and untamed. Clover and grass grew through the cobblestones underfoot. In the northern end of the space, moss softened the cobbles’ edges.

Vivian knelt, reviewing the two tools laid out before him. The hedge clippers. Forearm-length handles leading to a hand-span scissored blade. He tapped the tip. His finger didn’t bleed, but the tip had an unquestionable sharpness. I’ll sharpen that tip. I can use it for stabbing already, but I might as well make it easier on myself.

As for fighting… it’s well suited for stabbing and removing slender limbs with its scissored blades. It’s not good for slashing, since the blades are exclusively on the inside faces of the blades. I could try sharpening the outer edges, but there’s a good quarter-inch of flat metal there that I’d have to shave into a sharp edge. Plus, they won’t function well as scissors without the weighty blades.

Turning to the rake, he put a hand on his chin. The long shaft stretched from the ground to his chest. The butt end presented worn wood, while the business end sported a flat face of short, blunt metal tines. He tapped their tips as well, feeling the sharpness, but steady bluntness met his fingertips.

I can use them to snare weak points—the eyes, nose, and mouth. Hooking a leg or arm with the tines gives me some options for parrying and tripping. Unlike the clippers, it’s a blunt weapon. I can slap or jab, maybe even break bones, but I won’t pierce much with this rake. Compared to the clippers, the rake is much less immediately lethal.

Vivian crossed his arms thoughtfully. Two deaths away from the Garden. Two tools. I wandered a bit before I came here, but I still haven’t found a tool shed, if it even exists. Do I get a new tool every time I die? New life, new tool.

“Well, I’m not about to kill myself to find out. I’ll find out as I go,” Vivian decided, nodding. This is the Tower, and I’m a Gardener with shit for Ability Point growth and shit for Skills. There’s no point putting in the effort to kill myself when someone else will certainly handle it for me.

The voice echoed in his head again. [Skills] are only half the battle. If you let them move your body, you lose half their power. Move yourself, and use the [Skill] to boost your own strength.

“That’s right, creepy whisper. And as a Gardener, I don’t even have Skills to rely on. I’ve got to learn it all myself, the old-fashioned way,” he said. He stretched left and right, then jogged in place a little, warming up. With one last jog, he dropped down and snatched up the clippers. Whirling them around his hand, he caught them and pointed them at the sky. “Here I go!”

Vivian charged at the overgrown yew in the center of the space. The clippers flashed forth. He darted left and right, dodging and dipping. Sidestepping, he circled around the yew. Branches littered the ground, piling up around Vivian as he sparred the bushy tree. “Trim. Trim. Trim!”

Each time he shouted Trim, his clippers accelerated. Time slowed down. He instantly saw the contour of the bush and the precise point to cut each branch for maximum effect. Branches fell rapidly.

SP: 0

Exhaustion slammed into him. Sweat broke out on his face and back, and his stomach pulled to his spine, empty. Every limb felt heavy and clammy. Not a single part of his body had power.

Vivian fell back, panting. He wiped his brow and let out a deep, slow sigh. I forgot how shitty 0 SP feels. Ugh. Like running a marathon. If I’d cut those branches normally, I wouldn’t feel this bad.

But on the upside, Skills can allow people to do things they couldn’t normally. Cast magic. Use advanced sword techniques without years of training.

He looked up. A rubber ducky-shaped topiary stared back at him. Trim a topiary in thirty seconds.

Pushing himself up, he raised the clippers again. “Now the real training begins.”

The voice echoed in his ears again. Push past the exhaustion. It isn’t real. It’s as fake as everything else in the Tower. Find your own strength. Focus on that.

“Thank you, mysterious creepy whisper,” Vivian muttered. He jumped in place, shaking his arms out. Although his legs were steady, each jump took all his power. Still feels like shit, though.

“Alright. Let’s go! Hedges, watch out!” Vivian forced himself to run at the nearest hedge wall, clippers open.

The dull ball of light crawled across the sky. Slowly, the fog grew darker. Vivian wiped his brow, looking around at his work. Wow. I’ve done good work here today.

A ring of rubber ducky-shaped topiaries stared back at him, eyes blank and bills upturned. Vivian nodded at himself. “Much better than those boring walls.”

Footsteps caught his ear. Vivian looked up. Someone’s coming. He grabbed his clippers and put his back against the rubber duckies.

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Noah staggered around the corner, exhausted. He walked into the center of the space and looked around, brows furrowed. “Vivian!”

Vivian padded forward and put his clippers to the back of Noah’s neck. In a deep voice, he growled, “Don’t move.”

Noah put his hands up. He trembled. “Don’t kill me, please don’t—”

“Welcome back! How are you doing?” Vivian asked, lowering the clippers. He patted Noah on the shoulder. “Never let your guard down, kid.”

Letting out a dramatic sigh, Noah dropped to the ground. He reached into his pocket and yanked out a peanut butter sandwich in a plastic bag. “I’m exhausted.”

Vivian eyed the sandwich. “You bring enough for the whole class?”

Noah frowned at him. “You’re an NPC. You don’t need to eat.”

I guess we’re about to test that hypothesis. Vivian sighed. He shook his head at the sandwich longingly. “I haven’t had anything to eat. First, the stew was cannibal stew, and now this brat won’t share his peanut butter sandwich…”

“Cannibal stew…?” Noah asked, eyeing Vivian suspiciously.

“No, you’re right. The cannibals were eating it, not in it. So I guess more properly, it was human stew. And I ate none of it. Did have some very nice bread, I suppose,” Vivian said. He paused. “I hope it wasn’t human bread.”

“You are the weirdest NPC I’ve ever met,” Noah muttered through a mouthful of peanutbutter.

“And close your mouth when you chew, young man,” Vivian returned.

He looked up sharply, then rubbed the back of his neck. A scowl crossed his face. I can’t shake the feeling that someone’s watching me.

“What?” Noah asked.

“What level are you?” Vivian asked, ignoring Noah’s question.

“Huh? Oh, I hit level four. Not much more, though. You don’t get that much EXP by mashing spells,” Noah said.

“Better than nothing. So—” He sat upright and looked around again.

“Seriously, what?” Noah asked.

“Do you feel like someone’s watching you, too?” Vivian asked.

Noah shook his head.

“So why…” Vivian wrinkled his nose, distinctly uncomfortable. Can this stop? It’s super obnoxious.

[Skill Acquired]

[Gardenational Awareness] Lvl 1

Your garden is your body, and your body is your garden. You can sense your home garden as though it was your own body and have a limited awareness of threats and Players within the garden.

Vivian blinked. What…? What on earth kind of skill is that? Gardenational Awareness? That isn’t even a word!

Wait. Does that mean someone’s looking at my garden? Watching us? But why…?

He turned his head. His gaze landed on a certain young boy.

Noah looked at him. “What now?”

“Noah, are there people looking for you?” Vivian asked.

“Looking for me? No,” Noah said. He stuffed the rest of the peanut butter sandwich in his mouth and wiped his hands on his robes. And wiped. And wiped.

Watching his nervous fidgeting, Vivian cocked an eyebrow. “Uh huh. Why are they looking for you?”

“They aren’t. It isn’t happening,” Noah protested.

“Right. But if it was. Just hypothetically. What might they be looking for you for?” Vivian asked.

Noah licked his lips. He grabbed his robe and tugged at it. “Uh, I don’t know. I uh, might owe someone a little bit for my gear.”

“A little bit?” Vivian asked.

“Uhm, you know. Mom’s sick, and we’re poor. We don’t have a lot of money. So, you know. I might have… borrowed a little…” Noah shrugged, glancing at the floor.

“Borrowed a little money, or borrowed those robes?” Vivian asked.

Noah gulped. He looked at the floor and shrugged again.

“Both…?” Vivian asked.

“Back off, alright? You don’t know my life,” Noah snarled.

Vivian nodded. “I don’t know your life, which is why you have to tell me these things so I can prepare for them.”

“You’re… not gonna give up on me?” Noah asked.

“I mean, I might. Depends on who’s after you,” Vivian said, pinching his chin thoughtfully.

Noah scowled. “Shut up.”

Vivian laughed. “I mean, all you’ve brought me so far are clippers and a load of trouble. If I didn’t need a mage for my ideal party, I’d totally ditch you.”

“Wait, you want me to do a quest with you after this?” Noah asked.

“Assuming you level up enough and survive, yeah. I have to go to the Ruined Castle,” Vivian said.

“Why? Your wife was captured by the evil king? Your brother was killed by the knights, and you long for revenge?” Noah guessed.

Vivian clenched his fist. “That Kyung brat said his dad’s a Ranker. I must see the Rankings list! I need to know how high his dad’s ranked!”

Noah backed away from him. “You’re crazy.”

“Hey, do you want to go to the Ruined Castle?” Vivian asked.

Noah hesitated. “I mean… eventually…”

“No time like today—well, whenever you hit level ten!” Vivian declared.

“Level ten? Isn’t it a level twenty area?” Noah asked.

“You’re a backliner, you won’t see serious combat. You can pick up the levels as we go,” Vivian said, waving his hand.

Noah squinted at him. “And who’s the frontliner? You? A Gardener?”

Vivian slapped his hand on the cobbles and leaned forward, pointing at Noah’s face. “Don’t you dare diss gardening.”

Patting his pocket, Noah pulled out an empty plastic baggie and sighed. He stuffed it back in his pocket and looked at Vivian. “Who’s Kyung?”

“The barber or something,” Vivian said.

“The barber’s dad is a Ranker?” Noah asked, taken aback.

Vivian waved his hand. “It’s a long story. For now, sleep. We should be safe here.”

“Are you sure?” Noah asked.

“Not really. I just feel like it’ll be safe here,” Vivian said. I don’t know why, but this place definitely feels safe. Then again, with [Gardenational Awareness]… shit, that’s a terrible name—it might be my Skill telling me that this is a safe zone.

Come to think of it, even before that skill, I knew how to get here. What’s happening to me? I… don’t understand. Is this because I’m an NPC? My memories of being a Gardener leaking over into waking Vivian? Vivian frowned. He rubbed his forehead, mildly annoyed.

“O…kay,” Noah said uncertainly. He looked at Vivian, then scooted over to one of the topiaries. Wiggling into the gap between two rubber duckies, he curled himself up tight and put his robes over his head to block out the pale light of the roses. After a few moments, his steady breathing became the only sound in the clearing.

Vivian looked at him. Just a kid. And he’s gotta provide for his mother and himself. I can’t really blame him for stealing. Obviously, he shouldn’t have done it, but… well, he said it best. I don’t know his life. Maybe he had no other option. Gear is expensive, and he’s a low-level Player.

Growing up in an Exclusion Zone… what was that like? Surrounded by monsters and that half-finished scenery, and all the dangerous holes where you can fall directly into the Tower… How old was he when he was Chosen? I can’t imagine he was Chosen long ago, to still be level four, but then, Exclusion Zone monsters don’t give good EXP. The whole Tower is designed to force people inside it. It gapes open, like the hungry maw of a beast, and we stupidly plunge inside…

Vivian stood. He grabbed the rake. No point moping. If I’m sitting around, I might as well train. At least until I get tired enough to sleep. Whirling the rake around, he slammed his palm at the central topiary and narrowed his eyes. “Rubber ducky, you’re the one who dies tonight!”

The topiary duck had nothing to say for itself.

With one last rake spin for style, Vivian threw himself at the bush.