Silence settled between me and the window for a few moments, as if the air itself had suddenly grown heavy.
I raised my gaze toward it and said hesitantly, like someone testing the limits:
"So… is that all I have to do?"
Its response came cold, as always:
[Yes. That is all.]
I took a short breath, as if I had been preparing to hear a long chain of complicated instructions, then said with slight surprise:
"That's easier than I expected… but if it's this easy, why don't people learn karate?"
The answer came instantly, in the same flat, emotionless tone:
[It is only easy for you, due to the "Karate" skill you possess.]
I paused for a moment, processing its words, before it continued:
[As for others, it would be difficult. It requires years of training, discipline, and a certain level of physical ability. You, however… already possess the skill.]
I nodded slowly, beginning to understand the advantage I had—even if it might seem small to others. Then I said:
"Alright… so, what's the second move?"
New glowing lines appeared before me, written clearly as if taken from an old training manual:
[2. Front Kick (Mae Geri)
Steps:
From a fighting stance, raise your knee forward to chest level.
Extend your leg quickly and strike with the ball of your foot toward the target (usually the waist or abdomen).
Retract your leg quickly to return to a balanced stance.]
I read the instructions carefully, then muttered:
"So… that's what I need to do."
I slowly drew in a breath until my lungs were full, then released it calmly to steady my focus.
I reached out, picked up the cushion that had been sent flying earlier, lifted it, and tossed it into the air.
The moment it began to fall, my body moved automatically, just as the window had described: I raised my knee to chest level, then extended my leg in one swift motion, striking the cushion with the ball of my foot using all the force I had, before quickly pulling my leg back to regain balance.
The cushion collided with my foot—and instead of absorbing the blow, it was sent flying backward again, crashing into the wall before falling to the ground with a dull thud.
This time, my eyes didn't widen in shock like they did with the punch… instead, I remained calm, observing the result carefully.
I looked back at the window and asked:
"But… aren't the kick and punch weak? I mean… the cushion didn't get damaged at all. It just flew away."
Its reply came like the result of a simple equation:
[It depends on the user's strength. The higher your strength, the greater the impact.]
I considered its words for a moment, then let out a short sigh.
"Alright… I think I understand now. The reason the cushion is completely fine is because my strength is only five… and five seems a bit low."
I said that while lowering my gaze to my fist and leg, examining them as if searching for the hidden strength within them—the strength I needed… not just to fight, but to carve my path in this strange world.
...
And so, I spent hours training under the window's guidance. It taught me one move after another—from the lower block that protects the legs and abdomen, to the roundhouse kick that requires flexibility and precision, to the upper block that deflects attacks aimed at the head.
The instructions were clear, and the results immediate—as if my body had begun responding to commands it had never experienced before.
But with every movement I mastered, I felt another weight growing heavier… the weight of questions that kept piling up in my mind with every passing second.
After finishing the last technique, I wiped the sweat from my forehead and sat on the bed, breathing slowly until my heartbeat calmed.
There was nothing left for me to do now.
Nothing waiting for me.
No one knocking on my door.
Just me… and the window, standing there in silence, as if it knew everything yet refused to speak.
I took a deep breath, gathering my courage, then said:
"Window… I have a few questions I'd like to ask you."
The words lit up before me like a brief flash:
[Go ahead.]
I raised an eyebrow slightly and began with the first question—the one that had been chasing me since the moment I arrived here:
"How… did I come to this world?"
The answer was immediate, yet cold as ice:
[I apologize, user, but I cannot answer that.]
A sharp edge crept into my voice:
"So… you do know the answer?"
But there was no reply… only silence, as if the words had vanished into the void.
[...]
I let out a heavy sigh and steadied myself.
"Alright… let's move to the second question. Why was I brought to this world?"
[I apologize, user, but I cannot answer that question either.]
A bitter smile formed on my lips—a hopeless smile with no trace of joy:
"Not like I expected you to answer anyway."
I took a short breath and said:
"Third question… how do I return to my world?"
The reply came as usual:
[I cannot answer that either.]
I felt my nerves tighten, but I forced myself to remain calm.
The next question felt heavy on my tongue, as if I feared hearing the answer:
"Then… fourth question. Is there… a way to return to my previous world?"
I hesitated before saying it, afraid it would respond with "I don't know," or worse… "there is no way."
But suddenly, the answer came differently than I expected:
[Yes… there is a way.]
For a moment, my breathing quickened, and I felt a faint warmth return to my chest.
I spoke in a low voice, with a hint of relief:
"At least… you finally said something worth hearing."
Then I added:
"So, what is the way?"
[I cannot answer that.]
I sighed lightly. I had expected that answer… but I needed to be sure.
Then I continued:
"Sixth question… does time here pass differently than in my previous world?"
[Yes, time here passes differently from your previous world.]
I took a step forward, as if getting closer to an important discovery:
"How so?"
[Time here moves faster than in your previous world. One month here equals fifteen days in your world.]
I thought about that carefully, then said to myself, "Alright… that's not so bad."
[Do you have any additional questions, user?]
I remained silent for a moment, thinking, before another question flashed in my mind:
"How big is this world? And are there civilizations and continents?"
[As I am only a system, I do not know. The user must discover that on their own.]
I let out a quiet sigh, as if surrendering to a long game without a map:
"Of course… of course."
At that, the window disappeared, and silence once again filled the room.
I lay down on the bed, staring at the ceiling as thoughts clashed in my mind like restless waves.
There was so much I didn't know…
So many mysteries still unanswered.
Will I discover them one day?… I don't know.
But the only thing I know for certain now…
Is that I will try—even if I have to knock on every door in this world.