Incomprehensible
Creak. Creak.
The sound of something metal grinding as it turned echoed through a room that was strangely, almost unnaturally vast.
It was a long, elongated chamber stretching straight back from the entrance. The only light inside came from a handful of blue-flamed torches set at regular intervals along either wall.
At the far end hung a massive semi-transparent cloth, and beyond it sat a woman in an enormous chair, looking down upon everything in the room. Moonlight poured through the giant window behind her, bathing the chamber in white.
Creak.
The ring on the woman's finger—a pure white ring without a single pattern—scraped against the arm of the chair, sending a bone-chilling sound through the room.
Perhaps because she sat behind the black curtain, everything about her—from her hair to her eyes to the dress she wore—appeared pitch black. Twelve people stood in rows along both sides of the corridor-like chamber, black cloaks draped over them, looking for all the world like disciples of some faith.
Then the black woman tilted her head slightly to one side. She did not rise. She did not speak. She merely tilted her head, just a little.
At that alone, the disciples all held their breath and paid their respects. They dropped to one knee and bowed their heads, not daring even to look at her. The fact that not even the sound of fabric wrinkling could be heard from their movements spoke volumes about their level of mastery.
Creak.
Once more the ring scraped against the chair. The woman of pure darkness surveyed the room with eyes black as obsidian, utterly indifferent. There was no emotion in her gaze. Rather than the way a person looks at another person—
—it was the gaze of someone appraising the condition of merchandise.
Yet the twelve felt not the slightest dissatisfaction under that gaze. Or rather, they could not. The being before them was the absolute one they served.
The woman who had been coldly surveying the room quietly opened her mouth.
"I hear the place whose tail we stepped on this time was Mudwell."
Honorific speech. It might seem strange for someone of high status to use formal language with those who serve her. But listen carefully and you realize it isn't respect for the other party—the formal speech is simply stuck to her tongue.
As if savoring the silence, the woman closed her mouth for a moment before speaking again.
"Who was in charge of that place?"
"That would be me."
Without a moment's hesitation, a man answered and slightly raised his head. The black woman's gaze stabbed sharply into the man who had lifted his face—a gaze as if gauging who he was.
"Ah, Jae-yoon, was it?"
Despite the seemingly interested tone, the voice calling his name was utterly dry. Unable to completely hide his fear, the man trembled slightly at his fingertips and lowered his head again.
Creak. Creak.
"Hmm…"
A brief sound of the woman pondering. Then a soft thud, as if something light had fallen and rolled across the floor.
"……"
Looking at what had, until moments ago, been his left hand, the man squeezed his eyes shut as if enduring pain. With another thud, his elbow rolled across the floor without warning. Then a section ten centimeters above the elbow. Then five centimeters above that.
As if wanting the man to feel the pain for as long as possible—slowly. There was no sound of flesh being cut or bone being severed. The only sounds in the room were the pieces of the man's flesh hitting the floor every few seconds, the occasional creak of the woman's ring, and the man's breathing, grown just slightly rougher from holding back the pain.
Finally, everything up to his left shoulder was severed. The man's knees, pressed to the floor, soaked through with his blood. Feeling that horribly vivid cold, the man was called by the woman.
"Jae-yoon."
"Yes."
A trickle. At some point a long gash had appeared on the man's right cheek, and blood began to flow—a long scar running from just below his right eye, past his collarbone, to the center of his chest.
"You won't make a mistake next time, will you?"
"…Yes."
Drip. Drip.
Blood from the new wounds fell into the pool of blood on the floor. The woman closed her eyes for a moment as if savoring the sound, then opened them again.
"What a good boy."
"…Thank you."
"I'll be counting on you going forward."
"I will ensure nothing like this ever happens again."
"I like that."
The woman took her gaze off the man and swept it once over the others. At the same time, a maid who had been waiting outside the room came running out, knelt beside the man whose arm had been severed, and began treating his wounds with hands wreathed in light. Maid in name only—wrapped tightly in black cloth, one could only guess she was female from the protruding chest; no one knew what was inside. Another maid approached, wiped away the blood pooled beneath the man, and neatly stacked the meat chunks that had been sliced so thin recovery was impossible.
Watching this for a moment, the black woman spoke.
"Well then… shall we move on to the next topic?"
Thud. Clatter-clatter-clatter.
"Ah—hey, where do you think you're going?"
I knew perfectly well that a dropped object couldn't possibly have thoughts of its own, but I still called after it and stretched out my hand. Every time I reached, my palm only slapped the empty floor where the thing had already rolled past, and it was starting to get on my nerves. And looking at the direction it was heading…
"Don't you dare go under the wardrobe!"
If it goes under there, getting it out is going to be a pain!
In a panic I shot to my feet, scrambled over, and threw myself down, smacking the rolling thing flat under my palm like I was swatting a bug.
A cold, smooth sensation—well-worked metal. Just to be sure it had actually stopped, I checked, then pinched the small piece of metal between two fingers and lifted it.
"…A ring?"
And a pitch-black one, at that. Even at a glance it looked expensive, but there wasn't a single pattern or decoration on it. Just a sleek, featureless black ring.
"Did someone propose to me at some point?"
I'd received so many confessions I couldn't keep track—maybe a proposal or two had gotten mixed in there. The real problem was why this thing had been in a drawer in my house.
The dresser this ring had come from wasn't one of the new pieces Adel bought during the remodel. It was an old one that had been here from the start. Finding something inside it meant there was a high chance it had originally been mine…
Right after I possessed this body, I'd rummaged through that dresser several times looking for anything useful, and more than once I'd emptied the whole thing out. After all that chaos, I'd never once seen a ring like this.
Had Adel or Tania snuck it in on the night they stayed over?
On the off chance, I sent a message to the group chat that had somehow come to include Luna and Rina as well—along with a photo of the black ring resting on my palm.
The read receipts vanished almost instantly and replies came back—but no useful leads. As always, Luna and Rina showed no sign of intending to answer…
Those two almost never reply. Well, Luna and Rina had never even been to my house, so there wasn't really any need for them to.
But then, against my expectations, a reply came from Rina.
…?
I tilted my head at the sudden answer and asked again.
Hmm…
I took my eyes off my phone for a moment and looked at the ring. But contrary to what Rina said, I felt nothing from it at all. Just a black, smooth ring. Wondering if there was something wrong with the photo, I stared at that for a long while too, but found nothing strange there either.
Though it did feel somehow familiar.
And just as I was finally about to slip the ring onto my finger, another private message arrived from Rina.
Hmm. For someone who normally never spoke to me without a reason to go so far as to message me privately like this—maybe there really was something to it?
Come to think of it, her instincts were always right. Even with raffles she always drew the winning ticket, and she was always the first to notice people watching from a distance. According to Luna, her senses seemed far sharper than other people's. The fact that she picked up on others' gazes even before Luna did made it clear Rina had something special going on. I was pretty sure her ability was something else entirely, though…
I sent her an Okay for now.
Alright—time to put it on!
Things you're told not to do are always the most fun. And what girl isn't interested in dressing herself up? Especially a beautiful girl like me! Besides, my gut said this ring would suit me perfectly. Not that I could think of any accessory that wouldn't suit me. It was almost as if the ring itself was screaming for me to wear it. Destiny's pull? Something like that?
With that thought, I held the ring in my right hand and brought it toward the ring finger of my left. I just had a feeling that was where it belonged.
And as the pitch-black ring began to slide onto my left ring finger—the instant it made the slightest contact—
Screeeeeeeeeech—!
"Augh!"
A horrific headache tore through my skull. As if my head were about to split open any second. As if my skull would burst and paint the room red with bright crimson brain matter.
Right on its heels came a pain like something was crushing my heart in its fist.
"Khahk!"
My throat constricted and breathing became difficult. At the same time a massive volume of blood poured from my mouth, staining the floor red. The blood that surged out ran down my body in streams, soaking not only my chin but the school uniform shirt and skirt I was wearing.
I didn't care for the rest of it, but the way it soaked into my stockings looked a little suggestive, which wasn't entirely bad.
While I was having that ridiculous thought, my entire body—under some unknown pressure—locked solid right where I stood. Frozen in the exact posture I'd been in while looking at my stockings, I couldn't lift my head.
But I could feel it.
Something was standing in front of me. Looking down at me.
I could see the feet of the being standing before me. Small feet in black stockings. Slim but firm calves and thighs. An all-too-familiar short skirt. Black hair long enough to fall past it.
Those fragmentary details told me the being before me might not be so far removed from myself—and yet.
Why?
That being felt infinitely distant.
Incomprehensible, in the truest sense of the word. A presence my common sense could not grasp. One I could not understand—and must not understand.
Under the crushing pressure of that overwhelming existence, my whole body felt as if it were being sliced apart by something razor-sharp. A horrific sensation, as though my entire body were being carved into thin slices. And yet the body I could see was completely unharmed. Aside from the blood I'd coughed up, it was perfectly normal. But the fact that I couldn't move remained unchanged.
I like restraint play, and I like sadistic play too, but…
"Th-this… isn't… my… kink…?"
Whether from the terrible pain or not, my words came out broken.
I don't like this.
If there's one thing I absolutely cannot forgive, it's not being able to see the other person's face. Seeing their expression in a moment of genuine emotion is half the fun.
I don't like this.
If they'd at least put a blindfold on me, I could have treated it as a kind of play and accepted it in a better mood.
I don't like this.
The fact that a beautiful girl like me has to keep her head bowed indefinitely. The fact that I don't even know who is standing in front of me.
I don't like this.
I forced my body to move. I could tell—this wasn't some ability locking me in place. It was pure, overwhelming presence alone that had done this. Which meant that if I put my mind to it, moving wasn't impossible.
It felt as heavy as if gravity had multiplied tenfold, but I forced my head up. Something in the back of my neck made a cracking sound like it was about to snap, but I didn't stop.
As my field of vision rose, things I hadn't been able to see came into view one by one. A black dress that felt somehow nostalgic. I'd seen that dress somewhere before. Ah, right—it closely resembled the red dress I'd once created with my ability. The bare shoulders, the design that left everything but the two or three layers covering the important parts faintly translucent—I'd liked it enough to remember it clearly.
I lifted my head a little higher, and at last her face—
Thump.
A woman's ice-cold hand covered my face.
And she spoke.
A sentence twisted so badly it was nearly impossible to understand.
In that instant the air near my finger burst with a sharp bang—! and the black ring went flying. At the same time the woman before me vanished like smoke, and my vision went dark—the last thing I registered was my body collapsing face-first into the blood pooled on the floor before I lost consciousness.