Hand in Hand to the Incinerator
*Ding!* It felt like the sound of snagging an achievement echoed in my head! I slowly lowered my head and body, peering into the deeply bowed mob girl's eyes as I walked briskly beside her. Come on, look at me already. Huh? The invincible magical girl's core muscles can handle even this ridiculous pose with ease. Even in the pitch-black, filthy air, my hair rustled softly, releasing a rainbow-scented fragrance as it cascaded down. Not a single strand got wet from the black sludge on the floor.
The mob girl, seemingly short of breath, finally lifted her narrowed eyes to meet mine. Kihihi.
"Hic! H-hee, hee. Y-you won't kill me, right?"
The pitiful mob girl wanted confirmation again on the fact I'd already checked. I'm not gonna kill you, and I'll make sure you get out of here alive. I nodded firmly, reassuring her even in this bizarre pose.
Then I straightened up and proudly lifted the envelope I'd processed perfectly, using the mob girl's actions as a sample! Look at this! Behold my pristine handiwork! I even matched the weight! *Ding!* Another achievement sound rang in my head!
"Haa, haa."
The mob girl panted heavily, glancing at me sidelong again. I nodded. Only then did she breathe easier. I toddled along behind her. Poke poke. Hurry up and spill the rules.
"Hic, um, s-so. What do you n-need blood for?"
I jiggled the weird envelope suggestively. Too bad it didn't make a sound. Well, shit game's sound assets are all like that anyway.
"Ah, ah. The, the rules?"
Nod nod. Quick on the uptake, nice. She stared blankly at the scattered debris and the hole-riddled black ground before answering.
"Th-that... Once you've prepared the envelope, you're basically done. N-now you just go inside the building."
Nod nod.
"Th-then, follow the path straight ahead, and you'll find a m-mask? You h-have to wear it."
Eh? A mask? Put some filthy thing who-knows-who-wore on my face? No thanks. I shook my head side to side.
"Eh? Ah... I-is that okay?"
Nod nod. The mob girl looked a bit dazed. Then she muttered on like she was reciting.
"Um. And then, t-two people per group. Go to the i-incinerator and b-burn it. If you're left alone, you end up in the w-waiting room. Sniff."
She sniffled. Why's that?
"N-no, anyway. Once the b-burning's done, you meet a doctor for a r-respiratory check."
Hmm. A doctor, huh. Doesn't sit right—better eliminate that.
"D-during the exam, if the v-ventilation's on, turn it off secretly. S-sometimes there's no doctor, and then you w-wait 12 hours."
Handy rule since I'm axing the doctor anyway. Does offing the doc always mean waiting? Annoying, so I'll bail before that.
"Th-that's it. Then c-can we go back?"
Nod nod. Lucky me, snagged a pretty-colored weird-phenomenon otaku or human rulebook. Not that I'll follow it. Kihihi.
To ease her worries, I made an old-school finger heart. No clue what kids these days like, but she's sharp—should be fine. The mob girl smiled with a weird mix of relief and anxiety. That total-loser vibe earned her one more point of my one-sided fondness.
Now she finally walked normally, like the escort mission was wrapping up. No more noteworthy rules, I guess? Would be sad if she keeled over.
The bag weirdos lined up, filing through the open fence gate. Plenty left even after many got shredded. Thought there'd be a bottleneck, but they sucked right in like magic.
Up close, the building's sheer size was overwhelming. Man, if only it'd transform into the boss. What a letdown. The bag weirdos should've surged like zombies for some real fun.
Its aesthetic was trash outside the scale—twisted rusty pipes everywhere for no reason, massive smokestacks belching dirty smoke. Figures, with those half-assed clone soldier designs earlier.
The gradient on the smoke-stained walls had a certain moody charm, at least. The stench was brutal, though. I hit the mob girl with a quick purification. She shivered once, then scurried after the weirdos. Her total-loser gait—slumped shoulders, turtle neck! And yet king-sized tits! Slap some round oversized glasses on her, swap pajamas for turtleneck and skinny jeans, perfection. Glasses are subjective, so removable's fine.
At the entrance, a tacky LED sign blinked.
Welcome. This is the incinerator that processes all trash.
Blink blink. Gaudy dot-matrix letters flashed. Double meaning, huh.
Over the fence, the ground turned to solid black tiles. No random sculptures—government building vibe? Whatever, weirdos designed it.
A short walk later, a pitch-dark hole loomed—the building's entrance. Mob girl seemed tense but proceeded familiarly without hesitation.
Step inside, and poof—no bag weirdos in sight. Just the mob girl ahead. Gotta chalk it up to weird-phenomenon quirks? Didn't ping my magical girl senses, feels off. Vanishing and popping up, no color... Wanna learn that.
Flickering fluorescents cast a gloomy glow inside. Narrow straight corridor, unlike the massive exterior—damp gray walls. Simple dead-end splits into three paths, nothing else detects.
Shit-game style, skipping exploration. So the building turns boss, right? Can't wait.
I walked beside the mob girl now. She didn't complain, so line rule's done.
"Um, h-hey."
Tilt. Mob girl suddenly spoke up. Scaredy-cat couldn't handle the mood? But her social skills let her talk—better than me. Jealous!
"By any chance... A-are you an Awakened Ability User?"
Nod nod.
"Eh? Why... N-nothing..."
Suddenly, she went dead silent, even her breathing. The long corridor echoed only her lonely footsteps like an abyss.
After a long quiet, her lips parted.
"D-do you live in K-Korea?"
Nod nod. That much I can answer.
"Y-yeah..."
She fell silent again. Huh? What's up.
"D-do you know about this i-incinerator Weird Phenomenon?"
Shake shake. That's your expertise, right? First time for me.
"Ah! I-is that so."
Dunno what's what, but she looked satisfied. Kinda cute, pathetically so.
"Sh-shall we go?"
She turned to me, offering her empty hand. Her cheeks flushed pink. What, what! Even mob girl needs friends? Looks tough befriending a cool beauty like me, huh? But inside's a hikikomori geezer, so hit me up first—no pressure. Me initiating? Impossible! How many years since I had a friend? Can't recall exactly, but over 15 for sure. Had a clingy junior trailing me—what was his name? I, uh, something■■? Right? Who knows. Long hikikomori life blurs the past. Maybe mixed up with my gut and subculture phase.
I offered my hand and clasped hers. Whoa! Girl hand, girl hand! So soft! Kihihi.
"S-soft..."
Mob girl seemed thrilled by the invincible magical girl hand too. Subtle resonance, but origin's geezer! Kihihi.
I squeezed her hand as we trudged the drab corridor. She didn't seem to hate it. Girls holding hands ain't bad. Kihihi. Pathetic old man thrilled in his tiny home—sad.
Soon, the detected fork appeared. Black letters, melted-like, labeled each: Incinerator, Medical Room, Director's Office. Just three rooms in this huge building? Building-boss theory holds!
Mob girl led toward Incinerator. I floated lazily instead of walking—too tiring. Enjoying the languid vibe, we arrived.
Door labeled Incinerator. Right wall: dozens of gas masks, like the hulks wore. Thick, black rubber—or skin?—masks. Won't stick to my face? Ew, gotta wear that? Ptooey, skin'll rot.