Evidence (1)

And then a month passed.

The past month—from June 6 to today, June 30—had seen its share of incidents. Plenty, if you were inclined to call it plenty. Not much, if you weren't.

First, when I said I was leaving the family home to stay at Yeongeun's mansion in Bangbae-dong, my sister opposed it with everything she had. I leaned on my training and the family's safety as excuses, and with covering fire from Hwayeon and Yeongeun, I strong-armed permission out of Dad and Mom.

My sister, thoroughly put out, ended up tearful and shut herself in her room without another word to me.

One of the reasons I'd chosen the Bangbae-dong mansion was that I'd agreed to close-quarters combat training at the earnest insistence of Franc, Hwayeon, and Yeongeun. The others were simpler. I needed to dodge those verminous hack-reporter bastards, domestic and foreign alike, and I needed time to properly digest the abilities I'd gained on becoming C-Class.

So from June 6—the day Yeongeun rose to B-Class—I lived at her mansion, moving between home and school, learning close-quarters fighting from Hwayeon and the use of a dagger from Franc and Yeongeun.

That was when I learned just how formidable Franc was. She had genuine mastery of the sword, of blunt weapons, and of the dagger. At first, when she modestly allowed that she had "a little confidence" in swordsmanship, blunt-weapon technique, and dagger work, Hwayeon took up a light practice sword and sparred with her. It was over in an instant.

They'd restricted themselves to the same physical ability for the match, and still Hwayeon was dragged along by Franc's swordplay from start to finish, unable to mount a real attack, taking hits all over her body. If it had been live steel, she would have been carved until she was unrecognizable. The bout was decided in under a minute. Shocked, Hwayeon demanded rematch after rematch. The result never changed.

Watching that, Yeongeun's eyes lit up, and she took a dagger to Franc for a knife fight. She lasted a little longer than Hwayeon. She still couldn't break a minute and twenty seconds before she folded into a pose of pure defeat.

"What even are you, Franc...? Skill like this is grandmaster level..."

"...You ought to have taken the hint from the fact that I was forcibly summoned to the same Phase World as Seoha..."

Lately a hypothesis had been trending in Phase studies—that an ability user's power and aptitude were determined by which Phase World they were forcibly summoned to. That must have been why she put it that way.

And so it was decided I would learn the dagger from Franc, who had so easily put down a mother and daughter who could have passed for twins, while unarmed technique would come from Hwayeon.

For two weeks after the announcement went out on June 5, the reporters hounded me to an infuriating degree, digging into my private life. Staking out near the mansion and falling in behind me in a long line the moment I stepped outside, shutters clicking the whole way—that was the baseline. They snuck onto campus to photograph me in secret. They trespassed into buildings near the school and shot me with telephoto lenses. That about says it all.

June 12. I was growing more irritated by the day, the camera shutters needling my ears every time I so much as moved. Since I hadn't particularly restrained them, they grew bolder still, trespassing onto the rooftops of houses around the Bangbae-dong mansion to secretly photograph the interior—Franc and Hwayeon.

I could stomach them bothering me. But the sight of them trying to capture my women on film without permission was the instant my anger nearly detonated, and that was when Yeongeun stepped in.

"Children? Drag eeevery last one of those camera-carrying bastards over here."

At her order the security detail deployed, seized every reporter in the vicinity, and hauled them to the mansion.

The dragged-in reporters raised a howl. This was kidnapping. How could a president commit, in a nation of laws, something that must never happen? They yapped like dogs and pigs about the public's right to know and all the rest. The moment Yeongeun smiled and opened her mouth, they went mute, as if they'd swallowed honey.

"..."

"...I'm sorry."

"We were wrong. We won't come near you again, so please—just this once—show mercy...!"

Of course it didn't end with threats. The owners of any camera that had captured the mansion, or any of us, were sued for invasion of privacy, with the National Security Act thrown in for good measure—whether it even applied was doubtful—and the whole country erupted. Not only the outlets those reporters belonged to, but the papers suspected of leftist leanings, birds of a feather, flocked together to screech that this was nothing but suppression of the press.

They say a hack's arm bends toward other hacks. Turns out it's true...

Anyway, once Yeongeun swung the blade of the lawsuit with a smile still on her face, paparazzi-grade reporters mostly vanished from around me. The ones who genuinely invoked the public's right to know while skating, ever so deftly, the line between legal and illegal—there was no way to drive those off. Try to report them for violating portrait rights, and their photos turned out to center on background scenery, with me appearing only as if I'd been caught by chance. Portrait rights didn't apply. By the circumstances, they were coming all the way to my training ground to photograph me on the sly. The actual evidence said otherwise.

Slick enough to avoid every place with CCTV while they shot. Seriously, fuck...

So I started working off the irritation those reporters gave me by taking Franc, Hwayeon, and Yeongeun without a moment's rest. Weekday or holiday, the instant training ended and it was time to rest, I'd jump them, so none of them could keep a clear head at home. Several hours a day simply ceased to exist. Hwayeon, at the end of her endurance, acquired a private security firm and assigned every one of its guards to me, physically cutting the reporters off.

Only then did my days return to something like normal, and they could finally get their own work done at home.

When I started going back to school from the second week of June, the reaction had shifted again. Love letters had vanished without a trace from my shoe locker and my desk drawer. The kids at school only watched me from a good distance now. No one came up to talk.

Except this one little brat.

"Seoha-senpaaaai! Please! Just once! Even one single time is fine, so please put your name on the student council roooster! Pleeeease?!"

"Oh, for real! Will you cut it out already?!"

Lee Yu-mi still hadn't given up. She didn't chase me to death anymore, but the moment she spotted me wandering the school she'd come flying in with her twintails streaming, snatch me around the waist—and I couldn't even bring myself to properly scold her. It was going to kill me.

Tiny as she was, her instincts were vicious. She had my breaking point mapped exactly, whining and clinging right up to the edge, then the instant I was about to explode she'd bolt. Stress, doubled, if I had to put a number on it.

"If you just write your name—three little characters!—and sign once, right here, I'll stop!"

"...Gah!"

At Lee Yu-mi's tyranny, forcing a signature like some unscrupulous door-to-door salesman, the resentment I'd been bottling up exploded. I gave her a knuckle to the skull, and she fled clutching her head, crying out against violence.

I was staring after her—twintails streaming behind her like a horse's tail—with a face that said I was sick to death of it, when Kim Chang-hyun snickered and thumped my shoulder.

"Your real enemy isn't the Aberrants. It's the student council president, isn't it?"

"..."

I can't even deny it, and that pisses me off!

Anyway, aside from Lee Yu-mi, everything that had been bothering me vanished, and I got to enjoy a reasonably comfortable school life.

Getting a love letter is thrilling once or twice. When the same thing repeats, it goes past weariness into a disposal problem—nothing but an irritating bomb of love letters. Most of them only said they liked me, or asked me out, so even reading them wasn't fun. Worse, every so often an envelope held someone's hair, or fingernails, or teeth. Seriously...

You open an envelope and a perfectly intact molar rolls out. Being startled doesn't begin to cover it.

On another note, when I came to school after the third round and the verification team were finished, Han Go-eun's crew looked at me choking up that I was safe, sighing in relief, and I was a little moved. There wasn't a trace ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠of that selfish, grasping look—the one that wants to stick a straw in me and drink its fill of the benefits. It was pure worry. I hadn't thought a real friendship, deep enough to earn sincere concern, could be built in only a few months, so it hit me harder than I expected.

Of course, the feeling didn't last.

Why?

Because these so-called friends caught sight of Franc floating behind me, suddenly shoved me aside, and started worshipping her like fanatics.

I mean, I acknowledge Franc's beauty. I do. But that doesn't mean you get to shove me...! I was in the middle of being moved, and you ought to feel what it's like to get shoved before you pull something like that! I almost actually cried!

Damn lookism...! Give me my feelings back!!

My sister, living apart from me now, came to the Time River Building every afternoon to see me. She'd find me, drag me by the arm into a café, and ask every single day whether anything had happened, what I'd done the day before, whether I was eating properly. It was a little ridiculous, and it felt like she still saw me as a child, so I spoke to her sharply. I wasn't a kid anymore. I was eating fine and living fine. Why was she trying to smother me like this—did she want to ruin me?

Scolded, my sister went up to the office on the eighteenth floor looking thoroughly wilted, and watching her go left a knot in my chest.

Aish.

She was sniffling because of me, which left a bitter taste, and seeing her so ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠deflated sat wrong. The next day I went to a well-known jeweler downtown, had them beautifully wrap a slender, pretty necklace set with her birthstone, and gave it to her.

Until then her face had been packed with storm clouds. The moment she took the gift she looked blank; then she undid the wrapping, saw what was inside, and smiled as brightly as if she'd never been gloomy at all—one tear clinging at the corner of her eye as she pulled me into a tight hug and sniffled.

A sigh came out of me on its own. Inwardly, of course.

And so I spent my time shuttling between the Bangbae-dong mansion, school, and the Time River Building, until the end of June, when a single incident erupted and the reporters' interest—and the public's gaze—finally left me. Only then could I catch my breath.

It was the sex scandal of Seon Ara, boss of Eshban and supposedly Korea's supreme idol icon. Of course it was. The people dragged into it were chairmen of some of the country's foremost conglomerates, ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠besides.

In the old days I would have gotten worked up and scoured the internet to see if the video had leaked. Right now I have three girlfriends at my side, each prettier than that Seon Ara. Girlfriends so far gone on me that one word from me and their underwear comes flying off.

Not my concern.

Right. What holds my interest is sparring with my girlfriends.

"...Can't I just shut down close combat with a Spatial Barrier? I'm not going to be fighting Aberrants up close anyway, and if I do, it'll only be against ability users. An ability user obviously can't pierce my Spatial Barrier, and even if they try, I can just crush them with Spatial Manipulation..."

This was absolutely not because Hwayeon's hands and feet, hammering my body without mercy, hurt.

I grumbled it while she launched me into the air. I turned, found the ground, and landed, and Yeongeun, who had been watching from the side, smiled brightly and soothed me.

"Learning it isn't giving it away, is it? Study hard, and someday it'll all find a use."

"And your skill is growing, little by little, isn't it? ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠It isn't entirely wasted."

"Well. That's true, but."

Nearly a month had passed since I began training in the underground hall of the Bangbae-dong mansion.

Thanks to that stretch of time—training or a beating, hard to say—I could now be flung into the air and recover my balance for a landing without using Mana Mode - Acceleration, and even a failed landing turned naturally into a breakfall. I could watch Hwayeon's fist come roaring in at a terrifying speed without squeezing my eyes shut. I'd learned how to take a blow, and from which direction, so it hurt less, and breakfalls had settled into my body completely. The pain of being hit, though—no amount of time made me used to that.

I don't even want to remember how many times I was struck, or how many times I went rolling. A few times I'd attempted a clumsy counter and broken an arm. Several times I'd tried to dodge, taken a solid kick, and blacked out. Of course, every time an arm broke or I passed out, Hwayeon received Franc's blazing anger with her own body. That didn't erase the pain already carved into mine.

And one more upside.

Between getting hit, rolling, and drilling the dagger in the name of learning close combat, muscle had begun to show, and my frame was taking on edges. I'd also grown an inch and a half in a single month, up to five foot eight. Barefoot, Hwayeon and Yeongeun sat about level with my eyes, and I was tall enough now to see the crown of Franc's head.

"Maybe it's from using my body and moving like this, but growing a little taller is nice."

"Boo. I'm a little unhappy that Seoha keeps getting taller and I have to look up."

"What? Franc, you're floating in the air looking down at me every single day!"

"Ehe."

Cute. I let it go.

And so, keeping outings to a minimum and throwing myself into training, I watched spring pass and summer arrive.

The underground hall was buried in the earth and wide, so it was a little cool—but only a little. Move as hard as we were moving now, and sweat ran off the body in streams.

Hwayeon, not a drop of sweat on her, walked over to me in her training clothes and spoke.

"Then let's stop here for today. Good work."

"You worked hard, Seoha."

"I'll wipe your sweat, so come here."

As they wiped the sweat from my body and passed me a sports drink, I decided it was about time to bring it up.

I still hadn't opened the storage device Yoo Chae-rin had given me. ...If I'm making excuses, things had been hectic, and Hwayeon and Yeongeun had looked busy with the raid team and with my affairs, so I'd waited for a quiet moment.

Yeongeun, her hands moving with a distinctly wicked intent, was lightly dabbing a towel over my bare torso. I nearly let myself focus on the sensation, then forced a shake of my head, fetched the device Yoo Chae-rin had given me, and held it out to her.

"What's this?"

"Yoo Chae-rin from the Ability User Association gave it to me on the last day of the verification team. She said it was about the museum Soul Reaper incident from two months ago, and I had a feeling it held something I shouldn't ignore."

The three of them knew my hunches well. Their faces hardened, and Yeongeun took the device from my hand.

"Shall we look at it over there?"

I followed her into a small room set into one wall of the training hall. It might as well have been an audiovisual room—nothing in it but a massive panel occupying one wall, and a sofa.

Yeongeun plugged the storage device into the panel and started working through this and that, while the rest of us sat on the sofa and watched her.

What came up on the screen was shocking. The file was thin—three or four pages at most—but every line of it pointed the same way.

You couldn't even pin it on a single office. The Ministry of Justice, the Ministry of Foreign Affairs, the Ministry of Land, Infrastructure, Transport and Tourism, and the Ministry of Defense had all taken part, so calling it Japan was fair enough.

In other words, Japan had known there would be an outdoor class, and from the very start had meant to dispose of me—using the Soul Reaper's casket as a tool of assassination.

"The nerve of it. They sent that after me, too?"

Late April. A month and a half after I'd returned to reality. More than a month after my abilities had begun to show. Even while everyone else was still unsure, Japan had sensed what I was worth and meant to cut the sprout before it grew.

What grudge does Japan even have against me, to pull something like this?

"This is good. Very good. Material I like a great deal. Hohoho."

She was laughing her hoho, but there was no laughter in Yeongeun's face. Killing intent rose instead. Hwayeon stared holes through the documents with a blank expression, and Franc was openly furious—furious enough that if the parties responsible had been standing in front of her, she would have called lightning down on the spot.

"Seoha~? This old lady—no. I have a favor to ask. Won't you hear me out?"

Whatever she was thinking, Yeongeun sat herself on my lap, nuzzled her face into my neck, and turned on a lethal burst of aegyo. Not the kind that only made you smile—an aegyo with something sly and dreadful in it.

Fortunately, that feeling wasn't aimed at me.

"What is it?"

"...Do that. And could you look into Yoo Chae-rin as well? She might be in danger for having obtained this."

"Aigoo. How is our Seoha this kind? Leave all of it to me."

Hwayeon, who had kept her face blank, spoke to Yeongeun—seated on my lap, pressing her full breasts against me.

"Is there nothing I may assist with?"

"Not just now. I'll need you later, so until then, keep that body of yours honed."

Hm? Yeongeun answered her with a hardened face, and meeting that face, Hwayeon's expression stiffened too.

The two of them were locking into a war of nerves... except they weren't?

"Understood."

"Yeongeun! Don't leave a scrap of mercy in those hands!"

"Of course not. Daring to come after whom, exactly—."

She ground her teeth.

...Did I see that wrong?

Anyway, in the end it amounted to this: Japan had been revealed as the mastermind of the attack. The Soul Reaper had been a shot aimed at me from the start, and when that failed, they'd infiltrated assassins. Circumstantial evidence, and now physical evidence, and it had even passed through the Ability User Association's hands... Ah.

"Could the Association coming in with their heads bowed have been the precognition department catching wind of this? ...Hmm. I don't think that's it."

"Hmm? What do you mean?"

Yeongeun, grinding her teeth, seemed to have heard my muttering. She turned to me with interest, so I told her what I'd just thought—that a future might have been foreseen in which the Association, having appeared to aid Japan's actions, ended up hostile to me.

She gave a small shake of her head and denied it.

"I don't think so. Responsibility for the Soul Reaper's casket is clear, isn't it? If some part of the Ability User Association's involvement with the casket had been the awkward point, the Association would have brought the IWO along, punished those involved severely, and been done with it."

"Yeah. I didn't think that was it either."

But Franc, arms crossed, tapping a finger, tilted her head as if something were odd.

"Now that I think of it, it is strange. Headquarters said they use precognition to foresee crimes by ability users against ordinary people, did they not? Hundreds of civilians very nearly fell into the Soul Reaper's trap. I wonder how they failed to foresee it."

"Huu. According to this material, the target of the attack was, to the end, an ability user attacking an ability user. And if you look closely at these documents, they carry a whiff of 'fine if it works, and if it doesn't, so be it.' The ability users in the precognition department are only human. They must have exploited that blind spot."

Yeongeun said it while lightly waving the storage device in her hand.

"Above all, they may have built up the know-how for slipping past precognition by carrying out terrorism several times over. Anyway, I don't know which imbecile settled on a method like this, but they made a grave mistake."

"What mistake do you mean?"

At my question, Yeongeun smiled brightly again.

"An attack that included civilians. With this, neither the Ability User Association nor the IWO will take Japan's side. Of course, the IWO already dislikes Japan a great deal, on account of the catastrophic messes Japan made in the past, but they were still at the level of considering fairness. Once this is announced, Japan itself—and the countries that suffered at Japan's hands eighty years ago—will be made to remember, all over again, exactly what Japan did. Mark my words."

"So they shot themselves in the foot?"

"Bingo! Yoo Chae-rin, was it? To think she plucked out core information this neatly and held onto it. I ought to consider bringing that girl in and setting her to work, shouldn't I?"

Yeongeun broke into a sly little mhehehe, and Hwayeon, watching her, let out a sigh.

"There she goes again."