Born Between Monster and Man

Love? The fruit of love?!

My breath had nearly gone rough, but there was no hint of contempt in Nuhodi's tone or manner, so I managed to hold it down. Had there been any, I would have snapped Ispect in two.

Even so, I couldn't help the irritation surging up when the talk laid a finger on my reverse scale.

If I kept turning it over, I wouldn't be able to do anything about the anger rising in my chest. I forced my attention elsewhere and asked.

"Why do you think that?"

"Yes."

I nodded without the slightest hesitation, and Nuhodi spoke with bewilderment in her voice.

Nuhodi and I seemed to differ in our very view of mixed blood.

Then again, even people ten or twenty years apart tear one another down — old fossils, cafeteria brats — the moment they fail to understand each other. Nuhodi and I hadn't even lived in the same age.

She hadn't meant anything by it, and belittling me would have done her no good. I thought it through, decided, and nodded in silence. Nuhodi began to hum, and to speak almost as if she were singing.

Listening, I rewound the conversations I'd had with my lovers in front of her. Anyone with sharp eyes could have put it together, I thought. Resolving to watch my words and my actions from here on, I asked.

"Were there a lot of half-bloods like that, in the age you lived in?"

Extremes of temperament?

"If you don't mind, could you tell me a little more about these Nurlark?"

In that case, the good were generally called Nurlark, so long as they kept a human form, while the wicked — those born in the shape of monsters — were called Raknur.

From Nuhodi I heard that Dalbu, too, had once held enough Nurlark to form a full company, and that most of them had been born as the fruit of love with beings called demi-humans.

Demi-humans. That brought to mind the elves I'd seen on video in Britain's classified archive. So a Nurlark meant a half, ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠born between such near-humans and humans.

I poured my whole mind into what she was saying, etching it in as if to carve it there, and Nuhodi, for her part, set aside the stray mischief and the empty talk and went on explaining.

Even so, perhaps because the Nurlark were beings close to human, most of them had surpassed ordinary humans in all sorts of ways. Humans who surpassed them, though, had existed in plenty.

Nuhodi hesitated a moment, then opened her mouth in a gentle voice.

Nurlark. So she had taken me for something like the half-elves that turn ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠up all the time in fantasy, and that was why she had brought it up so lightly.

"There are plenty of strong people in the world. By what you're saying, are most of them Nurlark? You were a strong person in your own world, too."

The way we can tell a half-blood the moment we look — was it like that for her, knowing at a glance whether someone was pure human or Nurlark?

I called her reaction up again, from when she had spoken of the Nurlark, and it struck me as no different from the way people react to a mix of Western and Eastern blood.

Nuhodi might know a great deal. She had the gift of prophecy, her skill in battle was outstanding, and as Grand Priestess she held strange arts we knew nothing of. Perhaps she knew of those things as well.

I was stroking Ispect's shaft in silence when the shaft gave a faint tremor, and a heightened voice flowed into my mind.

Ah, the sex jokes, honestly. No — wasn't this just plain harassment? I felt the anger slosh right out of me on a wash of embarrassment, grumbled perverted auntie to myself, and said,

"Well, Nurlark or Raknur, think whatever you like. What matters is that I'm only myself."

She was the one who had sent my feelings seesawing, and hearing that brazen voice, I felt my temper prick up.

I did as she wanted, drawing a rather generous share of TP into my hand and slicking it along the shaft. At once that clear, gentle voice — pleasant to the ear, the sort that settled the heart just to hear it — began to pant, as if stirred by sexual stimulus.

It felt like forcibly raping a noble saintess who must never be violated. Out of spite I drew TP again and again and began to spread it over the shaft. The shaft shivered and rang, and Nuhodi began to cry out in pleasure.

"...What a perverted auntie."

The subject seemed to have reset, and it occurred to me that if anyone knew, it might be Nuhodi. I asked about the black castle where the blue-skinned demons lived.

"Nuhodi, do you happen to know of a black castle, vast beyond all reason? A place where monsters live — blue-skinned, human in shape, with horns growing at the temples."

Huh? She actually knew something? The voice that had been panting with excitement turned calm and quiet at once. The subject was no light one for her, either.

"I found out by chance, and they were extremely dangerous, wicked bastards. So I figured I ought to hunt them down and kill them, or at least prepare. I managed to learn that they live gathered in one place, but nothing past that. I thought you might know."

They weren't pure aberrants, but half-bloods? The claim was so unexpected it left me dumbfounded, but Nuhodi went on in a calm voice.

Demon-beasts rich in abilities that worked upon the mind, and bodies formidable beyond compare — even Dalbu had classed them at the worst danger rating and never relaxed its guard. At that, my own face twisted.

"It's much like what I know. They capture females of human-formed other races, or humans, torture them, torment them, eat them alive, or tear the limbs off and eat those..."

Just hearing it was the worst. Mother had nearly been put through that? If this hadn't been the first cycle — if it had been the second, or the third — it really would have gone as Nuhodi said. I ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠bit down once on a molar, then asked again.

"So do you know where those bastards live?"

"The Four Divine Beasts? Things like a giant turtle spanning tens of kilometers, or a bird with its whole body wrapped in fire?"

"The turtle, vast as a mountain — that one I saw with my own two eyes."

A shame she didn't know the exact place, but I'd found a lead, if only a thin one. If the territories of the things called the Four Divine Beasts all met in a single place, then confirming even one beast's territory might be enough to pin the location down.

And I had Hiarid, who had once served a Divine Beast.

So Langue Dran was the name of the supergiant turtle. The subject had come up. I ought to ask the names of the others as well.

"What are the other Divine Beasts called? Have you seen them?"

The Blue King? An azure dragon, maybe? Nuhodi, who had stopped mid-sentence, let a soft moan slip — mmm — then breathed a faint sigh and said,

Old days seemed to be coming back to her. Listening to that wistful voice, I felt my thoughts tangle.

So those bastards were where the four Divine Beasts' territories faced one another. Had they made their den in a buffer zone where four powers crashed together? Going by the murals I'd seen on the Floating Sky Islands, it made a certain sense. They were called the Four Divine Beasts, but the murals of them wary of one another, or fighting, had made ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠them look like something short of true gods.

Hmm. If the Divine Beasts regarded humanoid life as inferior, they would hardly be friendly to humans. I shouldn't judge them by human standards.

And the blue demon bastards — I'd thought they were pure aberrants, and they weren't. On top of that, Dad and Mom believed me human because I looked human. They thought I was the baby born after Mother returned to reality and was forced by a doctor at the hospital where she'd been admitted, and the DNA test had come back one hundred percent human, so they believed I was human.

I'd half believed it myself. Now a different thought kept rising. The DNA said human, yes — but what if the vital essence of those Meo Azitos had built up in Mother's body, and I had been born of that? The suspicion wouldn't leave me.

The thought was trying to dig deep in a bad direction. I shook my head and cleared it away. None of that mattered. I was me, and those bastards were things that, in the end, all had to be slaughtered.

A glance at the clock said the sun would be up before long. I looked once around the living room, still pitch-dark, stopped stroking the shaft, and stood.

"Let's leave the talk here. Thank you for telling me something important."

"Then, if something else comes up that I'm curious about, may I ask again?"

At words so full of sincerity I smiled faintly and stroked the shaft once more — and something appalling burst from Nuhodi!

A-a body — and then what?

"R-right, good night!"

Worse seemed about to follow, so I hurriedly set Ispect on its stand and headed for the bedroom. Not the Grand Priestess. The Grand Wanton.

The next morning I got up, washed, and came out to the living room with my lovers — and right as Hwayeon stepped from the bedroom, Ispect began to thrum, a deep humming keen.

Hwayeon, hearing it, walked toward Ispect with a puzzled face. She wouldn't say anything improper, would she?

"Oh. It's snowing."

Miho had been playing with a game console in the living room, in pajamas white as the snow itself. Her ears pricked, and she scampered over to plaster herself against the window.

I walked to the window, and just as Miho had said, fat flakes were drifting slowly down. A white Christmas. How long had it been?

Standing in a row with Franc and Yeongeun, watching the white snow pour down, I felt an odd tickle stir in my chest.

And yet Franc's expression, as she watched the flurry pouring from the sullen sky, was strangely going rotten.

I'd never seen that look on her. Yeongeun glanced at Franc's face and asked, as if it were some curiosity.

"Franc, do you hate snow? You don't look well."

"Aah? Ahaha. It's — I was remembering clearing snow, back when I was in the knight order..."

Franc's pretty face creased faintly. She looked at the fat flakes falling out of the sky and opened her mouth.

"You clear the snow, and you clear it, and there is no end. You work hard for an hour, open a path, turn around — and from the very first stretch you cleared, the snow is stacking up, neat and tidy. So you clear your way back, and where you've cleared, the snow has piled again..."

"..."

"A few hours of knight-order business, and you step outside to find the snow up to your ankles once more. You clear it, and you clear it again on the way back, and the snow on the quarters' roof has you afraid the roof will come down, so you climb up and sweep it off, and the snow you swept is piled to the second story, so you clear that too, and you wake in the night afraid of being buried and clear it again, and when morning comes, you clear it once more..."

Franc, muttering with eyes gone hollow, fixed on the pouring snow, looked as if a ghost had gotten into her, and it was a little frightening. Yeongeun's face creased too, the look of someone who wished she hadn't asked.

Franc turned to me and spoke with a bright smile.

"Haha. The Federation's White Devil? Isn't that laying it on a bit thick?"

"I suppose so. The snow may pile as it likes now, and it won't be mine to clear, so there's no need to offer it any reverence, is there?"

Said with an empty smile, it sounded in my ears like a declaration that she would not, under any circumstances, be clearing snow.

Scratching my head, I came back to the sofa, sat, and turned on the TV. The morning news was running, and still nothing came on about the high-tier subspecies I'd made in America.

Then again, if the aberrant I'd made had started to rampage, word would have reached Yeongeun first.

Brrring. Brrriiiing.

Huh? That wasn't my Authenticator's ring.

An Authenticator chime sounded from somewhere. I turned toward Hwayeon and Yeongeun. Hwayeon still had her hand on Ispect at the stand, deep in talk with Nuhodi, and Yeongeun laid a hand on her small chest and murmured.

"It's Intelligence."

The old saying came back to me. Speak of the devil. Yeongeun opened the living-room window, stepped out onto the terrace, and took the call.

I kept my eyes fixed on the celebrity scandal on the TV and quietly read Yeongeun's lips through Spatial Perception.

I hadn't told Yeongeun yet, and perhaps that was why — grave face, grave tone, the reaction looked entirely real. She ended the Authenticator, came back into the living room, and instead of heading straight out, crouched in front of me and stared straight up.

From the call she'd just taken, she seemed to have caught on quickly that the reason an aberrant had appeared had something to do with me.

"Honey. Got something to tell me?"

"Of course I do."

At my answer, Yeongeun's eyes went round. She shifted over, sat beside me, and looked at me steadily, as if to say get on with it.