To Rage Trouble (11)

Hwayeon realized Franc and I had our hands on Ispect and were listening in. She jumped and yanked the spear away.

"Hwayeon..."

"Hwayeon..."

Franc and I wore the same look—dumbfounded, and a little sorry for her—and Hwayeon's face went crimson in a heartbeat. She fumbled for an excuse.

"Ah—! Th-that's not it! Nuhodi said she had something to tell me, and I just ended up listening!"

"So that's why you were sitting ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠there in a daze, not hearing a word we said. You were learning this sort of thing from Nuhodi? That's bedroom arts, isn't it?"

"Ngh. That..."

Still red to the ears, Hwayeon lifted a hand as if to mount some defense, then quietly let it fall. To be that thoroughly lost in talk of the arts of the bedchamber... was I going to have to buy her the Kama Sutra, or some old manual like The Classic of the Plain Girl?

"If you didn't even notice us walk up, you probably didn't hear any of what we'd just been saying, either."

"...Sorry..."

I couldn't for the life of me understand why that sulky look on her reddened face was so unbearably cute. I snickered and pinched her soft rice-cake cheeks, stretching them out, and Hwayeon went "Huuuh?!" with the wide eyes of a startled rabbit.

First I took Ispect out of her hands.

I set the spear on its stand. Whatever am I to do with this sex-crazed auntie.

For the crime of bewitching Hwayeon, I put strength into my fingertips and flicked Ispect's shaft as hard as I could. A faint hum came back, the sort of sound a thing makes when it hurts.

Then I switched on my Certifier and showed Hwayeon—who had been so spellbound by bedroom arts she'd heard nothing at all—the footage of the White Thorn Turtle smashing Las Vegas to pieces. Her expression turned grave, and she began to watch with total focus.

After that I showed her the articles flooding the internet, the ones about two aberrants, high-tier or calamity-rank, rampaging across American soil. She let out a small sigh and muttered.

"To think all this was happening, and I was off getting distracted by bedroom arts. Pathetic of me."

"Don't beat yourself up like that. It's that supreme seductress Nuhodi's fault."

As if protesting the title, Ispect's shaft gave a faint tremble. No one was paying it any mind.

"And Yeongeun just texted me. She says now's the moment to make my position public, so I'm going to toss a word or two at the reporters camped out in front of the Grand Blue building and come back. Come with me."

"Understood."

Only then did Hwayeon settle back into her usual self. She asked nothing more. Her eyes had gone quiet and somber, and she gave a small nod.

"Then come out dressed a little less pretty. I want to look like someone who couldn't care less about America's problems."

"Less pretty?"

"Yeah. You're already beautiful. Dress any prettier than that and the reporters won't be able to keep their heads on straight long enough to hear a word I say."

"Pfft. What kind of line is that!"

Franc and Hwayeon wore briefly incredulous looks, then failed to hide their smiles and slipped into the dressing room with pleased faces.

It had been lip service, meant to cheer them up, but I hadn't expected them to like it quite that much. Then again, I wasn't sure words that full of sincerity still counted as lip service.

Once the two of them had gone in, Miho came pattering over and looked up at me.

"Where are we going?"

"There are reporters gathered downstairs. I'm going down there and coming back."

"Mmn."

She worked her lips as if she had something she wanted to say. If she had something to say, she ought to say it. I asked while stroking her soft fox ears.

"Got something you want to tell me?"

"Mmn. They say there's a super-duper huge Christmas tree at Gwanghwamun. I wanna go see it with Master."

Her seven tails swayed in a restless flutter, and Darky's body, clutched in both her hands, warped without mercy. She really, really wanted to go.

Gwanghwamun, huh. Franc and Hwayeon had already gone in to change, so we might as well stop by while we were out.

"All right. Miho, you go put on something pretty too. We'll all go see it together."

"Really?! Waaah!!"

"Hiarid, go in with her and come out dressed a bit warmer."

"=Understood, Heavenly Lord.="

If I announced I wouldn't be helping and then went out to play, wouldn't that make the point even clearer?

People might point fingers and call it a character problem—a calamity had just dropped on America, and I was off amusing myself—but they already called me the God of Destruction. So what.

Suddenly curious what my sister was doing, I looked for her and found her in her own office, eating snacks and flipping through a magazine.

...She was in the office, sure, but she wasn't actually working. A relief, I supposed.

Seeing her reminded me I'd forgotten something. In a flash I Space Leaped down to the big underground supermarket, pushed Spatial Perception to its limit, bought three Christmas cards matched to Dad's tastes, Mom's, and my sister's, and came back. Then I wrote on them, quick.

I'd bought expensive gifts for my lovers and my pets, and here I was trying to get by with a single card for my parents and sister. It left me feeling oddly guilty... I'd make up for it by spending New Year's with Dad, Mom, and Sis.

The moment I Space Leaped into my sister's office, I dropped the card toward her desk and immediately Space Leaped home.

The whole thing took half a second.

Except the card fluttered, missed the desk entirely, and landed with a soft tap right on top of her head.

Something suddenly dropping onto her startled her. Then she saw it was a Christmas card, opened it carefully, let out a soft huff of a laugh, and stared at it.

Oh. She'd been wearing a stiff face a lot lately, and this was the first truly sister-like smile I'd seen in a while. She even closed the magazine and kept chuckling under her breath as she gazed at the card. Thankfully, the design seemed to suit her.

Mom and Dad were out somewhere again—the house was empty—so I left their cards on the neatly made bed in their room and came back out.

Hmm. Should I hand cards out to the core staff too? But Boss Park Jiwoong, Department Head Kim Pyochung, and Department Head Ha Yucheol hadn't come in, and Aunt Hyeryeong was...

...in the middle of a passionate moment with her husband. A little embarrassed, I quickly shut Spatial Perception off.

I was fanning my face with my palm when Hwayeon walked out in a black sleeveless poncho, a white checkered skirt, and black stockings, her cheeks faintly flushed. Franc came out barefoot in a white coat, a white sweater, and a white-and-yellow tartan skirt.

Both of them had figures that were no joke, so even bundled in thick winter clothes they were pretty enough to draw the eye all on their own.

"Whoa. I told you to dress less pretty, and you came out even prettier."

"Hehe. Shall I cover my face, then?"

Franc laughed playfully, hiding her forehead and the space beneath her eyes behind both hands as she giggled and struck one pretty pose after another. Hwayeon, as if the skirt embarrassed her, only tugged shyly at its hem and fidgeted.

"What? Hmm. Hiding those lovely, cute faces so only I get to see them... that's not a bad idea either."

I muttered it with a straight face. Franc burst out laughing all over again, and even Hwayeon let a soft laugh slip.

"Perfect timing. Since you're all dressed up, let's go get some air. Miho says she wants to see the Christmas tree in front of Gwanghwamun."

"Yes! Let's do that!"

I was still burning my lovers' outfits into memory when Miho and Hiarid opened the door and came out as well.

"Oh my. Miho's in white too."

"Hehehe. I matched with Franc!"

"Oh, that's cute."

"Hehe."

Miho's outfit was white, just like Franc's—a white down parka, a white turtleneck, and white wide-leg pants with a banded waist. If Franc's platinum blonde made the white stand out, Miho was white from her skin all the way to her hair, so the white only stood out more.

White hair, white fox ears, white all over. Stand her in the snow and you'd have a hard time even finding her.

I watched the tail poking out behind her sway in contentment, then turned my gaze to Hiarid.

Hiarid was still insisting on that white dress with the open back. Her legs were usually bare, but now she had on white over-knee socks, and around her neck was the scarf I'd bought her.

"Hiarid, aren't you cold dressed like that?"

"=My wings grant a resistance to the cold, so this much is sufficient.="

"That so. Then Suhan, head out first, bring the car around, and wait at the main entrance on the first floor. We'll be out soon."

"Yes, Master."

Suhan in her butler's suit and Sophia in her handmade maid uniform set off ahead of us, and I changed into something casual enough—a navy semi-formal jacket, black trousers, and an ivory shirt.

I stood in front of the mirror a moment, hesitating, then worked up the courage to sweep my hair back. My face was still hopeless, so I just let it fall again.

"Aigoo! Why'd you put it back down? You look good with it swept back too."

"Ah... I just like the stereo style."

"Hm? Was that what stereo type meant?"

Hwayeon and Franc tilted their heads, then came over and tried to sweep my hair back again, so I hastily Space Leaped out of the dressing room and shouted.

"The look with half my face covered is already my identity! No!"

"Oh, honestly."

With the two of them looking faintly put out, an excited Miho, and an expressionless Hiarid—four in all—I came down to the first-floor lobby. Even though it was Christmas, plenty of people were hurrying this way and that.

We left the lobby and stepped into the hall connected to the shopping mall, and at once the eyes of every couple out shopping locked onto us.

Hwayeon and Franc, both of frankly insane looks, stood to my left and right, and behind us trailed Hiarid with four snow-white wings drifting and Miho with seven tails swaying along. Of course every gaze found us.

The crowd quietly parted to either side as I walked, and near the mall's main entrance I spotted more than thirty reporters gathered together, sipping warm drinks and enduring the cold.

I stepped out the main doors and planted myself at the entrance for all to see. One of them spotted me, shot up from his seat, and shouted something to the others.

‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠

Soon they were moving in a flurry, gathering in neat formation a good twenty meters away from me.

Eastern reporters and Western ones alike, all clustered together... The atmosphere was nothing like what I'd pictured.

On the evening news Franc, Hwayeon, and Yeongeun liked to watch, reporters swarmed anyone caught in fraud or corruption and shoved microphones at them as if they meant to feed them the things. I'd expected something along those lines.

But in their eyes, and in the way their bodies hesitated to come closer, I could see fear. Or dread. My infamy had finally broken through the sky, it seemed.

Not bad. But what had I even done to make them this scared of me? The only thing I'd done that deserved curses and a soaring reputation was trashing Japan. I hadn't even been on the mass media. I'd been living quietly.

I rewound my memory, wondering if I'd frightened people without realizing it, then saw the main entrance clogging up because of me and the reporters. I stepped well aside so I wouldn't inconvenience the citizens passing through, and waved the reporters over.

They swallowed hard, took their places in front of me, and knelt with careful courtesy—like reporters from a Christian magazine granted an audience with ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠the Pope.

Perhaps having found her courage, a female reporter in a trendy coat, gripping a microphone marked with the initials BBC, raised a trembling hand to ask permission to speak.

"Yes. You there, the reporter."

"Ah, ah, hello! I'm Amanda Seed of the BBC! I'm sorry to interrupt your private time, but may I ask a few questions about America's recent actions?!"

"Go ahead."

At my permission her face drew even tighter, and she carefully extended the microphone toward me. At that, the dozens of other reporters began to edge closer with the same caution. A few networks in particular fixed enormous broadcast cameras onto tripods and started filming me.

"Ah, yes! Chairman Jung Seoha of Grand Blue, you recently secured evidence that the United States government attempted to kidnap Yoo Hwayeon, First Boss of Grand Blue. How are you feeling at this moment?"

What kind of question is that? Isn't it obvious?

"Obviously I feel like shit. I came to help, and they tried to stab me in the back like that. Isn't that right?"

At the unvarnished answer and the scowl that came with it, the reporter flustered and tried again.

"Um... In the footage that was released, we could confirm the plan being exposed by the Chairman's sharp insight. What is your view of the statement by Robert Phillips, Commander of the Pacific 7th Fleet, that there was never even a plan to attempt it?"

"People say the real question, even before you get to the concept of commencing the criminal act, is from what point something counts as an attempt. But the Trumpet administration had a firm intent to carry it out. They mobilized ability users, deployed them to the fleet, and the plan was only halted at the field commander's discretion. As I see it, that means they finished forming the criminal resolve and went all the way through preparation and conspiracy. In other words, even under the criminal code, it had already entered the realm of a crime. Do you understand?"

Eyes narrowed, I fired it straight at Reporter Amanda Seed for talking nonsense. Good thing I'd read the statutes on criminal attempt after I got back. Even so, she moved to open with it.

"But..."

But. But! I mean, just—

"Think about it. The person next door asks you for help chasing a stray dog out of his house. So you go to help, and then you find out that same neighbor had a plan to steal your most precious treasure while you were away from home. And you've secured the evidence. What are you going to do?"

The blonde reporter lost every word she had at the analogy and just stared, blank. Carefully approaching beside her was a female reporter with a nameplate that read Louise Carey, CNNN... This was the reporter I'd seen when the verification panel wrapped up. The woman put her question with a cautious air.

"It is only natural that the Chairman of Grand Blue would be furious at the United States government's attempt to kidnap his lover. I would like to ask what sort of response you intend to make."

"We won't be getting along with America from now on. That's what."

At yet another answer stripped of pretense, Reporter Louise Carey asked again, her expression grave.

"Does that mean you will not be assisting in the extermination of the two calamity-rank aberrants that have currently appeared in the United States?"

"Yes. America picked a fight with me because they figured they could handle calamity-rank aberrants with their own national power, didn't they? I was already thinking I'd helped them catch that Blade Flyer for nothing. So this time, I'm just going to watch."

Reporter Louise Carey began to break into a nervous sweat on a day this cold. So she had been worrying after all, it being her own country.

"B-but in the present situation, you are the only one capable of facing calamity-rank aberrants..."

"Don't you think it's already impressive that I'm holding myself back like this? Want me to go thrash around between those two as well?"

I growled it, angry, and Reporter Louise Carey's shoulders flinched.

Your country's the one in chaos, not mine. They don't even stop to think about what came first—just assume whoever takes the bigger hit must be the victim. I snapped at her, furious.

"Don't dress the victim up as the aggressor. And I don't want to get stabbed in the back again."

The moment a definitive refusal to help America left my mouth, the faces of the American reporters hardened. I could see them biting their lips.

Reporters from other countries were just beginning to murmur, worry written all over them, when Louise Carey opened her mouth once more.

"The entity that has appeared in Nevada, in the western United States, codenamed White Thorn Turtle, has devastated Las Vegas, and the Muscle Bear that appeared in Kentucky, in the east, is attacking villages and cities without distinction and expanding the damage. The displaced already number in the millions, and estimated damages run to tens of millions of dollars. All of this is innocent citizens left to bear the suffering..."

"Now look here. Before you appeal to my sympathy, shouldn't the first order of business be pointing a finger at whoever tried to pull that stunt? I hear a full day has passed since our president issued a letter of protest, and they still haven't given so much as an official reply. They haven't apologized to me, either. And after all that, you're asking me to come help? If a person has a conscience, they shouldn't say things like that."

At the question of whether they even had a conscience, Louise Carey lost her words as well, following Amanda Seed.

Talking had gotten me angry again, and in the heat of it I nearly let something slip—American citizens elected that man, so American citizens can answer for the damage he stirred up. I held my tongue.

No need to hand them a pretext by saying something I didn't have to.

I was scowling, and the other reporters looked thoroughly cowed, unable to get a word out. They seemed to know this was the moment to keep their heads down.

Figuring nothing more would come of it, I started to walk away—and a reporter gripping a microphone marked TV Tsentr threw a question, his face tense.

"Then, Chairman of Grand Blue, if the United States government steps forward and issues a public apology, would you be willing to help?"

"This is the same America that was ignoring our letter of protest. Even if they apologize now, after the aberrants have already shown up, I don't think I'd feel any sincerity in it. Honestly, I don't want to go there while having to watch my back for whatever scheme they ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠might pull."

"But as I understand it, the United States is an ally that shed a great deal of blood on Korea's behalf in the Korean War. Don't you think turning your back on their crisis would be morally problematic?"

The Korean War? Well, that's true enough, but I helped them before that too, didn't I? I glared at the male reporter, who was conveniently leaving out the fact that I'd helped, and he flinched.

"You're not thinking about the Blade Flyer I caught for them before, asking nothing in return? America caused an incident, the thing started rampaging, and I stepped in and cleaned it up. Can't you imagine what would have happened if I'd left the Blade Flyer alone? And this is a matter between me, as an individual, and the United States. Kindly don't drag it around as if it were a matter between Korea and America."

"However, Chairman, you are..."

"That's enough. We'll end the press conference here."

The male reporter was just moving to say something more when Hwayeon stepped forward and put herself in front of me. At that, he and the other reporters went ashen and scrambled backward in a rush, like the north poles of two magnets shoving each other away.

"Seoha. I think it would be best to leave the conversation here."

"I think so too."

If this went on any longer, the mood suggested a flood of talk about how so many people were suffering, so the strong one ought to be humane and just let it go. The interview needed to end here.

At the last, I spoke to the reporters gathered there, blinking at me.

Right on cue, Suhan brought the Rolls-Royce Phantom limousine around. I headed for it, and the reporters, who had been staring blankly at my last words, only then scrambled to lift their tablets and start writing something down.