90
Ch.90 You Have To Be Right To Listen
If I say Sagugu, she’ll listen for about three seconds.
But if I say anything else, she’ll just go on about her ability, her ability, arguing back and forth, insisting she’s right, that she’s correct.
She’s completely controlled by her ability.
“Sagugu… That cat-woman test subject I saw before.”
[If I devour your ability, Starlight would finally stay still, wouldn’t she?]
“I’ve already written my will. I even asked my ability about it. I can put up a bit of a fight, but in the end, it said you and I would come to understand each other. That nothing harmful would happen.”
[Good. Well done.]
“Ugh, ah, ugh, ugh.”
A rapid series of head flicks. Meister covered her forehead, begging me to stop, but telekinesis can’t be blocked by mere hands.
Rubbing her red, swollen forehead from the repeated flicks, Meister spoke.
“My ability is absolute. This is right. I must follow what it says.”
[If your ability is absolute, why have there been so many failures up until now?]
“That’s… Because my skills are lacking. I don’t have the expertise to fully realize what my ability tells me. I’m just the one who conveys the theories and techniques. There are errors in the process… But even that could be resolved if you just devoured me—”
[Too long. That’s not a conversation. That’s just persuasion.]
“Eh…”
[If you don’t keep your answers short from now on, I’ll flick your head again.]
“Y-you’re already flicking me…”
As I raised my paw and swung it back and forth, Meister flinched.
[Your ability is not absolute. From what I see, it’s the worst trash ability I’ve ever encountered.]
“Huh?”
[Because of your ability, you don’t think for yourself. You don’t ask others questions. You’ve stopped being human. What’s the difference between you and a parasitic worm that can talk inside someone’s head?]
“I do… Think… I do agonize over things, and I ask questions—”
[Have you ever reached an answer without relying on your ability? When?]
“That’s…”
Silence. Meister, lost in thought, muttered blankly.
“But… If I waste even a little time, people die. Asking my ability saves far more lives… Ow!”
[You’ve compromised with your ability. Instead of thinking of better solutions, you’ve only rushed to stop the immediate crisis. And this is the result. A defective product that can’t even use its abilities properly—a vending machine for abilities.]
Her answers are too long.
True to my word, I flicked her head repeatedly with telekinesis and told her about my thoughts while devouring the humans infected by parasites..
[Those who don’t think or act for themselves cannot be considered alive. You’re a walking corpse.]
“Is that… How monsters perceive things?”
[Yes.]
But Meister doesn’t have a parasite in her head, so she might still come back to life.
After becoming a monster, I poured out everything I’d felt.
[Don’t be controlled by your ability. No matter how trashy an ability is, in the hands of a strong person, it becomes strong. Even the strongest ability is trash in the hands of the weak.]
“So in the end, the best outcome is for the Black Cat to take my ability…”
[The owner of that ability is you. Not the other way around. And why on earth would you trust a monster?]
“Huh?”
[What if I devour your ability and change my mind? What if I become like the other monsters?]
“But my ability said—”
[Did your ability not answer that? What if my mind changes and I slaughter humans like other monsters?]
Meister’s face paled. Truly, this is a trash ability.
An ability that only answers the questions asked, nothing beyond the user’s own thoughts.
If you try to ask questions covering every possible scenario, your head would explode.
To show Meister how useless her ability is, I posed a hypothetical question.
[Answer this: If seventeen Disaster-class monsters appeared in the city, what’s the first thing you should do?]
“Huh? That’s impossible… If that happened, we’d have to close off sectors, abandon some areas…”
[Wrong. The monster alert system was broken. The truth is, they weren’t Disaster-class but Terror-class monsters. I’ve already devoured them. Starlight and Kage handled the rest. The first thing you should’ve done was prepare smoked tuna for me. Your ability is trash.]
“Wha—but you didn’t say the alert system was broken! Why would it suddenly break? And this is W-City… No, even in A-City, Anna and the Black Cat aren’t here.”
[Does your ability not even know whether I was talking about W-City or A-City? I broke A-City’s alert system while playing with it, and Starlight came to capture me. Did your ability not foresee me randomly breaking A-City’s alert system? Trash ability.]
“How could I know that…?”
[Exactly. If you don’t even know that, why do you blindly trust your ability’s answers? If your ability is so absolute, why are you in this state? Why are monsters still overrunning the world?]
Meister froze, then muttered.
“My ability answers based on the information I observe.”
[Your ability isn’t absolute. You’ve experienced that countless times. Why don’t you think for yourself instead of blindly trusting it?]
Meister knows the reason better than anyone.
An imperfect ability, her own limitations—yet she relied on it because there was no other choice.
[You saved many people with that measly ability. That’s impressive, I admit.]
An undeniable fact. Meister is a hero who saved countless lives.
But she’s also human.
[So why do you try to shoulder everything alone? For a weak human, that’s arrogant.]
“If I didn’t, no one else would’ve figured out how to save people. Every second wasted meant more deaths. Asking my ability saved far more lives.”
[And now?]
No answer was needed.
The surviving humans built fortress cities. Heroes systematized combat methods, moving beyond survival to actively fight monsters.
Even the Despair-class monsters—once thought unbeatable—are now hunted down by S-rank heroes.
Meister’s foundation allowed humanity to endure this far.
[You’re no longer needed. Humanity has survived. S-rank heroes have taken your place.]
“I…”
[All that’s left is you—a weak human.]
“I’m… No longer needed?”
Drip. Drip. Meister’s tears fell to the floor.
A torrent of emotions, tangled in thought, unraveled in those tears.
Meister is needed. Without Meister, people die. If Meister doesn’t ask, countless perish.
A life crushed under the weight of relentless responsibility.
The emotions in Nam Kyung’s tears weren’t sorrow, but relief.
[Humans are weak. But they survive by working together. So why do you try to bear everything alone? Aren’t you human?]
“Because heroes… Are stronger than humans.”
[Heroes are still human. They taste the same, just with an extra flavor called ability.]
Recalling Yoo Hyena’s words, I spoke. Meister’s tears kept falling.
Perhaps no one around her ever treated her as a human.
Her ability was too useful to leave her as just a person.
“I—I have to fulfill my duty. For the sake of this power.”
[Taking on responsibility you can’t handle is just a nuisance.]
“Everyone relies on me. Everyone says they need my ability.”
[You brought humanity this far. Now, stronger heroes have appeared. Yet those who still depend on you are worse than trash.]
“Heh…”
[Those who dump their burdens on you, who demand you use your ability—they’re worse than parasites. Why listen to them? Ignore them.]
Meister had already built that world.
Yet those who still say it’s not enough, who treat her as a tool—they’re the ones refusing to see her as human.
If they won’t treat her as a human, why should she treat them as such?
Even a monster—no, even an ordinary cat—wouldn’t tolerate those who bare their fangs at them.
[With or without trash like you, people will live or die. You built a world that can survive without you. So why won’t you rely on anyone else?]
“Waaah… Aaah!”
[For a weak human, you should act like one—and lean on others.]
Emotions in turmoil. Guilt, exhaustion, and the desire to rest all overflowed.
The shackles of an ability that saves lives, the pressure of being told she mustn’t fail—Meister’s true feelings.
The overload from her ability was painful.
But seeing others suffer because of her hurt even more, so she endured.
In the end, no matter where she turned, Meister found only pain.
If you’re weak, rely on others. You don’t have to do it alone.
Pushed to her limits, Meister ran toward the exit.
[Disgusting. Don’t cling to me.]
“You’re… So mean…”
I used telekinesis to peel Meister off me as she tried to cling.
Tears and snot covered her face. Did she really think I’d let that mess touch my fur?
[If you’re going to cry, hug that blanket and cry into it.]
“Uuu…”
Meister hugged the tear-soaked pillow and blanket, weeping.
Even as she cried, the emotions leaking from her were far from sorrow.
After a while, Meister, face still a mess, looked at me.
“…Thank you.”
A quiet gratitude, packed with layers of meaning, unraveled by a monster’s senses.
The comfort no human who used Meister had ever given her.
Some had tried to get close, but others pushed them away.
Those who told her to ignore the others never stayed long.
Jung Ho-young tried to persuade her. Yoo Anna comforted her. But Meister didn’t listen.
Her ability warned her of Kage’s danger and dismissed Yoo Anna’s unrealistic comfort.
Neither hero called her ability trash.
To humans, Meister’s ability was that extraordinary.
Enough to erase Nam Kyung, the person.
So instead of listening to them, she had to use her ability as much as possible.
Her ability, the government, all said it was for the greater good.
“Thank you… For telling me my ability isn’t needed.”
Ironically, the only one who saw Nam Kyung as just a human was a monster.
A monster that sees humans as prey.
That’s why it felt convincing.
Monsters see humans as food—that’s natural.
Even heroes are just unusual humans.
Meister’s scent grew less unpleasant as she slowly closed her eyes.
“You didn’t come back to devour me… I was just overthinking.”
“Mrrow?”
“I never thought I’d be comforted by a monster… No, is it rude to call you a monster? You’re… Human, after all.”
With a quiet laugh, Meister pulsed her ability’s wavelength.
“Your goal is to find the lab in A-City… I need to stay in W-City. A lab that creates monsters… Many humans could get hurt. But I’ll leave it to you.”
Without needing a long conversation, Meister understood everything I wanted.
Sniffling, she wiped her tears and smiled brightly.
“I want to trust you, regardless of what my ability says. Find the lab in A-City. I’ll buy time here.”
Because she’s weak, she doesn’t act alone—she leans on others.
For the first time, Meister made a choice fitting of a weak human. Her emotions were bright, at ease.
[Why did you use your ability again? Are you stupid?]
“…Ah.”
[Put your head here.]
“U-ugh…”
And so, I began flicking this idiot’s head.
[You’re worse than Sagugu. At least Sagugu remembers when spoken to. You’re dumber than a cat.]
“Ow, ah, ow.”
[Repeat after me: I’m worse than Sagugu.]
“T-that’s too harsh on Sagugu…”
[Say it!]
“I’m worse than Sagugu…! Ow! Ah!”