Promise!
“Mother, why is my name like this?”
“The meaning of your name?”
“Yeah! Why'd you give me a name like this?”
The kindly furrowed brow, the perpetually soiled nun's habit, the frayed veil. She wasn't pristine by any means, but that very fact made it all the more poignant every time she clasped her hands in prayer. And that desperation was for her sake. Young Mosco Bi Chacos knew it.
“In my hometown—”
“Mexico?”
“That's right, Mexico. Good memory.”
She loved the head pats. If she quietly tilted her head forward, Mother would stroke it without a word.
“In my hometown, they called weeds mosco. It means 'friend of moss.'”
“So my name means weed?”
“What's wrong with that? Don't like it?”
“Of course not! That's too much, Mother!”
Sister Himena was a woman who laughed like a child even as she approached sixty. Mosco thought it was just her usual teasing, but it wasn't.
“Mosco grow tough along roadsides and vacant lots without anyone tending them.”
“……”
“That's what I hoped for you. That you'd thrive anywhere.”
It was a good meaning, sure. But naming a child you called daughter—blood or not—like a weed?
“Still, weed is kinda harsh.”
“Hmm? Haha, you think so? To me, it was the prettiest flower.”
“……Really?”
“Of course. And you—you bloomed the most beautifully of all I've seen—”
Drip!Plip!
A droplet fell from the ceiling, bursting on the bridge of her nose. Bi Chacos slowly opened her eyes. As her vision adjusted to the darkness, she remembered she was inside a container box.
Villancy's final mission. Assassinate Eric Dr. Wolf, the frontrunner mayoral candidate. Before starting, he'd arranged a place to rest, saying there was something else she needed to handle first. She'd dozed off there.
“……”
Her body felt heavy, but the short nap had restored enough energy to move.
Screeech!
She pushed open the container door and stepped out onto the rooftop of some unidentified building. Amid Cyber City's countless skyscrapers, this one loomed a cut above the rest—not your average structure. The night breeze carried the sight of the fixer from the alley last time, the one who'd handed her the communicator. Bald-headed, he leaned against the railing, impassively watching her.
The massive build, durability that shrugged off bullets to the head, a body that felt no fatigue without sleep. Had there ever been a fixer in Cyber City who'd crammed that level of top-shelf cyberware into every inch? Bi Chacos knew the industry inside out, but she'd never seen his like.
'Heard there are monsters among fixers who only take special private gigs.'
Probably one of those. The kind who handled only the most elite, ultra-secret jobs.
“1011101.”
“Use words.”
“……Inconvenient.”
The man, arms crossed, sighed and switched to speech before striding past her.
“The client awaits. Follow.”
No more talk. As Bi Chacos trailed him off the roof, a recent dream flickered to mind.
'Sister Himena.'
Shed once thought that when she grew old, she'd become like her. And so, years after bolting from the cathedral, when they reunited. When shed asked her to look after the remaining kids because illness wouldnt let her live long.
The reason shed eagerly accepted? She only realized later. There was a word for that feeling.
“Got a smoke?”
At her question, the man wordlessly offered one. The thunk of a Zippo lighter. With the smoke, she exhaled the emotions shed bottled up toward the sky.
The person you hoped Id become.
The person I hoped youd remain.
The dream I had watching you.
My Mother.
Descending to the floor below, Bi Chacos was greeted by men dripping with obvious wealth, money slathered on thick. Ages varied: a hunched grandpa with a cane, a burly guy flaunting his torso under just a coat. All reeked of filthy riches.
One approached—a blond pretty boy. He gave off an artificial vibe, yet his body bore no visible traces. Meant he'd shelled out big for seamless work.
“First time seeing you up close, Bi Chacos.”
The man smiled in greeting. She knew instantly: this was Villancy.
Habit had her hand darting to her hip holster for her pistol—but it grasped air.
“Tch.”
She knew it was gone, but the absence stung. And that seemed to amuse Villancy, who chuckled mockingly.
“Now, before the final mission. We have a gift for you.”
Stepping forward from behind him was a man with a neat goatee and boxy glasses. Bi Chacos recognized him too: Zeke Fullan, the acclaimed genius director.
“Hand out.”
“……”
Small patches, neural sensors. From wrist to temple to toes, they stuck them everywhere. A faint current prickled through her body. The minor pain intensified, spreading like a full-body headache, restraining her.
But the gasps came from elsewhere.
“Oh, ooh! Fuck, insane!”
“Heh, close your eyes and you see through her eyes.”
“So this is the shitty feeling she's having?”
Exclamations erupted from the tycoons. S.E.L. They were now sharing Mosco Bi Chacos's senses directly.
Her misery, rage, resolve—all of it became their drug, their sensational movie. Realizing that churned nausea in her gut.
“Urk?!”
“Puhahaha! This bitch thinks we're disgusting?!”
“Hey, easy. Dry-heaving might pop an organ in our state.”
“Kyah…… nuts. Zeke Fullan, Villancy—you two made a masterpiece.”
Villancy nodded smugly at the admiring tycoons. He shared the sensations too, thrilled just the same.
“Alright, Bi Chacos. Now go put a hole in that mayoral candidate's head. We'll all feel it together.”
An assassination for the history books. Not some reenactment flick, but live, raw from the scene.
If hedonism turned to madness, wouldn't it look just like this? Her surging hatred and hostility.
But even that transmitted to them.
“Oh? Mad? What're you gonna do? Gotta protect the kids, right?”
“……!”
“Learned from last failure—know how many we sent to the 3rd floor? You'd faint.”
Rage boiled to her scalp, but for the hostage kids—
Smack!
Bi Chacos punched her own face. Heads whipped aside in unison.
“Gahk!?”
“Fucking hell!”
“Ha, haha! Pain—how long since I felt that?”
The sync rate far exceeded legal limits, sharing the pain too.
“I-I'll adjust it. Gotta minimize pain feedback.”
Zeke Fullan scrambled at his controls. Villancy just laughed and nodded.
“Damn, fun. Even your relief is hitting us.”
“……Disgusting bastards.”
3rd Floor, Cathedral of Maternal Grace.
The five kids tilted their heads at the people surrounding them.
“What's this? What's going on?”
“Sunday Mass?”
“Dummy! It's Saturday!”
There were Saturday services, but the vibe wasn't exactly holy.
“Uh, mister. Something wrong?”
Sora, the oldest of the five, called to me anxiously. Suddenly summoned to the chapel and surrounded, she was flustered. I smiled to reassure her.
“No worries. It's the weekend, right? Uncle and aunties have the day off and got bored, so we came to play with you.”
“Who you calling aunty?”
Ryu Seram grumbled from a pew.
“Wondered why you'd call on a weekend. Thought we were watching baseball.”
“Watch with the kids here.”
“Ah…… dragged into something weird again.”
Grumbling aside, she poked the chubby cheek of the kid staring at her.
“Let's play!”
Meanwhile, Renea had already unpacked a pile of board games on the floor.
Kim Yang and Baek Yeonhwa laughed, calling the kids over too.
“W-Wow, l-let's play.”
“We got the wuxia life game too!”
Look at them smiling even on a weekend shift. Perfect.
Today's Meracle special event: weekend volunteering. Playtime with kids waiting for their moms.
“Raichen! Join us!”
Raichen Spilcold nodded at Kim Da Jeong's call but approached me slowly.
“Boss, you leaving?”
“Yeah. Be back soon. Watch the kids while I'm gone.”
He nodded faintly.
“No need to worry.”
“……Yeah, I'm not really worried anyway.”
Disciple of the great mage, Raichen Spilcold.
Top ten martial expert, Baek Yeonhwa.
One of the Chilgeuk, Ryu Seram.
Elf Queen Renea.
With those four guarding the cathedral, who could touch a single thread of the kids' clothes?
Bzzz! Bzzz! Bzzz!
My phone buzzed. Time to go.
I tried slipping out quietly, but Sora still eyed me worriedly.
“Mister, where you going?”
“……”
Her face full of concern. Just like before. The first time I met the kids.
Theyd asked me anxiously.
'Can Mom get married?'
'Don't worry just about us—live your life for yourself too.'
And I'd nodded irresponsibly, smiling. Of course. No worries.
But the match failed. Their hopes turned to disappointment and resignation.
This time's different. No false hopes.
I'll say what I can do. What I will do.
“I'll bring your mom back.”