The Overture to a Deep, Dark Revenge

The cigarette burns branded into my arms since high school. The long, ragged scars carved by razor-sharp nails. They're gone now — but they're the reason I used to cover my arms even in the dead heat of summer.

Han Yuri. That goddamn bitch had hounded me with a single-minded cruelty. There was no reason for it. I just looked like the kind of kid she wanted to toy with.

Thanks to her, every one of my three years in high school was a living hell. Looking back, the fact that I never killed myself is honestly impressive.

I'll do it.

Even a coward like me — someone who never wanted to get tangled up with anyone — still carried a hunger for revenge. The only reason I'd never acted on it was that I'd never had the power.

If I don't do this, I die anyway. Hell, I should count myself lucky I even got a shot at paying this bitch back.

I purchased the two skills I'd been eyeing in the skill shop. One was Flirting Machine. The other was Fancy Meeting You Here — Must Be Fate. My points dropped to exactly zero, as if the shop had been waiting for me.

I activated it at once.

"Han Yuri, locate!"

The words had barely left my mouth before a translucent window materialized in front of me, just like the Status Window.

I set a single, unshakable goal.

Before this day was over, I would drag Han Yuri into bed. And with that, I would rewrite the miserable history of my school years.

Let's see the look on your face when that loser you despised so much pins you down.

I clenched my small, pale fist and drove the vow home. Not to clear a quest. Not to save my own skin. For revenge — for the chance to overwrite that gloomy past. And so my timid body, at last, began to move.

It had been nearly two years since I'd last set foot outside. The sunlight I hadn't felt in so long was harsh and sweetly warm all at once.

I took the bus, and within an hour I was closing in on Han Yuri's location. Whatever she was doing there, she never moved. I never had to change course. Lucky me, I guess.

There it is.

Even at a glance, the café looked expensive. Not a franchise — some independently owned place, and a massive one at that. Just how much money was this operation raking in? The atmosphere alone was enough to make me hesitate at the door. But I gathered what little courage I had and went inside.

The place was packed. Crowded, noisy, overwhelming — way more than a loser like me could handle. I thought I was going to throw up.

No. Hold it together. Hold it together!

I forced myself to scan the room. Blue hair. Ah — found her. Even after all these years, her face hadn't changed a bit.

Order a coffee first... then ease my way over.

If you were going to occupy a table in a place like this, you had to order something. Come on, be brave. I headed for the kiosk, then stopped. Was that thing mounted way too high? I pulled out my wallet anyway.

Damn it, how is someone as short as me supposed to order from this?

The screen sat far above my reach. I rose onto my tiptoes and strained for the buttons, but it was hopeless. What now? Call a staff member? I didn't have that kind of courage. I was the type who couldn't even walk into a restaurant — I ordered delivery every single time. How was I supposed to talk to an actual human being?

I was still struggling when someone came up behind me and laid a hand on my shoulder. The touch was ice-cold, and the voice that followed was painfully familiar.

"Shall I give you a hand?"

"Y-yes?!"

"Eek!"

"D-did I startle you? I'm sorry. I just... for some reason, I really wanted to put my hand on your shoulder..."

I turned around, and there she was. Han Yuri. Those sharp, yellow, snake-like eyes. Those razor nails. That long lizard tail. I had suffered under this woman for so long that terror surged up from instinct alone and locked every joint in my body. My heart hammered. My legs trembled like a newborn calf's; I wanted nothing more than to sink to the floor.

I clung to what was left of my sanity and looked up at her. She was enormous. Part of that was how small I was now — but she had to be six feet tall if she was an inch, a towering frame of muscle and scale.

She plucked the card from my hand as naturally as breathing. A born shakedown artist, through and through.

"Ah— um. Y-yes! Th-thank you..."

"Just tell me what you'd like to drink. I'll order it for you."

"U-um! An iced Americano, please!"

"Done. Any options?"

Options? Those existed? I'd always figured coffee was just a bitter drink you swallowed and endured. I wasn't the type who ordered this kind of thing, so I had no idea.

"Just..."

"Just?"

"Anything is fine..."

"Alright. I'll leave the options off, then."

I swallowed hard and watched her place the order. I'd actually managed to start a conversation. I let out a small breath and forced the next words out.

"I know this is a lot to ask when I've already imposed on you, but... would it be alright if I sat with you?"

"Hm? Oh! I'd lo— I mean, yes! That's fine. More than fine."

I'd wrung those words out of a courage I didn't have, running the line through my head a dozen times before I said it. And it ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠worked. If she'd turned me down, I would have died of embarrassment on the spot.

Being cute really was everything. That line never would have landed in my old body.

"This way. I was just sitting alone with my coffee, getting bored anyway."

"O-okay."

She led me to the most secluded seat in the café. Something about the stares around us felt sharp, though — and it was the women. Their eyes kept sliding toward me, and only me.

"Where did you come from?"

"S-sorry?"

"You don't look like a student at our school. Do you live around here?"

"Ah! I..."

"Oh — am I prying too much? I'm sorry. I'm not trying to interrogate you. It's just that we've never met, so..."

She wasn't treating me like a child, even as small as I was. She was talking to me like an adult. At least she wasn't looking around for a guardian. Small mercies.

I want to say something — anything — but the second I try to talk my whole body locks up. She could just breathe and I'd flinch. What the hell am I supposed to do?

I clasped my hands together and tried to think. Nothing came. My body just kept shaking.

"Hey? Are you upset because I asked where you live out of nowhere?"

"Ah— um. N-no, I'm not upset. I came from Nowon."

"Nowon? That's pretty far. But I didn't actually ask where you live!"

"Ah, I, well..."

"Hmmm..."

Bzzzzzt. The pager in my hand went off. I shot up from my seat to grab the coffee — and Han Yuri was already gone. She was at the counter and back with the cup before I'd even fully stood.

"Wh-wha?"

"I figured I'd be faster."

"Ah. Thank you."

"Don't mention it."

She was never this nice. The Han Yuri I knew was a vicious monster of a woman. I'd watched her, with my own two eyes, grab a girl she didn't like by the hair and slap her across the face with that monstrous strength until every last tooth came out of her head.

Maybe looking like someone people wanted to be kind to really was everything. The goodwill just kept pouring in, more ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠than I knew what to do with.

"Thanks for the drink..."

Nobody had actually treated me, but the habit came out anyway. I put my lips to that flimsy paper straw and took a long pull — and a vicious bitterness backhanded my taste buds so hard my whole face crumpled.

"Khhhk! Ugh!"

"Hm? What's wrong?"

"Eugh... it's so bitter..."

"What?"

"The coffee. I can't drink this. It's too bitter."

"That's weird. I definitely didn't add any extra shots."

I wasn't exactly a coffee person, but I'd never been so delicate that I couldn't handle a bitter drink. Something about this new body had rewritten my palate, too — and rewritten it into something painfully fragile.

"Ugh... I really can't drink this."

Tears even pricked at the corners of my eyes. I wiped them with a finger and set the cup down. Han Yuri took one look at me, snorted — and then the laugh tore out of her as she stood up.

"Ahaha— pffthahahahahaha! Oh, that's too funny. You're a lot cuter than I expected, you know that?"

"I wouldn't have ordered it if I'd known it was this bitter..."

"Well, running into each other was a coincidence anyway. Let me buy you a drink. How about it? The iced tea here is incredible."

I nodded. I didn't care what it was, as long as it was sweet enough to kill the bitterness still coating my tongue.

Then, without warning, she slid her own iced tea across the table toward me. Wasn't she drinking that? Why was she giving it to me?

"Want mine?"

"S-sorry?"

"I only touched the cup with my lips. You can use the straw as-is. I don't mind."

She was doing this for someone she'd met today? Flirting Machine was the real deal. Han Yuri — the woman famous for being ice-cold — was leaning in ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠this deep.

I shook my head hard and put my mouth to the straw she'd handed me. A sweet peach fragrance washed through my mouth and wiped the bitterness out completely. Holy hell. This was actually amazing.

A wet swallow reached my ears. I looked up.

Han Yuri was staring straight through me, her eyes glazed and vacant, like her mind had simply left the building. Those distinctive reptile pupils were locked on ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠me the way a predator locks onto something it fully intends to eat.