Codename Bunny Girl (3)

The morning that should have been refreshed by a leisurely, deep sleep left me with a sour expression as I picked up the phone.

"Yes, this is the Anomaly Management Bureau. How may I help you?"

"The item I received after registering as an Awakener yesterday seems a bit off. I got an anomaly that wasn't cleared for release."

"This must be Hunter Lee Hasol. Could you confirm which staff member issued the anomaly?"

Huh. Now that I thought about it, what did that staff member look like? It felt like I'd been smacked hard on the head with a hammer.

They were clearly just an ordinary employee, yet when I tried to recall them, I couldn't even remember if they were male or female. All I knew was that I'd never seen that staff member during the entire registration process.

"I... don't remember."

"Hmm. Every anomaly registered in our database has an identification number. Can you check it?"

"Yes. It's written right here. BPA-OBJ-III-041."

"Umm. Please hold for a moment."

With every exchange, the operator's sighs grew longer. I thought I heard words like "right now" and "emergency response" coming from the other end of the line. My instincts as a former rescuer—or just plain common sense—told me one thing.

I was completely screwed.

"Ummm. How many hours has it been since you acquired the video?"

"I came home, took a nap, and just checked it after waking up, so... about ten hours?"

"I see. First, please stay calm. The response team has just departed. In case you don't know, if you have family, relatives, or close contacts, you should contact them in advance..."

Though the operator phrased it in many roundabout ways, the meaning was crystal clear: You might die. Get your affairs in ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠order while you still can.

The emergency response team was on the way, but honestly, they weren't sure if they could save me. That was probably what they meant. The reason I was guessing was because even that much wasn't being conveyed properly.

A harsh static noise crackled from the smartphone I'd been talking on. I soon realized the noise wasn't coming from the phone alone.

"Kki, kkihi... kkihihi..."

An unpleasant laugh, like nails scraping a chalkboard. The living room TV, which hadn't even been turned on, flickered to life, filled with dense gray noise. Anything with a display was no exception.

On the largest screen, a ghost gradually revealed itself. It was a maiden ghost in a white hanbok, with long hair. Beneath the trailing strands, unnaturally large, bloodshot eyes rolled around. Soon, a long arm reached out and caressed my cheek. The ghost grinned and spoke.

"Pre...tty?"

"Your screams must be pretty too."

Around that time, I was having a rather absurd thought.

I've always hated horror movies. Even back when I was "Lee Hasol, aspiring nurse" instead of "Lee Hasol, 119 rescuer," that hadn't changed. There were plenty of reasons to dislike them.

For one, I didn't want to hear people screaming outside of work hours. The sensation of being startled wasn't appealing either, and I didn't like death being treated as entertainment. In short, I had little tolerance for horror, and if I happened to watch any, I'd get scared easily.

This kind of fear was different in texture from the fear at a fire scene. The moment the ghost caressed my cheek, my body froze solid with tension. Yes. That tension was the start of all my problems.

Oh no. I need to pee...

When the human body tenses, the nervous system becomes hypersensitive. This makes you more aware of your bladder's expansion, and you quickly feel the urge to urinate. Moreover, my current body was that of a woman under 160cm tall.

Unlike when I was male, it wasn't a body that could hold urine for long. The female urethra is much shorter than a male's. My lower abdomen tightened, and my legs squeezed together. As strength surged all the way to my toes, the approaching ghost touched my ear and giggled.

"Hihi, what's wrong? Scared? Scared? Scared?"

"Should I stay with you?"

From this point on, I became more afraid of my bladder issue than the ghost. The ghost said something else, but I couldn't hear it clearly. They say people's thoughts accelerate in extreme situations. Indeed, facing a ghost right before wetting yourself was extreme enough.

Until a moment ago, I'd been on the phone with the Anomaly Management Bureau. And the operator had clearly told me the response team was on its way. That meant people were coming here right now.

The records of the "Ghost-Infested Video" surfaced in my mind.

- Must transmit the video within 12 hours of acquisition.

- Death occurs 168 hours after viewing the video.

If the document I'd seen was accurate, dying wasn't happening now. Fundamentally, anomalies are phenomena built on rules.

While various modifications are often applied, the core doesn't change completely. Even now, it hadn't been able to inflict a single wound on my body. In other words, my life was still safe.

But what if I wet myself right now? What if I even pass out?

It wasn't hard to imagine. Soon, the Bureau people would arrive at my house. For them, this was an emergency. If I didn't answer, they'd break down the door and enter in an instant. Then they'd discover Lee Hasol with a damp crotch. An embarrassing sight in many ways.

However, response teams always include veterans. An order to immediately transport me to an ambulance would be issued, and in that process, there'd be no service to shield my face from the neighbors' gazes. I didn't know when I'd regain consciousness.

But the moment I woke up, I'd have to begin explaining the humiliating situation. It would be a spectacle where both listener and speaker desperately pretended there was no urine issue.

And then, casually opening my phone, I'd discover news like "New Hunter Miss L Found Wetting Herself at Home" on the internet...

"Ah, no!"

That was death. Social death, even if biologically alive. I couldn't get the bedwetter title as a full-grown adult! Moreover, if they were Bureau people, they were government-affiliated Hunters.

Jobs related to rescue tended to have small circles by nature, and even more so for Hunters. It meant these were people I could run into again anytime. I couldn't show such an ugly side in front of them. My life was already miserable enough!

"?"

The one who'd taken up a significant portion of my life's misery lately spoke.

A few words from the constellation cooled my head. It felt like I'd been suddenly dragged back to reality. The aura of fear that had been constricting my body vanished, and in its place, the corset-style leotard that truly constricted my body was donned.

My rude constellation had finally turned me into a bunny girl even inside my own home. I was so angry I couldn't stand it, and I felt like I had to vent this injustice somewhere. Just then, a perfect target for releasing my anger appeared.

"......"

"......?"

Crack-!

With a resounding sound, the ghost's neck twisted around. Once wasn't enough to vent my anger, so twice. For no particular reason, I hit it three more times to make five.

As I kept hitting, it got slightly fun, so I hit a few more times. Perhaps due to the physical enhancement, the furniture in the house shook from the impact. If I stepped on the floor, it might collapse.

"Grr... urk, ugh..."

Come to think of it, maybe it was because I'd never had a chance to hit someone before? I hadn't hit it much, but my wrist was throbbing. With strength this amplified, my body felt strained right away. I thought I'd need professional training later. As expected, there seemed to be a knack even for this kind of thing.

"S-save..."

"Save you? What are you talking about. Anyone can see you're a ghost."

While I paused to shake out my wrist, ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠the ghost made a sudden move. It started crawling toward the TV it had first emerged from. The sight of it crawling on all fours, unable to even stand, looked quite desperate. But humans are beasts with two arms.

It was true my right hand hurt a bit, but my left hand could move as much as it ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠wanted. I grabbed the creature's ankle and yanked it straight toward me. Screeeech. Nail marks were left on the living room floor.

"Gehk? Urk... kueeeeeeek!"

"Tsk, you're leaving marks. So why do you keep moving? It's inconvenient to hit you."

I subdued the struggling creature by striking its face. This thing seemed pretty strong too, but not stronger than me. Maybe because it'd never been hit in its life, it seemed weak to pain.

As I focused on hitting its face, its head kept turning, so I wondered if there was a good method—then its hair caught my eye. Wrapping the unnecessarily nice hair around my palm solved all problems.

Crack, crunch- crackle!

Sounds that shouldn't come from a human body rang out several times. Well, it wasn't particularly a problem.

Our country's laws don't protect ghost rights, do they?

Thanks to that, I felt refreshed until my anger was fully vented. There was considerable fun in violence without consequences. However, while lost in that fun, I'd forgotten one fact.

As I was thoroughly relieving stress, my bunny ears perked up. Footsteps. A group of people were hurriedly climbing the building stairs.

"Oh, damn it!"

"Command center. This is Emergency Response Team 1. We need support for ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠the 'Ghost-Infested Video' case."

"A very strong physical interference phenomenon has been confirmed."

"Estimated danger level A or higher... no, shit! The building just shook, didn't it?"

Ah. Aah. Ah, aah.