The Stigma's Shadow
The President pulled a fresh cigar from her pocket and bit down on it, casually clipping the end with her fingernail before striking a match. "Woong, what do you think of Harpy?"
"What do I think of her…?"
It wasn't a difficult question, but it had come out of nowhere. The answer didn't come to me right away.
She took a slow drag, exhaled a thick plume of smoke, and tilted her lips into a crooked smile. "Do you think she's a monster?"
"No. Of course not."
"Then is she human?"
"That's…"
If she was neither human nor monster, then what was she? The question hung in the air.
"…Does it really matter how we label her?"
Harpy felt emotions just like anyone else. She could think for herself, and she had a gentle, considerate heart. That was enough for me. I didn't know what else anyone could possibly need.
"You're right. It doesn't matter. At least, not to you. But what about everyone else?"
"…"
Her legs were thick and rough, more like a bird's than a person's. Enormous wings stretched from her arms, and her talons looked sharp enough to tear through flesh. She had to hide every part of herself beneath layers of clothing just to go outside with me for the first time. The fact that she kept her true appearance completely concealed from the start was proof enough that she already knew how the world would see her.
Even a simple difference in skin color could spark endless prejudice. The idea that people would easily accept someone like her was nothing but wishful thinking.
"At least we try to listen to their stories… but the Vatican follows a doctrine that only accepts pure humans. To them, the containment subjects we protect are no different from heretics or demons."
"Demons…"
Anyone who spent even five minutes talking with Harpy would immediately realize she was no demon. If anything, they'd think she was an angel. Yet they still claimed the right to reject anything that wasn't a "pure human." What even counted as pure in the first place?
The President's words made the divide clear. Here at the Eunrang Art Museum, we prioritized subduing and securing subjects for protection. Over there, even friendly beings like Harpy were to be eliminated on principle if they weren't human. Conflict was inevitable.
"We've been clashing with them ever since we first revealed ourselves over a hundred years ago. Haa… We've been fighting for so long, and there's still no end in sight."
She bit down on the thick cigar with a weary expression, but the moment her bare hand sank back into Undine's body, her face melted into a soft, contented smile.
"Ehehe… Well, you don't really need to know about these things. Your job is just to stay safe in the facility and help the containment subjects feel more comfortable."
"…I see."
"That doesn't mean you can afford to relax, though."
"?"
She pulled her hand out of Undine's body—now completely healed—and pointed at me with a meaningful look.
"You should be grateful they found you first."
"Of course… I am grateful."
I truly was thankful that my ability, once nothing but a burden, had given me the chance to help others. But the way she said "first" left an uneasy feeling in my chest.
She seemed to notice and continued explaining.
"They've labeled every being that shows singularity—non-humans and ability users like you alike—as evil that must be burned away."
"Then… what would happen if they found me?"
"You'd be dragged off to the Inquisition as a prisoner."
The Inquisition. The name alone made it sound like the kind of place you didn't return from in one piece. And as a prisoner, no less…
"…"
Now that I thought about it, I'd heard the word "prisoner" before. According to the President, their rule was to execute anyone with abilities or singularities. So why would they bother taking someone alive for interrogation?
"I can guess what you're wondering. Think about Miho—the sharp-tongued fox who's working with us."
"You mean the Field Team Leader…?"
I'd heard the President call her Miho back in the containment cell, but I'd assumed it was just a nickname. Apparently it was her real name. And her surname… I had a rough idea now.
"Yeah. If it were just ordinary humans over there, sending Miho alone would have ended this tiresome fight a long time ago. Unfortunately, the Inquisition is still standing strong."
"What exactly is the Inquisition?"
"It's the only place directly under Vatican control that keeps prisoners alive and uses them. They're our real enemies. We wouldn't go after ordinary believers, would we?"
Even if we tried, their numbers would be overwhelming. Still, the pieces were finally starting to fit together—the stories the team leaders had dropped here and there, and what the President was telling me now.
With only "pure humans" on their side, they had no way to deal with someone as powerful as the Field Team Leader. Even if they managed to locate a singularity, eliminating someone of her level would be nearly impossible. So instead, they used ability users and singularities as weapons, aiming to wipe out everything they considered heretical. To them, the prisoners were already damned, so it didn't matter if a few died in the process.
It made a twisted kind of sense, but one thing still didn't add up.
"But they're just ordinary humans, aren't they? How can they control beings with powers far beyond human limits?"
"That's a fair question. I was just about to explain Stigma to you."
The unfamiliar word the team leaders had kept mentioning resurfaced once again.
"Stigma…"
"Thanks to that troublesome ability, they can control physical singularities—whether human or animal."
She fell silent for a moment, then began circling around me while I remained held in Undine's massive hand. Her gaze slowly swept over my naked body, clothes long since melted away. Embarrassed, I instinctively curled up, but the motion only made my skin brush against Undine's pleasantly soft, yielding body. Blood rushed downward before I could stop it.
"Mmm…"
She didn't seem to care. Her persistent stare continued without pause.
"It's almost funny. In the end, they're relying on the very beings they want to kill. And they justify it by calling it repentance or martyrdom. How pathetic."
"…"
After finishing with a mocking tone, she straightened up and leaned in close, bringing her face right in front of mine. Her striking silver eyes locked onto me, and when she noticed my tension, she grinned.
"Uhehe, open your mouth."
"?!"
She had already examined every inch of me, including the most embarrassing places. Now she was ordering me to open my mouth? Before I could react, her fingers pressed firmly against my cheeks with surprising strength. I had no choice but to open wide, like I was at the dentist.
"Show me under your tongue too. There we go. I already had the Observer check, but I wanted to confirm it myself just in case."
Even though the President had a rather intimidating image in my mind, showing the inside of my mouth to her still felt mortifying. It was a part of myself I wouldn't show to just anyone. But apparently, everything she'd done so far had a reason.
"Does the Stigma show up somewhere on the body?"
"It's called a stigma, after all. I've seen one carved onto someone's tongue before, so I check the inside of the mouth too. I hear this ability is applied through a kiss. Quite the peculiar taste, isn't it? …Though I suppose I'm not one to talk."
"…?"
Her muttered words were hard to follow, but it seemed she'd confirmed that I wasn't under the control of any Stigma. I didn't follow any religion, and the names I called out in emergencies were always different anyway. Of course I wasn't marked.
"Good. That proves your innocence. We've taken a bit of a detour, but let's talk about your cat now."
She pushed the half-smoked cigar into one of Undine's clones and watched with amusement as it swallowed it down. Then she gave Undine's rear a few familiar smacks before finally bringing up Nero.
"Even though we prioritize protecting singularities, our policy is to execute any prisoner marked with a Stigma without exception."
The way she said it made it clear that an exception had somehow occurred. My guess was correct.
"But six months ago, while we were cleaning out the Korean branch of the Inquisition, something that shouldn't have happened did. An alchemist imprisoned on the same floor was the one responsible. Curious why?"
"…I am."
Since it seemed connected to Nero, of course I wanted to know. But the President's answer was nothing like what I'd expected.
"It's surprisingly simple. She didn't die."