The Weight of Mercy
Having just wrapped up the post-incident cleanup in place of the Management Team Leader for the first time in a while, she found the task itself neither particularly troublesome nor exhausting. Yet the mere fact that she had been forced to handle it herself had already piled on more than enough stress. Her brow remained furrowed as she repeatedly swept back her long, ash-gray hair, puffing aggressively on her cigar. Scattered across the table where she had crossed her legs lay crumpled documents, the clipped ends of cigars, spent matches, and an overflowing ashtray piled high with butts.
"Get in here. Quickly."
She bared her sharp fangs and habitually ground the cigar between her teeth while growling the order in a hissing tone. The Field Team Leader and Management Team Leader, who had been bickering in low voices just outside the door, hurried inside. The thick cigar smoke hanging heavier than usual made both of them cough, but she paid no attention and launched straight into what she had to say.
"For now, I've assigned a codename under the pretext of identifying anomalies and conducting a health check, and given her a small isolation room on Level 2. Woong should be there with her right now."
"What about the schedule you had today?"
"The business meeting ended early, so I was nearby doing some weight training." She had apparently rushed over after receiving the call mid-workout, only managing to throw on the lower half of her clothes. That explained the unbalanced outfit she was wearing.
"That's a relief, at least."
Thwack!Flutter!
Annoyed by the instigator of this whole mess claiming it was fortunate, she snatched up the nearest clipboard from the desk and hurled it. Papers scattered everywhere, and the clipboard struck the Management Team Leader squarely on the shoulder, but the woman caught it before it hit the floor with practiced ease and calmly began gathering the fallen documents.
"If I had been away on a business trip, you two would have done whatever you pleased, wouldn't you? At this rate, why don't you just go ahead and become president and director together? Why bother keeping me around?"
She crushed the cigar she had been chewing and buried it in the ashtray's ashes. Only after shouting did she seem to calm down a little. She straightened her posture and pulled her chair in properly.
"Haa… Both of you, sit down."
Only after receiving permission did the two women, who had been standing stiffly near the wall, finally pull out chairs and sit.
"I've bought you about a week. Use that time to finish the interrogation, examinations, whatever you need. And this time, report everything properly and proceed by the book."
"Understood."
"What would you know?"
"Haha…"
"Don't laugh."
"…"
She had barely managed to suppress her anger, but the sight of that clown mask was enough to make irritation flare up again from nowhere.
"Once the containment subject's protection period ends, I'll send her home. Before that, Miho, ask the Founder to reinforce the durability of Woong's house and set up a surveillance system around it. Report back when it's done."
"You still haven't properly convinced us why we're leaving a prisoner's familiar alone."
"If you can't accept it, what are you going to do about it? Get a grip."
"I simply don't want to set a precedent. If we're going to make exceptions like this, then what were all the prisoners we've killed until now?"
The atmosphere suggested the ashtray might fly next instead of the clipboard, but the Management Team Leader pressed on without backing down.
"If there had been any justification to spare them, I wouldn't have given up on a single one until now."
"She's just a clever, feisty cat that one of our employees is raising. Until we catch that bitch Gabriel, death is the only release for prisoners marked with the Stigma. But if innocent sacrifices are required for that, I won't allow it."
"…"
"And do you really think the Alchemist is still alive right now? Because she can't follow that woman's orders, the Stigma burns her every moment. She can't even sleep without massive overdoses of sedatives, sleeping pills, and painkillers. On top of that, we've blinded her and locked her in that tiny room to block information from reaching our side. You know that."
"…I didn't say that because I didn't know. I said it because I know all too well."
The President swallowed the curse that had nearly escaped her lips—something beginning with "That bitch who claims to know so much…"—and decided there was no end to this argument. She pulled out another cigar but ultimately didn't light it. She tried to think of a response that might satisfy the other woman, but nothing convincing came to mind. After all, this wasn't a situation where one side could be neatly declared right or wrong.
Still, her own stance remained firm. Rather than sacrificing an innocent person to grant release to someone whose life was so painful they wished for death, she believed it was better to find another way to free them without anyone having to die—even if it required effort. Of course, she didn't have the ability or luxury to make that happen right now, and until that day came, the Alchemist would have to continue enduring the burning pain of the Stigma. Even if she was somehow holding on through drugs and her undying body, she was the one most in need of counseling at this moment—someone whose mind could collapse at any time. It was a shame that revealing the Counselor's identity made that impossible.
"Yeah… Gabriel. That bitch is always the problem."
The Stigma itself, which inflicted direct pain on the soul to force absolute obedience to commands, was already troublesome enough. But the real headache was that the ability allowed commands to be issued from anywhere, and its synergy with another power. The unique ability called Divine Descent, which her followers touted as the Eye of Heaven, was originally only possible with sincere faith and a compatible mind. Yet the forced submission induced by the Stigma made it possible regardless. In short, it meant that any prisoner marked with the Stigma could be commanded from anywhere at any time—and worse, Gabriel could directly descend into them and move them according to her will.
"If something similar happens during next week's business trip, I'll take it as a sign that it's time to settle things for good. So behave yourselves. And before I leave, both of you apologize to Woong properly. Don't forget to apologize to Nero as well."
"…Then I suppose we need to finish the apologies before you depart."
"?"
"Well, it turns out that Woong-ssi will be accompanying the President on this business trip."
*
"Honestly, you've got no shame."
I was currently kneeling on the floor in front of the black cat perched haughtily on a chair, head held high with a sulky glare. The cat looked down at me with an imperious expression.
"I mean, realistically, you could have just gone out for a bit. Why did you have to spread rumors all over the neighborhood and even ask the company for help?"
"…You weren't planning on coming back right away, were you?"
"That… Well, anyway."
Until now, anyone watching would have thought I was just talking to myself in front of a cat. Hearing actual human speech coming from her now felt so strange that I still hadn't fully adjusted.
"You didn't want to go outside because you were afraid of being discovered, right? Whether it was this side or that side, it would've put both you and me in danger."
"…"
"I'm sorry. It was because I carelessly brought people home. Thinking back, even when Yerin came alone, you really hated it…"
"Yeah, it's all your fault. Everything is because you're so clueless…! Ugh."
Even though I hesitated, remembering the pain of being scratched by those sharp claws, I still couldn't stop myself from pulling my cat into my arms. Nero, now back in my embrace, nestled against me quite docilely despite her sulky tone. Then her gaze fell on the arm she had scratched earlier.
"…Did it hurt a lot?"
"Yeah…"
Chomp!
"In times like this, you should just say it didn't hurt. What are you trying to make me feel guilty for?"
"No, it really did hurt…"
After biting my arm—not hard enough to hurt—she began licking the spot where the wound had been. The moist, slightly rough texture of her tongue wasn't unpleasant, so I stayed still. Before long, she lifted her face from my arm and leaned her head against my chest instead.
"…If you're sorry, then don't leave without saying anything again."
"Who said I'm sorry? I only ran away because you kept bringing women home at night and making so much vulgar, disgusting noise that I couldn't sleep."
"Ugh…"
Even though I could hear Nero's true feelings loud and clear, those words just now had been completely sincere.
"…"
Still, I knew her real reason for leaving had been to keep me from getting involved—to protect me. Somehow, that made me feel relieved.
"I was still surprised, though. I didn't know you could talk like this… or do other things too?"
"I used up all the power I barely recovered getting beaten up by that nasty fox bitch. So don't expect me to do any tricks now."
The "nasty fox" was obviously the Field Team Leader.
"I'll make sure she apologizes to you later. It won't be easy, but please forgive her. And… it hurt a lot, didn't it?"
"Yeah, it hurt so much. She beat up a small, cute cat like me without mercy—kicking, throwing, playing a symphony with the sound of breaking bones. I thought she was doing laundry or something."
"…"
Having gotten her revenge for my earlier honesty, Nero looked up at me as if asking whether I felt sorry now. It was probably meant as a joke, but remembering how pitiful she had looked when she was first brought back, it didn't sound like one at all.
"…I was really worried."
"W-What? Are you crying…? Why are you crying?"
Regardless of where Nero had been or what situation she had been in before, ever since I brought her into my studio apartment, she had become a precious family member I was responsible for. Memories of our time together and all the things I should have done better for her came flooding back, overwhelming me with emotion. According to Nero, she was the one who had abandoned her only safe haven for my sake and barely made it back alive. In this situation, it should have been her crying in my arms, not me—but once the tears started, they wouldn't stop.
"I'm really sorry… I'm so sorry. I should have paid more attention… I should have taken better care of you…"
"Ah… No, you did plenty. You did enough, Master. So… let's stop crying, okay…?"
Even though I nodded, promising to listen to her from now on, the tears didn't stop so easily. Compared to what Nero had gone through, it was nothing, but I had also been through something while fully conscious. Maybe now that everything had settled, all that pent-up sorrow was finally catching up to me.
"Hey… Stop… sniff… If you keep crying, then I'll… get weird too…"
Even though this narrow isolation room had surveillance cameras installed, I was too swept up in the rising tide of emotion to care. For a long while, we stayed like that—embarrassingly crying together.