Lingering Attachment

The day after escaping the incident safely with the aid of Great Order, I walked down the bustling city streets, listening to the news on my smartphone. Thanks to Ira, my former sidekick, I had once again disguised myself in the unassuming guise of an adjunct professor at the Hero Academy.

"She listens well," I murmured.

The hypnosis I had placed on Miracle Shine was likely waning by now. Unless it was my ultimate technique, Common Sense Alteration, ordinary hypnosis was bound to degrade with the passage of time. Even so, the fact that she remained in hiding without showing herself meant she had taken my advice to heart—she was being careful around the other heroes. Seeing how utterly out of sorts she looked when we parted had left me somewhat concerned, but it seemed the Rank 2 hero had earned her title for a reason.

Just as I was slipping the smartphone back into my pocket with a satisfied smile, quickening my pace, an azure notification abruptly materialized in thin air before my eyes.

As the system window began to slowly fade following its brief announcement, I hurriedly called out to it.

"Wait, I have a question."

The translucent interface paused in its dissolution and tilted gently to ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠one side. Seeing that, it became clear that the entity could comprehend my words.

"What on earth are you?"

Realizing it possessed awareness only inflamed my curiosity further. The system floating before me felt like something ripped straight out of a comic book or novel—an anomaly wholly foreign even within this supernatural era of awakened Concepts. Yet, despite its surreal presence, it never forced commands upon me. It merely lent me abilities when I desired them, provided I paid the necessary price. It even allowed me to use low-level skills free of charge.

How in the world had Justia managed to possess such a suspicious power in the first place? Had she inherited it from someone else, just as I had from her? If not, where did this bizarre construct truly originate?

Though I had poured all my doubts into that single inquiry, the system's reply was curt and unyielding. It seemed determined to guard its true identity.

"Then let me change the question. Tell me about 'Skills'."

While my curiosity had doubled, I harbored no wariness toward it. After all, this power had been passed down to me by none other than Justia, who had squeezed out the very last drop of her vitality to bestow it upon me. If only for the sake of her vengeance, I intended to exploit it to its absolute limits.

Prompted by my request, the system began laying out new information.

First, the maximum capacity for stored skills was fifteen. Since I currently possessed thirteen, it meant I could add two more to my repertoire.

"Alright, I understand that. But how are new skills acquired?"

The explanation that followed revealed the exact origin of Insight and Defense.

A bit of a shame...

Had I known there was a hard limit on creation tickets, I would have chosen far more carefully. Perhaps I could have acquired absurd cheat abilities like instant death or total physical immunity.

No, back when I was locked inside Karma, I already considered every conceivable power under the sun.

Reflecting on those desperate days in the penitentiary, I had cycled through every imaginable possibility in my head. These two had undoubtedly been the most optimal and practical choices available to survive.

While smacking my lips with lingering regret, I tilted my head at the message that followed immediately below. It was bizarre. I held thirteen skills, so what did it mean by a skill pending application?

Reviewing the detailed information in bewilderment, my eyes widened.

Recovery. While the restriction preventing me from healing myself was undeniably frustrating, it was still an exceptionally useful ability. But how had I acquired it in the first place? And what was this 'Plunder Penalty'?

The notification that appeared answered my doubts with impeccable timing.

Now that made things worthwhile. Given that the overwhelming majority of Kaijin were heroes lurking among human society, I would never find myself lacking in supernatural abilities going forward.

"Ah, and one more thing—"

Just as I smiled with satisfaction and prepared to ask another question, that dismissive alert flashed across my vision.

"Hey, wait a minute—"

Leaving behind that parting message, the entity vanished into thin air in the blink of an eye.

"Its way of speaking sounds oddly familiar."

It was cheeky enough to be infuriating, yet for some reason, I couldn't bring myself to resent it. Perhaps it was because it reminded me of Justia, who had always kept the words "I wish you luck" on her lips.

"Since communication is possible, it might not be a bad idea to get closer..."

To me, it was practically Justia's memento, which stirred an inexplicable affection within me. Yet seeing how it refused to reappear no matter how many times I called out, it seemed the system had no interest in befriending me just yet.

Setting aside the idea of making friends with a system for another day, I pushed past the pedestrians staring at me like a madman muttering to empty space and strode toward my destination.

"...Still, I never imagined I'd be visiting in this state."

My older sister's agency—the very place I had tried to visit countless times, only to be cast out every single time.

"Excuse me."

"Ah, welcome...?"

"What's this? A client at this hour?"

When the front door swung open and a man wearing a fedora stepped inside, an unsettled murmur rippled through the agency at the unexpected guest.

"Who is that? I've never seen his face before..."

"Can you even see his face? I can barely make out a thing..."

Because the fedora was pulled down so low, the man's features remained shrouded in deep shadow. Yet the chilling, oppressive aura radiating from him was unmistakable, and the sidekicks scattered throughout the office began rising from their desks with guarded, hostile expressions.

I never imagined he would walk in looking so completely defenseless.

Resting her chin on her hand behind the desk at the rear of the room, Great Order furrowed her brow, lost in thought.

Even when I gave him the absurd condition of meeting inside my own office, he simply nodded without a second thought.

She had proposed the rendezvous location half in jest, yet Trauma had readily agreed. Under ordinary circumstances, she would have dismissed it as the reckless bravado of a villain, but her counterpart was none other than the supervillain Trauma—an anomaly already being considered for an Extra-Grade threat classification. He was a monster who had single-handedly brought the Hero Academy to ruins, obliterated Grade 1 and Grade 2 Magical Beasts with single blows, and utterly subdued Miracle Shine, the world's Rank 2 hero.

To a man like that, walking out of an agency office would be trivial.

"Please, come over and have a seat, Mr. Oh Ji-seok."

Feeling the terrifying weight of his strength anew, Great Order took a quiet breath to steady her racing heart. Putting on an expression of easy nonchalance, she gestured toward the sofa in front of her desk.

"Mr. Oh Ji-seok?"

Yet for some reason, Trauma stood rooted to the spot near the entrance.

"Excuse me...?"

Unsettled by his motionless stance, Great Order frowned and prepared to stand up.

"Great Order." Trauma glanced toward her, his voice dropping into a low, measured whisper. "Please step outside for a moment."

"Pardon?"

"I am asking you to wait outside this office for a brief moment."

Great Order rose awkwardly from her chair, her brow furrowing deeper. "Very well, I will... but why—"

Reading the suffocating stillness in the air, she swallowed her question, turned on her heel, and walked toward the entrance.

What is he planning?

Through multiple layers of verification, she had already confirmed that Trauma was not the monstrous, indiscriminate villain painted by the media. More importantly, they had forged a collaborative relationship; he had no reason to pull any senseless stunts.

CRACK-CRUNCH!

The sickening, splintering sound of bone rupturing behind the closed office door sent a violent tremor through her spine.

"You may come back in now."

"What on earth was that sound just—"

With dread knotting in her stomach, Great Order threw the door open and stepped inside, only to freeze dead in her tracks.

"The office was rather filthy," Trauma said softly.

"........."

"So I took the liberty of doing a bit of cleaning."

Her sidekicks lay scattered across the floor with their necks twisted at grotesque angles, while Trauma stood amidst the carnage, calmly wiping flecks of crimson from his cheek with an utterly vacant expression.

"You... what madness is this—"

"They were all Kaijin."

Her breath hitched in her throat as she stared in stunned disbelief.

"Were you aware that those vermin were plotting to assassinate you in the near future?"

"........."

"Well, you need not worry too much. The few who were not Kaijin have been set aside over there."

Just as he said, a handful of surviving sidekicks sat huddled in the corner of the room, their eyes vacant and dazed, completely incapacitated.

"What are you standing there for? Take a seat."

"This is crossing the line, Trauma." Gritting her teeth in simmering fury, Great Order glared at Trauma as he casually pointed toward the chair, her voice rising in outrage. "Shouldn't you have at least told me beforehand?!"

Trauma tilted his head to the side, his expression one of pure, detached incomprehension.

"I understand they were Kaijin! But if you butcher them without a single word of warning, what am I supposed to do about my standing—"

"Your standing?" His whisper cut through her words like a frozen blade. "Why should I have to consider your standing?"

Great Order choked on her breath, silenced by the sheer coldness of his gaze.

"My sole objective is the extermination of Kaijin. That takes precedence over everything else."

"No, even so—"

"Are you concerned about cleaning up the aftermath?" Beneath the brim of the fedora, Trauma's eyes gleamed with a chilling brilliance. "My apologies, but I have no intention of collaborating with someone who cannot even manage this level of cleanup."

With that curt dismissal, Trauma moved to rise from the sofa.

"Fine! I get it, I understand!" Clutching her throbbing temples, Great Order squeezed her eyes shut and forced herself forward. "I'll handle the cleanup myself, so just sit back down."

Trauma was not the secret crusader of justice fighting from the shadows that she had naively imagined. He was warped, fractured—a ticking time bomb whose blast radius no one could predict.

And the worst part is... there isn't a single soul in this world capable of defusing him.

"Then I look forward to working with you."

As Great Order ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠silently revised her evaluation of the monster before her and sank into her chair, Trauma offered a faint, chilling smirk and settled back onto the sofa.

If that's the case, then at the very least, I will become the one who chooses where he detonates.

Reaching for the coffee she had prepared earlier, she took a sip, trying desperately to calm her frayed nerves.

"I intend to infiltrate both the International Hero Academy and the Hero Association."

"Cough—! Hack!"

The sudden verbal bomb caused her to choke violently on the coffee, coughing uncontrollably as the liquid caught in her throat.

"Cough, cough... What in the world are you plotting? You..."

Watching her calmly, Trauma reached inside his coat, drew out a photograph, and waved it gently before her eyes.

"There is a student I must protect at all costs."

The moment her eyes landed on the picture, Great Order's expression froze into stone.

"And you have someone you desperately want to kill, don't you?"

Imprinted vividly upon the photograph was her younger brother, clad in the sharp, dark uniform of the Villain League.

"You will cooperate with me, won't you, Ms. Great?"

"Of course I will."

"Splendid. Then..."

Leaving behind my older sister, who was practically burning with fierce resolve as she nodded, I turned toward the exit to leave the office.

"........."

Then my eyes caught something in the wastebasket by the corner, and my feet froze in place.

"Is something the matter?"

The handwritten recipe I had left behind for her had been torn into shreds and tossed unceremoniously into the trash.

Hmm. Whatever else ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠happens, this genuinely pisses me off.

Standing motionless as thoughts turned over in my head, I turned around and strode past my sister, who watched me with a bewildered expression, heading toward the rear of the agency.

"Excuse me...?"

Regardless of everything else, wasn't Great Order a partner destined to assist me body and soul from now on?

"That's the kitchen, though?"

Therefore, before she inevitably had the chance to kill me with her own hands, treating her to a meal cooked with my own fingers was the very least courtesy I could offer.