2. The Worst Villain [Serena Silphiel]
Do you know the feeling of death's fragrance drifting slowly toward you? It's an experience an ordinary human could never hope to know. I had lived a killer's life, where every single moment existed alongside death — that's no exaggeration. And so it was that this scent, the one I knew better than any other, the one I had long since grown familiar with, was now brushing past the bridge of my nose.
Am I... dying?
I could see nothing. I could hear nothing. Nothing at all.
There was only the vast dark and me and an endless universe, as if emptiness and hollowness were trading places inside me. My body floated, weightless — or was this my soul? The excruciating pain from before had melted away at some point, and a strange clarity began to wash over me, almost like an illusion.
What is death, anyway? I had claimed countless lives and never once stopped to think about it. No — it would be more accurate to say I'd deliberately refused to think about it. It was a world where only the strongest predator survived to the end, after all. Arrogance? Hubris? I'd never had the luxury of either. No fool worth his knife walks into battle assuming there might not be someone out there stronger than him. And so every day was my best, and every time, I survived.
Somehow I came to hold the title of the strongest, and somehow my codename became famous among killers.
That's all it ever was. Just look at the result. A soul drifting without destination, unable to control even its own floating, doing nothing but piling up regrets and lamenting what's already past.
The professional of professionals? The strongest killer? That reputation would slowly fade once today was over, wouldn't it. Maybe a few people would go around muttering that my skills had all been hype, that I was a fraud all along.
Let them say whatever they like. Everything I'd done until now, I'd done chasing my own definition of justice. But the moment everything I was died, that justice was denied — every last piece of it.
What in the hell was my goal, then?
I wanted to clench my fist with everything I had — but my damn body wouldn't cooperate. I couldn't so much as curl my fingers, let alone move a muscle, so what was there even to hope for? I wanted to scream until my throat tore, but all I could manage was the silent scream I'd learned about back in language class in school — a soundless wail, and nothing more.
So I gave up on everything and decided to simply accept death. There was no more room for regret; whatever chances I had left were gone, and it was time to answer for squandering the one life I'd been given. And still... and still, damn it.
If anyone, anyone at all, could give me one more chance — I'm begging you, just this once!
I'll admit it. Even I was an utterly servile, pitiful creature in the face of death. My longing for life came flooding like a river about to burst its banks, so much of it that I nearly went mad.
It doesn't have to be my old life. I'd do anything — anything at all — if only I could learn what the justice I pursued was really worth, and whether this world truly has no such thing as righteous justice.
“Is that truly what you want?”
The moment my final cry ended, a sound rang through my mind like a bell split my skull — loud, resonant, neither noisy nor quiet, a vibration that shook me to the core.
Who's there? Someone's out there?
“Truly — whatever it is you must endure, could you bear it all, even if the road ahead held no hardship you could not overcome?”
I tried to look around, but there was nothing to see. And I was in no state to answer. Still, the voice waited for my reply — or so it seemed — and repeated the same question. Hardship? Had I not walked the road of hell itself until now? Call me a monster if you must. So long as I could find my justice again.
Willingly.
I'll take it.
“I have a feeling you're the one who can see it through.”
—Flash.
As the voice's echo died away, a brilliant radiance burst to life, and things I could not see began to come into view. I could move my fingers. I could clench my fist, hard. I could draw breath in and push it out. And at last, my heart began to pound like a thing gone mad.
“May fortune be with you.”
And so, when I finally came to my senses, I opened my eyes somewhere far removed from Korea — somewhere else entirely.
***
“This place is...”
An endless grassland stretched before me, the sun blazing overhead, a cool wind on my face, forests thick and deep all around, the crisp scent of phytoncides in the air. Everything here was alive and breathing.
Am I... alive?
I opened and closed my tiny fist, feeling out the sensation at my fingertips and letting it spread through every corner of my body. Alive. I was breathing. I could move freely. Except...
“Why does the world look so huge?”
No matter how I thought about it, the trees were simply too tall. Were trees in this world naturally this enormous? And more than that — had my voice always been this thin and high-pitched?
Everything was a puzzle, and I was still buried in questions when—
“Serena~? Serena, where are you?”
From the far side of the forest, someone's voice came calling, frantic with worry.
First things first — head for the people.
I pushed through the woods and strode forward — or meant to, but as it turned out, my legs had shrunk down to a small child's. What I took for long, confident strides were, at best, a hurried little scurry.
“Serena! I told you it's dangerous to go deep into the forest — demon beasts can come out there!”
When I finally met my first person in this world, I was getting an absolute earful from them.
Serena? Why does that name sound so familiar?
“Come on, let's head home before the sun sets. Anywhere without barrier magic cast over it is dangerous.”
Go home with him? Could I really trust this man?
For a killer, suspicion is a chronic occupational disease. Lose it, and you might as well lie down wherever you are and wait to be assassinated.
I need information first. Whoever this body is, he clearly knows it — I should be able to collect some data off him.
“What are you standing around gawking for? Come on, let's go.”
Well — worst case, I just kill him.
And so I let myself be dragged by the hand by a man I'd never met before, off toward a place they called home.
***
“Honey! I found Serena!”
“Oh, Serena. Where on earth did you run off to? I've been worried sick.”
At the house, a woman came rushing over the moment she saw me and combed over my whole body, head to toe. Checking whether I was hurt anywhere, whether any bones were broken, whether even the tiniest scratch had found its way onto my skin.
Should I count myself lucky she didn't find a knife hidden somewhere during the search?
When the inspection was finally complete, the woman let out a sigh of relief and wrapped me up in a soft, tight embrace.
“As long as you're safe, that's all that matters. Go wash up — dinner's almost ready.”
A setting strangely familiar. Faces that felt like I'd seen them somewhere before. Every brain cell in my head itched at once, scratching at the edge of a memory that kept flickering just out of reach.
Information first — I needed mountains of it. This was clearly not a reincarnation into my original body. The people I'd met looked far too foreign to pass for Koreans no matter how I squinted, and the house itself was built like something straight out of a comic book.
Before I could figure them out, I needed information about this body above all else. Damn it all — if you're going to reincarnate someone, the least you could do is hand over the basics. Complaining wouldn't change anything, of course, but for some reason the irritation just kept bubbling up.
When the woman finally let go of me, I bolted for the bathroom. This cursed little body of mine was, clearly, a runt's — but I wasn't going to be satisfied until I confirmed it with my own eyes in a mirror. I trotted as fast as my stubby legs would carry me and barely made it to the bathroom, where I stretched my arms up desperately for the light switch and couldn't come anywhere close to reaching it. I was just that small.
“Let Daddy get that for you.”
The man who apparently called himself my father strode over and kindly flicked the light on for me. I gave him a small, grateful bow and stepped inside, heart pounding. My reflection. What in the world did I look like, to end up like this?
“Th... this is...?”
And then I saw the figure in the mirror, and I couldn't stop the shock.
Glossy black hair spilling down to the small of my back, eyes of endlessly clear and crystalline violet, and a body barely bigger than a doll. The image staring back at me was, unmistakably, that of an elementary-school-aged girl. So my voice was high and thin not because puberty hadn't arrived — but because I was a girl.
Calm down. It's far too early to be shocked by this. This face — I've definitely seen it before somewhere. Right — for example, among the little kids in Magical Girl Mika, the series I used to love. The one who played the villain...
A dark premonition suddenly spread from the front of my brain all the way to the tips of my toes, and I dashed out of the bathroom in a flash, sprinting straight for the woman in the kitchen.
“Excuse me!”
“What is it, sweetie?”
“My name is Serena, right?”
“That's right? Why do you ask all of a sudden?”
“And that means... this world has the [Arantree] Academy too, doesn't it?”
“Oh my, Serena. Already that excited? You've still got a whole year to go.”
I was done for.
The resemblance had been so uncanny that I'd asked in desperate hope of being wrong — but my hope wilted away like a flame already burned out.
Serena Silphiel.
She was a character in Magical Girl Mika — the final boss of the story, and the worst villain it had ever known.
