Apostate
Apostate
...Plink.
...Plink.
...Plink.
A small, blunt sound, each one arriving at precisely the same interval without the slightest variation.
Flat on the floor with her head pressed low, Park Mi-na felt her heart rate quicken with every plink. Her breathing grew shallow. And she knew.
'I made the right choice...'
He was merely seated in a chair, looking down with aloof arrogance, yet the weight of his presence crushed her entire body. Even twitching a single finger felt like a struggle.
Crawling along the floor had been partly a gesture to show she understood her place. But it was also because the moment she stepped into the room she had seen so clearly: if she hadn't crawled, her legs would have given out, and she would have collapsed in an unsightly heap.
"You came... to beg for your life... I see."
Everyone called it an androgynous, bewitching voice, a voice so captivating that any description felt inadequate rather than inaccurate.
But Park Mi-na, whose throat was steadily being constricted by an intangible force, had no luxury to entertain such thoughts.
Amid her ragged breathing, the voice she heard so clearly was simply terrifying.
"Whatever information you possess, know that it holds no value whatsoever to me."
Under that overbearing, borderline tyrannical pressure, Park Mi-na bit her lip until it bled.
One of the cards she'd been counting on to keep herself alive had just been rendered worthless.
"You have one chance."
Crush—
"Guhk, guhhk...!!"
Her throat tightened without warning, blocking her airway, but Park Mi-na did not thrash about pathetically. She pressed herself flatter against the floor, straining to hold the posture of submission.
"You may speak."
"Huaaak...!! Cough, cough, hack...!!"
The moment the force around her throat loosened, Park Mi-na sucked in air desperately and coughed it back out. Her body heaved several times. Then—
"P-please, accept this..."
Park Mi-na detached the pocket bag concealed beneath her robe from her waist and thrust it forward. Keeping her head bowed, she moved only her hands, opening the bag's mouth and pulling out its contents.
A smooth black sphere, slightly smaller than a fist.
Cradling it in both hands and lifting it above her head as though offering tribute to Baek Woo-jin, she spoke.
"...This is called a Demon God Bullet. It is a bomb designed to detonate when mana above a certain threshold is injected into it. The yield is sufficient to shatter even a High Ranker's shield with ease, and the blast radius—thirty meters from the sphere at its center—is by no means small."
Despair given form, perfected through the combined efforts of the Four Great Evil Gods' worshippers.
"Permission to raise your head, granted."
"Th-thank you..."
Park Mi-na straightened her body but remained on her knees. She did not forget to keep her gaze fixed on the floor.
"Is that all there is to these Demon God Bullets?"
"...Those are all that were allocated to us."
Sssss—
The Demon God Bullet in her hands began to rise. Park Mi-na immediately relaxed her grip. She caught a brief glimpse of the sphere and the pocket bag floating into the air above her.
"A valuable item, certainly. But it is not enough to preserve your life."
"M-may I continue speaking?"
"Granted."
"Thank you..."
She had barely been permitted to lift her head, yet of her own accord Park Mi-na pressed it back down toward Baek Woo-jin.
"I belong to the Black Heaven, the organization that worships Amos of the Four Great Evil Gods. And I hold a mid-ranking position within it."
Thud! Thud! Thud!
Park Mi-na slammed her forehead against the floor so hard the skin split.
"...If you spare my life, I will be your loyal dog."
"You speak so boldly of biting your master."
Gulp—
When she had first set out for this place, she had been confident she would survive. She knew enough valuable information for that.
But the only thing she could feel from the being before her was a horrifying, murderous intent—the kind that wanted to burst her heart and snap her neck at any moment.
That was all.
If the first card she'd played hadn't been the Demon God Bullet, her breath would have been cut short instantly, and she'd have been growing cold on the floor by now.
"...A dog that has bitten its master once will bite twice, and then a third time. So pull out its fangs, its claws, and fasten its leash tight."
"A dog that bit its master to survive does not strike me as the type to behave simply because it's on a leash."
"...At the very least, it will be loyal—for as long as its life is guaranteed."
Schlick.
When Park Mi-na cautiously lifted her head, the blood streaming from her torn forehead clung to the floor, producing a wet, unpleasant sound.
"Furthermore, I shall prove without cease that I am worth keeping alive..."
Plink. Drip.
Dark red droplets traced a path down her forehead, past her nose and chin, falling to the floor below.
Park Mi-na watched her own blood pooling on the ground and waited for the being before her to speak.
"Have you ever killed a human?"
"...I have not."
Slaughter. Bloodlust. Murderous intent. The scent of blood.
Among those who operated in the open—especially Awakened from the temples—some possessed abilities acutely sensitive to such things. For that reason, children raised for infiltration were, despite being worshippers of an Evil God, brought up without ever staining their hands with a single drop of blood. An incongruous upbringing.
"What happened to the original owner of that face?"
"...According to the records I reviewed, the individual died in a 5th Stage Rift. The family was poor; there were two younger siblings below. They would have started middle school this year. My speculation is that he joined as a porter to earn money for their school entrance gifts and was discarded as bait."
It was only speculation, but Park Mi-na did not dwell on that part. The point of the question was whether she had experience killing a human, and whether the owner of this face had been disposed of by her own hand.
Click—
Into the room where only the sound of blood dripping into a small puddle had echoed, the crisp noise of dress shoes intruded.
Click— click—
The sound drew closer, step by step.
At the shadow falling across the floor, Park Mi-na instinctively flattened herself once more.
"Do not resist."
"...Y-yes."
At the same moment, Baek Woo-jin's hand came to rest atop Park Mi-na's head.
"Nngh..."
A foreign energy seeped in where they touched.
It wormed through her mana circuits with terrible speed, then began gathering all at once toward her heart.
"Haa, ahh...!!"
And then came the agony.
The pain was as if her chest had been carved open alive and a sharp blade was gouging out her heart. Park Mi-na's body began to tremble violently.
A few minutes later.
"Haa, haaa..."
Her face was a mess of tears and snot.
Even after the excruciating torment had released her, Park Mi-na could not collect herself. She simply hung her mouth open, saliva dripping, struggling to regain her senses.
But the reprieve was brief.
Crush—!!
"Huaak?!"
The sensation of her heart being squeezed into a pulp wrenched Park Mi-na's eyes wide.
"Keuhuk, puhaa..."
In the end she could not endure it and collapsed onto the floor, filthy with her own blood.
"A leash is all it takes to reduce you to that state."
"...I-I'm sorry..."
That parched voice—devoid of a single shred of emotion—sent a chill racing down her spine. With arms still trembling, Park Mi-na forced herself upright.
"I have carved a Brand into your heart. Should you harbor even the slightest insolent feeling toward me, it will detonate on the spot."
"...Ahh."
A terrible Brand had been inscribed—one capable of destroying her heart at any moment—yet Park Mi-na harbored not the slightest discontent.
On the contrary, she felt euphoric at the mere fact that she was alive.
The aftereffects of the horrendous pain she had just endured proved, vividly, that she still lived.
"For giving me—a chance... I thank you... my master..."
With the intoxicating relief of having momentarily escaped death, the feelings she had harbored toward him began slithering up from inside her chest.
"I will prove my usefulness. Without fail."
Peck.
Park Mi-na pressed her lips to the tip of Baek Woo-jin's shoe.
Crush—!!
"Keuhuk...!!"
Her heart constricted at once. Park Mi-na clutched at her chest as her body quaked.
"There will not be a second time. Do not attempt to touch me without permission."
"Cough, cough...!! Haa... I-I'm sorry..."
Gasping, she barely pulled herself free of the agony. Park Mi-na hurriedly pressed her forehead to the floor in front of Baek Woo-jin's shoes.
Click— click—
The sound of footsteps receding little by little. Park Mi-na felt a faint pang of regret.
It was a consequence of certainty—the certainty that she would not die right this moment had wiped away her terror.
Thump.
Something landed beside her bowed head. Park Mi-na carefully lifted herself up and saw the pocket bag she had offered to him.
"Without that, your usefulness would expire today."
"..."
She would be safe until the plan was put into motion. But if the Demon God Bullet failed to detonate, it would only be a matter of time before she was branded a traitor.
"Maintain their trust until I contact you."
"...I shall repay my master's consideration."
Park Mi-na fastened the blood-soaked pocket bag back to her waist.
"I trust you can handle your wounds and the bloodstains yourself."
"O-of course."
She had stashed a change of clothes and a potion. Today's events would reach no one's ears.
"Get lost."
"...I shall take my leave."
Park Mi-na rose carefully from her spot, veiled her face again with her robe, and slowly backed out of the control room.
"Haaa..."
Outside, her heart still pounded violently, refusing to settle. She clutched lightly at her chest and shivered.
'A large, warm hand...'
That touch—it had been nothing more than a leash being fastened around her.
But to Park Mi-na, even that felt rapturous.
'...I must prove my use.'
If only to feel that rapture once more.
Sssss—
The color of the robed Park Mi-na began to fade, growing fainter and fainter, until her figure vanished like a mirage.