Not Someone I Know

Five in the morning.

I forced open eyelids that weighed a thousand pounds and pulled on my clothes piece by piece.

"Byuri, put this on too."

What Nayeon held out was a fluorescent vest. She'd clearly tried to pick a small one, but even so, the moment I put it on the shoulders sagged halfway down my arms.

"…Do I really have to wear this?"

"It's a worker ID. Without it you can't even get near the control line."

"Huuung. It's way too big."

"They said they don't have anything smaller. Kids don't usually show up at places like this."

…Fair enough. What investigation site on earth has a ten-year-old subcontractor?

If I weren't here under a trainee hunter license, this would be a labor law violation!

Grumbling the whole way, I arrived at Closed Zone A-7 — and it looked nothing like last time.

Last time it had been chain-link fencing, a rusted sign, and a few old gauges scattered along the ridge. That was it.

Today there were six temporary tents. A double control line. At least twenty vehicles with strange serial numbers, and people in matching vests streaming back and forth between them.

"What is this? It's practically a festival."

"Festival, my foot."

Nayeon blinked, and Jihyun answered while tucking a clipboard under her arm.

"If the Association has deployed this much, it means the situation is that bad."

The briefing tent sat a good hundred meters back from the control line.

"Hup."

I stretched up on my tiptoes and read the paper posted out front.

Stability rank had gone up one step — from Caution to Alert.

And that last line: three unranked personnel.

In this business, people who don't disclose their rank come in exactly two flavors.

Either there's nothing to disclose — or disclosing it would blow the whole board wide open.

If the Association had bothered to attach three of them… yeah, it was the latter.

Meaning A-rank minimum. Who among the named hunters would take on dirty work like this without complaint…

"Byuri."

Jihyun called me.

"Conditions."

"…One: no approaching the control line!"

"Two."

"Report immediately if I sense anything!"

"Three."

"If they say withdraw, I withdraw without asking why!"

"And four?"

Beside me, Nayeon splayed four fingers wide.

"Stay within a three-meter radius of Unnie!"

"…Yes."

I already memorized them. They're going to be drilled into my ears at this rate!

Our work was roughly the same as last time. Haul supply crates, carry them to the tents, refill whatever ran empty.

Just one difference.

My chest had been throbbing since morning.

Last time it only happened when the rift entered my field of view. Today it was doing it even here, in front of the tents.

"Nngh…"

I pressed down hard on the white-line scar through my clothes. But the more I pressed, the shorter the intervals between throbs became.

I reported it anyway. That was condition two.

"Jihyun Unnie. It's stronger than before."

"How much?"

"If the control line last time was a ten, right now in front of the tent it's about an eight?"

"……"

Jihyun stood right there and wrote something in her notebook.

…A timestamp and a number. What was she planning to do with that?

The investigation team assembled at six-thirty.

The main unit lined up and checked their gear. The observation team hauled instruments.

And off to the side, three people without vests stood apart from everyone else.

The unranked personnel.

You could tell at a glance. The way they stood was different. The quality of their equipment, the ease in their posture — all of it different.

More than anything, the people around them kept a natural, respectful distance all on their own.

"Hmm."

After three years of being carried around in the hands of high-and-mighty masters, I didn't need a second look. That was the posture of people who played at the top.

…Not that it had anything to do with ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠me.

Work. Just work!

I was thinking that as I set down the third crate.

One of the three standing at a distance drew a sword and checked the blade.

Took the grip again. Adjusted the hold twice…

"……"

The crate slipped from my hands.

Thud.

The sagging vest strap slid the rest of the way off my shoulder.

…I didn't even think to pull it back up.

"Huh? Byuri, you okay?"

Nayeon's voice sounded like it was coming from somewhere far away.

I couldn't tear my eyes from those hands.

The angle of the grip. Index finger wrapping first, pinky settling last. Holding once, then loosening slightly as if something felt off, then gripping again.

Adjusting the hold twice.

That familiar tic that came out when she was tense.

I know that habit. The first person who ever held me used to do that.

I'd never properly seen that person's face. A sword has no reason to be shown a face, so it was always from below, or past the edge of the blade — just a blurred shape swaying beyond a sword's field of vision.

And yet I recognized her from a single hand habit…

"Hah…"

My breath went shallow. My feet stuck to the ground as if rooted.

Black hair. Blue eyes.

And… she was ridiculously pretty.

Tall, too. No — big in every sense of the word.

The person in my memory had been narrow-shouldered and timid, a rookie who kept glancing over her shoulder.

Now…

"…Good for her."

Should I say something?

To answer that, I had to break it into three questions.

Q. Do I want to?

…Yeah. Desperately.

Maybe it was the chats with Dangeo, but I wanted to tell her. Thank you for giving me a name. I don't resent you for passing me on. These days I use the best sofa and the thickest blanket.

I'm eating well. Living well.

Q. Can I?

Probably not.

The words I was that sword won't leave my mouth. My throat will seize up again, or the sound will just evaporate.

Q. Then what about saying something else?

…Not that either.

In her eyes I'm just some blue-haired brat. Sure, I've gotten a little famous on the Hunter Gallery side, but that's community fame — nothing more.

What am I supposed to do, walk up to a lofty S-rank hunter? That wouldn't be a reunion. It would just be stealing someone else's time. And unlike Dangeo, she might have forgotten her first sword a long time ago.

So I—

"……"

—picked the crate back up.

She'd been scanning the area. She looked this way.

Once.

Her gaze brushed past like she'd just happened to catch me while surveying the site.

And a moment later, once more.

This time it didn't brush past.

"……"

"……"

Was it two seconds? Three?

She looked away first.

Then she walked over to the control-line officer and asked something. Too far to hear, but I could see the officer point toward us while answering.

The officer's mouth shaped the words Saetbyeol Guild.

That was all. My name… didn't come up.

She went back to her spot, and I went back to moving crates. In the meantime the investigation team finished preparing to enter.

If you asked whether I was disappointed — I couldn't claim the feeling wasn't there.

But that's normal, right? A sword turns into a person and you expect someone to recognize them? Recognizing them would be the crazy part.

Oh my goodness, were you my sword by any chance?

…Does that even sound like a real sentence?

"Ugh…"

What actually snagged at me was DangeoOnTour. That guy had said he was going to cooperate on a closed-dungeon reinvestigation this time too.

The story about naming a sword lined up. The story about passing it on because it didn't fit his hand lined up. The story about hearing late that it had broken… well, I didn't know if that lined up or not, but still.

"…No way?"

In my head I was about sixty percent sure. But it wouldn't climb any higher than that.

Was she really the only hunter in the world with that habit? How many hunters had a story about discarding a sword? And the decisive point: why would an S-rank hunter spend all day browsing galleries?

I wanted to ask so badly…

Have you ever passed on a sword? The one you named?

How do you ask a complete stranger something like that while pretending you've never met? And even if I got an answer, I couldn't show any reaction ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠to it.

Certainty always cut off right here. Not for lack of evidence — for lack of any way to dig.

At that same moment, inside the control line.

A woman slid her sword into its scabbard and flexed her fingers open, then closed.

She knew exactly what she had just done.

She'd looked twice. The first time had been an accident. The second had not.

Blue hair and silver eyes… looks exactly like the photo that went up on the Gallery.

Dye, maybe. Or the kind of discoloration unique to Awakened. Kids with traits in that range weren't unheard of in this business. She knew that was the most rational answer.

But then why…

She had only asked the officer for the affiliation.

She hadn't asked for a name.

If an S-rank asked, they would have answered. But looking at those bright, sharp little eyes from a distance, her mouth just wouldn't open.

Hey.

Were you…

Were you sad? At the end?

The question that drifted through her mind every night, aimed at that sword.

"……Byuri."

Unlike other S-rank armaments, it had no engraving. There was even the ugly rumor that the grade had been slapped on just to keep Japan — which had started mass-producing ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠S-rank gear — in check.

And still. An unforgettable name. The first and last sword she had ever named.

"……"

The reverie had gone on too long. What kind of delusion was she spinning over one elementary-school kid…

She adjusted her helmet and walked toward the entry formation.

"Byuri, what was that earlier? Dropping the crate."

Nayeon asked when we got back to the supply tent.

It was long after that person had gone inside the control line.

"Ahem."

I hadn't been hiding it. I'd just been waiting until she was gone to say it.

"…Among those people earlier."

"Hm?"

"There was someone who used to wield me. A long time ago."

The water bottle slipped from Nayeon's hand. Jihyun set down her clipboard.

"…Really?"

"I saw the hand habit. Those were the first hands that ever held me. There's no way I wouldn't know."

The two of them looked at each other.

Nayeon spoke first.

"Then… go say hello at least—"

"I can't."

"Why! If you just tell her you were that sword—"

"Sunbae. Are you planning to announce to the whole neighborhood that Byuri became an Ego Sword?"

"…Ah."

Nayeon shut her mouth.

She'd probably gotten the picture. The kinds of things that would happen if you walked up to an S-rank hunter who operated above the law and said, This kid used to be your sword, ta-da! She's an Ego Sword now! Isn't that wild?

"Th-then just say hello. Just a plain hi."

"…I could do that."

"But?"

"I don't want to."

"Why?"

If she asked why.

…Because it would be stealing that person's time.

And more than that — because if I saw another sword in her hand again, I think I'd get really sad.

I almost said it, then stopped. Explaining would just make it sound more pathetic.

I'm cool. A free spirit who doesn't cling to the past, thank you very much.

"Someone you know?"

Jihyun asked.

Her voice was even.

…She was surprisingly delicate about these things.

"Hey, what have you been listening to this whole time?! Byuri just said that person was—"

"…Not someone I know."

So I answered just as evenly.

It wasn't a lie. I knew her. She didn't know me.

"Hweh?"

"Yeah."

Jihyun didn't ask anything further.

Instead she cracked open a water bottle, pressed it into my hand, and tugged the slipped vest strap back up onto my shoulder once.

Nayeon looked back and forth between us in bewilderment, then said nothing and crouched down beside me.

"…Hff."

Right. I have a new master now. How long am I going to live stuck in old memories?

Seven-ten.

The investigation main unit crossed the control line.

Radio checks came in once, twice, three times.

All clear. All clear. All clear again.

Someone in the observation tent shouted that the readings were stable.

People's faces eased a little. Nayeon cracked a hard-boiled egg and said, "See? ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠Nothing to worry about."

And I—

"Nngh…"

—quietly pressed down hard on my chest.

That number I'd called an eight earlier? It wasn't an eight anymore.

Not a throb…

It was hot. The place where I'd broken.

…Just like that day a year ago.

"…Jihyun Unnie."

"Hm?"

"Condition two. I'm reporting."

Jihyun lifted her head.

"…What are you sensing?"

I looked past the control line, at the rift on the mountainside.

The light was still dead. Dead, and yet…

"Inside there."

I chose my breath carefully.

"Something woke up."