A Certain Emotion (1)
Once I sorted out my priorities—figured out what I actually wanted to do—my head felt a little clearer.
Whatever purpose lay behind Pangpang's abduction, dragging things out would only work against us. With the other magical girls' agreement secured, we decided to move at once. First, we left the room to meet the official who had been waiting outside the orphanage, and I asked him point-blank.
"What does the government want?"
They wouldn't have offered to help us with no strings attached. I had no way of knowing how much good they'd actually be, so my plan was simple: if their demands turned out to be excessive, I'd refuse on the spot and we would find our own way—
"Subduing Noir Corporation."
As though he had made up his mind to say exactly that, the official answered without a beat of hesitation. Since I had no idea how senior this man was, or how much authority he actually carried into these negotiations, I had simply kept glaring at him, hard—and in response he began rattling off what sounded like excuses.
"I apologize. In truth, until quite recently, you magical girls were classified as persons of interest."
"You didn't need to explain. I felt it with my whole body—I know exactly how it was."
"……Yes. My apologies."
Was it sincerity, or just an attempt to flatter us? Neither seemed to matter much anymore. What I wanted had long since stopped being that sort of thing.
Besides, there was little to gain from grinding this man down. If anything, he was roughly the equivalent of an outsourced rep on a major corporation's customer-service line. Demand something grand of him, and odds were he simply couldn't deliver. By this point, wouldn't it have been better to send someone properly senior? But if a higher-up came, I would likely bristle at them in their own way—so from their side, they had presumably sent this man after some deliberation. The official I'd met last time had certainly seemed higher up the ladder than this one.
"……Please, continue."
"Yes. To explain…… there were voices arguing that magical girls were persons of interest who ought to be subdued if necessary—but we have concluded that this is not the right answer under current circumstances. Given the situation, you understand."
"So you need our strength to subdue Noir Corporation?"
"That is correct."
So the honesty only comes out now.
I didn't think it was a lie. The police could fight Noir Corporation, and the military too, if it came to that. But the cost of engagement likely wouldn't balance out—and if police officers or soldiers actually started dying in the process, the whole problem would grow tangled all over again.
A government can steamroll past the deaths of a soldier or two, but look closer and you find cases where a single incident permanently seals off someone's path to flag rank. To the organization as a whole it is barely a scratch; to the individual inside it, it can be a catastrophe. And when nobody in that organization wants to be the one standing in that position, "outsourcing" practically suggests itself. All the more so if there happened to be people who had split from the Federation of their own accord, yet fought unscathed against the forces Noir Corporation had poured its entire strength into creating—anyone would be tempted to hire such people as mercenaries. All the more so when those same people enjoyed a decent public image.
"We'd need to know roughly how large Noir Corporation's forces are. It has to be something the six of us can handle."
"Judging by the reactions Noir Corporation is showing at this moment, their forces do not appear to be anything so large-scale yet. More likely, they are thinking about getting out of this country as quickly as possible."
"So the current chairman of Noir Corporation still hasn't left South Korea?"
"Of course. On that point, we can be certain."
That gave me pause.
"How can you be sure?"
"Think it through—it's simple."
It was James, perched atop the table, who answered in the official's place.
"In this country, the only people who can create a warp point that lets an individual warp without separate equipment are Iris and you. And even those personal warp points can, as of now, do no more than relocate you to a random position. Yours is…… on an entirely different level—one that defies explanation. Neither of you was ever under consideration to begin with."
James's gaze shifted to the official.
"Furthermore, for someone outfitting mass-production facilities and floating in the middle of space to supply an exclusive device to the entire galaxy, simply running off alone would accomplish nothing."
"Precisely. They would have to launch directly from the surface into space, or make use of a large-scale warp point."
And large-scale warp points are ordinarily managed by national governments or by the Federation. South Korea does have a few, but compared to what the Federation builds they are small in scale and limited in range—and above all, they are state-managed. Korea never joined the Federation directly, and its cooperation has never advanced beyond nominal citizen exchange. Nor is Noir Corporation the only party that has built them. And of course, even at facilities Noir Corporation constructed, the Corporation itself cannot simply walk in and use them.
"Then what are they planning to do?"
"If they seize the area by force, even briefly, using it becomes entirely feasible. And once outside, warp point access is comparatively free."
The reason leaving a planet's surface for space is so difficult is that planets never stop moving. Once you are out in open space, warp points become comparatively easy.
In other words—these lunatics might actually be planning to…… terrorize this country's most vital facilities and then flee far, far away.
"There is also the option of fleeing abroad. Just north of this country, is there not a certain power praying for 'the Federation's grip to be overturned'? A place that, on paper alone, treats its own citizens as expendables."
"……"
Huh.
Well—villainous organizations joining hands with other villainous organizations is entirely plausible, I suppose. Either way, we stood one step from a scenario in which "the current administration's blunder hands the people's lives over to the Company—and even arms its worst enemy." And even that window had long since slammed shut, most of the time having been squandered chasing me around the country. I was starting to understand why they were clinging to us only now. Not that this meant I could fully trust them.
"So what you're saying is that the government will grant us the authority to deal with the Company, no conditions attached?"
Put charitably, that was what it amounted to.
"Well……"
"Is there a condition, then?"
Sitting across from the official, I rested my elbows on the table and propped my chin in my hands. At my question, his eyes darted this way and that before he spoke in a shrinking voice.
"……For smooth cooperation, it would be…… preferable if all the magical girls remained within range of government contact……"
There it is—conditions after all.
So in the end, beneath all those reasons—genuine as their urgency was—lay the same old desire: to place us under their management. For a moment, I weighed the two against each other. Cooperating with the government was, judged purely by my feelings, an absurd proposition. Government, Company, Federation—I wanted to smash every last one of them to pieces. They were the three powers that had tormented me so diligently. But at the same time, to find Pangpang quickly, I would have to cooperate with the one country that held the rights to all its various facilities.
"Then let's set more detailed terms and make it a proper contract."
That was my answer.
"And we will present those terms only after gathering the opinions of all six of us, plus Cherry and James. There will be no follow-up negotiations. We have no intention of demanding anything excessive—we will simply write down, clearly, the parts we cannot yield."
At my words, the official's face brightened. Was his career riding on this? Come to think of it, I wasn't even sure the man was really a civil servant. Perhaps he was yet another contractor the state had hired separately—apparently they do bring in negotiation specialists from outside. Not that I could vouch for him being a genuine expert.
"Thank you!"
That was what the official said. Apparently, the option of subduing us and forcing our cooperation had never been on his list. Or perhaps they were preparing it in case talks collapsed at this stage. Until an opponent plays their cards, there is no way to see them—so on our side, we simply refrain from pushing too hard.
That said, we didn't wrap up the negotiations that same day. Why else would it be called a negotiation? One side attaches its various conditions, and the other needs time to review them. Granted, neither side had time to spare—but we still had to pin down exactly what needed doing. We agreed that if the situation turned critical, we would step in and handle it ourselves, deal or no deal, and for now returned to our room at the orphanage.
"Jihye… I'm sorry."
I said it to Jihye, who stood behind me, just before closing the door. The apology wasn't mere words—it was sincere. This room had been mine and Jihye's from the very beginning, and constantly pushing one of its rightful owners outside weighed heavily on my conscience. But I had no other place I could trust. For all I knew, someone had already come in here and planted a camera or a recorder. But if that were so, then anywhere they prepared for us would be all the less trustworthy.
It was only recently that I had grown this suspicious of people, since coming to this world. Whatever else was true of me, I had never been this kind of person.
……Or maybe this was simply my true nature showing at last.
"I'll open it again soon."
Saying such things to my closest friend—my only family—was painful in itself. So these words, too, were sincere. Because what we actually wanted was never all that much.
"It's okay."
Jihye said it with a bright, open smile.
"Because I know you're right on the other side of that door."
"……"
For a long moment, I couldn't say anything at all. She knew perfectly well that the me on the other side of that door could vanish in an instant. Did she simply want to believe?
"Yeah."
At least this once, I didn't want to betray that faith.
Yes. This time, absolutely not.
After the door clicked shut, Jihye's heart pounded harder than ever.
What on earth had I just said?
Jihye already knew that Jieun could travel far even from inside a room, if she needed to. And of course, "if she needed to" meant it couldn't be helped. Jieun had already endured so much—demanding that she never run away, no matter what happened, would have been far too cruel.
And yet what Jihye had just said was exactly that kind of words.
Because I know you're right on the other side of that door.
She hadn't meant to bind Jieun with those words. They had simply spilled out of her on instinct. Time and again she had simply sent Jieun off with wishes of good luck—but every single time, she had regretted it, over and over. When the family who had always been at her side was far away, with no word of whether they were even safe, all Jihye could do was worry. No calls. No visits. Any other family would surely have put their foot down by the third time.
……Even knowing she shouldn't.
"……"
After standing before the door a while longer, Jihye let her arms fall limp and leaned her back against the wall. Knowing Jieun's ability, she could never be entirely at ease.
Afraid that she might simply vanish like this.
That against such a Jieun, she could do nothing—that there was no way to help her—was all that pressed down on Jihye's heart, heavy and unrelenting.
Drafting the agreement didn't take all that long. We had already spent a great deal of time together, trading opinions back and forth. True, in the beginning it had been me making one-sided demands—but no one can stay angry forever. Besides, strictly speaking, the magical girls' only fault was doing their jobs diligently.
……Even if they had done something wrong, they had already paid for it more than enough. I had staked my life the day we stormed their headquarters; even if it meant collapsing right there, I had wanted to say what I needed to say. The reason I was still breathing, from that day to this—the reason I hadn't ended up like that Earthling Kaijin—was that there had been those willing to fight beside me. And by now, I was already being treated as a magical girl anyway.
"Shall we leave it at this, then?"
I asked once more, glancing around at the others. One by one, the girls nodded with grave expressions.
The demands we had drawn up had been thrown together in haste—by strict legal standards, they were probably riddled with holes. The government might even seize on those holes as pretext to refuse everything.
……Well. If it came to that.
We could always simply refuse to listen, in our own way. After all, the government's reason for shaking hands with us was our power to begin with.
Our demands, in broad strokes, were as follows.
First: nothing we had done up to now would be held against us. Most of the damage stemming from our actions had come either from us striking Noir Corporation first or from our battles against Kaijin. At the time, none of us could have known exactly what Noir Corporation was doing—but now that the truth was out, we had decided to press the line that we had fought "to stop it." At this idea of James's, the magical girls pulled slightly uneasy faces—but there was no other way.
Next: having agreed to overlook our crimes, the government was not to mobilize us by force. This clause carried little practical weight. We simply didn't want our movements to look like "doing as we were told." Not submission to the government—at the very least, the appearance of partners cooperating on equal footing. Of course, "the government" and us could never be placed on the same level. Whatever anyone said, the constitution stated that governmental authority was delegated from the people. If six nobodies like us claimed to stand equal to all of that, we would only make ourselves targets for sanctions. Hence: a cooperative relationship, not a conventional employment one. And to prove it, the government was not to restrain us or place us under surveillance. I had no illusions that they would honor our words to the letter—but at least, having promised, they couldn't do it openly, right in front of us.
"……"
After reading through the list we had written one more time, we all let out a long, collective sigh. Had this happened because of what we'd done, or had Noir Corporation deliberately timed their move to this moment? Nothing could be confirmed yet. The rest, we could piece together clue by clue as the government fed us information. With the fire licking at their own heels, they wouldn't be sitting still either.
"Then……"
I said, my brow knotted.
"Where are we supposed to stay from now on?"
The girls fell silent at my words. The equipment there could be moved again without trouble—and with my outfit dyed black, energy was overflowing on that front, if anything. The real problem was where to put everything once it was moved. Since the government would be contacting us, we had to stay reasonably close by. But at the same time, we needed somewhere neither the government nor the Federation could meddle with us too much. Which meant somewhere in Seoul—
"……Do we have to go back to school?"
Jua asked, utterly serious.
Right. We were all still students. Me, Hayun, and Jua were second-years in high school; the rest were third-years. Now that we would be living in Seoul, the excuse for not attending had worn thin. We had said an extra year of schooling wouldn't hurt, but the girls were bound to worry. We might be in circumstances where falling a year behind wouldn't be a disaster—but in this situation, there was no telling how their parents would react.
"Let's…… put that off for now, too."
I couldn't remember how many class days a semester required, and I had no idea whether the law offered any way around it. There was far too much I didn't know. I had thought the past few months had brought things into order—but my thoughts had tangled all over again.
In the end, with nothing decided beyond the agreement itself, we had no choice but to step back out of the room.
Outside, Jihye was still waiting, just as before. The moment her eyes met mine, she broke into a radiant smile. The emotion in that smile was joy, heartfelt and unguarded—as if my simply not having disappeared were something to be genuinely, purely happy about.
"……"
I understood anew just how much the two of us had leaned on each other to get by. Entrusted to the same church, then sent here once more when the church-run orphanage fell on hard times—the two of us had come through the same cruel fate. Perhaps I had been taking the bond between us far too lightly.
"Where are you off to today?"
Jihye asked again. It meant the same thing her earlier words had: I'll be waiting.
I hemmed and hawed for a while before finally managing an answer—one I had little confidence in.
"No……"
I wasn't deceiving her.
At least—that much, I thought—I wasn't deceiving her.