Chapter 8: Weapon (2)
Of course, Jihye had been agonizing too—over how to find Jieun now that she'd vanished, and what on earth to do even if she did find her.
But there was nothing she could manage on her own.
She had no intention of tracking Jieun down to send her to prison, so reporting her to the police was out of the question. Besides, the police were surely already on Jieun's trail at full force. The girl had been branded a terrorist, after all.
Asking someone else was no option either. Nobody around here did that kind of work, and even if such a person existed, they certainly wouldn't do it for free.
Jihye had friends, but they were all just kids her own age. What could school friends possibly do to track anyone down?
The room they shared was exactly as it had always been.
Officially, Jieun hadn't been discharged from the orphanage yet. Photos and videos of what she'd done were out there for anyone to see, but until a court handed down a verdict, she wasn't yet a 'criminal.' That, at least, seemed to be how the teacher saw it.
No matter what the truth was, the people who actually knew Jieun couldn't bring themselves to believe she'd committed that kind of... terrorism.
There was no doubt that what happened in Gangnam was the work of Jieun in her 'magical girl' getup. But at least, from what Jihye had heard, no one had died that day.
More than anything, storming a place to fight and planting bombs meant to kill people were entirely different things. The latter took real professionalism.
Where would she have even gotten bomb materials? When would she have had the time to carry them in and set them up? And how was Jieun supposed to have gotten into a space that important in the first place?
Combatant or not, Jihye didn't believe for a second that things could have gone that smoothly.
...
Jihye stared blankly at Jieun's spot for a long while, then headed outside.
Fortunately, no reporters had set up camp. Ever since the story about them barging uninvited into the orphanage spread across the internet, they'd grown noticeably more careful—or maybe they'd simply concluded there was nothing left to squeeze out of this place.
Even with one grim incident erupting after another, the world hadn't changed all that much.
The neighborhood was quiet, as it always was on weekends. Then again, with nowhere nearby worth hanging out, there wasn't much reason for it to be loud in the first place.
She took a bus to the bookstore Jieun used to visit so often.
Unlike their sleepy neighborhood, the place was packed with people. Honestly, a little too packed—even for Jihye, who loved nothing more than loud, rowdy chatter, it was hard to adjust to.
As far as 'rebellion' went, this was as wild as Jieun ever got. She hadn't had many friends around her, and she didn't even know how to get up to any real mischief.
Just as Jihye often spent weekends out with her own friends, it seemed Jieun had often come here with that Hayun girl. Until now, Jihye had never once tagged along with the two of them. Jieun had never thought to invite her, and when each was off enjoying time with their own friends, neither had thought to intrude.
That one time Jihye had wedged herself between them had been pure impulse.
So in the end, despite sharing a room for so long, Jihye didn't really know Jieun all that deeply. At least, that was what Jihye herself believed.
She knew the girl called Jeong Jieun, had more or less memorized her habits and her tastes, but she'd never bothered to find out what kind of person Jieun was at school, or who she spent her days with. Even what she knew about Hayun was, in truth, only ever 'Hayun'—nothing more than that.
...
Hayun's number was still saved in her phone.
But she couldn't bring herself to call. In a situation like this, a call would do nothing but sour both their moods.
For about an hour, she wandered the bookstore, jostled this way and that by the crowds.
There was no sign of Jieun. Of course there wasn't. The idea of a girl in hiding being somewhere like this made no sense to begin with.
Her nose prickled. If she kept dwelling on Jieun here, she'd turn into that weird girl who bursts into tears all alone in the middle of the street, so Jihye fought to hold them back.
It had been the same lately, too.
At school, the kids kept asking about Jieun. Classmates who, until now, hadn't even known she existed had been showing tremendous interest ever since Jieun made the news.
Maybe it hit harder because Jihye was one of the friendlier kids at school.
And precisely because she had so many friends, Jihye couldn't bring herself to refute the speculation they tossed around. The deniers and the believers were equally short on proof, after all.
But there was one thing she hated, plain and simple.
She hated hearing Jieun chewed up as the kids' gossip fodder.
She hated the kids who talked as though they knew more than she did, after standing beside Jieun all this time. She hated the kids who swallowed every word from the news as gospel and spoke of Jieun as if she really were some kind of terrorist.
She left the bookstore and sat down on a bench.
It was early February, and the air had a bite to it. But maybe thanks to that, no one else bothered with the bench, and that suited her just fine.
"Jieun..." she murmured, gazing up at the sky.
A combatant who'd stood against magical girls—now a magical girl herself.
She honestly had no idea what was going on anymore.
Maybe that was why, whenever Jieun came up, all she could manage was an awkward smile, her throat so tightly blocked that no voice would come out.
Because she knew nothing.
Because she had no idea how much Jieun knew.
Because all of this was just... too unfamiliar.
Right now...
"...I miss her," Jihye murmured to herself.
Whatever Jieun had done didn't much matter. To Jihye, Jieun was simply Jieun.
"I can't even listen to music."
Jieun had never liked people handling her things carelessly, so even now, Jihye left everything on that desk untouched.
Maybe Jieun had never thought much of it, but Jihye had genuinely loved those moments—lying on the floor, toes wiggling along, listening together to the music spilling from the speaker.
Would a day ever come when they could do that again?
"What is it I'm even hoping for?"
Did she want Jieun to turn herself in? To repent quickly, if she was guilty, and simply come home? To lie in the same room as before, whiling away the hours in meaningless chatter, listening to music like they used to?
Was she just wishing for their ordinary days to return?
...Even knowing that if such a thing ever happened, nothing could ever go back to exactly the way it was, perhaps that was what Jihye had been hoping for all along.
And realizing that those very thoughts proved she didn't trust Jieun completely, Jihye buried her face in her hands.
I wasn't thick-skinned enough to brush everything off, either.
The moment the pain in my body subsided, the first people who came to mind were Hayun and Jihye.
The reason those two, precisely, sprang to mind was simple: apart from them, there was no one I was that close to. I was acquainted with the orphanage teacher and the other kids there, and we got along in our own way, but it was never quite the same as with Jihye.
With Hayun, at least, I still saw her face now and then. She never looked like someone living well—every meeting only deepened my worry—but at least I could tell she was alive and eating.
And even when I couldn't see her myself, the news did it for me. From what I'd heard, Hayun was, for now, 'safe.' No serious injuries—what a relief.
The problem was that I had no way of knowing how Jihye was getting by.
...I knew one of the reporters had hassled her.
Hardly anyone at my school would speak up in my defense, so the reporters had gone all the way to the orphanage to hound Jihye instead.
Her face was pixelated on screen, but watching her flounder like that made something inside me seethe.
Part of me wanted to charge in that very second and flatten every last one of them—but of course, if I actually did, I'd accomplish nothing and only end up getting myself arrested—
...
Yeah.
Honestly, part of me had just wanted to give up.
No matter how stubbornly I held out, all it did was hurt the people around me.
Maybe it really would be better to abandon everything, walk out there, and turn myself in—I'd thought that once or twice.
And yet here I was, still dithering, still stuck exactly like this.
"Here."
I was lying there in a funk when someone set a cold can down on my forehead.
I jolted and grabbed at it—a can of coffee.
It was Jigupa.
Since I never went out except for jobs, running errands like this was almost entirely Jigupa's department. On days we went out to work together I'd help, but on any other day, so much as miming a trip outside sent James into an uproar. Something about how, disguise or no, going out too often could invite trouble.
I sat up, the coffee cold in my hand like it had just come out of the fridge.
Jigupa had already cracked his can open and was pouring it straight down his throat. Apparently a day off, then.
"You look pretty down in the dumps."
"..."
I stared down at the can of coffee, then finally popped it open.
Mimicking Jigupa, I dumped it straight into my mouth—and it tasted like someone had dissolved a brick of sugar in water. Cloyingly sweet.
"Well, yeah. I'd be depressed too."
That was all Jigupa said. He didn't bother continuing, just sipped at his can.
I watched him for a moment, then asked.
"...Why do you help me this much?"
At my question, Jigupa's eyes went wide.
"I'm grateful and all, but helping me doesn't get you anything, does it?"
Truthfully, asking this only now wasn't the most graceful move. The world has plenty of people kind enough to help others without expecting a thing in return.
"Hmm."
Jigupa tilted his head.
"I've only ever done whatever I felt like, so honestly, now that you're asking me to explain, I can't quite remember why."
"..."
That left me speechless.
"I like Earthlings... hmm, no, that's not it. Even so, I don't like all Earthlings. I'm only really interested in the cute ones, like magical girls."
So much for the guy who'd been rhapsodizing about Voyager—talk about sobering up fast.
Well, he had been drunk when he said all that, too.
"And I fit that criteria, do I?"
"You're pretty, aren't you?"
And just like that, every remaining question I had evaporated.
If he'd at least come back with a serious answer, I might have gotten solemn about it too.
No, wait. Don't tell me even this was him sparing my feelings—
"If it were just James without you, I'd have chased him out on the spot?"
"..."
Across the room, the ears of James—who'd been fiddling with some machine—twitched hard.
"Well, it wasn't only about your face, though. I figured you, at least, were someone I could trust? You've never once betrayed me, so I've got no reason to betray you either."
I had no idea what kind of place Jigupa's home planet was, but maybe this was simply a cultural trait.
Much like the near-universal Earth custom of 'treat your guests with your whole heart, and guests behave with courtesy toward their hosts.'
Then again, that didn't mean the entire planet was like that. It would have a great many nations too, and Jigupa had come from just one of them.
"You were going on about Voyager and all that before, remember?"
I steered the conversation elsewhere, casually.
"Were you serious about that?"
"Of course!" Jigupa said, grinning like it was the happiest topic in the world.
"Beings whose lifespans don't even reach a hundred years poured all that effort into launching rockets, for one reason alone—they simply wanted to see beyond their world. They even recorded a message inside, in case it turned out to be humanity's last. Isn't that romantic? They pressed music onto something so small that, on a cosmic scale, it might never be found again!"
"That's a false story. The Federation made it up."
Huh?
Jigupa and I turned to look at James at the same time.
At some point, James had come over and settled in beside us.
He was hugging one of the snacks Jigupa had laid out and nibbling at it—shameless, or adorable? I couldn't decide.
"Finding a single planet versus finding one small spacecraft—which do you suppose is harder? The latter, by far. It's far too small to stumble upon 'by chance.' Do you seriously believe they located it in the middle of random scans, without knowing its exact position?"
"..."
I gave James a look of thoroughly deflated enthusiasm.
"In all likelihood, the Federation already knew about Earth more than five years ago. They probably even sent people to observe it. Claiming Voyager was the decisive clue that led them here is nothing but diplomatic window dressing."
"..."
"Nope."
While I was still wearing my deflated expression, Jigupa declared flatly.
"I know the truth. They found Voyager first."
"It's far more plausible that they found the Sun first, then judged Earth to be a planet that might harbor intelligent life."
"Say whatever you want. What I know is the truth."
"Do you have any evidence?"
"Evidence..."
Jigupa tilted his head, eyes going loose and hazy.
He's drunk.
"I know something amazing, but I can't tell you."
"..."
James looked up at me.
His eyes seemed to ask, Do you believe that?
If I'm being honest, James's theory appealed to me more.
But that didn't mean I wanted to agree with him. In the end, James was only thinking whatever suited him, too.
"Doesn't finding Voyager first make more sense? If they came from far away, they'd naturally have approached from way out there—so of course they'd have found Voyager, sitting far away, first."
"See! I knew it!?"
At my words, Jigupa cheered in agreement, and James pressed a hand to his forehead.
"..."
And I went back to sipping my coffee in silence.
Drinking coffee at this hour probably hadn't been my smartest move. Bedtime was coming up soon.
...Maybe I'd be fine for now.
But if I couldn't sleep tonight, my thoughts would drift right back to Hayun and Jihye.
Honestly.
Next time, maybe I should get my hands on some booze instead.
About two days later.
After finishing a job with Jigupa and coming home, I found a colossal hammer sitting in the middle of the room.
It looked so absurdly huge and heavy that even the word 'war hammer' felt like an understatement. I wondered where on earth the material had come from—then I saw that James's robot body had shrunk to nearly half its former size.
If you melted down half a machine that weighed as much as an adult man, of course the result would be monstrously heavy.
"...Isn't this too heavy? Can anyone actually swing this thing?"
At my question, James snorted.
If I stepped on him right now, he'd probably flatten like a pancake. I briefly considered scaring him a little—but Jigupa was right there, so I let it go.
For someone working at Noir Corporation, Jigupa at least had his head screwed on straight. Probably the only reason he worked there was that the pay per hour was good.
James, for his part, could never keep a straight face whenever 'racism' came up, so these days I deigned to treat him like a person.
Mostly because I didn't want to become a murderer.
Having snorted, James said,
"What nonsense. Of everything you did that day, the portion that actually holds up under the laws of physics amounts to a few seconds at most?"
He said it wearing an expression of utter incredulity.
"What?"
Why was that coming up now?
While I stood there slightly bewildered, James rattled on, preening like a know-it-all.
"Throw something against its falling velocity, and naturally an equal force must act on your body in the opposite direction. In other words, the Blossom and the combatant you kicked into the air should have received far more energy than a simple fall would impart. For you, the kick was a single instant."
"..."
Oh.
"Don't tell me you never noticed? I assumed you pulled such an outrageous stunt in order to trigger some magical effect."
James's eyes narrowed.
"Well, I suppose that is how magic works. A miraculous power that overturns the laws of physics on the strength of simply believing it 'can be done.' Though it is rather absurd that a human capable of such nonsense—even one who can conjure a 'harmless Black Hole' out of thin air—can't manage a trivial magic like 'flying.'"
James heaved a deep sigh, shook his head from side to side, and looked up at me the way one looks at something 'hopeless.'
"In any case, you're someone who can flagrantly ignore the laws of physics, are you not? Then surely you can swing this as well? It's more realistic than flying, at least. Footage of someone shoving a car one-handed is still up on the streaming sites, if you'd care to check."
I'd opened my mouth for nothing and gotten nothing back for it, so I shut it again.
"I built it in exactly the form you requested. Would you care to try lifting it?"
With a slightly sour expression, I approached the hammer.
It resembled one of those hammers from an old American superhero movie—a brutish, blocky rectangular prism of a thing.
The handle, though, extended quite a long way. Apparently, because I'd called it a war hammer, James had genuinely striven to match that exact silhouette.
"The head got so big because of the generator, right?"
"Correct. If it couldn't be controlled, there'd have been no point in making it from the core."
I reached out and took the handle.
The Circuit was still running. In truth, it had been running continuously since the moment I first put it on.
So apparently, there was no reason I shouldn't be able to lift this.
For all its look and size, the hammer rose into my hand almost disappointingly easily.
"..."
I stared quietly at the hammer.
"How is it?"
"...Won't know until I try it."
At that, James snorted again.
He'd apparently caught on that I was being deliberately unimpressed, just to avoid saying anything that might please him.
All he had going for him was his instincts.
For now, even the magical girls were keeping their movements to a minimum. I figured it was because Hayun's hope hadn't come back to me yet.
So I expected my chance to actually try this thing out would come a little later.
But unfortunately, I ended up using it just two days later.