Chapter 9. What Must Not Be Touched (4)

If I had possessed more worth losing, the plan James and I had drawn up would have been a shade more meticulous. Pulling off something like that meant sorting what could be lost from what couldn't — and, if loss was coming, deciding what to surrender and what could never be surrendered. And I had already lost nearly everything I had, meager as that everything had been.

"You're not yet out of things to lose," James said.

Ah, right. Through other people's eyes, maybe it didn't look that way yet. There was still Jihye. Still Hayun.

"Both of them are alive and in one piece — for the time being, aren't they?"

It was a genuine mercy that the one saying this beside me was himself "a being I could not afford to give up just yet." Had it been otherwise, I'd have put a hammer through the crown ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠of his head.

"I can't even see Jihye right now. Which makes her as good as gone."

Right. I couldn't see her. If I went to Jihye now, for any reason at all, any number of problems would come crashing down. My location would be blown, first of all, and people would conclude that a criminal like me was close enough to Jihye to throw away everything that mattered just to see her face. In truth, ours was a bond I treasured enough to weigh all of that — and a step beyond — and still choose not to go.

"...And Hayun's a magical girl."

Hayun and I were enemies in all but name. Every time the magical girls crossed my path, they moved to subdue me. The first time — my infiltration of the Company — fine, I could grant that one. From where the magical girls stood, there had been something terribly important in that building, and if they saw us as rivals squabbling over it, there was nothing there they couldn't understand.

But the next time. When I brought down the kaijin. I watched the magical girls come rushing at me. At me — the one who had helped those children and taken a bullet for it. Hayun, at least, had only stood there with a blank look on her face.

Wasn't that strange?

If they were magical girls, they had to know I wasn't the culprit. I couldn't say how deep into the Federation's records they might be able to dig, but they had fought beside me at that complex — surely that alone was enough to know. I am not the culprit.

"And so your answer is to smash it all to pieces?"

James asked it with the corners of his mouth hauled upward. That "rat-bastard look" of his. He was the one who had put this operation on the table, and still he framed it as though I were the one choosing. Well — I had chosen, in fairness. There had simply been only one thing to choose.

"...I'm sick to death of it."

I had run because I refused to be punished for a crime I never committed, and I had been running ever since. And in all that time, the magical girls had not spent one single word in my defense.

I understand. Or — I was trying to. They were still only children, weren't they? Hayun included, most of them played at being magical girls with their parents' wishes blended thick into the mix.

But still. Still — weren't they beings who fought for justice? Did those girls know how many times my bones had snapped and been ground to paste in the name of that justice? Did they know that the people sinking down beneath their hands were, in truth, people who had come all this way from distant planets, struggling to keep their homes and families fed?

Well. Of course they didn't. It would never have occurred to them to find out. Had I been a magical girl, I'd have been no different.

If a person becomes a thief because they are poor, becomes a hired thug, do they deserve defending? Probably not. Poverty might soften a sentence here and there, might count for leniency depending on the crime and the attitude — but a crime is a crime.

And that is exactly why. A crime never committed is no crime at all.

Yeah. I had decided to ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠hold on to just one thought. Everything I had burst out and broken — if it all came back on me later as crimes to be punished for, then so be it. But I could not stop now. At the very least, I would answer the injustice done to me. I didn't care if a crueler ending waited on the far side of it. Everything that could be lost was already lost.

"Let's get one thing straight before we move on."

Even at that, James — as though he didn't entirely trust me — asked in a dead-serious tone:

"If we carry out our plan, we will naturally cross paths with magical girls in the process. And among them, I imagine, will be your friend. Blossom."

"..."

"If you meet and end up fighting, can you fight her in earnest? Can you subdue her properly? I don't ask for sentimental reasons. Practically speaking, if you cannot win, it becomes a problem in every possible way."

I thought for a moment.

Could I — attack Hayun? Reaching a conclusion didn't take all that long. I had already crossed paths with Hayun any number of times by now, and of course I had attacked her too. They were attacks I could make only because I knew they wouldn't connect, and nothing about today changed that. Hayun was a magical girl, and in this world even a shattered limb mended within hours.

Then — could I win? This conclusion took a little longer.

"...Weren't you the one saying this plan might not even work?"

James said that, and of course I thought so too. I was always calling James a rat and worse, but I was no better than a rat myself. A rat backed into a corner. Which is why I wanted to ask the cat, one last time.

"Don't tell me you didn't factor whether I could win into that plan of yours?"

I could attack Hayun. But with my face bared, meeting Hayun's eyes — could I actually break her arm? That was a completely different story. It was much like how Hayun, after seeing my face, could no longer bring herself to attack me.

Above all, the me of right now could truly, genuinely hurt Hayun. Nothing like when I'd been a combatant. I could attack her. Whether I could actually break something — perhaps I could. But could I see it through to the end? That was a different question entirely.

Even with me grinding my answer to pulp like that, James nodded as if he had expected it all along.

"Well, very well. What we are after is not the magical girls, after all."

"And what about you? You going to be all right with this?"

At my question, James looked up at me. He looked up at me as though I were the strangest thing he had ever seen.

"What?"

"Nothing. I simply find it strange that you would ask me such a question at all."

"Strange that I'd worry about you?"

"That as well, but... hmm."

James rolled his head thoughtfully from side to side, then spoke.

"Let me put it this way. Have you ever once felt loyalty toward the company you worked for?"

"Uh..."

"It seems you were sincerely loyal to me for the whole of your service as a combatant. How very moving. But I am no imbecile who would feel loyalty toward the company that employs me. Ours was nothing more than a relationship of selling my abilities for pay."

Hmm. Wouldn't it be fine to pop him one, just the once? I was fairly confident I knew how to hit without killing.

"Of course, ours was less a simple monetary arrangement than a cooperation toward shared ends — but what meaning would cooperation have now, at this point?"

"Huh. You're a lot more decisive than I gave you credit for?"

"I confess I wonder what I am, that you'd say such a thing to me — but never mind. As long as the company's Chairman lives, my plans can continue onward. But for that to happen, whatever stands in the way must disappear beyond any doubt."

And here I'd thought he'd given up clean — turns out he was clinging on, thick and slimy as ever. So this guy had simply bet everything on the other possibility still within his grasp.

"Hey — any interest in becoming a magical girl or something?"

I figured that mindset would suit the Hope Circuit perfectly.

"I haven't the faintest idea what that joke is supposed to be."

James replied, brow furrowed.

"...Well then — sorry for all the trouble I've been."

"Huh? No, I never once thought of it that way."

That was the reply I got, head cocked, when I turned back to Jigu-ppa before stepping out the door. The face looked so genuinely unbothered that I nearly laughed.

"All that time the two of us were yakking away, you just waited quietly and never said a word."

"Well, it wasn't as if any of it was conversation I could've butted into."

Hmm. True enough. I was turning my head this way and that, picking out my next words, when Jigu-ppa spoke first.

"Turns out having someone around beats being alone. Somebody to share a coffee with when you need one. Utilities hurt less split two ways, too."

But it had been terribly dangerous at the same time. The Federation, presumably, would not try anything funny with an alien like Jigu-ppa — but the Company was another story. Worse, Jigu-ppa had lost the best-paying work there was because of me; the Company's situation had gone to ruin on my account.

The world is full of people who would rage at that. No — raging is the normal reaction, isn't it? Anger with nowhere to go gets dumped on the ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠nearest primary cause more often than not. ...Myself included.

"Still, it was fun. Somebody to talk to on the job — and best of all, there was a magical girl right near me, wasn't there? A special being only Earthlings can become. No?"

"..."

If that was how it felt, I had nothing to say. Jigu-ppa was, after all... an "Earth-fan." If even that much was fine by Jigu-ppa, then fine.

"We probably won't be seeing each other for a while."

We hadn't planned where to run. James said he had no place in mind either. This operation was, in the truest sense, a flare. Get as far away as possible while they scrambled to contain the mess — that was the plan we had built. James had weighed the danger of staying put in one place, and I had known that sooner or later, staying here meant being found. I had no intention of gifting danger to someone who had helped me out of pure kindness.

"Shame, that."

Jigu-ppa said.

"But I'll still get to see your face now and then, right?"

"..."

I thought about Jigu-ppa. How many friends had Jigu-ppa made since coming here? I had never once seen anyone who counted as Jigu-ppa's friend. I didn't know how things had been on the home planet, but Earthlings were, as a rule, reluctant to keep alien friends.

Right after the aliens landed, the ranks of people wanting alien friends had swelled — but as the years passed, fewer and fewer wanted to get close to a group now sorted into the privileged class. For any number of reasons, the world had split into those who could afford it and those who could not. Some of the tourists looked at Earthlings like so many primitives, and the images they held of each other soured all the more. Pile on the kaijin problem, and while hardly anyone would show up to an anti-alien, anti-Federation rally, people who shot dirty looks were a dime a dozen. And Jigu-ppa worked with a shovel and a wheelbarrow, on top of that — hardly intimate with the "privileged class worth befriending."

Maybe — just maybe — I was the only friend Jigu-ppa had made on this Earth.

"...When it's all over."

That was my answer. I had no intention of dying. Even at the worst, it would probably end with me in custody somewhere. So, well — if I did a stretch in some prison and came out, and this kid was still living here, we could always meet again.

I said it as casually as I could, so that none of that would show, and Jigu-ppa gave something like a shrug and held out a hand. I looked down at it for a moment. Then I reached out and took it.

"Ah, and one more thing — should you go and breathe a word, anywhere at all, about us having stayed here, then I'll— SQUEAK!?"

James, from inside my bag, had started up with that, so I hurriedly reached in and grabbed both his squishy cheeks.

"Well then. See you next time."

After a moment's thought—

"...Pangpang."

That was the name I tried calling. No matter how I turned it over, it wouldn't sit right in my mouth. I'm sure it's a perfectly respectable one on that planet, in that country.

"See you next time, Jieun."

Pangpang said it with a shake of my hand.

"Next time we meet, coffee's on me."

I said my piece and turned my back. I didn't look around again — but I could tell the sound of the door closing came quite a long time later.

A long walk, then a bus, then the subway, then street after street chosen for their lack of CCTV, doubling back and changing clothes again and again — and at the end of it all, we headed into the mountains.

"One final check, shall we?"

James was already seated in his rig. At the whir of my circuit spinning up, the drone rose smoothly into the air. The glow from its thrusters looked remarkably like the light that spilled off me when I swung my hammer.

For the record: after several failed attempts, I had finally managed to pull the hammer back out of sub-space. James had given it an upgrade, too. At the very least, I wouldn't be dragged around by the thing like last time.

"We get inside first. Then we smash whatever's in the way."

"Splendid."

"And once every eye is on us, I say what I came to say."

"To be precise, seizing the broadcast equipment inside headquarters comes first. What you have just described is the fallback. Though I regret to say the odds that we will end up settling for the fallback are quite high."

"And the civilians?"

"As I have told you — however it may look, that building went up in strict compliance with government code. The fire alarms and the sprinklers work flawlessly."

I had asked it to mean, in no uncertain terms, that we were about to bring the building down on their heads. James answered without so much as a flinch.

"...All right."

The place would be crawling with combatants, but their loyalty ran shallow. If the Company had somehow managed to fix that, it would be a different story. Either way, you never know until you go.

My circuit was whirling round and round. Ironically enough, believing I would probably fail was actually helping. So was knowing I might come face to face with Hayun in there.

The Despair Circuit. I could trust it in a crisis — but whether I could accomplish anything great with it, I honestly couldn't say.

I glanced at the circuit. Ninety-eight percent. The fact that even that was helping made it, frankly, no help at all. Clicking my tongue at the irony, I shuddered at the black haze swallowing my field of view.

The Galaxy Federation had never formally established diplomatic relations with the Republic of Korea, but exchange itself carried on all the same, under the banner of "citizen representatives." And that "citizen representative" building stood at nearly the same scale as most national embassies in Seoul. Since diplomatic privilege was honored within its walls, everyone knew the label was pure sleight of hand. Even so, the Korean government had yet to join the Federation — and so the Federation, "for the time being," had to watch its step around the Korean government.

That building also held a space where the magical girls could gather and rest. Raised to a precarious scale on a limited plot, it couldn't offer much floor area, but it was just barely enough for five girls to gather in. Usually the magical girls met there to talk. Nowhere else offered that degree of secrecy for conversations no one else should ever hear. ...Just not today.

"Then let's do it this way."

Hayun said it with a small breath. The place around them was no white-based Federation building, but somewhere that looked a little cozier. It had no particular polish, but the air of it was warm. It was Hayun's first time at Jua's house. Probably true for the other magical girls as well.

Inside Federation buildings, of course, the Federation's ears were always present. But doing it ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠anywhere else meant minding civilian eyes and ears. Homes were another story — not many people install CCTV in their own houses, after all. Let alone inside a bedroom. The magical girls' parents all worked Federation-adjacent jobs, so their hours at home were irregular. Talk like this had to happen out of the parents' sight, which meant they had to choose the home whose parents vacated it on the most regular schedule. That was Jua's house.

Jua's room was a touch cramped for five. They could all claim a corner to sit in, but five was five, and it felt a little stifling. The conversation they traded there was no different from the one Hayun had had with Jua before. Tell the truth — or keep pretending not to know, all the way to the end.

No one answered Hayun. They were all sunk in their own thoughts. Not one of them wanted to give up being a magical girl. Even Hayun wanted to hold on to it, if she could. But they couldn't hide the truth forever, either. Keep hiding it and the problem would eventually blow up — they were all sharp enough to see that much.

"What if they take our circuits... what do we do then?"

Dalia said it carefully.

"That's why we're making the first move."

Hayun answered.

"If we say nothing, they can hold the circuits over us. But if we come out and say it ourselves first, then until they can rebut us, taking our circuits would make the whole picture look wrong for them."

It made sense. The Federation worked hard on public opinion — that was why it made use of "magical girls," beings that anyone with a slightly serious mind would snort at. Which made it impossible to fathom why, in this terror case, they were keeping their mouths firmly shut and pinning it all on Jieun.

"...I just hope it works out."

Rose said.

Delphinium said nothing.

"Yes. For sure—"

But Hayun's words never made it to the end.

The pager shrieked.

Everyone flinched. Of all the conversations to be having, it had to be that one — and for a horrible moment they thought the other side might have caught on first.

Hayun snatched up her pager. The other girls did the same. The thing was shaped like a vibration bell, and ordinarily it served just to call one magical girl to another. It could record detailed messages, but it was usually used in a hurry, and there was rarely time to record anything of the sort. The recording was usually done by someone on the Federation side, as a stand-in for a briefing. A warning voice on it wouldn't have been strange at all. But what surfaced on the pager was not that.

"Huh?"

A hollow voice slipped out of Hayun.

The voice was mineral-flat, the kind you'd get from a speech-synthesis program, and it kept explaining.

"..."

The color drained from Hayun's face.