Chapter 13. Counterattack (4)
Just because a rough plan had taken shape didn't mean I was stupid enough to charge straight into executing it.
Granted, I had an impulsive streak. The last time I stormed corporate headquarters, for instance.
But that had been back when no better option existed. I couldn't hide out at Pangpang's place forever. The longer I lingered in the heart of the city, the likelier I'd be found—and more than anything, my conscience weighed on me where Pangpang was concerned.
I hadn't expected things to turn out this well when I set out, but now that they had, the plan demanded a little more care.
First, before striking the Complex, we would hit other key assets of the corporation.
And while we were at it, we'd leave Noir Corporation guessing as to what we were really after.
"The headquarters building is the one out in front of Seoul City Hall. Frankly, it's less than it appears. It houses the head office and nothing more—it is not where any actual research or design takes place. Now, a corporation can hardly do without management and strategy, of course, but what you need is not corporate strategy."
He wasn't wrong.
It might well have been the most important building the company owned. It was where the corporation's course was decided, and the stock price rose and fell on whatever the people working there happened to say.
After all, how many companies in this world run without money?
"So the company will have kept that possibility in mind as well. As long as you escaped with life and limb intact, the place you are ultimately after must be the Complex itself. That is the rational read. You need to win, after all."
"Then what?"
"You simply show them that you are not, strictly speaking, a rational person. To be frank, you have hardly given that impression even in ordinary times. I daresay the company will take one look at your behavior and swallow it whole."
Hm.
Something about that didn't sit well with me.
I was aware of it myself, sure—but having someone else point it out was an entirely different matter.
Put bluntly, what James was saying was that the company didn't imagine for a second that I'd agonize over a careful plan before coming at them.
"Is it not also an option to turn what the enemy regards as your weakness into a strength?"
"...So you're saying we should make them think I've lost my mind and am attacking random places while leaving the most important target alone?"
"Precisely. Is that not what you want anyway? To vent your aimless rage by smashing this and that for no particular reason. And if the things you smash happen to be the very people who drove you into your current predicament, I see no reason to refuse."
Unable to bring myself to deny it, I hemmed and hawed for a while.
"Well... fine."
In the end, I nodded. What could I do? Aimless stress was easiest to forget while rampaging without a thought in your head. I'd... felt that sensation quite a lot already.
"Hold on, though—I'm not alone anymore, you know. The magical girls are moving with me. What if the company decides those magical girls drew up the plan and handed it to me? And you're here too, for that matter."
"In that case, we simply show them this group is fracturing. You rampage, and the magical girls scramble to rein you in. That is all there is to it."
"That's—"
But someone cut in across James's words.
One hand raised slightly, Hayun looked back and forth between me and James with uneasy eyes.
"Isn't this just going to make Jieun's situation worse?"
"She has no image left to worsen in the first place, does she? And should we succeed in the end, and our innocence come to light, that tarnished image will right itself in an instant. I would ask everyone here to remember, once more, that the people in this room have already crossed lines that cannot be uncrossed."
"..."
At James's words, Hayun closed her mouth.
James glanced around to see whether anyone else meant to object, then slowly continued.
"And while we are at it, I would appreciate it if you magical girls made a show of being consumed by indignation as well. The more decoy targets, the better."
I looked over at the girls.
They only fidgeted, every one of them wearing an expression that said she had no idea how to answer.
Call it just a job, call it political entanglement, call it the semi-realistic framing this webtoon's sensibilities demanded—magical girls were still magical girls.
Wonderful girls who stood against their enemies with hope as their fuel.
Naturally they'd react this way to being told to smash things up out of raw emotion.
"...We have some breathing room right now, so let's take a little more time. If anything's lacking, tell me."
Only after I said that did the girls nod.
James called it a deception operation in service of the objective, but the reality was slightly different.
What he was really saying was that for the sake of my goal, they would have to be dragged in deeper, too.
No—they were already in so deep that I couldn't say whether they could ever pull themselves back out.
"Then I shall narrow down the targets myself. I will need to gather information, so even at the shortest, it will take several days. Until then, please carry on as usual. You are all well aware already, I trust, but kindly do not wander far."
Maybe I should ask James to build me a game console.
Nothing on the level of the latest console, perhaps, but one of those toy-like black-and-white machines—surely even he could manage that.
Then again, I had never owned one in this life. A console was out of the question; I hadn't even had my own computer. When homework needed doing, we shared the orphanage's single machine, and buying one for my own use... would have drawn stares even if I'd had the money.
Usually I passed the time trading stories with Jihye, or else went out and wandered wherever my feet took me.
Someone once said that farming demands tireless diligence.
Farming is, at bottom, a war against nature. Most of what humans find nourishing is every bit as nourishing to other animals, and soil where one such thing can grow is, inevitably, soil where everything else grows well too.
As for us, we grew our fields with magic.
Though "we" was putting it grandly. Even without me lifting a finger, Dahlia and Delphinium kept the tending done on their own.
So the words "tireless diligence" sat a comfortable distance away from me.
Rose went around hunting for corners of the house that needed repair. She was young enough to still be called a girl, but even without her magical girl powers her body was already remarkably sturdy, and whenever there was heavy work to be done, she put that strength to full use.
I often attached myself to her side and helped out. Though in the end, anything big always ended up being carried by Rose.
Iris built and adjusted all sorts of equipment with James. James wanted "information" and "concealment," and with the two of them putting their heads together, things steadily improved. They still lacked the parts for anything like a television, but when it came to information we could take in by sound, we could now catch far more than I'd expected.
Hayun, too, went around meticulously finding things to improve. However dirty the job, she always claimed it with a smile, and thanks to that leading-by-example of hers, we got along without any real friction.
In an atmosphere like that, even my temper didn't dare poke its head out.
Even I could read a room well enough. I was, for all practical purposes, living off their goodwill—throwing tantrums on top of that would have been simply pathetic.
I'd tried it once before, which made the lesson sink in all the more painfully.
If anything, it would have been easier on my heart if they'd gotten angry and kept me at arm's length.
...
And so a day passed, and around sunset we bathed.
Hayun and I were together, as always.
That was the one time of day I could never quite feel at ease through. I always sat with my back turned toward Hayun, and I could only assume she did the same.
Scrub the dust from your body as thoroughly as you could, dry your hair as best you could—and after that, there was simply nothing left to do.
So I went outside and passed the time wandering the area.
While we worked, there wasn't much opportunity for conversation anyway, and I could substitute a show of concentration for an answer.
But rest was another matter.
The magical girls chattered on about this and that, and now and then tried to fold me into the talk.
I wasn't used to that kind of thing, and it made me uncomfortable—so circling this neighborhood where nobody but us lived became a kind of routine.
And every time I left the house, something came padding along behind me.
Those soft, light footsteps belonged, of course, to Hayun.
When she'd first followed me here, Hayun hadn't exactly been in the best of shape, but at some point she'd recovered to the point of humming to herself.
I could vaguely tell that this was because she was "with me."
What did she even see in me?
...But that wasn't something I could say to her face. The words alone would put a wounded look on Hayun's—I was sure of it.
The village wasn't big; in under ten minutes I reached its far end.
Once there, I flopped carelessly onto the wooden chair nearby.
A wooden chair with all its paint peeled away to a faint whitish pallor, the kind you'd only see in a film set at some ancient school.
I'd found it in a corner of the ruins, beaten the dust off, and carried it out here.
The way from the forest out to the road stood slightly open, but at this hour it was nothing but darkness. Only the headlights of a passing car, once in a great while, told us we hadn't been severed from civilization entirely.
Truthfully, that faint glow only made the eerie mood more menacing. The light never reached this far in anyway, and once it passed, the forest looked darker than ever.
Hayun sat down in the seat beside me.
It was, of course, a chair she had brought out here as well.
The reason I'd brought a chair out here in the first place was that I didn't feel like dragging one all the way here every time I came.
At some point, Hayun had added a chair of her own beside mine, and now every time I came out here, she sat down next to me and we passed the time together.
Two separate chairs, yet at a distance that felt somehow too close.
Softly, Hayun leaned against my side.
Creak. The chair groaned again.
Her hand settled on top of mine where it rested on my knee, then traveled slowly along my skin until finger met finger.
Then, sliding gently alongside, her fingers slipped between mine and interlaced.
Perhaps because she had only just been soaking in warm water, Hayun's hand was impossibly warm and soft.
That flower-like fragrance brushed my nose again.
By now I was certain it didn't come from shampoo. This scent was there even when Hayun hadn't washed.
Why had it taken me until now to notice? It wasn't as though we had never embraced.
Then again, out in the world, we'd had no reason to cling to each other like this.
She and I had both kept our distance in everyday life. No particular reason. It simply felt like the thing to do.
So whenever our bodies did touch, I'd been too tense to spare any attention for something as small as a smell.
Had Hayun always smelled this lovely?
Was I the only one who'd failed to notice—or was it, rather, that I'd never been able to smell properly at all?
The thought I always had, whenever Hayun kept watch at my side like this, came back to me.
Why?
Did it really mean I was that irreplaceable to her?
I opened my mouth as if to say something, anything, then closed it again.
"..."
"..."
Hayun, too, went a long while without a word.
Neither of us seemed to be thinking about letting go. How long had it been? For some reason it felt as though even checking the time would be forbidden, so I stayed perfectly still, as if frozen solid.
I'd thrown a fit just yesterday. I couldn't do it again today.
I was already pathetic enough. I had no wish to become more so.
So I simply chewed over that incomprehensible feeling, the one my head couldn't begin to parse.
"Something like this happened once before, you know."
"It did?"
But at Hayun's sudden words, I heard myself echo her before I could help it.
Seemingly unbothered by the fact that I didn't remember, Hayun continued slowly.
"Mm."
"When?"
Even when I asked, Hayun didn't answer.
She simply stayed leaning against me, quiet, as though savoring my warmth.
By the time Hayun finally rose, my shoulder was a little damp.
Damp enough that I actually paused to wonder whether I'd have to wash again.
It was a memory from long ago.
Middle school.
Middle school had brought Hayun far heavier pressure than elementary school ever had.
Back before she became a magical girl. Back when she had only just started middle school and received her first set of regular exam results.
Even though her scores began with a "9," her parents were never simply satisfied.
Their expectations always sat somewhere higher.
However high the score, however high the rank, what they wanted was for that number never to slip any lower.
So Hayun worked. Talented as she was, she strove to live up to her parents' expectations every single time.
Cram school wedged itself in between everything else, and piano competition practice piled on top, until Hayun could hardly carve out any time of her own.
There was no such thing as choosing what came first. Every single thing had to be perfect.
With no time left to play, the other children naturally began to drift away. And barely keeping her grades afloat, she drew plenty of envy and jealousy besides.
She's making a fuss again. Studying again. I guess studying matters more to her than friends do.
For someone of Hayun's temperament, quitting something she had already started was simply "not allowed."
Then, for the first time, her grades slipped—on the first exam of her second year.
Her parents didn't shout or rage, but they couldn't hide their disappointment.
Have you been feeling unwell lately?Is there something else keeping you from focusing?
Both questions hit their mark.
She had been too busy, with too few outlets, and the stress had piled up; she had too much to handle all at once, and focusing had become difficult.
But saying so would have changed nothing.
"Want to take a walk for a bit?"
That was what Jieun said to her, one day.
To Hayun's eyes, Jieun had always looked endlessly free. And yet that freedom never strayed from Hayun's side.
When Hayun stayed after school to study, Jieun stayed and studied with her. If Hayun seemed troubled, Jieun asked what was on her mind. If Hayun sat somewhere alone, Jieun would come sit beside her without a word.
On the walk home, Jieun said just that, and took Hayun by the hand.
Before Hayun could even get out that she had academy to attend, Jieun was already pulling her along through streets she had never seen.
Walking—literally just walking.
They never boarded the bus home; after a long while on foot they arrived at some walking trail.
Jieun dropped onto one of the benches and patted the seat beside her.
"Sit here."
"..."
Bewildered, Hayun sat down.
Jieun said nothing. For a long, long time.
As if her whole purpose was simply to be there.
When had it started?
At some point, Hayun found herself telling Jieun everything.
Mostly complaints about the situation she was in. That she was saying such things out loud—no, that she had even been thinking them—startled Hayun herself, and yet she kept pouring it all out.
Jieun listened in silence, to the very end, without missing a single word.
Only after everything was out did Hayun's face go red. She was ashamed to have said such things to her friend.
Had she tired her out?
Like the others had—was Jieun going to get sick of her and drift away?
But Jieun thought quietly for a few minutes, then said, out of nowhere:
"Then let's go to the same high school."
"Huh?"
Had they talked about that?
Ah—she thought they had.
For middle school, Hayun had gone to an ordinary school nearby. Jieun, as it happened, lived somewhere similar, so just as in elementary school, the two of them had ended up at the same school again.
Her parents wanted her to go somewhere else for high school—and going to such a place would mean parting, too, with the few friends she had left.
"Then we'll just go together. And studying... I'm keeping up with that anyway."
"Still..."
Hayun forced down whatever words had been about to come out.
"What's there I couldn't do? My grades are high even now."
"..."
At Jieun's words, Hayun couldn't speak for a long moment.
Slowly, from somewhere deep in her chest, something warm began to rise.
"Oh, and you skipped the academy today, didn't you? Want me to come along and take half the scolding?"
"...No, it's fine."
"If it really comes to that, just drop my name. I can get scolded in your place."
"...It's fine."
That "it's fine" was the truth.
Even when they couldn't see each other often, Jieun always found a way to stay by her side as long as she could, waiting without fail until the last bell so they could walk home together.
She went this far because she could see Hayun struggling.
For that much, Hayun had decided, there was nothing to be done.
"Want to head over now, even if it's late?"
Jieun said it with an embarrassed, apologetic look, as though only now realizing how late it was.
In the glow of the streetlight, her face wore an awkward smile.
"...No. It's probably almost over by now anyway."
With that, Hayun leaned her head against Jieun's shoulder.
"Let's just stay a little longer. Then we'll go."
"Suit yourself."
The two of them stayed like that for a long while.
Hayun became a magical girl about half a year later.
Simply by becoming a "magical girl"—and by sticking with it faithfully—she seemed to satisfy her parents in some entirely different way; when Hayun announced she would quit the academy, they even gave their permission.
And thanks to that, her time with Jieun grew, too.
Jieun kept the promise, and came to attend the same high school as Hayun.
...Thinking about it now, even if they hadn't gone to the same high school, the two of them would have found their way to each other somehow.
After all, here they were, together even now—
"..."
Leaning against Jieun's shoulder, Hayun sat there, blankly lost in those thoughts.