Syringes of the Fallen
"Something to look forward to!"
Han Ye-seo's bright voice rang out from behind me.
Gulp. I swallowed hard and cautiously turned the dormitory door handle.
Creeeak. The door swung open.
'Should I oil it or something? What was that noise...'
I scanned the room.
A strangely tidy scene... and a single box sitting on my bedroom desk.
A gift box.
Ja-an's gaze followed mine to the same spot.
Hidden behind our bodies, Han Ye-seo was on her tiptoes, trying to peek inside my dorm.
"That's..."
"An enrollment gift from the academy."
"Ah, I didn't recognize it—the design's a bit different."
"Is it?"
"You've still got it kept away?"
"Yeah. Of course."
I casually slipped off my shoes, stepped inside, and shoved the box from the desk under the bed.
'It's from the Principal.'
I knew it.
At the same time, I couldn't comprehend it.
The Principal, who had told me to set a checkpoint just to kill me, had left a gift for me?
'Not even playing good cop bad cop—what the hell is this...'
For now, the important thing was not to show any reaction.
Han Ye-seo and Ja-an were right here, and I had no idea what was in the box the Principal had sent.
What if Guan Yu's severed head was inside? How would those two look at me then?
Han Ye-seo spoke up.
"Surprising."
"Huh?"
"It's filthy in here."
Yeah. She always knew how to poke right where it hurt.
Short herself, flat-chested, but unmatched when it came to stabbing at others' weaknesses.
"I was gonna clean up..."
"Inviting people over without even tidying up—you're so bold!"
"Do you have to phrase it like that...?"
"I'm seriously impressed! The always-timid you acting this fearless!"
Always timid...?
'Isn't the timid body you?'
Flat chest.
I didn't say it out loud. That was Han Ye-seo's reverse scale.
'Touch it, and she'll flip out like last time.'
We might end up in a real spar. Better hold back.
"What's this?"
Ja-an picked up a piece of paper.
A black eyeball was drawn on it.
I'd drawn it. ...Me? Yeah, me.
"Hobby."
"...Hobby?"
"I started drawing recently... but I can only do eyes, not human figures."
"Want me to teach you?"
"No, it's fine. More importantly, you draw too?"
Ja-an scratched his head.
"A little?"
"Ugh, what can't you do?"
"Not sure."
So annoyingly perfect to the end.
That's why I hate geniuses.
A genius who works hard? That shouldn't even exist... What are us mortals supposed to do?
At least give us hope that even lazy mortals can achieve something with effort!
Ja-an eyed my expression and hurriedly made excuses.
"Even I have things I can't do. I just never tried forcing myself into them."
"The type who doesn't try new things?"
"Not exactly... but yeah, I'm complacent. I think this daily life isn't so bad."
Complacent... Yeah, I guess I'm complacent too.
Wishing this situation would last forever, lounging around without a care.
Time passed like that.
After Ja-an and Han Ye-seo headed back to their own homes, I turned my eyes to the box I'd roughly shoved beside the bed.
Since I'd set a checkpoint yesterday, even if something was inside, I'd just regress to yesterday.
I'd bought plenty of time to respond.
I opened the box.
Inside were eight syringes filled with pink liquid and one with black liquid—a total of nine syringes. The liquids defied gravity. They looked thick and sticky.
A small slip of paper was included as a bonus.
"What the..."
I froze for a moment.
Because the status window was spamming notifications in the corner of my vision like crazy.
[ 10 / 400 ]
You have remembered the death of Cadet 'Jukrim'.
You have remembered the death of Cadet 'Libia'.
You have remembered the death of Cadet 'Eomeo'.
...
You have remembered the death of Cadet 'Guseyo'.
You have remembered an Academy teacher's death!
You have remembered 10 deaths!
You have remembered 8 deaths at once!
Reward Selection Rights x2
Available Rewards
[All information on Ivy Lane x1]
[Checkpoint Release Function x1]
[Clue to your death tomorrow x1]
[Note with your regression count x1]
[Status rank up x1]
The next reward will be granted at '13 / 400'!
What the hell just...
The pink liquid in the syringes writhed. It felt like the eyes inside met mine.
"...Urk."
Nausea hit me.
Observed 8 deaths. Received 8 crimson syringes.
I didn't want to understand, but my brain forced it on me anyway.
The meaning, that is.
I bolted to the bathroom, hands clamped over my mouth.
Flipped up the toilet lid and shoved my head in.
"Urgh—!"
Last night's ramen surged back up my throat.
Disgusting. More disgusting than my current state were the "gifts" the Principal had given me.
I felt eyes from the mirror and ceiling.
Sure enough, newly sprouted eyeballs met my gaze.
They vanished soon after I glared.
...Hallucinations. Getting worse bit by bit.
I wiped the vomit from my mouth with my wrist and headed to the sink.
Cold water hit my wrists and arms.
Rinsed off roughly and returned to the bedroom.
I pulled out the letter that had been in the box with the syringes and read it.
Calm down. This situation was to my advantage.
Even if I regressed to yesterday right now, I couldn't stop the Principal from turning 8 other students into syringes.
Judging by the form, they looked pre-made long ago.
No excitement.
Suppress emotions.
Hoo... Deep breath.
With slightly trembling hands, I reread the letter.
To Cadet Ivy Lane,
First, I want to apologize.
Given your suspicious nature and how you consider every possibility, you probably didn't believe me.
Not setting a checkpoint and leaving your dorm empty for a day was the right choice.
The upper echelons are currently seriously discussing your "toolification."
—
Toolification?
—
Extracting and severing parts of your brain and unnecessary organs to compress them into a small bag-sized device.
The bag's owner presses a button to set a checkpoint, presses again to regress to it.
This agenda came from the judgment that events right before regression can be learned via neural stimulation and interpretation circuits plugged into the brain.
It would be right for a powerful ability user or hero to wield you.
That's the discussion.
—
Goosebumps crawled over my skin.
—
Before such an operation, either your consciousness or psyche needed to break.
I'm currently holding the center between moderates and radicals, so I can hear both sides.
In faction fights, neutrals create the most variables, after all.
Then the radicals sent word.
They'd appreciate it if I broke your consciousness or psyche. They weren't sure if I was still one of them.
Something like that.
—
Wait, you said you were neutral.
Why would they make that request?
'Not neutral... a spy.'
Pretend to be one of the radicals with them, pretend with the moderates too.
When one side seems to gain advantage, feed info to the other to naturally maintain balance.
Clever.
I read on.
—
They said the odds of failure were high since she doesn't trust me.
They insisted I at least try.
Idiots.
What do they plan to do by making an existence that can rewind time into an enemy?
I have no intention of antagonizing you.
Since childhood, you've helped humanity overcome crises time and again on our side.
I remember all of it.
—
Things Ivy Lane did, not me.
Why did Ivy Lane disappear? Why did I take her place?
Still a mystery.
The other me I saw in the dream too...'
I read on.
—
The crimson syringes—you've probably realized they're compressed other ability users.
Even if using them disgusts you, keep them for now.
They're meant to boost your mana or physical abilities.
Additionally, keep the black syringe on you at all times.
Injecting it causes instant death, so handle with care.
I emphasize again: I have no intent to antagonize you.
I salute your dedication. Thank you.
And one request.
Regressor, if you've come from far beyond the future I imagine, is that future peaceful?
Do our names all fade into rust and oblivion, dismissed with a laugh as "there was once such an era"?
You don't have to answer.
We'll make that answer ourselves.
—
The letter ended there.
I turned to the reward list.
Two choices. Five options.
Available Rewards
[All information on Ivy Lane x1]
[Checkpoint Release Function x1]
[Clue to your death tomorrow x1]
[Note with your regression count x1]
[Status rank up x1]
...Wait, tomorrow?