9. Mass-Produced Jirai-kei Supervillain
9. Mass-Produced Jirai-kei Supervillain
The next morning, I opened the laundry shop much earlier than usual and dove straight into work.
The horrific black plastic bag Cheshire had left behind thankfully hadn't exploded overnight, and it sat quietly in the sink where I'd left the water running.
Just taking the clothes out of it was a massive ordeal.
The stench of disgusting blood and unidentified chemical agents was overwhelming, and I had to start the work while wearing a mask that was practically a gas mask.
I poured in special detergents and chemicals, carefully controlling my superpower to prevent damage to the fabric, and managed to erase the stains perfectly.
Once the washing, drying, and ironing were finished, the purple suit that had been caked in bright red blood sparkled like a new garment fresh out of a luxury boutique.
But I couldn't stop there.
'If you don't make it exactly to my liking, I'll rip your mouth up to your ears.'
That was because the horrific and vivid threat Cheshire had left behind yesterday wouldn't leave my ears.
She isn't the type to joke.
She was a genuine lunatic who would actually slice both corners of my mouth with a knife if she didn't like it.
"Fuck, please, just don't rip my mouth open..."
I started making the clothes to survive, but as I worked, my inner fanboy—a passionate fan of comics—started to boil over, and I decided to make a proper outfit.
'For starters, that variant cover version from the collaboration with the Japanese comic looked pretty good. Was it a Menhera outfit...?'
I brought to mind several iconic designs Cheshire had worn in the original comics.
And then, I began the work of refining them into a modern and comfortable style.
My tailoring scissors danced in the air, and the fabrics took shape on their own, guided by my ability.
"Phew, it's done."
The shape of the completed costume was a bit strange, even to my eyes.
It looked similar to the cosplay outfits you might occasionally encounter while walking in front of Hongdae or Gyeongui Line Forest Park.
A dress made by mixing pink and black, white stockings, and even a choker and ribbon around the neck.
Anyone could tell it looked like a mass-produced Jirai-kei outfit, but I had tightly woven special bulletproof fiber into the inside of the jacket and inner blouse, and I had embedded stab-proof titanium wire into the dangling leather straps.
It looked hip and pretty, but it was a solid and sturdy tactical suit that could easily deflect standard rifle rounds.
It would probably even be able to block shotgun pellets.
'This should be enough to keep her from ripping my mouth, right?'
When evening came, the laundry shop door opened without fail, and Cheshire walked in with a bizarre smile.
"Hiii, Boss! How did my clothes turn out?"
At her question, I silently held out the perfectly cleaned purple suit and the new costume I had put on a mannequin.
Cheshire's eyes turned toward the costume I had made, and then they widened significantly.
"Wooooah!"
Cheshire hopped around like a child who had received a Christmas present and approached the mannequin.
"Is this really mine? This is crazy! I've wanted to try wearing clothes like this so, so much! The design is totally my taste, and when I touch it, it's even super sturdy!"
She was so happy she looked like she was about to change into the clothes right then and there, but then she whipped her head around.
Her bizarrely ripped, bright red lips were curving into a pleasant arc.
"Boss, you're the best! That disgusting smell that was stabbing my nose yesterday is gone, too. It's perfect!"
Cheshire rummaged through her chest and tossed something casually onto the counter.
Clang-!
Along with the dull sound of a heavy lump of metal falling, a dazzling golden mass filled my vision.
It was a real gold bar, just like the ones you see in movies, looking to be well over 1 kilogram.
"This is for the clothes. The tip is pretty generous, right?"
"Where on earth did you get this?"
To my flustered question, Cheshire hummed a tune and answered with an incredibly nonchalant face.
"Where do you think? I just robbed a bank before coming here. There were pretty gold bars piled up in the vault, so I swiped one to give to you, Boss."
"You only robbed a bank, right...?"
"......"
"Right...?"
She left the laundry shop, leaving behind a chilling promise that she would come back again next time.
I clutched my forehead, looking at the stolen gold bar left alone on the counter.
A crazy customer who pays for laundry with gold bars stolen from a bank robbery... How on earth am I supposed to explain this if the police come?
It was not long after Cheshire had left.
Rat-tat-tat! Boom!
Along with the sounds of a fierce fight not far away, gunshots rang out in succession.
Judging by the vibrations that made the building shake, it was clearly an engagement between a hero and a villain, not just a gang-level skirmish.
I reflexively crouched under the laundry shop counter.
'Please, let this have nothing to do with me. Please, just pass by.'
Bang-!
But as if to mock my desperate prayer, a moment later, someone kicked the shop door open and stormed in.
"Huff, huff."
The giant Black woman was the Butcherer, Mama Butcherer, who had come to have a pitch-black tactical suit made a few days ago.
There were clear, dark bruises on her face, and her breathing was extremely rough.
"W-what is going on?"
When I asked cautiously, Mama Butcherer slumped her heavy body against the counter chair and glared at me menacingly.
"You, did you make a suit with bulletproof functions for that crazy bitch yesterday?"
My heart sank.
I didn't need to ask to know that the crazy bitch she was talking about was Cheshire, who had just been here.
I couldn't even dare to lie, so I nodded honestly.
Mama Butcherer let out a long sigh.
"I knew it. I clearly broke through the crossfire and fired a shotgun directly into that bitch's spine, but she didn't shed a drop of blood, just staggered a bit, and then giggled as she ran away."
Mama Butcherer gritted her teeth and exuded a menacing killing intent.
"That fucking bitch. She's not just some neighborhood street thug; she's a nationwide-level villain, huh. A persistent little rat. I will cut her life short with my own hands."
She nervously adjusted her shotgun and glared at me.
"I know you're skilled, but it would be better if you didn't make clothes for those kinds of villain bastards. It's already hard enough to catch them, and now that she even has defense, it's too much of a hassle to kill her."
"Do you think I want to make clothes for villains!"
I couldn't hold it in anymore and protested, venting my frustration.
"But that lunatic threatened to rip my mouth open if I didn't make her clothes! What power does a mere laundry shop owner like me have to refuse? I want to live, too! I had no choice in the first place!"
At my desperate voice, Mama Butcherer was silent for a moment, then nodded as if resigned.
"......I suppose so. This neighborhood is all like that. A powerless civilian can't exactly rebel against a monster like Cheshire. I understand. It's not your fault. It's just... I'll just have to kill her better next time."
She rose from her seat, stared into the darkness outside the broken laundry shop door, and started walking again.
As she was about to step out the door, she paused and added to me.
"Be careful tonight. Go in earlier than usual and lock your door tight."
"Are you threatening me?"
"Like I said, I'm fine. But I'm saying this because someone who might be an even bigger lunatic than me could be targeting you."
Another lunatic?
Wondering what on earth she meant, I felt uneasy, and immediately after she left, I hurriedly pulled down the shutter and started my commute home.
The night air was exceptionally cold, and the back alley where the streetlight didn't quite reach was pitch black today, as if ink had been spilled.
It was the moment I was walking through the narrow alleyway, which was a shortcut to my house.
Whoosh.
My vision was plunged into darkness.
It was a bizarre sensation where my entire field of vision was blocked, and I couldn't see anything even with my eyes open, so I just sat down on the ground.
The moment I felt something was wrong, my collar was suddenly grabbed tightly, and both my feet were yanked up into the air.
"Ugh!"
A sharp and terrifying voice pierced through the darkness into my ear as I choked and gagged.
"Are you an accomplice of Cheshire?"
Overwhelmed by extreme fear, I realized in an instant who the silhouette in the darkness and pitch-black night was.
The ruler of darkness and fear, and Cheshire's eternal nemesis, the Dark Hero Nocturne.
A non-lethal hero who doesn't kill people, but is a madman who beats them until they are on the verge of death and then brands their face permanently with a red-hot iron.
I was trapped, and it looked like I was going to get branded on the face.