An Unwanted Kindness
As I headed to school, I found myself replaying what the doctor had said.
The test results showed that my ability’s development level was stuck in infancy, which meant that if I used it wrong, I could seriously injure myself—and even interfere with the ability’s growth.
“Still, it’s a relief. You used your ability to the point of magic exhaustion, and nothing actually went wrong.”
Yeonhwa and her friend Maria were both saying it was a relief.
“Yes, I think so too. Cases where someone comes out of magic exhaustion without any lasting damage are rare. Besides, if the development level is still infantile, doesn’t that mean there’s still room to grow?”
It was a relief, yes.
I’d just been a white-clad scholar who spent her life reading, then suddenly sprinted full-out for a kilometer.
The fact that I hadn’t fallen apart was lucky enough as it was.
And Maria wasn’t wrong either. Abilities grew. Even if I was late, if I put in the effort, I’d get better than I was now.
But I didn’t want to think that way so easily.
It was the same as watching everyone else sharpen their skills while I’d been sticking my hands in my pockets and loafing around.
If I’d faced my fear properly all those years ago, Yeonhwa wouldn’t have been shocked, and we never would’ve gotten tangled up in that dungeon in the first place.
Because I’d been lazy and scared, the people precious to me had to suffer for it.
I didn’t want that to happen again. That wasn’t justice.
“Right. Thanks for saying it nicely.”
If I wanted to catch up to the others, if I wanted to become a hero who could protect people... the road ahead was still painfully far away.
Everyone else was already running, and I’d only just stepped up to the starting line.
So from here on out, I’d have to work myself bloody.
Yeonhwa narrowed her eyes at something in the distance, then suddenly dashed off, calling out good morning.
It was Blanca.
If it hadn’t been for her, I still wouldn’t have been able to face myself properly.
So I was grateful.
That didn’t mean I wasn’t grateful to Yeonhwa or her family, of course.
I thought I’d already received more from them than I could ever repay.
But she’d shown me that people couldn’t heal if they were only ever cared for.
With that gratitude in mind, I smiled back at her and returned the greeting.
Her expression—well, it was the kind you wore when looking at something deeply irritating.
◇◇◇◆◇◇◇
Even after combing through the news section, I still couldn’t find a single article about the grotesque sulfuric acid murder case.
There probably wouldn’t be one in the future, either.
I hadn’t left any trace at the scene, for one thing...
And the Evil Society wouldn’t want their handiwork getting out either.
Still, I was a little disappointed.
I’d thought one tub of concentrated sulfuric acid would let me erase at least two-thirds of it, but the tank had been bigger than expected, so I’d only managed to melt away about half.
Even that should’ve been enough to send the villains into a frenzy, though.
Maybe by now they were interrogating everyone in sight, trying to root out an inside traitor.
In other words, last night’s little incident had been a complete success.
And yet I still couldn’t feel at ease.
The reason was, naturally, Jinhyun.
He’d pulled that stunt right when I was already rattled by the fact that I had to go to Lapis’s house.
Just the sight of his smiling face made my stomach turn, and then he had the nerve to say good morning?
It felt like staring at an old man trying to serve rotten fish heads as food.
There was also the headache from the fact that someone who absolutely should not have split yet had already cracked open.
So by lunchtime, I had no appetite to speak of.
It wasn’t because the food tasted bad.
Korea had swallowed the entire Eurasian continent, so its food culture had developed like crazy.
Well, I said Korea, but in practice it was really Heros that had devoured Eurasia.
Still, since Heros had set the world standard not on America but on Korea, it amounted to the same thing.
That was why, even at the academy, with kids from every nationality imaginable, they all naturally spoke Korean.
The food culture, too, was all fusion cuisine, blending k-food and Western dishes in just the right way.
Overall, it was delicious.
I just didn’t have the appetite today because of Jinhyun.
“You don’t look like you have much of an appetite. Are you okay?”
That face—completely oblivious to why I had no appetite—was getting more and more annoying the longer I looked at it.
“...It’s just for today. Just today. I don’t know, I’m weirdly not that hungry.”
“I-I think it’s tasty...”
Lapis, being Lapis, failed to read the room and said the food was good, then immediately realized her mistake and shrank back, apologizing.
“Everyone has days like that. Hang in there, Blanca! And, if you don’t mind... I’d like to hear a little about you. Is that okay?”
Yeonhwa brightened the mood at just the right moment and casually brought up wanting to hear my story.
“My story? Well... oh. You mean what I said in the dungeon? It’s probably not very interesting.”
It took me a second to remember what she meant. Right. I’d said something like that in the dungeon.
That I’d lived in the Outskirts.
Honestly, I was at a loss because I didn’t really have a story to tell.
I lived in the Outskirts, killed a bunch of monsters, then got spotted by a hero on patrol and came into the city. The end.
She was looking at me with such earnest expectation that I couldn’t possibly dump something that dull on her.
More than that, having some sort of backstory would probably help me get closer to Yeonhwa and Jinhyun.
“...Not here. I’ll tell you when we go to Lapis’s place on Saturday.”
I’d better come up with something to say by then.
Yeonhwa seemed satisfied enough not to push, and said she was glad I’d agreed, considering it must’ve been an unpleasant memory.
As I half-ate my lunch and idly moved my chopsticks around, my phone chimed with a notification, as if someone had sent me a message.
And Jinhyun’s did the same.
“...Talaria? What message could I possibly be getting right now... oh. It’s the club.”
Talaria was a chat app made by Heros. The default messaging program was just that.
Talk about shameless forced installation.
“At this hour?”
Yeonhwa looked at Jinhyun’s phone, surprised that their club senior was messaging out of the blue.
“Yeah. Our club president—and only senior—is a bit of a weirdo.”
So I explained in his place.
Yeonhwa accepted that, reasoning that anyone who created a club like that probably wasn’t bound by ordinary common sense.
When we checked the message, it said the members’ evaluations were basically finished and we should gather in the club room as soon as class ended.
On a Tuesday, of all days.
Then again, even in the original story, she was the kind of person who called people whenever the mood struck her. It wasn’t especially surprising.
“Sorry. Looks like you’ll have to go home alone today, Yeonhwa.”
“It’s fine. I can wait that long. You said it was in the Research Building, right? The library’s near there, so I’ll just read a book!”
Maybe she really was a little scared of going home alone?
She’d been attacked too, so maybe the trauma was still lingering.
All I could do was hope she’d get through it well.
That aside... so it was club activities, huh.
There hadn’t been much detail about it in the original, so I was a little curious what it would actually be like. It was the protagonist’s club, after all.
Not expecting anything would’ve been harder.
It was bound to be interesting.
...And that prediction shattered the moment I stepped into the club room.
Now I understood why club activities had barely been described in the original.
Even as a fan of the source material, I honestly didn’t think I could defend this one.
Because it was basically a full-blown ability discussion forum.
“...That’s my opinion. I’m not sure whether you’ve misunderstood, or whether you’re deliberately suppressing it, but—I think your true ability might be light and darkness. Ah, was that a sensitive subject?”
“...Yes.”
“Oh, uh. Sorry about that...”
Of course, that didn’t mean the content itself was useless.
Meirin’s skill was the real deal.
In fact, Lucia really did use light.
Like Jinhyun, Lucia had the setting of sealing away her light because of bad childhood memories.
The fact that Meirin was able to figure that out from a questionnaire and a few simple tests meant her analytical ability was at a level beyond the academy.
In other words, it was so academic—so much like a real scholarly symposium or a thesis defense—that there wasn’t even a corner of it where I could find entertainment.
Boring.
If I’d had a ball of yarn, I could’ve at least rolled it around to keep myself occupied, but I didn’t even have that, so this was dull beyond belief.
“Next, the special types! As for you lot... heeheehee. I’ll be honest. I have no clue, because I don’t have anything to compare you to! Looks like I’ll need to learn more through field testing!”
The one blessing was that, for once, we had simply been brushed aside without me having to imagine what terrible thing might come next.
Because there wasn’t enough information.
Minho also decided that, based on the questionnaire alone, he was missing too much data, so like us, he’d get more through field testing on Thursday.
“So... that’s it?”
“Yep. Since the analysis is done, I figured I should tell you ahead of time! Besides, if I explained it all during club hours, it’d take way too long.”
With a reminder to prepare properly for the upcoming rescue training, Meirin said we could go.
I didn’t really mind since I had nothing else to do, but I could already feel my future getting exhausting.
Ah, right. Rescue training was coming up soon too. I wondered how the groups would be arranged.
“Even after coming back from the dungeon, you really do seem fine, Blanca.”
Just as I’d been thinking about nothing in particular, Minho called out to me.
“Huh? Oh, yeah! Of course!”
I was a little startled, but also pleased that he was paying attention, so I puffed myself up and flexed my arm as if lifting a dumbbell. That only made him ask something even more alarming.
“Then you must’ve gotten an artifact, right?”
“W-Well, yeah?”
I could kind of guess what he was about to say, but I couldn’t bring myself to refuse.
Because I felt sorry for him.
Yesterday, I’d crushed the chance for him to grow with my own hands.
...Hmm.
So, maybe giving him an artifact would balance things out a little... maybe?
“Could I take a look?”
“It’s just that it’s still being appraised. Once it’s all done—”
I was about to tell him I’d show him then, but Jinhyun suddenly cut in.
“It’s an artifact Blanca and the rest of us obtained with our own strength. Don’t even think about taking it.”