Night of Masks (8)
The world of eternal night — Sabbat. A realm where the sun rose only once in three hundred and sixty-five days, a world belonging to witches. And as one might expect of such a place, Sabbat possessed an institution dedicated to raising them.
Noctutna.
A school, of sorts, for the witches of Sabbat.
And because it functioned as a school, it was also a gathering place for witches of every kind within Sabbat's borders.
In principle, no hierarchy existed among the witches enrolled there. That was the rule. But wherever intelligent beings congregated, invisible ranks inevitably took shape.
At the highest tier sat the witches who belonged to established families.
Below them were those who had caught a family's eye and received various forms of patronage.
And at the bottom were the ordinary witches with no family at all.
But then…
"Gretchen, where are you?"
"D-did you need me?"
"Go make a copy for me right now, would you? I need a grimoire for reference on my assignment."
"…Yes. Understood."
There was always a lower rung beneath the lowest.
"Gretchen~ I'm starving, so~ could you run to the shop and grab me some snacks~? Pretty please~ I'll pay you back later~"
"…Yes. Understood."
Magic — something any witch should be able to wield as naturally as breathing.
"Gretchen, didn't I tell you to move those grimoires? Because of you, the professor chewed me out!"
A witch who could not use such magic.
"I've got something to take care of today, so could you clean the lecture hall for me instead, Gretchen? I'd appreciate it."
The one and only witch in all of Sabbat who could not use magic.
And so she had endured every form of discrimination, contempt, and torment.
"Heehee… Gretchen?… Mind helping me with a little magic experiment? Keehee…"
"Yes… Lady Malefica…"
"Gretchen, how about a magic duel with me? If you end up on the brink of death, maybe you'll finally be able to cast something, right?"
"…Understood, Lady Nox."
The dropout — Gretchen.
The day she first became able to use magic was one when the bullying had been especially vicious.
"Get in. I've decided to write a paper on what happens when a witch who can't use magic enters this place."
"B-but… this is one of Sabbat's rifts…"
"Do I have to say it twice?"
"…I'll go in. Lady Marion."
It all began with a certain incident.
Midnight.
The white moon hanging in the sky began to change color — deepening, clarifying, settling into an unmistakable violet.
And beneath that violet-stained night sky, four witches faced one another.
"A girl who couldn't even cast properly somehow started using basic magic, and then I hear she's actually entering Walpurgis Night… You have no idea how shocked I was."
The witch Nox rolled her shoulders loosely as she looked down at Gretchen.
"Heehee… It's fine… Let's have fun with magic experiments… just like before… Hehehe…"
The witch Malefica fixed Gretchen with an unsettling, grotesque smile.
"You still don't die easily. Hard to say whether that's good luck or bad."
"…"
"Gretchen, tell me. How exactly do you die?"
And the witch Marion regarded Gretchen with open contempt.
To every word, every question they threw at her, Gretchen gave no answer. She simply looked at them — without wavering, without looking away, straight and true.
As if that composure itself offended her, Marion's brow furrowed and she spoke again.
"You've gotten rather good at looking people in the eye. You used to keep your gaze on the floor and live like a dead mouse, as if you didn't even exist."
"…I will ask you something. Lord Doyun… Did you hide him?"
"Ha…"
At Gretchen's question, Marion let out a sigh of pure disbelief.
"Construct."
⟨ Play of the Dead ⟩
She flicked her fingers. A spell cast without chanting. The surrounding shadows rippled with a violet aura the same shade as Marion's hair, and from them twisted, grotesque soldiers came writhing forth.
"Gretchen. If you're so worried about that man, just die quickly. Then our contractors won't have any reason to go out of their way to kill yours."
Marion glanced at the two witches flanking her. Catching that look, Nox grinned.
"Got it. So we can drop the act now, right?"
"Heehee! So we can fight for real now? We can play with her however we want?!"
Nox's and Malefica's mana surged violently.
"Construct. Blurred boundaries, a maw that devours light, a viscous abyss rising from the earth."
⟨ Swamp of Dead Shadows ⟩
"Construct. Rotting flesh, weathering bone, blood drying as it courses along the nerves."
⟨ Brand of Decay ⟩
The spells took form. Marion's undead soldiers closed in on Gretchen with crushing pressure. From the shadow-swamp Nox had conjured, black serpents emerged and spread the domain of darkness ever wider. The hideous curse-sigils Malefica had woven rode the wind and began to climb Gretchen's body.
Watching it all, Gretchen finally spoke.
"I think I've been under a great many illusions."
"?"
"Simply running and hiding until the time is right… that was never going to be enough."
Fwoosh.
In the dark world of night — within the Witch's Time — a pure white flame blazed brilliantly. A white fire as warm and dazzling as the sun itself seized the gaze of every witch present in a single instant.
"Unique Construct. White night that swallowed the dawn, pure white that banishes darkness, immaculate light that purifies."
⟨ Radiance ⟩
White flame erupted. Marion's undead soldiers, Nox's writhing black shadows, Malefica's curse-sigils — all of it was consumed. The white fire wrapped around Gretchen and burned everything away.
"For the crime of touching my sun — my one and only sun — you will pay with your limbs set ablaze."
Without any particular talent to speak of, he had passed through elementary school, middle school, and high school in the most ordinary fashion. He had set his sights on becoming a teacher simply because it seemed stable, but studying led him through graduate school, and before he knew it he had become a university professor.
Around that time, through a matchmaker, he met a wife, married, and had a daughter.
When the girl was about five, his wife's affair came to light, and they began divorce proceedings. Something she said then had left a deep impression.
"…I never know what you're thinking."
What he was thinking…
It had stuck with him, but he found the meaning difficult to grasp.
He ended up raising the child himself. He believed he had done a reasonably diligent job of it. There had been affection for his own flesh and blood, after all.
Then one day, his daughter was in an accident. A traffic collision — common enough if you wanted to call it common, unlucky enough if you wanted to call it unlucky. And as he looked at his daughter lying in that hospital bed, he felt nothing at all.
"…Haa."
There had certainly been affection. And yet, even with the child into whom he had poured that affection lying vegetative in a hospital room, he felt nothing whatsoever.
That was when his ex-wife's words came back to him — that she never knew what he was thinking. He asked a friend who worked in mental health to run a psychological evaluation for the first time.
"You… your empathy metrics are coming back abnormally low."
"Is that so?"
"Your psychopathic tendencies scored pretty high. Not an official diagnosis, of course."
"I see. Thank you."
"Ah, and… I heard about your daughter. My condolences."
"…Ah, it's fine. Don't concern yourself."
He went home and drove a knife into his daughter's beloved pet. He killed a stray cat wandering the neighborhood. He lured the man who lived alone next door and murdered him.
And so he understood.
Ah. I can't feel anything at all.
"…"
So he decided to die. It was an utterly cold and rational conclusion. He was a human being who had no place existing in society.
"Are you going to die?"
And that was when he met Marion.
"And you are?"
"You can learn about my identity in due time, so let's set that aside. More importantly — are you trying to die?"
"Yes."
"Why?"
Why, she asked…
"Well. Because I'm dangerous?"
"Dangerous, is it… A life you were going to throw away anyway — give it to me. Do that, and I'll grant you one wish. Yes, even restoring that twisted mind of yours that doesn't belong in this Solaris."
"!"
"So that's all the cheap tricks you prepared?"
"Cough!… Guh…"
Park Seongtae could not begin to comprehend what was happening. The numerical advantage had been theirs. Han Doyun was already injured and exhausted from fighting the thugs. On top of that, he had been forced to commit murder in full view of his own younger sister. Any ordinary person would have been shaken to their core. Kim Minseok — the student Seongtae himself had killed — had been the same way.
But the thing standing before him… the thing in front of him…
"M-monster…"
"AAAAAAGH!!!"
"My eyes!! My eyeeees!!!"
"A monster? Someone might get the wrong idea hearing that. The dozens of people I've killed, the arms I cut off that brawler, the eyeballs I gouged out of that crossbowman — all of it is because you lot backed me into a corner."
That was not Han Doyun. The voice was different. The presence was different. The way of speaking was different.
A single possibility flashed through Park Seongtae's mind.
"D-desire… erosion…"
"Hmm? Ah, is that what this is?"
Chuckling, the thing spun the sword in its grip and sauntered toward Park Seongtae. Then, with a sharp flick, it hurled the blade into his body.
"AAAAAGH!!!"
"Does it hurt? What an amusing creature you are."
It wrenched the sword free. Blood sprayed. A lethal volume of it seemed to have already poured out. And still, it would not kill him. Slowly, slowly, it toyed with Park Seongtae. It savored the screams of its enemies.
"I've always had a good eye for people. You, see — you've been wearing a mask."
"A… mask…?"
"That's right. A mask. The kind that says, Ah, this is the sort of person I am."
It crouched down, meeting the eyes of the man crawling across the floor like a worm. Then it smiled and whispered.
"I am special. I want to be special. I want to become special. I'm different from everyone else. A mask born from that kind of heart. And when you peel that mask away…"
Thrust!
"AAAAAAAGH!!!"
"…this is what you really look like underneath."
Park Seongtae forced himself to keep breathing so he wouldn't lose consciousness. Pain flooded in from every wound across his body, and his head went numb and prickling. The sensation of death began to seep through him.
"Did you think of yourself as a monster? There are no monsters in this world. Just fools who hide inside a mask labeled 'monster.'"
It brought the blade to Park Seongtae's face. He tried to scramble backward, but his body would not obey.
"I'll peel your mask off for you."
"N-no… don't… don't!!!"
"Oppa… Oppa…"
Han Seoyun trembled violently. Being suddenly kidnapped by thugs and left alone in this place for hours had been terrifying enough. When her brother came to save her, she had been overjoyed — but when he started losing ground and taking hits under sheer numbers, sorrow had filled her. And when he killed the thugs without the slightest hesitation, killing and killing again, Seoyun had nearly fainted.
"Where… did you go… Oppa…"
And then that brother had vanished in an instant — leaving behind the corpses of dozens of burly men.
Seoyun felt as though she might pass out, but she couldn't. She wanted to run, but she was bound and couldn't move.
Three hours passed — long if you called them long, short if you called them short.
"…"
In the middle of all those corpses, her brother appeared as if from nowhere.
His entire body painted in blood.