Summer
Click!
In a flash, an outstretched hand seized the matte-black pistol resting beside the bed—one she hadn't put there yesterday—while a long serpentine tail snagged the combat knife. Her body sprang up like a coiled spring; settling into a combat stance took less than an instant.
The muzzle's trajectory swept the room in a full circle, locked perfectly to the direction her wide eyes were staring.
Nothing was there.
She smoothed the furrow from her brow and lowered the gun.
"Haa…"
A slight dizziness arrived belatedly.
It was going to take a long time before she could sleep deeply again the way she used to. Part of it was almost certainly because she had crossed over so soon after a fight had ended.
The view beyond the window. The sun had already been up for quite a while. Time was already drawing close to noon.
"…"
Clack.
The pistol frame and tactical knife went back where they had been. Come to think of it, though—why were a pistol and a tactical knife even there? She hadn't packed those.
Still, blaming yesterday was less useful than cleaning up what had already happened. She stripped the magazine, cleared the last round from the chamber, cracked the carrier zipper open a little, and stuffed them inside.
Being a handgun, it left a faintly emptier feeling than when she had forced the machine gun and the designated marksman rifle into a carrier.
When was the last time she had slept without a holster on? Turning over hazy memories, she slipped out of the room.
Savoring the muggy air that filled the living room, she pressed the fridge's secondary door.
Cold air seeped out. She took a water bottle, poured cold water into a glass, and swallowed it down her throat. Her tail coiled around the bottle, returned it to the fridge bar, closed the door, and carried her naturally toward the bathroom.
A woman looked back from the mirror.
"…What a mess."
She hadn't bothered with any real upkeep, so her black hair had simply grown to a moderate length. Minimal care, if you had to put a name to it.
The bangs were just long enough not to poke her eyes; the sides were only balanced left and right. The back cascaded all the way to her waist. Pointed ears jutted out between the strands. Sharp fangs showed past thin lips.
Her white skin was rather flushed—summer, maybe—and her eyes… for some reason were swollen. She must have cried hard in her sleep.
Aside from that, a woman who called a snake to mind was watching her from the other side of the glass.
"…What am I even supposed to call this."
Should she be startled that this was her, or startled at herself for accepting without resistance that she had become this body?
Neither felt especially real. In truth it had been far too long for anything to feel real. She could barely remember the past when this had not been her body.
People say a person does not change without a shock massive enough to upend a human life—but the reverse is also true: a shock of that scale can remake a person completely.
…What had she become across those four years?
What was certain was that this world was far too quiet—terrifyingly quiet—for the person she had become to live in.
She deliberately ignored the fact that she could not possibly fail to recognize this as a facet of PTSD.
She stripped, stood under hot water, and turned the same thoughts over and over. There were several things she needed to do, but hiding the guns she had brought was the most urgent. She already knew the place; it had to be handled today.
Other matters existed as well, but those could be considered carefully, one by one.
───Swish, swish.
After she towel-dried body and hair and finished with the dryer, the real problem arrived: what to wear.
She had to go out today, yet she could hardly wander around in a military uniform. Nearly everything in the house was floaty dresses and the like.
This was driving her insane.
After a full-house ransacking campaign she finally unearthed ordinary jeans and a reasonably thick T-shirt. The pants had somehow been altered so the tail would not catch… which meant these clothes had been made for her.
Curiosity began to seep up again. Who on earth had brought them, why, and when?
Given the alterations, they clearly existed so she could wear them outside. That made them highly likely to be indirect proof that people with snake tails existed in this world—and that such people could walk around in public.
She roughly understood the shape of it. After returning and holing up at home, her internet trawling under the pretext of data collection had suggested there were others like her.
…Perhaps this entire situation was her own…
"…How can the size fit my body this perfectly."
She stopped chasing the hazy thoughts and refocused.
Changing into new clothes left a strange feeling. Is dressing like this even right? Something of that sort. In the mirror, a woman who looked a little like a snake sent her a puzzled glance. The size matched what she wore. Looked at that way, this was definitely her house.
When she opened the door, two travel carriers she had packed ahead of time greeted her with imposing presence. Escapist thoughts of maybe just going on a trip while she was at it rose like foam, but unfortunately what filled them… was guns and ammunition.
Specifically, the luggage packed yesterday—and also the relics of a past she would no longer have any reason to look at, starting today.
It felt absurd, as if she were some black-market dealer, yet if either she walking out with this or an actual black-market dealer got caught by the authorities, the result would be catastrophe. They shared that much.
She had never wanted that commonality… but if it happened, her real-world adaptation period would meet a miserable end, wrapping up in episode one.
That could not be allowed.
"Why did I bring such a huge gun."
Her railgun had broken, and this had been the weapon she used most before that, so she had chosen it—but still… if she had known it would come to this, maybe she should have thought differently.
The entrance was not especially narrow, yet the carriers were so large that bringing both out at once was awkward. On top of that the MG338 was so long and heavy that cramming it into a carrier had been a chore of its own.
One carrier in each hand, she simply solved the problem by opening the door handle with her tail.
───Click!
"…The weather's disgustingly nice."
Dragging the two carriers outside, she found sunlight falling as if it were punching straight through the firmament. The light was bright enough to hurt the eyes.
A slight downward glance showed the roadside. Given the weather, almost no one was walking outside. There were a few more people at the shops across the street. It was also weekday lunchtime, and the height of summer on top of that.
Perhaps, paradoxically, this was actually a good window for avoiding other people's eyes.
But the pretense of leisure only went that far.
All of this—shops that ought to have been empty or smashed and abandoned, with people moving around inside them.
Set against her memories… it was completely impossible.
That fact felt endlessly alien.
"Hoo…"
But it was time to adapt.
When she drew breath, muggy air flooded her lungs.
Today's humidity: 90 percent. Outside temperature: 35 degrees. A heatwave. Weather that made everyone sick of it and hole up indoors with the air conditioning running full blast—yet she rather loved it.
Being able to savor a humid summer might be a privilege of reptiles. Thinking that, she dragged the carriers rattling out of the corridor.
Roughly six kilometers.
That was the straight-line figure only; she would have to cut through the famously tangled heart of Seoul, so she could not trust the travel time.
She had considered walking, but she was hauling carriers rather than a pack on her back, so better not.
Add the countless crosswalks in between, the racket of traffic, and the acrid air… well. What now. Take a taxi?
She didn't have the money for that.
"…I'm screwed."
In the end she had no choice: subway it was.
People used to joke that BMW stood for Bus, Metro, Walking, and for anyone who didn't drive their own car… it was less a good option than the only option.
The subway appeared after only a short walk. The place she needed to reach was a bit removed from the nearest station, but what could she do. Subways were built to shuttle between major hubs.
Carriers in hand, she hurried down the stairs.
Inside was quite cool. Perhaps obvious—compared with the surface it was relatively enclosed, so once the air conditioning was running the cold did not escape easily.
Feeling a freshness different from the heat outside, she tapped her card at the gate and checked which direction she needed. Unfortunately the next train looked a little late.
About seven minutes remaining.
She sat on a nearby bench to catch her breath, and a delicious smell drifted over.
Subway Toast
"…"
That two-word combination, and the thick butter aroma rising from beneath the sign.
A pairing that could not possibly taste bad. She drifted toward it as if entranced.
Not the first time in her life… nor even the second, yet she was still nervous. The thought flickered that this entire situation might be pure imagination or delusion—but she had to grow used to that delusion now.
Korean she had not used in a long while, yet it did not come out clumsy.
"Hello."
"Welcome… oh my. We've got ourselves a unique customer. What can I get you?"
"Um…"
The many kinds of toast listed above.
Without much hesitation she spoke to the kindly-looking middle-aged woman making the food.
"Ham toast, please…"
"Ham toast? This one's delicious, student. Just one?"
"Five, please."
"…Oh my, look at me. All right, student. I'll make them right up."
Well.
Why.
This body has terrible fuel efficiency, you know.