Keeping One's Distance (2)

Something was wrong with his body. Pyo Do-hyeok noticed it the moment his foot crossed the dormitory's back door.

"Hrk—!"

Unable to stomach the thought of letting him die, he had dragged the culprit along by sheer force — and now the creature collapsed as if simply falling over. The lobby lamps connected to the back door lit up the fallen cadet's face.

'His skin—'

He was rotting alive. No — he had already rotted through, flesh gone soft and black. Dark blood trickled in a steady line from between his split lips.

"Ghahk!"

And it wasn't only him. Among the cadets who had run on ahead, another came stumbling back, barely upright.

Pyo Do-hyeok stopped reflexively at the sight. It was fortunate that he did.

The next instant, his own legs threatened to buckle. Had he been moving rather than standing still, he would surely have gone down with them.

"Wh-what's going on?"

"What's wrong with you guys?"

At the scene, the handful of cadets milling about the lobby began drifting closer.

That must not happen. Against every possibility, every cadet needed to put distance between themselves and the back door.

"Run! Run away!"

Pyo Do-hyeok forced strength back into his legs and shouted. Even that much alone made his head spin.

"A h-high-risk phantom's gone berserk!"

"What!?"

"Evacuate, now! And — the instructors! Where are the training instructors?!"

Wobble. His body finally began to tip.

"Wh-what are you talking about?"

"The instructors? Wh-where were they posted again?"

"What? What's happening?"

"Huh? What's up with those guys?"

By then, even the rest area connected to the lobby had dissolved into noise. The problem was that five or six cadets had dropped like felled trees, and not one bystander felt a flicker of real urgency.

There wasn't even a quick-witted soul among them to sprint off and fetch the instructors on the spot.

"Wait — is that blood?"

"Holy crap! Hey! Get an officer!"

"The infirmary! Someone call the infirmary!"

Only once they'd closed to arm's reach did anyone properly grasp the situation. It took them walking to within five meters to realize the fallen hadn't merely tripped — they were vomiting blood as they went down.

Even granting that the back-door side of the hall was poorly lit, they were far too slow.

"The instructors? They're not at their posts!"

"The infirmary! How do we even contact the infirmary?!"

"Wh-where's the radio?!"

One minute and thirty seconds had passed. Yet far from spreading and being contained, the chaos gave no sense of moving toward any resolution at all.

Panicking over the fallen, flailing helplessly, or groping for a solution they lacked the competence to find — that was the full extent of it.

His vision was beginning to fade at the edges.

'...No!'

That instant, Pyo Do-hyeok slapped his own cheek. Only after the stinging pain spread across his face did a shred of clarity return.

'I cannot let him die!'

Yahui was a squadmate of his. More than that, he was a good man — the kind who always volunteered to be the one left behind when danger came.

Even the discomfort Pyo Do-hyeok felt toward him sprang from Pyo Do-hyeok's own inadequacy. Yahui had done nothing, not a single thing, wrong.

And so he had to save him. Even if Yahui hadn't been a good man, it was what he ought to do regardless. That was the value he had been raised on his entire life.

"Move!"

Try talking sense into the cadets here until his voice gave out, and all he'd reap was terrified panic. Not one of them would act.

Having learned that truth after squandering two full minutes, Pyo Do-hyeok pushed aside the hands reaching out to steady him and rose on his own.

"Hey, you need to get to the infirmary right now—"

The kids were kicking up this much of a fuss, and still no one came. Which meant the instructors weren't where they were supposed to be.

Was he then expected to tear through this entire vast building hunting them down, with no telling where they might turn up?

'If they will not come... then I will make them come.'

Pyo Do-hyeok chose his partner phantom, then hurled the raw-wood shard he always carried onto the floor.

Then he donned the Ox Mask hanging at his waist. His body transformed into a bull the moment it settled on his head.

"Wh-wha—!!"

The dormitory was fitted with an alarm for exactly the eventuality of cadets' phantoms running wild.

That was what Pyo Do-hyeok was counting on. A phantom was a thing that could, at the wrong stroke, blow the building itself sky-high — so the instant the alarm sounded, the instructors would have no choice but to come scurrying out.

Moooaaaar!

The question, of course, was precisely what kind of rampage would trip the alarm.

While his body rotted from the inside out, deep deliberation was more than he could manage. Pyo Do-hyeok chose the simple route.

BOOM!

"Wh-why is he—!"

"Kyaaah!"

He charged the wall. Wounds taken in bull form persisted even after he returned to human flesh — but that did nothing to frighten him.

BOOM! BOOM! BOOM! He threw his whole body against the wall again and again, as if bent on shattering bone.

"What in the world is going on out there?!"

He had no idea how much time had passed. Truthfully, he'd long since lost count of how many times he'd rammed the wall.

The pain was so consuming that nothing remained in his head but the one thing he had to do.

"One cadet is... buying us time—"

But he had done it. That much, at least, was certain.

Pyo Do-hyeok lost consciousness watching the training instructors come sprinting toward him, radios in hand.

"...That is the entirety of what I remember."

"I see. Your cooperation is appreciated, Cadet Pyo Do-hyeok."

Pyo Do-hyeok looked at the investigators who had stormed into his hospital room.

The interrogation had come at him without a moment's rest, but he could not bring himself to call it harsh. If his memory served, this incident was more than sufficient to warrant it.

"May I ask... what is the state of the casualties?"

Instead, he raised the question that had gnawed at him ever since he'd woken. It was evidently not a difficult one, for the investigator answered without delay.

"All injured cadets have made a complete recovery. There are no fatalities."

That was a considerable mercy. Pyo Do-hyeok allowed himself, for now, to relax.

"And that fellow — no, I mean, is Cadet Yahui well also? He stayed behind to the very last to face the Yeonmae, so his injuries cannot be light..."

At this question, however, the investigator flinched, just slightly. It did not feel like a good sign.

The pounding of his heart filled his skull until the inside of it ached.

"He is a cadet strong enough to slay Yeonmae. Vigilance is commendable, but there is no need to go borrowing worries."

"...I beg your pardon?"

Fortunately, the answer that came back was positive. Of a kind.

At the unforeseen word slay, Pyo Do-hyeok's hand clenched into the blanket of its own accord.

Along with it, the words his mother had left him about 'Yahui' before he entered the academy came flooding back, filling his head. A remark he had barely managed to forget.

"I... see."

He had known the man was a genius.

It was not solely on account of his mother's words, either. From the special-treatment-that-was-not-quite-special-treatment he received, to the 'presence' Pyo Do-hyeok himself had felt from him in live-combat class, it was impossible not to know.

That was talent. That was strength.

"All I can say is... he is truly remarkable."

Yet every time that genius was hammered home to him like this, Pyo Do-hyeok felt his gut seethe from the inside.

Envy, inferiority, resentment of his own unworthiness — it was a sensation those words could not begin to capture.

Something was wrong with him.

And yet Yahui was far, far too good a man to simply hate for it...

"What you yourself accomplished was impressive as well. So do not torment yourself over what you feel you were denied."

Listening to the investigator's comfort that was not quite comfort, Pyo Do-hyeok made his decision anew. Once more, he resolved to maintain the exact attitude he had always shown Yahui.

After all, the discomfort he felt toward Yahui belonged to the category of things that would never be resolved — and even so, he could not bring himself to hate so good a man.

In that case, keeping his distance was the best course. So that he would not be dragged down by this feeling, and so that he would not, in turn, needlessly burden that good man.

"So today, visiting restrictions were lifted, right? And the moment they were, the instructors came swarming after me like lunatics, you know?"

And so from this day forward, he would hold that distance...

"Then at lunchtime, they even showed up in droves to pitch their clubs at me."

A burden...

"Oh — club recruitment season started this week, you know that, yes? Do you have anywhere in mind yet?"

One hour. It had been one hour since he'd resolved not to entangle himself with this man.

Pyo Do-hyeok fell briefly into thought, watching the fellow chatter away in front of him.

"The one club I actually wanted, and of course its advisor decides to throw punches right in front of me. I don't even know if I'm allowed to join anymore."

Why on earth is this man here?

"...Well, that's a real shame. But why are you telling me all this?"

I was, at this very moment, hanging out in Pyo Do-hyeok's hospital room.

"Because you're the only cadet I could possibly run into at a hospital, and I just so happen to want to get chummy with you?"

I'll say it again. I was, at this very moment, hanging out in Pyo Do-hyeok's hospital room.

"Why that expression, Mr. Pyo Do-hyeok? Did I say something wrong?"

"...Haaaah."

Pyo Do-hyeok heaved one long, long sigh in my direction. The expression on his face — I have nothing to say to you — was a bonus, and coming from Pyo Do-hyeok of all people, it was honestly kind of funny.

So this guy does have working facial muscles after all.

"I brought chicken, too. Cut me some slack."

"...I never asked for chicken."

"But it's tastier than hospital food, isn't it?"

Pyo Do-hyeok made his speechless face yet again, but I stood my ground, proud. Hwadam Military Hospital's meals were, at the end of the day, still hospital food.

"Leave."

"Aw, come on, hang out with me a little. I have been so bored, you have no idea."

Pyo Do-hyeok wouldn't know. He was coming at this from the position of a guy who'd collapsed Friday night and woken Monday morning.

But I had been wide awake for that entire stretch. Wide awake and locked up for three whole days, if you please.

Trading texts with the guys was fine in moderation, but for someone as sick of hospitals as me, every minute of the place was its own special torture.

"I am not your friend."

"I know. That's exactly why I'm rubbing up against you this hard — to become one."

"Wh—...!"

As of today, visiting restrictions had indeed been lifted. But what good was that when the approved visitors were instructors only?

Which left my current options pitifully few. Play with the people hospitalized along this same corridor — movement within this range being permitted — and ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠that was about it.

"You... are you truly devoid of all sense? I do not like you—!"

"I know. I want to get close anyway."

The problem was the other occupants of this corridor — but bored as I was, I didn't lack the stomach to pal around with the very guys who'd attacked me. Hence Pyo Do-hyeok.

"You're the one who showed me, first of all, that you can keep personal feelings out of official duty — that you can be trusted with a job where lives hang in the balance."

"...!"

Granted, Pyo Do-hyeok technically belonged in the doesn't-like-me category too... but did that matter? I'd heard the guy smashed his own head bloody trying to save me, hadn't I?

"Would someone who showed that kind of character in an accident act any differently in live combat? I don't think so."

Truth be told, even without Pyo Do-hyeok going that far, I would have survived just fine on my own. The actual results said as much.

But did that erase the fact that Pyo Do-hyeok cracked his skull open for me? It did not.

And I considered that something that could never, under any circumstances, be dismissed.

"I know you don't like me. But like I said — I still want us to be friends."

More than anything... where else on earth would you find a comrade as dependable as a man willing to stake his life for someone he doesn't even like?

With one friend like this, military life would be rock solid. At the very least, whenever we shipped out on an operation together, I'd never have to lose sleep over him stabbing me in the back.

"#@%@#$%!!"

At my words, Pyo Do-hyeok abruptly began producing sounds that were neither word nor cry.

Maybe it was the blond-hair-blue-eyes combo, or maybe just his naturally aristocratic face.

Even that bizarre behavior didn't come off as deranged. At most, it summoned to mind a single quip: ah — a young master with no immunity to compliments.

"Hmm. Do you, by any chance, find me unbearably repulsive? If so, I'll back right off."

They say there's no tree that won't come down after ten solid chops, but I've never much liked that saying.

What I meant was: if the reason Pyo Do-hyeok disliked me was the sort of thing that could be fixed, I'd put in the work; if not, I'd withdraw cleanly.

"..."

Whether the message landed properly or not, Pyo Do-hyeok flinched.

"...For the record, it is not that I dislike you."

"Then what is it? If it's fixable, I'd like to try fixing it."

"It is... a problem that originates within me. Your efforts would be meaningless."

"Okay. Then can I at least ask where it originates?"

At my words, Pyo Do-hyeok seized the blanket draped over him in a white-knuckled grip. His knuckles, already pale, had gone the bluish white of fresh snow.

"...It is my problem. So simply give up on it. It is all owing to my own pettiness."

Figures.

Frankly, I'd expected as much. From what I'd observed, the guy compartmentalized things with military precision — and that type doesn't usually dislike you for some petty, solvable reason.

"Being unable to govern a single emotion is my failing, but there is no reason you should bear it. For your own sake as well, simply give—"

"Hold on. So keeping your distance was you being considerate of me? Wow, you really are a good guy."

"...!!"

If Pyo Do-hyeok had blamed himself, I might have given up on the spot. But even that turned out to be consideration for my sake?

Human psychology being what it is, this only made me want to give up less.

"Hey, so — I didn't just bring chicken as a friendship fee. I came back with some pretty decent news, too."

"A friendship fee is wh—"

"The Phantom Research Society's advisor says if there's a phantom you want, write up a request and submit it. He'll show us whatever he can, within reason."

"...What?"

"For the record, he said irregulars and anomalous types are on the table too. Well? Want to go apply together?"

Irregular and anomalous phantoms don't appear at the first-year first-semester Selection Rite. In other words, the place was lined with specimens Pyo Do-hyeok had never once gotten to test his compatibility against.

"Word is, for people like you, compatibility with certain individuals can be off the charts. Something about how once you find your destined 'partner,' you become the single most powerful type there is?"

Of course, finding your partner wouldn't mean an instant contract. Given the incident that had broken out on Friday, simply displaying a large number of phantoms to first-years was already the club advisor gambling with real risk.

"So let's give ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠it a shot. There's no loss in trying, right?"

At my words, Pyo Do-hyeok opened his mouth, closed it, then opened it again. A truly unique expression.

"...The instructor? The instructor made that proposal?"

"Less a proposal, more a sales pitch, really? As in, 'come to my club, and we can do this much for you.'"

"Hold on. So in the end, it is a transaction!"

"Huh? How is this a transaction? I ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠never asked him to do any of that. And I never promised I'd join if he did."

"Even so, that — that is all debt! Do you not know this class of emotional debt is the most dangerous kind?!"

"Is... is it?"

Was this something so momentous it deserved to be called a debt? I didn't really think so...

"And even if I lose out, I'm the one losing. Why are you so worked up about it?"

"No — you...!"

Pyo Do-hyeok pressed a hand to his own forehead, as if suffocating with frustration.

I could take a fair guess at what he was feeling, but I didn't pile on any more words. It was genuinely hilarious that a guy who'd called me an uncomfortable presence minutes ago couldn't bear to watch me come out at a loss.

"...It is the special treatment I despise."

"Oh, is that a shot at me?"

"It is not that...! Merely — I am a Pyo...!"

"What's so special about being a Pyo?"

I was genuinely asking, because I honestly didn't know.

Having been dropped into this body partway through, there were times I lacked knowledge that counted as bare common sense here. It wasn't as if old Earth's history and this world's matched up perfectly.

"...My mother is an active-duty soldier."

"Ahh."

Pyo Do-hyeok, wearing the face of a man with plenty to say and nothing he could say, offered up that single terse answer. That alone was enough for the picture to click into place.

People in the profession watch their step around their own kind. Especially for our parents' generation — they'd be holding fairly senior ranks by now.

"But wait, how does something decided by a vote of the whole first year raise special-treatment flags? Hwadam Army is seriously uptight."

"Hold on. The entire first year?"

"Hmm?"

"...Is it not accepting only your personal opinion?"

"Ah."

The moment I heard that, the entire situation fell into focus. No wonder he'd been so touchy about debts and special treatment — all of it was a misunderstanding born of two different pictures in two different heads.

Right — realistically speaking, this couldn't be a debt or a privilege at all, could it?

"I worded that really badly. Sorry."

"No — no, it is I who was too sensitive."

With the misunderstanding that had driven us apart cleared up, a brief silence settled over the room. Inevitably awkward.

"Sooo — really not interested? If your family name is what's bothering you, just submit your opinion anonymously. Then nobody can say a word about it."

"That is... certainly a sound plan."

"Oh, great. So we're going together, then?"

"..."

Perhaps he was embarrassed at having misread things. Pyo Do-hyeok didn't refuse my suggestion again.

From my perspective, that was all good news.

"...By the way, is there anything in this club that benefits you?"

"Huh?"

"You already possess the Twin Dragon Swords. If this is on my account—"

"Your self-regard is absolutely monstrous, you know that? Thinking I'd pick a club on the strength of you alone."

"Th-that is not what I mea—!!"

"Kidding."

Pyo Do-hyeok, you magnificent man — you were built to be teased.

Of course, if I pushed the teasing too far, he'd hoist right back up the hurdle he'd worked so hard to lower, so I hastily spat out a clarification.

"There is a club I've had my eye on, that part's true. But it's also true I've got business with the Phantom Research Society."

"Business such as?"

"This."

I tapped the sword I'd carried all the way to Pyo Do-hyeok's hospital room.

"It's called the 'Research' Society, isn't it? So shouldn't I be able to get some help with handling the Twin Dragon Swords there, too?"

However mighty the Twin Dragon Swords were, they'd mean nothing ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠if I couldn't actually wield them.

Besides, the Phantom Research Society was a club that had appeared in the original story as well. There was no reason on earth not to put the information I had to work.

"Even a hundred victories unfought depend on knowing your enemy and yourself, after all."

To live the life I wanted, I still had to grow much, much stronger.