The Touch of the Evil God (6)
Yeomyeong knocked on the door of the adjacent room, his expression grim. "It's me. May I come in for a moment?"
No answer came, but a moment later, a soft click echoed as the lock turned. Before, she had refused to open the door, forcing him to pick the lock just to get inside. Now that she was at least unlocking it for him... could he consider that progress? Could they be getting closer? Why, then, did this realization bring him no joy? Feeling a wave of confusion, Yeomyeong stepped into the room.
"...Nisyona. There is something I need to tell you."
The girl was huddled in a corner of the bed, surrounded by four cats. Yeomyeong sat on the floor a short distance away and began to speak. He was about to exhume the painful past she had shared during his many visits.
"Before... you told me something. You said that before the church kidnapped you, you were being sexually exploited."
"It wasn't a kidnapping. It was a rescue."
"...Right. Before the church rescued you. You said there was someone who exploited you at that brothel."
"Yes. There was a regular who kept choosing me. They said he was a very important person."
"..." Nisyona's calm tone made a lump rise in Yeomyeong's throat. The girl noticed. Though she didn't know why, she instinctively sensed that the man's resolve was wavering. And so, she kept talking.
"The other girls were given drugs, but I wasn't. They said he wanted it that way. He said he wanted to see a clear reaction when he beat me."
"...It must have hurt terribly."
"Here, and here... oh, and here too. This one still hasn't fully healed." The girl rolled up her sleeves, pointing out the scars etched into her skin. Traces of violence that might never fade. Her nonchalance in displaying them only deepened Yeomyeong's gnawing guilt.
She couldn't have been more than 155 centimeters tall. How could anyone find room to strike such a tiny frame? Yet her slender arms were covered in wounds. Fighting off a mounting headache, Yeomyeong spoke.
"I found him. I received a tip-off. I know who abused you... the one who caused you all this pain."
"You do?"
"..."
"Who was it?"
"Lee Seokin."
"Who is that?"
"...He is the President of Haninhae."
The truth slipped out after a long hesitation. For the first time, the man realized that words could bear thorns. His throat, which could easily swallow the deadliest poisons, felt as if it were being shredded to pieces just by uttering that single sentence. The girl's subsequent reaction only worsened the bleeding.
"...Oh. I see."
Yeomyeong had expected Nisyona to fly into a rage. He expected her to vent her grievances, scream in anger, or perhaps burst into tears. But she did none of those things. She simply nodded, her expression blank, surrendering herself to a deep, pervasive resignation.
Unable to bear the sight, the man asked,
"...Are you not going to say anything?"
Nisyona looked at him, genuinely puzzled.
"Say what? What difference does it make what I say? What can I even do?"
Her question was entirely earnest, yet to the man, it sounded like the bitterest sarcasm.
"You said he's the President. That means he's the most powerful person here, right?"
"..."
"Compared to him, I have no power at all. If I were still with the church, I could have at least asked the angel sister to help me get revenge... but I can't even do that now."
Yeomyeong replied hastily,
"Nisyona, Haninhae has a penal code. Regardless of how powerful someone is, those who do wrong are punished. You only need to report it. I will handle the rest."
"You will, mister?"
"Yes. Me. No matter what, I will ensure Lee Seokin goes through the proper legal channels and receives his punishment."
Hearing this, Nisyona let out a soft scoff, as if she had just heard a ridiculous joke. She stared at Yeomyeong with utter disbelief. Her face was a mask of sheer incredulity as she asked,
"Then when will that happen?"
"What?"
"This Lee Seokin... when will he actually be punished through those 'proper channels' you mentioned? Exactly when will that happen?"
"..."
"Ah, it's fine. You don't have to answer. I've heard enough of those promises. 'Just one more year and we'll let you go,' 'work hard for two more years and you won't have to take any more men,' 'endure for three more years and we'll give you delicious food'... I've heard it all before."
"...No, it's not like that."
"Really?"
With those words, Nisyona moved her hands. Gently nudging away the cats surrounding her, she began to strip off her clothes. Her top, her bottoms, her underwear—one by one, she shed them until she stood completely naked. Her bare body caught the sunlight streaming through the window, glowing softly.
Her budding chest, her hairless body, her pale skin. Yet as Yeomyeong stared, he felt not a shred of sexual desire. A far heavier emotion had completely overwhelmed him.
Pity, self-loathing, responsibility, and rage. A dark, nameless tide flooded his heart, staining it black.
The girl stepped closer to Yeomyeong, displaying her scarred body. As he sat on the floor, her chest came level with his eyes. He watched the rise and fall of her breath, staring at the dark, bruised welts blooming across her skin. The man was utterly speechless.
The girl continued in a quiet, steady voice.
"Mister. I saw you fight. You took down those beastmen in the blink of an eye, and you fought the angel sister to a standstill."
"..."
"But the other people I've seen here are even weaker than those beastmen. If you wanted to, you could tear right through them. You could probably kill that President easily."
Yeomyeong could not bring himself to deny it. Nisyona's smile deepened, carrying a mix of mockery, disbelief, and hollow amusement. The weight of her words hung heavy in the air.
"In the end, you're just choosing not to do it. You could end my revenge so easily, yet you refuse."
"...That is..."
"Hehe. You said it yourself, mister. You said the wicked must be punished. You said you were doing the right thing, that you were helping me. That's why you kidnapped me from the church, isn't it?"
"..."
"But if you're going to talk like that, shouldn't you at least execute that President first? Instead of brushing it off by saying he'll be punished 'sometime' in the future?"
Nisyona's words pierced Yeomyeong's heart like a dagger. She was still young. Back at the church, she had spent her days giggling with friends and playing with animals, just like any other girl her age. But though she was young, she was far from naive. The life she had lived had robbed her of that luxury.
Her time in the underground brothel had forced her to grow up too soon. It had taught her how to read a man's mind. It had schooled her in the harsh, jagged edges of the world. Perhaps far more mature than the man standing before her, the girl knew exactly what to say to deal the most devastating blow.
"If you won't... then how are you any different from them?"
"...!!" Yeomyeong's eyes widened. The blow struck him harder than any bullet he had taken while fighting the Saintess.
"...No. Nisyona. It's different. I am different."
"How?"
Her relentless verbal cuts sliced right through Yeomyeong's hypocrisy. The cracks in his armor widened, finally exposing his raw, unvarnished truth. Forgetting he was speaking to a young girl, Yeomyeong shouted:
"Because I am trying to uphold the law! I'm not doing this for my own gain—I'm doing it to preserve order in this world!"
"The law?"
"Yes! You... you don't understand how magnificent the law is. How grand it is. It is the only way to bring order to this broken, mad world!"
"And what happens if there is law?"
"This horrific world of the strong devouring the weak will change! Those who commit atrocities will no longer live in luxury. People won't be able to assume they can get away with anything just because they awakened some primitive, pathetic power!"
In that instant, another face overlapped with Nisyona's in Yeomyeong's eyes. Sora. The girl whom Shin Noin—the man who had raised and educated Yeomyeong in place of the parents he couldn't remember—had brought home one day. With her black hair and brown eyes, she had been lively, quick to laugh, and bursting with life. She was the only one who had approached Yeomyeong without fear, even when everyone else her age shrank away from him.
"If we had a world like that, you... you wouldn't have been dragged away by a gang boss to be used as a plaything. The bastard who broke you and killed you within days wouldn't have lived in luxury, and he wouldn't have gone on to murder Shin Noin..."
"..."
"That's why the world needs the law! Just as Shin Noin said, we need a standard that everyone fears equally. An absolute standard that neither I nor any other Awakened can ignore just because we possess some measly power...!" Yeomyeong roared.
Naturally, Nisyona, who knew nothing of his past, had no idea what he was talking about. But she could be certain of one thing: the man was wavering. He was deeply shaken, agonizing over whether his choices had been right. In that case, her next move was clear.
Nisyona leaned forward. She pulled his face against her chest, leaning down to whisper directly into his ear.
"Then tell me, mister... does the President who used me as his toy look like he fears your law?"
The man did not answer. But both of them already knew the truth. If the President feared the law more than a fist, telling Nisyona all this wouldn't have been so agonizing. The convictions he had held so firmly until now wouldn't have crumbled so completely.
"..."
"..."
For a long time afterward, Yeomyeong kept his eyes closed, his head buried against the girl's chest. With every breath she took, her small, undeveloped chest pressed against his cheek, the rough texture of her scars pressing vividly into his skin.
Before they knew it, the sun had risen high into the sky. Outside the lodging, the voices of his subordinates calling for him began to drift in.
"Captain! Where are you?!"
"Those thug bastards are fighting again! They say no one can stop them but you, Captain!"
Yeomyeong deliberately ignored the shouts, but Nisyona did not. She gently pushed his head away. Pulling her clothes back over her damp chest, she spoke.
"Go, mister. Everyone is looking for you."
Yeomyeong replied, his expression hollow.
"...Nisyona. If you want to go back to the church... I will take you."
It was a half-surrender. Yet Nisyona simply smiled.
"No, mister. I'm fine for now."
The girl remembered what he had said. Someone had tipped him off. Someone had revealed that the President was the one who had violated her. Someone had planted a crack in this powerful man's resolve. It wasn't hard to guess who that was. The church's operation had already begun. Now that she had shaken him this deeply, there was no need to rush back.
"Just... if your doubts ever grow too heavy, go see the angel sister. She's a very good listener."
That would be enough. Yeomyeong nodded silently and stood up. He left the room with stiff, mechanical movements.
Nisyona watched him go, then lay back down on the bed and pulled the cats close. Stroking a cat's split tail, she quietly closed her eyes.
The next day, the church declared war on Haninhae.
"She's a lot smarter than I thought..." I muttered in admiration as I watched Nisyona and Yeomyeong's conversation.
The plan I had devised when delivering the notes was actually far more cautious. It was supposed to be a gradual process: continuously sending notes to chip away at his resolve, persuading him, and eventually driving him to betray the President. But thanks to Nisyona's brilliant performance, I could discard those tedious steps entirely. Now, all that was left was to drive a single wedge into the crack she had opened.
I turned the observer's screen back to the church and the girl. After preparing a few more notes to be slipped into the scriptures, I had them march toward Haninhae's headquarters.
I might as well eliminate the threat entirely right now.
Of course, I was somewhat worried about the girl's safety, but this was clearly the best move. Even if they fled now, their future would be bleak. Having made an enemy of Haninhae, settling down in Korea was out of the question, and abandoning their established infrastructure to flee abroad was equally hopeless.
This was an apocalyptic wasteland where gunfights were daily occurrences, and human meat farms and slaughter shows were public entertainment. The only relatively decent places left were Korea and the United States. But that stubborn old geezer in America—my former boss—would never accept a mysterious foreigner from another world. In the end, destroying Haninhae here was the best option. To secure a safe future, they had to take risks.
Of course, I felt a slight twinge of guilt about destroying an organization built by a kid I had watched over for so long.
But then again, now that Yeomyeong is this shaken, Haninhae wouldn't have lasted much longer anyway.
The guilt didn't linger. Haninhae was an organization destined to fail from the start. Quite apart from my personal fondness for Yeomyeong, his goal was fundamentally impossible. He envisioned the old Republic of Korea as some sort of ideal, law-abiding utopia.
This was the influence of Shin Noin, who had romanticized the old Korea to him. The old man was always reminiscing, saying things like, "Back in the day, when President Kim was in office, things weren't like this..." For Yeomyeong, who was born after Korea had already collapsed, it was only natural to harbor such fantasies. But the homeland I remembered was... like any other country in the world, corrupt and fallen to some degree.
Yeomyeong's dream could never be realized. Probably not in a million years.
And so...
"If it's going to collapse eventually anyway, it might as well collapse in a way that benefits me right now."
I prayed with all my heart, desperately hoping that I could finally escape this wretched, suffocating isolation.