The Art of Jumping to Conclusions
Kang Jiye sprang upward, reaching to snatch Yena out of her freefall.
But the little troublemaker spun a full circle in midair, then drifted down like a feather and landed on the ground with all the leisure in the world.
Kang Jiye's desperately outstretched hands froze mid-grab, stranded with nowhere to go.
"Huh?"
She floated down after her daughter, still wearing a look of pure bewilderment.
Yena found her completely clueless mother hilarious and burst into peals of laughter.
"What just happened?"
Kang Jiye finally spotted me on the bench and came over with the question. Since I was already wearing a Magician Queen outfit identical to Yena's, the explanation wasn't hard.
"So it's a replica of the Legendary piece, then?"
"That's right."
"Is Yena going to be okay...?"
Kang Jiye looked uneasy. Items were normally worn according to the user's own mana capacity — partly so they could perform at full power, but also to prevent side effects. Force an E-class hunter into an A-class item and their mana could get drained dry, leaving them unable to cast magic at all. In severe cases, it could kill them. This wasn't a matter of trusting me or not; it was basic safety protocol. Her worry was completely reasonable.
"Hm?"
But the moment Kang Jiye scooped Yena into her arms, her eyes went wide. With the costume already activating the girl's mana, she could feel it clearly now.
"She awakened when she put it on. What do you think?"
"……."
Kang Jiye studied Yena carefully, then gave a slow, measured nod.
"Well, looks fine. Aigoo, you worked so hard, my baby girl—! Congratulations."
"Yeah!"
...?
I tilted my head at the surprisingly mild reaction. Kang Jiye's love for Yena needed no explanation — she had taken in a monster like me and raised me as her own simply because I'd saved her daughter. Pure maternal instinct alone, she could line up every president of every parenting forum in the country and slap them all silly while sprinting past, and nobody would bat an eye. And yet all she had to say was "you worked so hard"?
"Um, isn't that level of talent kind of incredible?"
I circled around the point carefully. Kang Jiye set Yena down and gave a little snort of laughter.
"What, weirded out that I'm not making a big fuss?"
"Yes."
"Talent like this is everywhere in the world. I'm her mother — I can't go whipping my own daughter with inflated expectations, can I?"
"Ooh... so this is the dignity of a Deputy Director."
"It's the bare minimum for being a mom. Stop teasing and finish what you were saying."
But even as she said it, the corners of Kang Jiye's mouth were stuck in place like they'd been hooked on fishing line. She was only talking that way so she wouldn't put pressure on the kid. Inside, she was hopping around and cheering her head off.
Yeah, no way she's actually that composed.
In any field, once talent put you this far ahead of the pack, life got extremely, extremely easy. Research institutes, item crafting — you could make a perfectly good living without ever having to fight. From Kang Jiye's perspective, her daughter's bright future was already locked in.
"She's already this free with it — that's the outfit's doing, right?"
Kang Jiye pointed at Yena, who was using the soft ground as a springboard to leap more than ten meters into the air. For a little kid, that was high enough to get hurt on a bad landing — but she touched down lightly and easily every time.
I chuckled and nodded.
"It's only a replica, but the base performance is the real deal."
Even a child who'd just awakened could handle mana like a seasoned veteran the moment they put that outfit on. The odds of an accident from clumsy control dropped dramatically. In fact, kids who possessed massive mana at a very young age were sometimes fitted with auxiliary magic tools for exactly this reason.
Kang Jiye listened, then spoke with genuine admiration.
"How did you come up with such a perfect gift? Did you prepare it in advance?"
"Well, I only finished it to—"
"Honestly, I was half planning to scold you today. But with things like this, it's hard to say anything."
"I'd been planning it for a while! I just finished putting it together today!"
At that, Kang Jiye spread both arms and pulled me into a tight hug.
"Thank you. You've been busy with the Academy, and still you made time to look after Yena."
"It's nothing."
We each grabbed a warm coffee from the café and settled in for a more serious conversation. Kang Jiye still watched Yena romping with the Party Bears with a soft, fond expression — but the earlier topic clearly still weighed on her. Her face hardened as she asked for the details.
I laid out the whole story: the pre-dawn raid a few days ago, and my encounter with Kim Seojun.
"He hit you? Don't tell me he just smacked you because you're a monster?"
The moment I mentioned the knuckle to the head — laughing about it, no less — she started looking ready to explode. I'd skipped the context, and she'd completely misunderstood. Kang Jiye was the Deputy Director of the Incheon Branch. If she picked a fight over this, it could turn into a clash with the Central Administration. I scrambled to correct her.
"Ah — no, no. I, uh, kind of did something that deserved it... It's not important."
Kang Jiye's mood settled.
"...So at least he wasn't hostile."
"Right."
"Black Serpent. I figured an S-class would be pretty strong, but I never imagined he'd pin you down completely."
I deliberately told her everything I knew about the protagonist. When I laid out projections of how powerful he'd become based on his in-game specs, her face went serious at once. Right now, even the Director alone would be more than we could handle if he came at us solo. If the other side decided to do something reckless, we had no way to stop it. In the worst case, not just me but Kang Jiye and the entire Incheon Branch could get flipped upside down. Plenty to worry about.
"But the ones who should be worried about reckless moves are on their side."
"Huh? What are you talking about?"
"Kim Seojun isn't a monster. He's a hunter who protects this world."
For Kim Seojun, every scrap of fighting power was precious. He wasn't the type to casually throw away a variable like me. Hell, when monsters on the brink of death offered to surrender and help humanity, he actually agonized over it. Not because he was gullible enough to fall for sweet talk — because he was that desperate to reduce civilian casualties.
But Kang Jiye had never played the game, so none of this seemed to land. She was still chewing her lip, fretting, so I had no choice but to drop a little bloodline talk to put her mind at ease.
"More than anything, killing me could cause a serious problem. Separate from any cooperation."
"Why?"
"Well... you remember what I said earlier about the gates and the sacrifices?"
Kang Jiye nodded.
"That Mental Power stuff."
"Exactly. It's a little awkward to say about myself, but I'm a fairly high-ranking existence. If a monster as powerful as me dies, something of equal or greater power is bound to come crawling out."
"……!"
The Sixth, for example. Or if luck ran sour, maybe the Fifth — or even the Fourth. The Sixth, the protagonist might still be able to hold off with humanity's combined strength. The Fifth would be rough. The Fourth, and you might as well start chanting "we're dead" on repeat. Of course, if I were still around, the story would change a bit.
Kang Jiye muttered in a daze.
"So it really was a good thing I didn't kill you at the start..."
"……?"
My eyes went round.
"You were going to kill me?"
"Well, I thought about it for a second. An SSS-class monster, after all."
"Holy..."
She was a hunter, so of course there'd been some internal conflict. But hearing it put so bluntly still left me feeling a little hurt, whether I liked it or not.
"……."
Kang Jiye took one look at my dramatically pouting lips, burst out laughing, and slung an arm around my shoulders. She gave them a gentle pat as she spoke.
"Where on earth did such a cute little creature come from? I'm pretty sure you weren't like this at the beginning."
It felt like she was gently steering us away from the heavy stuff. I shrugged and asked,
"I've been like this from the start, though?"
"Nope."
"What do you mean, nope?"
"Well..."
Apparently, at our first meeting, I'd seemed worryingly cold. Obsessively strict about keeping personal and professional separate, and actively resistant to building relationships with anyone.
"Like you were cute on the outside but a total shut-in hermit on the inside? You know the type — people who can piss you off in just a few sentences. People like you."
"That is genuinely too harsh."
"Nope, not at all."
"Ugh, whatever. And for the record, Auntie, your analysis is garbage, because I still prefer being alone. Still strict about personal versus professional. Still logical."
Kang Jiye snorted.
"Nope. That's not true either."
"What else isn't true?"
"Back then, at least your logic was consistent. Now it's a complete mess of double standards. You cause trouble, then scramble for excuses and lies, all while bullying the protesters for being a bunch of crybabies. Sure, those guys had it coming — but there's plenty more besides."
"...No."
"Drop it, don't worry. I actually like this version better — you seem more human. Your emotions look a lot richer. So you don't need to scramble for excuses."
She murmured that even my reasons for preferring solitude seemed to have shifted a little. Before, I'd had a violent aversion to human relationships themselves. Now it felt more like I just didn't want to move, and conversation was a hassle.
...She's turned into a full-blown sage, hasn't she?
I wasn't being sarcastic. She'd hit the bullseye dead-on. In my previous life, I'd carried a bone-deep distrust of people. With food, clothing, and shelter already covered, talking to other humans had seemed like a pointless risk. You know those zombie-movie protagonists who get lonely, recruit a party, and walk straight into disaster? I'd wanted to be the smart protagonist instead. Even if that path ended with no burning romance and no joyful stories — locking the door tight and living large all by myself had been the better deal.
So when exactly had it changed?
When had I stopped rejecting Kang Jiye and her daughter, and started enjoying their love and attention instead?
…….
"Auntie."
"Hm?"
"I want to cry."
Kang Jiye narrowed her eyes and laughed.
"All of a sudden?"
"Yes."
"Something's going on, huh."
"Not really — more like menopause, I think. How did you deal with it, Auntie?"
"……."
For treating Kang Jiye like a grandma, I didn't get dinner that night until I apologized.
This mouth of mine — previous life or this one — just would not shut up. What a problem.
The Director's office.
A couple of knocks sounded at the door, followed by an aide's report.
— Someone from the Incheon Branch is here, requesting an urgent meeting with you, sir.
"Incheon Branch — is this about Hansu?"
— No, sir. It's Deputy Director Kang Jiye.
"……!"
The Director granted entry at once. He'd already been keeping a close eye on her as Pecia's guardian. Internal cleanup had kept him too busy to deal with it, but he'd planned to call her in eventually.
"It's been a while, Director. Deputy Director Kang Jiye of the Incheon Branch. Forgive me for arriving unannounced."
Kang Jiye entered with a face as blank as a robot's and bowed her head. A subtle, restless surge of mana rolled off her body, as if she'd steeled herself for something serious. The Director gave no sign of noticing and simply nodded, calm as ever.
Without the 'glasses,' she has no idea her fighting spirit just got clocked.
"Have a seat."
Kang Jiye sat. A few seconds of silence followed. No one bothered offering tea — both of them considered it a waste of time. The Director tapped his temple a couple of times, then asked,
"So... has something happened to your little safety officer?"
That tone again — as if he already knew everything. Kang Jiye smiled coldly and tossed out a joke.
"Something happen? She's a monster. If anything goes wrong, she can just run off through a gate, can't she?"
In that instant, the Director's eyes flew wide open.
"A monster...?"
"……?"
This was still before Kim Seojun had filed any report about Pecia with the Director. He had only suspected she might be a monster — he had no confirmation. Which meant "the Director already knows" had been pure assumption on Pecia's part.
Kang Jiye grasped the situation in a heartbeat and quietly curled the corner of her mouth.
"Excuse me for a moment."
She pulled out her smartphone and dialed somewhere.
"...Pecia. Where are you?"
.
.
.
For some reason, the Director also started chuckling, then tapped at his tablet.
"Black Serpent. This guy."