The Weight of Vengeance

So, it was roughly one year after I’d been forcibly commissioned into the Special Task Force. The whole world was slowly falling apart because of the dimensional rifts. That was when the leader of the Russian warlord faction “Black Bear,” Sergey, was assassinated, and a Korean flag was found near the body. Obviously, all hell broke loose. To anyone looking at it, it looked like we’d sent the assassin.

But we were the ones getting screwed over. At the time, Korea wasn’t exactly in a position to be casually dispatching killers to other countries. Thanks to Dr. Oh, our nation had become the epicenter of dimensional rifts. We were getting two or three times as many rifts as anyone else. Who had time to care about foreign affairs? Ha, just thinking about it pisses me off again. We were already stretched thin dealing with the Russian villains who’d crawled all the way into Korea. I was pulling full shifts for nearly an entire month back then.

And it turns out it was all Tasha’s doing.

I honestly don’t even know how to describe this feeling.

“Haa…”

The memories from the past made my chest tighten for a moment, but I quickly ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠calmed down. Getting worked up over something that hadn’t even happened yet was pointless. It would be far more efficient to focus on comforting the Tasha standing right in front of me.

Her fingertips were trembling.

She was speaking in that flat, military tone like none of this mattered, but inside, she was burning up. Even to me, the situation sounded completely absurd. The fact that Tasha was opening up about her personal circumstances at all was probably thanks to the Comrade effect. For someone who’d been quietly ostracized even within Ryitser, I was likely the first trustworthy comrade who possessed equal strength. People like her tended to open up more easily than you’d expect. Being someone’s “first” always carried heavy weight, whether for better or worse.

So, as her comrade, I figured I should give her some honest words.

“I’m not really in a position to say much… but in the end, you’re going to follow your mother’s wishes, aren’t you?”

“It seems that way. First, I’ll avenge Mama. After I build up more strength, I’ll find a way to confront Sergey.”

“Even though that mother of yours never showed you a single ounce of affection.”

“Even so. If that was her one and only wish—her first and last—then yes.”

“I see.”

“You’re not going to try to stop me?”

“Why would I? Everyone has their own circumstances and their own thoughts. What right do I have to interfere?”

“How interesting.”

I didn’t particularly want to comment on revenge. That useless, consuming emotion could be the most intense and precious thing in the world to someone. Especially when it came to family. As for me, I’d never experienced anything like that, so I literally had nothing to say on the matter. Words like “filial impiety” or “regret” were better left unsaid. She was the one directly involved. There was ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠no way she hadn’t already agonized over this hundreds of times. The answer she’d arrived at after all that soul-searching was this. What could I possibly add? I might be a bit rigid, but even I knew that would be crossing the line.

“However…”

But when it came to what happened after revenge, I did have a few things to say. I’d seen it plenty of times. People who burned their entire lives for the sake of vengeance, only to vanish like a moth in a flame once they finally achieved it. It seemed like such a waste. And ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠honestly, it wasn’t even really her own business.

We don’t get to choose our parents before we’re born. If you asked Tasha, would she have chosen to be born into that kind of hellish environment? I certainly didn’t want to live as an abandoned orphan with parents whose faces I’d never even seen. She probably hadn’t wanted a life like that either. So throwing herself away over something that wasn’t truly hers to begin with… that just didn’t sit right with me.

“After you finish this revenge of yours, I hope you’ll at least think about how you want to live afterward.”

“Afterward… Honestly, I’ve never thought about it.”

“Yeah, I figured. That’s how it usually goes for people who get obsessed with one thing.”

In the first timeline, after Tasha succeeded in her revenge, I had no idea how she lived afterward. She might have died. Or maybe she somehow kept living somewhere. But I doubted it ended cleanly. Even now, among our members, she was the one who charged ahead the most recklessly. No matter how many clones she could make, who in their right mind would charge straight through a barricade while rifles were pointed at them? She’d only just learned Fa Jin and hadn’t even properly mastered Bulletproof yet. All of that came from living without thinking. If she’d ever once considered how she wanted to live after finishing her revenge, she wouldn’t act like this.

I absolutely didn’t want someone who spent time with me to end up burning out like that. So I’d control what I could, at least enough to keep her from going completely off the rails.

“Well, think about it slowly. And when you go for revenge, at least give us a heads-up. I mean, with Seong Jiyeong on our side, wouldn’t your revenge go a lot smoother?”

“At the very least, the escape would be easy.”

“Exactly. That’s the point. To the people here, the fact that you’re Sergey’s daughter doesn’t mean anything. Honestly, we’ve never even heard of the guy.”

“That’s true… Come to think of it, Seong Jiyeong said something similar. That whose blood I carry doesn’t matter at all. I don’t know about anything else, but that part… I liked it.”

“Well, her family situation isn’t exactly normal either.”

I didn’t know when Tasha would set her D-day, but if she really decided to go through with it, there was no reason not to help. Whether by coincidence or fate, she’d succeeded on her own in the first timeline. With Seong Jiyeong and me beside her, it should go even more smoothly. That said, timing-wise, it would be roughly two years from now. Right when we’d be in the middle of our idol activities. I wasn’t sure if she’d really pull off something so bold during promotions, but since this was Tasha we were talking about, I couldn’t completely rule it out.

If she really did it at that time… would I stop her?

No way. I’d help even harder. If one of our members suddenly went down the “assassination followed by death” route, we’d be completely finished. Given the makeup of our team, our future tech tree was ridiculously dynamic. Instead of worrying about scandals, dating rumors, or drunk driving, we had to worry about assassination and terrorism. Well, I guess it was about time I just accepted this as my fate and rolled with it.

“It is reassuring to know you will help.”

“Yeah. So stop suffering alone and let some of it out, alright?”

“I will remember that.”

The conversation had veered off in a strange direction, but looking at the situation, expecting Tasha to suddenly produce normal, heartfelt lyrics seemed impossible. It didn’t look like she’d ever received any kind of warm care or affection in her life. Honestly, her case was even worse than mine. In my previous reality, I’d had the director who raised me. In this world, even though his position was a bit ambiguous, I had Director Cha. If we succeeded as idols, maybe Tasha would change a little too? After all, fan love was a form of affection. Even if it was sometimes a bit twisted, it was still incredibly devoted. I figured it could fill quite a lot of the emotional void. There were even stars who couldn’t let go of this life because they loved being loved by their fans.

Well, that was something to think about later. The real problem was right now.

“Hmm…”

“I cannot say anything definitive, but I will admit there is a problem. So what should we do about this?”

“What choice do we have? We need to ask for help.”

Future plans could wait. What mattered was the present. We had to start recording in just a few days. There was zero chance Tasha would improve by then, so we had no choice but to borrow someone else’s strength.

If it was a rap track, it would make sense for the lyrics to contain the artist’s own thoughts and life experiences. That would be proper artistry. But if you expected that from us… wasn’t that asking a bit much? Especially for this kind of love song.

And fortunately, our company had a senior who was talented at writing lyrics.

“Ehh~ Yeri? What brings you here~?”

“Hahaha… Hello, sunbae.”

“I told you to just call me unnie. To think there’d come a day when our Yeri would come looking for me~”

“Yes, well…”

As I mentioned before, the Purple Swan seniors had always been especially fond of me—or rather, of Na Yeri. The year Yeri first became a trainee was when Purple Swan was actively promoting as rookies. At the time, she was the only female trainee. And Yeri was… well, Yeri. Her appearance was so stunning that anyone who saw her would be left wide-eyed. The Purple Swan members, who were absolutely crazy about cute things, would never have left a girl as small and adorable as Yeri alone—especially since she was even tinier than her peers back then. Whenever they had free time, they treated her like a favorite plush doll.

Thanks to that, the ultimate people-avoidant Yeri would hide whenever Purple Swan showed up at the company. Purple Swan would then chase after her like bounty hunters, and Yeri would run even harder. That vicious cycle repeated endlessly, as I recalled.

The Oh Seoa standing in front of me now had been one of those members who adored Yeri. After retiring from group activities, she’d reinvented herself as a singer-songwriter. She handled everything—composition, lyrics, production—exactly the way she wanted. Even during her group days, she’d been a skilled lyricist who wrote her own words. She was especially good at love songs. How a lifelong solo virgin could write such heartbreaking lyrics was still a mystery to me.

“Yeri, are you sure this is right?”

“Yeah. Seoa sunbae says it’s correct.”

“I cannot understand it. But if an expert recommends it…”

After hearing the situation, Oh Seoa cheerfully whipped up a few lines of lyrics. She said she’d once worked on a similar concept ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠that got canceled late in the process, so she had a lot of leftover material. To me and Tasha, the lyrics were painfully cringeworthy, but if the love song master said they were good, then we lyric-illiterate types should just do as we were told.

Alright, Tasha. Do your best.

Honestly, there was no way I could sing something like that. I had zero understanding of the sentiment that even the moment of waiting could be sweet.

I watched Tasha’s back as she tilted her head in confusion and returned to the recording booth. The only thing I could do for her now was pray that her mental state remained intact.