A Name for the Passenger
How much time had passed since we'd started traveling together? The sensation at the back of my head was quiet. It wasn't digging into my nerves like when it first embedded itself, and the density of that something—which had briefly stirred before sinking again—remained unchanged. It was alive, but motionless, a stillness of that sort.
My mind turned cold and calculating. First things first: I needed to get out of there. The chamber with the sealing structure was too dangerous. Someone could show up at any moment to retrieve something—who knew what, or when. I scanned the structure with my dongshu, picking a direction where the exit wasn't blocked, and slithered that way.
A long stretch of rusted metal passageway stretched on. Flickers of dead residual flows occasionally pulsed inside the walls. I ignored them. Priority one was filling up.
At the third fork, a scent hit me. Fishy. Flesh on the verge of rot. A faint whiff of yokai force. A contaminant. Not a big one. Not humanoid, not the dignified class like the black one— just three small fry that had broken off from a swarm's edge. Perfect.
I scanned the layout first with my dongshu. One had part of its leg torn off; the other two were intact. All three huddled together, ripping into another contaminant's corpse. I lowered my body.
My current form was different from right after the mutation. The massive snake-monster shape had compressed, shedding excess bulk. What remained was the sleek outline of an ordinary large serpent. Closer to a juvenile—smaller, slimmer. But inside, it was different. With Dao force and yokai force meshed in near-equal balance, cycling in their orbit, I could generate far more pressure than my external size suggested. The era of crushing with sheer mass was over. Now, it was about piercing.
The nearest one first. I burrowed into the shadows. Coiled tight, then unleashed—the recoil shot me straight like an arrow. Right between the segments I'd marked with dongshu. Crunch. I punched through its side and out the other. My smaller body had become a weapon. In one breath's transit in and out, I'd severed its inner core segment.
While it collapsed, I went for the second. Twisted sideways and entered from the flank. Frontal again. Pierced between segments, spun out the other side. The spin ended by snapping its neck joint.
The last one tried to flee. Narrow passageway. I uncoiled and hurled myself like a spear. Head-on collision. The instant its head smashed into the wall, its insides shattered. Absorption began. Residual yokai force sucked in through my scales, straight to the core. Different from before. Previously, incoming power stagnated somewhere inside. Now, it rode the flow directly. The Dao-yokai orbit at fifty-fifty spun up the new energy without stagnation. Same amount, but the receiving side had changed—the results followed.
I handled the remaining two the same way. When absorption finished, my insides had filled another notch. The hunger wasn't gone, but the pull under my fangs had eased considerably. The scale tremors stopped. I flicked my tongue out long, then in.
—Hey!
My head froze. A directionless voice. That upward-lilting tone at the end.
—Whoa, you were eating? Sorry, sorry. Wasn't trying to wake up right away, but... it just happened.
······.
—Ah, I can tell even without seeing your face. You're thinking, 'What, you again?' right now?
I didn't answer. It was lighthearted. Completely different from the report-style tone at first awakening. Seemed it'd gotten used to running its own personality in the meantime. Whatever.
I tossed it a short internal jab.
—Hmm, greetings first. Nice to see you again.
—And you've recovered some. Your insides feel more stable than before.
First, I needed to confirm. Was there real hostility? Was the damage to itself genuine? Where did the lies start and end? I had a way. Dongshu. I turned the restored senses inward. Starting from the inverted scale embedded at the back of my head, I spread thin like spiderwebs.
—Whoa, what're you doing?
No answer. I layered dongshu's insight over it. Normally for reading an opponent's flows, but now inward. Form, neural connections, output flow directions. Lines traced out. Thin branches extended deep into the inverted scale. They followed nerve strands like fingers, two reaching the sensory system. Deeply embedded. Removing it would break things—that much wasn't a lie. But none of those branches hooked actively toward controlling me. It was just reading. Info flowed one way along the nerves: from my insides to it. Almost none the other way—no flow of it dragging my body around. The external form adjustment was the inverted scale's own output. That was it.
—Whoa, you're peering into me, huh.
The voice sounded purely surprised.
—This is wild. I can faintly sense what you're doing too.
Instead of answering, I pushed the insight deeper. Past the inverted scale's interior, a shape emerged. Less a core, more wreckage. A fragment left where a larger structure once was. That fragment was what's speaking now. No lies. I withdrew the dongshu.
—Ah, stopping already? You could've looked more. Pervert~.
······.
—Kidding. That thing's precise. Not in my category.
Got it. Not an immediate threat. Can't remove it anyway, so we travel together for now. Judgment done.
—Whoa, inspection over? Pass?
Irritation rose at that breezy tone.
—Oh, right.
It brightened out of nowhere.
—We're sticking together from now on, yeah? So, what're you gonna call me? What.
—A name. You gonna keep going with 'that thing' or 'this guy'?
I could feel it roughly through the nerves, that.
······.
—Honestly, I don't have a name either. Got an official classification, but it'd mean nothing to you. So make one up. Gotta have something to call me.
······.
Absurd.
—Hey, you just thought, 'What the hell is this thing saying?'
A brief laugh, then it continued.
—Anyway, the important part: because of the noshim in your body, I'm bound to you now. That's clear.
Noshim. First time hearing it. Core, heart, nucleus. Those meanings flashed first. But it wasn't metaphor. The name of something real embedded inside me. Somewhere in my depths, unknown to me, already lodged. That short fact chilled through my innards. Bad. Very.
What the hell is that?
—Explaining would take forever.
The voice paused a beat.
—And I'm not in great shape, so long talk now would tangle things more.
Dodging. The thought flashed, and it jumped right in.
—So later. Once my recovery progresses a bit more, I'll tell you.
Short silence. I didn't like it. But pressing now wouldn't yield answers.
—Oh, right.
The tone lightened abruptly again.
—So, the name? You gonna keep dodging?
AI.
Brief silence.
—······AI?
Yeah.
—Hey, what kinda name is that?
The voice pitched up a bit.
—You're seriously half-assing this. Names aren't made like that. At least pretend to think about it.
Not worth pondering.
—Ugh, fine.
The voice deflated, then perked up.
—Okay, I'll call you that too. What.
—Yeah, Snake.
······.
—You are a snake. You named me like that, so I'm matching. Fair, right?
This thing.
—Ah, main point.
Tone shifted again.
—Gotta go back under. Even running a sub-persona strains output; need to sink deeper for self-repair. Dunno when I'll wake—days if long, hours if short.
Wait.
—So jot down questions in the meantime. Faster to ask all at once when I wake. Though what I can answer is limited.
Hey.
—And don't worry too much. If you break now, I'm screwed too.
Noshim. The word snagged inside again.
—Alright.
The voice distorted. Cut off mid-word. A small spark popped at the back of my head.
—Gonna nap. See ya when I wake, Snake.
The voice stopped. The inner sensation sank deeper. Deeper than the first dive. Wouldn't stir for a while. Quiet.
······.
Alone again. I stayed put. For a long stretch.
······That's supposed to be artificial intelligence.
It's been ages for this irritation.
Past life before the past life. My days as a factory worker. Positions where you had to listen to someone drone on. The kind that pissed you off more after. Vanished after possessing the daoist, forgotten entirely as a snake. Revived just now. Strange. Chatting with some mystery lodged in a beast's body, and the most human era's sensations return.
I shook my head. No time for this now. Hunger eased but not gone. Time before it wakes again: limited. I spread dongshu outward this time. Far off, a flow registered. Bigger than the small fry trio. I turned that way. Tongue tip sampled the air first. Blood scent. Fresh-spilled, neither clotted nor dried. And that blood... not contaminant's.
"······Cheonun."
A low voice pressed down the office air.
"Did you really go so pointlessly?"
Mudang Corporation headquarters, Chief Steward's office. Night deepened. Neon glittered beyond the floor-to-ceiling glass, but the light didn't reach inside. The room was kept deliberately dim. Only wall-embedded indirect lighting cast a low glow on the dark ebony floor.
An old ink wash painting hung on one wall; opposite, an embedded holographic console hummed quietly. A hologram floated above the central ebony desk.
One man stood before it. Middle-aged. Average build. Yet the air density around his stance felt subtly heavier. Charcoal gray suit. Mudang's taiji emblem embroidered in silver on the left breast. Salt-and-pepper hair. Rimless glasses perched on his nose—glass lenses, out of place in this era of retinal implants and optical lenses no one bothered with anymore. His eyes behind them: narrow, deep. That single phrase he'd uttered still lingered in the air. A mismatched tone overlaid his cold face.
One of the three subordinates at the entrance stiffened his shoulders faintly. The Chief Steward exhaled long.
"······The young lady."
The subordinates' gazes dropped to the floor. One ventured carefully.
"······Secluded at the main house."
"······."
"No one's been allowed in since yesterday afternoon."
Another subordinate shook his head. Nothing more to report.
The Chief Steward closed his eyes, then opened them.
"······A slip of the tongue."
"······."
"Director."
The shift to formal title dropped the room's temperature. None had ever seen the Chief Steward err on that title.
He walked to the desk, planted both hands on it. The hologram rotated slowly at his side.
"Convene the Execution Squad."
The three straightened simultaneously.
"······The Execution Squad, sir? Personally?"
Confirmation.
"Full roster. Tonight."
"······Understood."
"And."
"······."
"Put out a request to them too."
The air sank again. All three froze. The eldest spoke low.
"······Calling even them."
He trailed off. No need to finish.
"······How to report to the Director?"
The Chief Steward's face tightened faintly.
"······The Director is."
A beat.
"I'll handle it."
Low and clear. The subordinates couldn't respond. The Chief Steward straightened. Adjusted his suit front. That single motion steadied the room's air.
"This stays in this room. No records, no chain-of-command reports. Prepare thoroughly."
"······As you command."
The three bowed in unison. Identical angles. The door closed. Electronic lock clicked softly. The room fell quiet again.
The Chief Steward stood there. The hologram kept turning.
Death Confirmed.
Red letters rotated slowly. He removed his glasses. Set them quietly on the desk. No movement for a long while. Then, a single tendon slowly bulged on the back of his hand.