Evidence (1)
Sometimes I think about it.
If, after giving directions to a lost tourist, I could simply trust they'd made it fine ten minutes later, an hour later—instead of fretting, Ah, I hope they got there okay. Maybe I should have explained more carefully.
If I could just click my tongue at an elderly person stamping their feet over internet booking, demanding why even a train leaving five hours from now had no seats left, and move on with nothing more than, Shame, but there's nothing to be done.
If I could look at a crying child and turn away because it had nothing to do with me, and getting involved would only be a headache—
Would my life have been a little easier?
Could I have lived better than I do now?
Could I have been a little happier…?
"…They're the ones who left the hate comments first, so why are they cursing Father? If they didn't want to get sued, they shouldn't have written them in the first place."
"They're all just sick in the head. Don't let it get to you too much."
"But… it's infuriating. Father didn't do anything wrong…"
"True. Being famous isn't a crime. But some malice is born without a reason, and shows itself without a trigger."
"…That's unfair."
"That's just how the world is."
And every time that thought comes, the memory of this moment follows right behind it.
"Even so, don't go turning into a cynic just because people disappointed you. Just as there's malice without reason in this world, there's kindness without reason too. Like you. Like your mother."
"…But there are so few people like that."
"Mmm, that's true. But being few doesn't make them meaningless."
"…I don't really get it. If it truly meant something, shouldn't more people join in—if not everyone, then at least a lot more?"
"Uh… well. People just don't have the room for it…"
"So I help people because I have room to spare?"
"…Just because a lot of people claim something doesn't always make it right. You shouldn't measure it by numbers, should you?"
"Then what's majority rule for?"
"That's for deciding whether a proposal passes or fails. When you're weighing right and wrong, numbers don't enter into it. Why—if criminals outnumbered decent people, that wouldn't make the criminals right, would it?"
"There's no way criminals would ever outnumber everyone else."
"Oh? But isn't that statement itself proof that there are more good people than bad ones?"
"That's… a different kind of argument, I think."
"You never do let anything slide, do you."
Sunlight pouring through the window and settling over the living room. White curtains stirring gently in the breeze that slipped through the cracks. The L-shaped sofa where, if I lay face-to-face with Father in the middle, my feet would stick out past the end…
"…Honestly, Dad doesn't really get it either. What's so fun about leaving hate comments. What meaning there is in tearing someone down one-sidedly. What anyone gains from flashing malice around except wrecking their own reputation. But… I think I can tell you how much kindness without reason means. It just came to me."
A voice that poured over me as warm as sunlight reaching the tips of my toes, as mild as a soft spring breeze.
"What is it?"
"You know that thing we saw on TV not long ago. They found evidence of a leg amputation on a skeleton from fifteen thousand years ago."
"Oh, that. What about it?"
"You were amazed by that news—‘Wow, they were doing surgery even back then?'—but one anthropologist was amazed by something else entirely."
"……?"
"Think about it. Even in this age of every technology imaginable, people with disabilities still deal with little inconveniences every day. So how hard must it have been fifteen thousand years ago, when they didn't even have that much? And the people who supported the one who'd lost a leg? Back then it wouldn't have been just blood relatives stepping up—the whole tribe they belonged to would have had to help."
"…Yeah?"
"But here's the thing. All that hardship would have vanished if they'd simply abandoned the person who'd lost the leg. If they just didn't support them, they wouldn't have had to suffer any further. And yet they didn't abandon that person. They treated the wound and cared for them until it healed. What do you suppose that meant?"
"That's…"
"And that's where the anthropologist—Margaret Mead—had her thought. People point to Egypt or Mesopotamia as the starting point of civilization, but maybe the real first beginning was the moment a human helped another human. When so many animals, following the law of nature, leave their injured kin behind, we humans chose to care for them, treat them, and survive together—and maybe that's how we built the age we live in now."
Thirty minutes that built the human being I am.
"As I said earlier, Dad doesn't really understand why people these days dress up coldness and callousness as reason and throw even basic manners out the window. Why they sneer that helping others is stupid. Why they use the word ‘cathartic' to justify being rude. I've never once seen any of that as a good thing. But at the very least, I know this: the difference between humans and animals does not come from any of that. Of that much, I'm certain."
"……."
"So, kiddo. Ignore the ones who mistake selfishness for reason. You don't need to spare a glance for the humans who hurt others for their own amusement and put themselves first without a shred of consideration for anyone else. They're bigger idiots than the humans from fifteen thousand years ago. No matter how many of them there are, no matter how many more start agreeing with them—that will always be true."
Sometimes I think about it.
"Ah, and just because I said all that doesn't mean I'm telling my son to throw himself away for other people, okay? As a rule, the world only lets you look after others once you've looked after yourself. So if you're at your limit, just take care of yourself first. Helping others comes after that."
If I became someone who, after sending a stranger on their way, never thought of them again—
"But… if you've taken care of yourself, and you still have something left over. And if there's someone near you who needs help. And if no one else is stepping up for that person—"
If I became someone who couldn't even feel pity for someone failing to adapt to a changed society—
"Reach out a hand, just once. I'm not saying do anything grand. Even just helping a fallen person back to their feet is fine. Just… show a little kindness like that."
If I became someone who could ignore a crying child for no reason beyond the inconvenience—
"Who knows? That one time might change their whole life."
Could I be happy?
"…And I'll say it again: this is only after you've taken care of yourself. Understood?"
…I have an answer for that thought now.
"You're so much like your mother. It worries me at times like this. That's part of why I love you, but still—you really don't look after your own body enough."
"I think I look after myself pretty well…"
"That's what you and your mother think… From where Dad's standing, the line of what you'll endure is ridiculously deep. I'm just glad I made enough money…"
When the human who could never be that person is me, what meaning could an imagination like that even have?
The moment I opened my eyes, a filthy tusk filled my vision. My body twisted as if it had been crumpling in panic.
Whoosh!
The fierce wind dragged along by the tusk tore through my hair. Flies and moths buzzing all around me latched onto my body and gnawed at everything they could reach. For something so small, the assault was surprisingly threatening.
No wonder blood kept flooding into my mental landscape even when I was dodging well enough.
I clicked my tongue as I landed in the mud. Squelch. The waterlogged muck slid my body backward, but I didn't lose my balance.
I moved Demon Energy—whether it had recovered on its own in that brief span or Mephistopheles had finally cracked open whatever she'd been hoarding, I couldn't tell.
It no longer converted into mana. A little blacker, a little more viscous—but the way of handling it wasn't all that different.
Demon Energy whirled through me from the inside and burned the insects that had burrowed in. Crunch, crunch. The ones chewing on my hair—on the wig—I couldn't scorch.
"Damn it!"
I was not about to lose Ekuya's gift to some worthless bugs. Without a second thought for what it even was, I stuffed the wig straight into my inventory.
How much demon blood it had soaked up, I didn't know, but the wig that had only briefly touched my fingers felt unpleasantly stiff. Considering its breathability, the hair underneath probably wasn't in much better shape.
Bang!
Even so, my body—already under emergency repair—leapt again to avoid the beast's foreleg. I was flung in a direction that carried me farther from the wall.
KRA-KOOM!
A single stamp of its foot sent the earth heaving and caved in part of the wall. That was the majesty of a monster whose sheer size was a weapon all by itself.
To restore the body, just focus Demon Energy on the affected area.
"How about you stop talking like those are my own thoughts. It's kind of disgusting."
"How hurtful."
Advice was advice and irritation was irritation, separately.
Even as I scrambled to dodge, I got a jab in—and something rose, slick and quiet, at the edge of my vision. A translucent demon form, clear enough that the background faintly showed through, stood tall upon the earth.
"What."
"What? This much is fine, isn't it? Looking at me doesn't chip away at your mind."
"It does raise the disgust index, though."
"Oh, just put up with that much. I came out to help you, in my own way."
Help? Something strutting around in a corner of my vision counted as help?
"I like Faust better than you."
"How tragic. That one can't come out right now. If you miss them so badly, try asking later? With a cracked soul and the contract penalty on top of it, getting them out would be quite the struggle."
I was furrowing my brow, about to say something, when the demon spoke first.
"Heal yourself first. The bigger the wounds get, the more Demon Energy they cost—and right now, you can't afford to waste a single grain of it."
"…It's not working well."
"That's because you've only been gathering it. Think of filling the wounds with the Demon Energy you've collected. Imagine it replacing the bone and muscle, the blood and flesh that the energy burned away."
Infuriatingly, the advice actually helped. I obediently followed it and moved the Demon Energy.
Crrrk. Unlike in my mental landscape, where wounds vanished like a video with the process cut out, I watched new flesh bud and seal the injuries for a brief stretch of real time.
Surviving a torn-apart heart hadn't been empty talk after all.
"Once you're healed, grab Latel. Or pick up one of those swords lying scattered on the ground. Attacking with Demon Energy alone is inefficient."
…And of course the order to pick up a weapon was exactly what I needed right now, so why did hearing it piss me off this much.
I twitched the corner of my mouth and touched the white substance wrapping my joints. Bone-like in appearance, yet flexible—and somehow hard—it began to gather back into my palm.
"This thing got a length limit?"
"At its widest expansion, it covered about a hundred pyeong at half a millimeter thick."
Oh… I couldn't even picture how big that was. One pyeong I could roughly eyeball; a hundred was another matter.
I blinked through the math, then gave up. If it could expand that far, it could do everything I needed from it anyway.
Shhk!
White matter shot out long from my palm and snagged the amber-colored sword lying face-down on the ground, hauling it back.
"You really are thrifty. But if you were going to be like that, why not just fight with Latel alone?"
"What are you talking about."
"…I'm saying even the Demon Energy it takes to pick that up with Latel feels wasteful to you. Well—still better than retrieving it with Demon Energy alone, I suppose."
"What are you talking about. I can pick that up with Demon Energy alone?"
"Then what force did you think you were using all this time when you cut and pierced your enemies' bodies?"
At my retort, the demon narrowed her eyes as if I were hopeless. "Pushing isn't the only physical force. Pulling is physical force too." The fact that she even bothered explaining was almost funny.
"Your skill at handling Demon Energy is decent, yet your imagination is pitifully shallow. Perhaps you should work on that faculty, Gretchen?"
"I feel like I'd exercise it a lot more richly if you'd just shut up."
"Is that so? Then I suppose you'll just have to live forever without flexibility."
CLANG!
The sword that had settled into my hand knocked aside the tusk bearing down on me. A blade soaked and blazing with Demon Energy failing to cut and bouncing off instead—that was a first.
Whoom. My body went flying with the sword. A dull, nauseating pressure crushed my organs as if my insides had been shaken loose. I could heal it quickly enough, but it didn't feel good.
"Eric… Don't touch Behemoth's tusks and horns. You could cut them if you really set your mind to it, but the cost-effectiveness is terrible."
"You're telling me that now?"
"I go to the trouble of teaching you the strategy and you blame me? I see now—you have no conscience either, my dear."
Ptoo. I spat out the clot of blood that had risen up and reset my stance. The insects crawling over my skin and constantly trying to shove their heads into every hole—nose, ears, the rest—were thoroughly annoying, but I forced myself to ignore them.
"That bastard is disgustingly stupid, but its body is tougher and harder than that stupidity. So don't hit it all over the place—aim for one spot. Soft flesh like the eyes or the inside of the ears would be ideal."
The demon standing behind me recited, almost sweetly, the proper way to hunt a beast.
"When you attack, use a focused thrust instead of Chamgyeok. Once you've pierced the hide, injecting Demon Energy inside and setting a fire is pretty effective too. The hide's so thick the idiot can't even vent the heat."
It was genuinely infuriating, and it genuinely helped. Thinking, So this shitty game—no, this shitty reality—is finally getting a balance patch, I put power into my legs.
BOOM!
My body shot forward at the same instant the giant monster brought its foreleg down. The ground sank another level and the wall took another hit.
"Ugh, the stench."
But I, at least, pulled free without a scratch. My legs kept racing under Behemoth's belly. The earth shook, trying again and again to scatter my balance, but nerves drawn razor-sharp held it off.
WHRRRRRRR!!
Whether they were hairs or moss—among the strands hanging thick from its belly, tens of thousands of insects beat their wings. A noise worse than airplane engines tore at my ears. Some of them found their way into my mouth and nose.
Ugh. Biting back a string of curses—opening my mouth to swear would only let more in—I swung the sword. There were so many insects that a single cut shredded dozens of them.
"…Burn them."
But what good was throwing a sugar cube into the sea. No matter how many I cut, the insects packed the space full again, and in the end the demon offered one option. I could see the contempt and irritation in her eyes fixed on the insect nest.
Given a personality worse than the bugs themselves, I'd assumed she'd find this place cozy—apparently not. After all that singing about saving Demon Energy, now she wanted me to spend it here.
"Fill it with Wrath and the flames will rise on their own—so burn them. Those filthy things!"
No. Demon Energy's too precious.
Out of pure spite toward the demon, I held the flames back to the bitter end. Instead I pushed all the way through that vast belly and reached Behemoth's hindquarters. Past pounding hind legs and a body thrashing this way and that, I arrived at my destination.
"You insane Gretchen…!"
Shhhhk.
I twisted my body as I slid across the mud. The filthy rear end filled most of my vision, and Behemoth's tail whipped overhead, whipping up a gale.
"Hup."
Even so, instead of yielding to it, I gripped my weapon tight. The amber sword belonged to someone else, so Latel slammed into my palm instead.
Ssslick. Using Demon Energy as a frame, Latel's form shifted. A spear. A white spear saturated with Demon Energy cast a light as savage as a beast's fangs.
"I did say to aim for soft flesh, but…"
The black-and-white spear flew toward Behemoth's anus.
"Revolting choice. Well noted."
GROOOOOOAR!!
Whichever demon it came from, an enraged sound was always pleasant to hear.
"What. If it bothers you so much, you fight."
"…I didn't realize you were this childish a human."
"Humans are all childish. It only gets hidden depending on how many moments force them to act grown-up."
The instant the spear lodged in the anus, I backed off, dodging Behemoth as it started bucking like a horse gone wild. The thrashing bounced Latel back out of the soft flesh it had only barely managed to sink into.
A black lump—flesh or something else—clung to Latel's surface.
"Ugh."
"Why that face? This from the Gretchen who used Latel as an ass-poker just to mess with me?"
More importantly—was this one actually pissed?
The way she used a child was filthier than excrement to begin with. I'd figured she'd laugh off an insult of this level the way she usually brushed past most of what I said.
I flicked the black residue off Latel toward the demon—unfortunately, it passed through her like a ghost—and stole a glance at her hidden face. Whether she was truly furious or merely a little put out was still hard to tell.
"Why are you looking at me like that? Want to give me another serving? I've already taken more than enough from you."
"Oh, for fuck's sake. If you call that taking a hit, then what the hell does that make everything I—and that kid—went through?"
BOOM! I launched myself upward to avoid Behemoth's charge as it swung back around. Direction: straight ahead. Behemoth and I closed the distance in an instant.
"I want you to get the punishment you deserve."
But instead of colliding with Behemoth, I stepped onto its tusk and sprinted up along it. Bzzzzzz. A weakly kindled flame scattered the swarm of flies trying to blot out my vision. The field of view opened wide, and my body scrambled wildly up a monster the height of a building.
"I'm not even asking for punishment for everything you've done. Just… enough for that kid to take some of it out on you. The bare minimum."
A massive eye came into view.
"And fuck—I hope you get even half the karma back for all the goddamn frustration I've had to swallow because of you."
Latel flew again.