Chapter 4: Back in My Day.
Chapter 4: Back in My Day.
Upon hearing the news about Dong-hun, I hurried my pace. I felt the wind whipping violently against my face, but I kept my eyes wide and pushed for even more speed.
Thud.
The sensation of crushing concrete traveled up my legs.
Thud.
I leaped from rooftop to rooftop, kicking off the walls of buildings as I surged forward.
Countless lights blurred past beneath my field of vision.
The yellow glow of car headlights, the blue shimmer of smartphone screens, the solitary standing streetlamps, old neon signs beckoning customers, and streaks of light cutting through the darkness.
A flood of light illuminated the city, yet I felt no eyes watching me as I flew through the sky.
Was it because I was shrouded in the shadows where the light couldn't reach, or was it simply because Heroes flying through the sky had become such a common sight?
With those thoughts drifting through my mind, I raced across the dark night sky.
* * *
Skreeeeek.
Perhaps because of my hurried landing, the asphalt in front of the emergency room cracked.
I quickly stomped the asphalt back into place with my foot, then ran toward the emergency room, shouting urgently.
"Dong-hun!"
"This is an emergency room, so you need to be quiet, okay?"
The nurses glared at me for my sudden intrusion, raising their fingers to their lips to signal silence.
Their tone and expressions were as if they were dealing with a child.
I wasn't happy with their attitude, but it wasn't the first time I’d been treated this way. Besides, the rule about staying quiet in an emergency room was a valid one. I suppressed my boiling emotions and approached a nurse to state my business.
"I received a call that Kim Dong-hun is in critical condition."
"Where is your guardian, dear? Children aren't allowed in the emergency room alone."
The nurse lectured me without even bothering to look for the records.
I clicked my tongue and pulled my ID from my coat, tossing it onto the counter.
The old ID card—its face unchanged for decades, never once needing a renewal—slid across the counter and came to a stop right in front of her.
"Lee Ha-ram, Hero Registration Number 01-005-M. Please, lead the way."
The nurse who picked up the ID looked back and forth between the card and my face, her eyes widening.
"My apologies."
Regaining her composure, she returned to a professional demeanor and continued.
"What is the patient's name?"
"Kim Dong-hun."
Click, click, click.
In the quiet interior of the hospital, swallowed by the night, the mechanical, monotonous sound of a keyboard began to echo.
"And your relationship to the patient?"
"Friend."
Hearing that, the nurse picked up the receiver and called someone.
"Someone claiming to be an acquaintance of the patient has arrived. How should we proceed?"
The nurse fell silent for a moment, as if waiting for a response. A long time passed before she finally spoke quietly into the phone.
"Yes... Yes, I understand."
Though the conversation had only just begun, my insides were burning black.
Every second the nurse’s mouth remained closed was a moment of agony.
My fingers trembled. Heat surged through my body, much like when I faced an enemy.
As intense emotions began to consume me, I reached into my coat, pulled out a White Rod, and bit down on it as I always did.
Crunch.
My teeth locked into the grooves already worn into the hard metal from countless previous sessions.
The cold touch of the metal against my lips sapped my body heat, and my trembling slowly subsided.
The tension and heat that had dominated my body seemed to drain out through the rod, and I returned to my usual self.
Don't worry.
Even someone like me is still alive.
He’ll definitely be fine.
"You've been cleared. You may go in..."
The nurse started to say something but stopped and glared at me.
"Smoking is prohibited in the hospital."
"This isn't a cigarette, nor is it an e-cigarette."
It was just a gift from an old friend who said he hated seeing me smoke when we fought.
* * *
"He is currently unconscious..."
I stood on a stool and looked down at my friend lying in the bed. He looked exactly as he did when we parted in front of the meat restaurant.
No, there was one difference.
The bandages stained with red spots.
"The cause of his unconsciousness is blunt force trauma to the back of the head."
That face, which had so passionately preached about justice, now had its eyes closed, with bandages wrapped thick around the back of the skull.
"The culprit has been caught... The police are currently interrogating him."
The doctor's words drifted aimlessly through my mind. I couldn't think of anything. I couldn't believe any of this.
"The brain damage is so severe... there is a possibility of brain death..."
Unconscious.
Brain damage.
Crime.
Hero of justice.
"Do you need money?"
"Pardon?"
"Do you need money? If that's the case, he's a retired Hero, so there should be insurance related to..."
Retired guys had measures in place for situations like this. Surely. There was something like that. If that existed, it would be enough...
"I'm afraid..."
Ah.
"Money isn't the issue."
Clatter.
"The location of the impact is the problem. You should be prepared for the possibility that he might not make it through the night..."
"We confirmed his Hero status through a background check and even employed healing magic... but because the brain damage is so severe..."
"Ah... Ha, haha, haha."
The doctor watched me as I let out a hollow, crazed laugh.
"Normally, visiting hours end at 10 PM, but since you are a Hero..."
I could tell from his trailing voice that he was giving me permission to stay longer. With those final words, the doctor, sensing the atmosphere, slipped out of the room.
I picked up the rod that had fallen to the floor, tucked it away, and sat on the edge of the bed.
"Dong-hun, do you remember when we first met?"
Beep.
The sound of the machine.
"They gathered us all in one place, calling us 'Awakened' and saying they had to manage us."
Hiss.
The sound of someone drawing breath.
Matching that rhythm, I began to speak of the beginning of those now called Heroes.
Our beginning.
"We wore electronic anklets and endured insults. But we still fought, saying it was for justice, for the people."
Creak.
The bed frame made a slight noise at my movement.
"I don't know if everyone was just naturally righteous, or if they only picked kids like that. But in the end, we protected them, didn't we?"
I opened the window.
"Now, the new Heroes aren't slandered like we were, and they don't have to worry about being ambushed. They even show their real names and faces on TV."
Back in my day.
"People aren't even afraid of evacuation sirens anymore. Everyone stays calm and quiet. They move to the shelters, saying the Heroes will protect them..."
Back in. My day.
The light that beautifully illuminated the city fell upon the bed.
"This is what you wanted to see most, Kim Dong-hun! You said you'd create a world where everyone could smile again!"
We created that world.
"So why are you trying to kick the bucket without seeing it!"
His final question in front of the meat restaurant came back to me.
Were we righteous?
Did we do everything we could?
Yes, you idiot.
The peace of today is something we built. It might be distorted, but everyone can smile. Regret swirled in my heart for not being able to tell him that—to tell the man who doubted his own past.
"So don't die. I'll tell you as many times as it takes."
I stared at his face.
Believing that a miracle would happen once again. Because our Hero... was always a shining existence. Always.
* * *
Kim Dong-hun. Male. 46 years old. Homicide. Blunt force trauma to the occipital region. Brain death. 01:24 AM.
I stood there in a black dress, staring blankly at his face.
He looked bright in the photograph. It was the expression of someone who possessed all the happiness in the world.
That was the last photo left by a man who had transcended time with a face fifteen years younger than his actual age, living apart from society, unable to even take a proper picture.
I just sat on the floor, staring at that photo.
"Who is that girl? His daughter?"
"That's Crimson★Hammer. A Magical Girl Hero. They seemed to be quite close."
I heard those whispers over and over again. Since Dong-hun had no next of kin, I took on the role of the chief mourner. But I was only the chief mourner in name. I did nothing.
The funeral was held at a large funeral hall, and people from all walks of life came to pay their respects, but I only watched them.
Management Bureau staff greeted the mourners and handled everything on my behalf.
The photo, the casket, the funeral hall, the burial plot.
They asked me questions a few times at first, but when I only nodded with a hollow expression, they left me alone and began the preparations.
I sat silently in front of the casket. I didn't need to shake hands with politicians for photos, nor did I need to meet face-to-face with the high-ranking officials of the Management Bureau.
—...I want you to know that you are carrying the future of humanity on your shoulders.
I heard Dong-hun's voice from somewhere and looked around.
I saw his face.
Inside the television.
On a TV installed in the funeral hall, a scene of his speech was playing at a low volume.
The speech played over and over.
Captivated, I watched it continuously.
Following that, an overview of the incident was broadcast. Information about the culprit whose interrogation had ended. The culprit's personal details. His location.
I vanished from the funeral hall.
* * *
Crash.
The Wall of the holding cell shattered.
Gray concrete dust scattered through the air.
I saw him.
The bastard who killed Kim Dong-hun.
"Was it you?"
My emotions exploded. My power surged uncontrollably.
"Why. Why did you kill him?"
The thing looked at me. It stared at me defiantly, as if it weren't afraid of someone who had just bypassed public authority with sheer force.
"Because he was an Awakened."
A single sentence, delivered in a muddy, cracked voice.
"Was it just for that?"
I grabbed him by the collar and hoisted him up.
Hero discrimination. I thought that word had disappeared. Because we had worked so hard for that.
The piece of trash in front of me gagged as he struggled for breath, but he still glared at me boldly.
"That's right! The Awakened are the vanguards of evil, and this is a Holy War to exterminate that evil!"
A joyful voice rang in my ears, as if this situation were nothing.
...What is this?
"The public authorities, they've already been awakened too! This is all because of the Strange Radio Waves..."
...What is this?
"Officers."
I threw a question to the police surrounding me. They didn't answer, their faces frozen stiff.
It didn't matter.
"Is this guy... insane?"
Without a word, they nodded.
Diminished responsibility. A civilian.
Someone a Hero cannot punish.
A target I must not touch.
This was a mere accident caused by madness. My justice as a Hero, and the regulations of the Management Bureau, had already passed that judgment.
Thump.
The thing I had been holding by the collar dropped to the floor.
"See! My power stopped you..."
The madman's outcry echoed.
We can do nothing.
Because we are Heroes.
Because this is The System we created.
* * *
Dong-hun became a star.
Discussions about the end of a Hero.
About his life.
His life story was broadcast continuously on television, followed by debates on the theme of the heinous social crimes that led to such a Hero’s death.
His face was on the front page of every newspaper, and tributes to him poured in endlessly on the internet.
The Management Bureau likely had a hand in this.
An intention to increase the social standing of Heroes by creating a tragic figure.
As proof, the information about him flowing through the media was riddled with errors.
An ordinary person wouldn't know, but to a Hero who had written history alongside him back then, they were blatant mistakes. But the old Heroes remained silent, and so did I.
Because that was the path for the new Heroes.
Amidst such despair, Dong-hun's funeral passed.
Without a blood-debt revenge.
Without any dramatic incident.
It just passed.
I could do nothing, and the flame in my heart, which had already grown cold, flickered one last time before dying out.
* * *
"He was a magnificent Hero."
A podium had been set up at the cemetery, where rain was pouring down.
Someone I had never seen before was delivering a passionate speech.
"He fought tirelessly for humanity, and even after retiring, he remained dedicated to the cause."
Was it really okay to be so theatrical during a funeral oration?
"...But what was the end for such a Hero! He met a cold end in a dark alleyway."
Yeah. It was a truly absurd end.
An attack by a mental patient.
"We must now turn our attention more toward retired Heroes. This isn't just the story of the Hero being buried here today. If you look around, many Heroes are suffering under the hardships of society..."
The speech began to drift into predictable political territory.
A political narrative claiming that because a Hero died like this today, the place for Heroes in society must be expanded.
I didn't want to hear it anymore, so I covered my ears.
The speech ended, and the funeral continued.
The casket containing Dong-hun was lowered into the perfectly rectangular hole in the ground.
Dong-hun's final resting place—an expensive wooden casket covered with a snow-white cloth.
As the white cloth was covered with soil, the casket gradually disappeared from view.
Once the casket was gone, a rounded mound was raised, and an expensive white border and headstone were installed.
The gathered people shared a few words and then vanished one by one.
I suppose they didn't want to stand in the rain.
By the time the broadcasting stations had all packed up and only a few people remained, someone spoke to me.
"Are you staying longer, Crimson★Hammer?"
"It's the final journey for a friend."
The friend I killed.
"I see."
He slowly took off his fedora and bowed his head toward the grave.
"I don't care for this kind of atmosphere. It feels like they're treating Heroes like clowns..."
And so, the two of us stood among the bustling people, quietly gazing at the grave.
As time passed and only the two of us remained, he put his fedora back on and slowly disappeared from the cemetery.
Now, I was the only one left in the Public Cemetery, seeing him off.
I sat down, leaning my back against the cold headstone.
"It's over, Dong-hun."
I looked up at the sky.
The sky where rain was pouring down. The dark, dark sky.
"You're really... dead."
Only now did it fully sink in that Dong-hun was gone. The death of Dong-hun, whom I had killed.
"The Management Bureau is too much. Using your death for such grand political theater."
Amidst those grumbles, the word the man who just left had used suddenly came to mind.
Clowns.
The moment I thought of that word, countless thoughts flooded my mind.
A feast for the living using the deceased as an excuse.
The Management Bureau’s political games.
Heroes who have no interest in justice.
Clowns dancing on television.
Regulations that seek only stability.
The Society that allowed it.
I think I finally understood.
The Heroes have all vanished.
All that remains are clowns.
The old Heroes who remained silent had also put on the masks of clowns.
And so had I, who remained silent while this society was built. I, who walked this path believing that everything would be fine as long as Heroes could smile.
I had erased the Heroes with my own hands. Simply because I didn't want them to experience our hardships.
That mindset had made the world—and the Heroes—rot.
The last Hero disappeared into the grave just moments ago.
Now, only clowns remain.
If that's the case, then someone must teach them what justice is once again.
I cannot let justice be severed.
I pulled my soaked body up and walked through the cemetery.
A flame ignited within me.
A flame of rage that would consume my body and burn the world. A flame that would lead me, who had walked the wrong path, once again.
A flame that would illuminate the new path I must walk, having committed such a wrong.
I shall bring hardship to those who are not Heroes.
So that those who are not Heroes cannot call themselves such. I shall deliver hardship.
I spotted a Pry Bar, perhaps forgotten by a worker digging the graves. I picked it up and left the cemetery.
I cannot swing The Hammer.
Because that is the weapon of a Magical Girl who cherishes justice. It is an item unnecessary for the mud-wrestling that is about to begin.
It's time to teach them.
Back in. My day.
The sensation of blood flowing.
The Otherworld where intestines spilled out.
The feel of tomatoes hitting my head.
The death of a comrade.
The Golden Hammer.
The sensation of rain flowing.
The alleyway where vomit spilled out.
The feel of a blackjack hitting my head.
The death of a comrade.
The Crimson Pry Bar.
Huh. It’s no different.