Trauma (2)
Trauma (2)
Cheat Ability.
The mysterious superpower we acquired when we fell from Earth to the Otherworld.
However, none of us ever questioned why we got these Cheat Abilities. Deokgu just shrugged it off like it was always meant to be, and the other kids were too busy, too exhausted, or too uninterested to care.
But even with just a fleeting moment of curiosity, the root of our abilities was ridiculously easy to figure out. Seoyun, who'd grasped the general structure of her ability overnight, called me and Deokgu over to share what she'd discovered.
"This is like our traumas."
"...What?"
"Trauma, you know? T-R-A-U-M-A...."
"No, who doesn't know the spelling?"
Deokgu rubbed his chin and sank deep into thought. Even as he pondered, his ability kicked in, searching a corner of his brain for info on people with abilities like ours.
"Trauma, huh... What kind of trauma turns into an ability like this?"
"How should I know? It's your ability. Shouldn't you know it best?"
"If it was trauma, I'd have turned into Superman, able to beat the shit out of punks like Han-young. That's what I always fantasized about."
But Deokgu's ability was all about reading recorded info from the world. It gave him an edge in knowledge, but not in raw power.
Silently listening to their back-and-forth, I had one question pop up.
"Seoyun, what makes you think that?"
"...My ability changed."
"Changed how?"
"I can't explain it in words. It's like trying to describe your feelings. But one thing's for sure... this is our trauma or complexes taking shape."
Hearing that, I thought of my own ability. [Ruler of Women's Hearts], now evolved into the Women's Ruler.
'No fucking way... What trauma turns into an ability like this?'
For a virgin loser who'd never even dated, let alone gotten laid.
What kind of trauma gives you something like that?
It would've been way more realistic if it was the swordsmanship ability I'd lied to the kids about.
"...So, why tell us?"
Tch, Deokgu—freshly corrupted by all the bad habits of the Otherworld—lit up a cigarette and asked. Seoyun used her ability to snuff it out before speaking.
"I don't care much, but... I figured you two should know."
"Us? Why?"
"You wanna go back to Earth, right?"
She said it, locking eyes with me. Those eyes were warmer than before.
"If we do, we gotta do whatever it takes. Whatever...."
Trauma.
By definition, a permanent mental wound.
In simple terms, a scar on the heart.
If it gets bad, it develops into PTSD or a complex....
'...Not being able to get a girl counts as a heart scar?'
I recalled my school days. Gray days filled my memories. The remnants of burning ashes weren't even intact.
They just lingered like sludge in my mind, proving that shit happened.
Days made of iron, blood, and ash.
'Yeah, that could've scarred me.'
Back then, I had fantasies about romance. I truly believed there was some miraculous power, like in comics or dramas, that could heal my body and soul.
I wanted to escape that way. Without that hope, I'd have turned into a dead sword, heart and all.
"Wait a sec...."
But something was off. Fine, me maybe, but why did the others get their abilities?
'Han-young, that school bully who beat kids for fun, gets Super Strength... Ga-hee, the idol trainee, gets a singing ability.'
People's hearts are hard to read, sure, but come on....
"What're you thinking so hard about?"
A voice clear as rolling jade beads. Speak of the tiger, and she appears—Ga-hee stood before me.
She wasn't in casual clothes but a rare dress-like outfit, and I instantly knew what it was.
Performance attire. Stage wear for shows.
"...What's with the dress?"
"This? Pretty, right? Da-hee made it."
"Da-hee?"
"...No way you don't know her?"
Didn't know the name, but if someone named Da-hee could make dresses like that, only one fit.
The girl whose hands moved twice as fast. Probably. They were always stuck together like glue....
'What trauma makes your hands super fast?'
Thinking that, I met Ga-hee's eyes. Just days ago, she wouldn't even look at me, but now she stood tall, staring right back.
Considering I hadn't done jack to make peace with her, it was a huge change.
"Why're you here?"
"...Do I need a reason?"
"Yeah. You're an idol, after all."
A business tool with a minute-by-minute schedule.
Every word, every action, manipulated for profit—a manufactured star.
If she'd trained as an idol trainee, she'd gotten the full education.
"...If you know all that, no need for pretenses."
Her tone flipped suddenly. Like she'd become someone else in an instant. I stared in surprise, and she shrugged like, What're you shocked about?
"In this world, you're like my sponsor. Even if the sponsor's a balding, pot-bellied 50-year-old uncle, you smile and pour drinks. Can't keep bitching forever, right?"
"So, 'cause I'm the sponsor, you'll bend?"
"Yeah. I'm an idol."
She said it so matter-of-factly, I grinned. She wasn't an idol—she was a warrior charging into battle with an axe.
"Cool."
"Isn't it, boss? So put some muscle into pushing me."
"How? No TV, no radio here."
"We got magic."
She spun with a flourish, dress flaring dramatically. Distracted by the twirling skirt, she sauntered off into the distance.
"Project my image onto the sky. Like a hologram! Or fly around singing... Oh, but then panties might show?"
"Hey."
"What's up, boss?"
I looked at her beaming smile. Stunning looks. Natural beauty polished with modern cosmetics.
'Why someone like her?'
Anyone could see she was idol material, no doubts about her skills. Why the complex about singing?
I'd forgotten, basking in warm backs and no worries about food—but Earth might be more hellish than I thought.
"...Fine. Go for it."
"Lame."
She hummed to herself as she walked off. True to her Princess of Song title, it was gorgeous.
A month had passed since the newspaper launched. The first issue from launch day was now a priceless collector's item—you couldn't buy it for any price—and folks who'd used it as kindling were finally beating their chests in regret.
"Finally... the paper's on track."
"You think?"
Dojin munched snacks in Deokgu's room, gazing outside. Nobles and merchant escorts who swarmed the mansion daily? Not a single one today.
Makes sense—starting with issue 4 today, ads were rolling in.
[желим те]
Mysterious letters no normal person without magic talent could read floated in the bottom right of the paper.
Even those who couldn't read 'em would know the Magic Tower backed us now.
In this Otherworld where everything ran on magic, no one wanted to piss off the Magic Tower—rivaling even the Papal Court in authority.
"Yeah, they're just seeing the Tower's clout now... But soon, folks'll get the paper's real value."
"And if other merchants copy the newspaper...."
"My ability levels up."
Deokgu's power was a wiki written in people's subconscious. The more who knew stuff, the stronger he got.
That's partly why we made the paper. Even if others ripped it off wholesale, we wouldn't lose.
Sure, fake news tailored to nobles' tastes might spread... But that crap spreads with or without papers.
Best we could do: Spread the paper far and wide, get the truth to as many as possible.
That was optimal.
"So, big issues solved... Now Ga-hee's the problem."
"...Yeah."
"Why'd you promise idol activities, anyway?"
"It just happened?"
Deokgu griped a bit at Dojin, who only created work, but ironically, these tough days gave him fulfillment.
"Um, master. I brought tea...."
"Ah, thanks."
The maid approached the whining Deokgu with tea. She offered some to Dojin too, but he shook his head no.
Then he eyed her face. Way plumper than when Deokgu first bought her.
Growing so fast, she might steal his fat. Deokgu chuckled at her looks, flashing a proud dad smile....
'This guy buys her for a harem but won't touch her...?'
Watching him, you couldn't tell if he wanted a harem or was playing Princess Maker.
Dojin glanced out the window at approaching carriages.
Dozens, each with different merchant guild crests.
"They're here."
"Merchants, my ass—late as hell."
"Ain't they early? Oh, bring some refreshments to the parlor?"
"Huh? Y-Yes! Right away!"
Dojin and Deokgu steeled themselves and headed to the parlor. Soon, it buzzed with merchants here to buy ad space.
Dozens of carriages halted before the mansion. Orion watched from afar, eyes narrowed.
'Dangerous guy.'
She'd looked into the owner, Dojin, over something trivial. His record was bizarre.
Five months ago, sudden appearance in Dungeon City.
Level 2 in two months.
Prison record, but no release.
Ties to the Saintess and Magic Tower.
Spreading info via newspaper—with secrets only insiders of each race would know.
Like, elves' ears are erogenous zones.
Or beastkin tails.
Or monster arachne's silk-spinning holes.
'Why only that crap....'
But clear as day: Dojin had informants in every race.
Which meant he was seriously dangerous.
Dangerous enough she'd considered taking his life....
'Who the hell are you?'
Orion's eyes tracked Dojin moving inside. Then, he whipped his head around—meeting her gaze.
"What the...."
Startled, she ducked behind a tree, peeking out cautiously.
Dojin was already gone.