Beyond Memory (1)
Clatter— clatter—
Right after dinner.
"Hmm-hmm~♪ hm-hm-hm~♫"
Lee Jun hummed a tuneless little melody as he washed the dishes in the kitchen. He didn't have to — the household robots would have handled it without being asked — but he made a point of doing it himself. This was the hour when he could sort through his thoughts, or empty them entirely, whichever he needed more.
So there he was, scrubbing away until the dishes squeaked, when a voice stirred inside his head.
"You look exactly like a middle-aged man right now."
I am a middle-aged man, though.
Technically speaking, my mental age is somewhere in the fifties.
"...That's true, but..."
Silhouette stopped there, apparently watching her mouth. It figured. He couldn't say how it was normally, but as long as Jeanne was under this roof, every single word had to be chosen with care.
'Though it doesn't seem like she can read my thoughts.'
Jeanne had never possessed telepathy or mind-reading. That had belonged to someone else entirely. The only reason she could hear Silhouette at all, it seemed, was her innate ability — the one that let her perceive souls.
"Ugh, I never know when or where she might be listening. Can't even open my mouth freely anymore."
But Jeanne went out for a walk, didn't she? Give it a rest for a few minutes.
"Haah... what even is this. I'm living inside you, and I still have to watch what I say."
Well, you could stand to learn a little self-censorship.
"What? Say that again, I dare you!"
There it is. One little scratch and she detonates on the spot.
Silhouette avoided dealing with Jeanne as much as Jeanne presumably avoided dealing with anything — so really, this was as good an opportunity as any for her to learn the quiet life.
"Ha, for your information, I—!"
Ding— dong—
Click—
"..."
At the sound of the front door, Silhouette snapped her mouth shut with impressive speed. And she calls herself the tough one.
"I'm back."
She even announced her return, though it wasn't remotely necessary. Ever the polite one, even coming home.
"Hmph, polite my—"
Ahem. Shh.
"Were you busy with something?"
"Ah — doing the dishes."
Jeanne had come back earlier than he'd expected. Then again, there was nothing around here worth looking at anyway. Beyond the barrier, things like CCTV fell outside his control, so a "walk" could only ever cover a narrow orbit.
"How's it looking out there?"
"People keep loitering about, back and forth."
"Guess reporters never run out of stamina."
Well, the rough location of Lee Jun's house was public knowledge by now, so it stood to reason that the scoop-starved would come sniffing around the area. Not that any of them could actually reach the place in an ordinary person's body. Finding it under your own power would take, at minimum, an A-Class from the uppermost ranks.
"Let them sulk out there a few more days and they'll give up on their own. Don't worry about it."
"Didn't you say you were going outside tomorrow?"
"They won't notice a thing until we actually cross the barrier. Honestly, the fact that no one's found us yet says the security's doing its job."
And on top of that, Yelena's magic had been layered over everything. Frankly, worrying about being discovered made about as much sense as worrying about a third World War. With monsters crawling out of the ground by the thousands, what insane nation would pick this moment to start a war — but still, that was the scale of the joke he meant.
'Ah. Right. There was a time the nukes almost flew, wasn't there.'
A year or so from now... Russia, driven to the very brink of collapse, had emptied its entire nuclear arsenal in one last spasm. The monster that had appeared then was — a Balrog, if his memory served. Not a memory he cared to dredge up. He'd leave that thought exactly where it was.
In any case.
It wouldn't come to that this time around. He would see to it. Somehow.
"What are you thinking about?"
"Hm?"
Bump—
Before he'd noticed, Jeanne had drawn up beside him and was peering over his arm at the sink.
"The dishes. May I help you wash them?"
"No, it's fine. I can't put a guest to work like that."
"It's no trouble. Unnie and Oppa want to help too."
At those words, Lee Jun glanced at the two dolls dangling from Jeanne's arms.
"Uh... Yoanna, we dissolve when water touches us."
"And if we drink it, it feels all soggy and gross. Hard pass on this one."
It was only reasonable. What dwelled inside them was human souls, yes, but the medium was still a pair of stuffed dolls. Fabric for skin, cotton for insides. He had no idea how the two of them actually experienced sensation... but structurally speaking, that was that.
'Well, no use trying to understand it, I suppose.'
Truthfully, understanding was out of the question. This was an innate ability operating on a level beyond magic itself — could an ordinary human brain ever hope to parse it? Yelena might manage it. Maybe.
"Look, look. Jun-ie's gone and lost himself in thought again."
"Hmm. It's gotten worse, hasn't it, hyung."
"Hey, I was always like this."
What was so wrong about organizing one's thoughts, anyway? It wasn't a bad habit or anything.
Well... he'd concede the frequency was a bit much.
"Unnie, Oppa. Please don't tease Oppa."
Jeanne addressed the two dolls with grave severity.
...Severity?
Well, why not. As long as it looked cute, it was fine by him.
But the two dolls, apparently, did not share that opinion. A sudden little domestic drama unfolded right in front of Lee Jun.
"Sob, sob — Siara. Our precious youngest said such cruel things to this poor old man. Has the rebellious phase come so soon?"
"Oppa, Yoanna is an adult now."
"...Quick, play along."
"Ah — ah, yes. How tragic. Truly devastating."
Dialogue delivered as stiffly as if they were reading straight off a language textbook. That was Siara for you.
"What are you two even doing..."
Was dishwashing really that unbearable?
"C'mon, we'd love to help too. But the material situation is what it is. Ahh, what a crying shame."
"You heard him. A crying shame."
"Then I will help instead."
With the two siblings openly declaring their work slowdown, Jeanne rolled up her own sleeves. Slender wrists and thin forearms came into view.
And... the scars, too.
Lee Jun caught her hand before she could roll up the other sleeve.
"No, that's enough. The machine will handle the rest anyway."
"Are you certain?"
"Positive. I'm done here too."
"I see."
With that, Jeanne let the rolled sleeve fall back down. The scars slid once more out of sight beneath the fabric.
Perfectly.
Lee Jun powered on the dishwashing robot and headed for the living room with the three of them in tow. Let's see... it was eight o'clock now, so he'd head up around nine, get ready, and sleep. Tomorrow they had to push through the third floor of the Ant Nest, after all.
While he turned the plan over in his mind, he tossed an easy question to Jeanne.
"Was the food all right earlier?"
"Delicious, as always. I only wish Unnie and Oppa could have had a taste too."
"Same here. It's been a while since I wanted a bite of something like that."
Naturally, dolls came with no digestive tract. They had no need to eat, and even if they had, they wouldn't taste a thing. He'd have loved to serve the two of them as well — but what couldn't be helped simply couldn't.
And, well, speaking of meals reminded him of something.
"Didn't the food sit a little heavy with you at dinner? Jeong-hyeon kept shooting you some pretty uncomfortable looks."
They all lived under one roof now, which meant they all ate together. So the three of them had crowded around the narrow dining table, and Choi Jeong-hyeon had ended up seated directly across from Jeanne. To her, Jeanne was an S-Class she'd never laid eyes on before.
...Never laid eyes on?
'Ah, right. I'm an S-Class too, aren't I.'
Funny, that. Why didn't she ever look at him like that?
Of course, Lee Jun knew the reason perfectly well. Not every S-Class was the same kind of S-Class.
"It's quite all right. Being looked at is something I'm used to."
"I suppose S-Classes draw eyes wherever they go. Must be exhausting."
"Aren't you an S-Class yourself, Oppa?"
"I'm a half-finished one. So I get half the attention too — I count myself lucky."
Lee Jun was a defective S-Class. Naturally, the attention he received was on a different scale from the flawless ones. Korea had the only S-Class of its kind, which bought him this much consideration; abroad, he'd get precisely nothing.
"...If anything, I wish people would stop looking at me altogether."
"I see. You carry a heavy burden too, Oppa."
"Haha, next to yours it's nothing. You're France's Holy Maiden, after all."
Her name was Jeanne, after all — in France, her public image had been crafted wholesale into that of a saint who saved the nation. Her peculiar, detached personality only helped the mythology; from a distance, it read as mystery. And then there was the fact that her hometown happened to be Orléans, which made it all the more fitting.
Even though, for Jeanne, that hometown had been a place like hell.
"It is a little burdensome, sometimes."
"I'll bet. I'd have thrown in the towel ages ago. Gotta hand it to you."
"Is... that so."
Lee Jun felt something snag on Jeanne's reaction. That hesitation just now... it wasn't like her.
He was still puzzling over what the wrongness might mean when Jeanne spoke again.
"...The food you made me, Oppa. I missed it."
"You couldn't have... missed..."
The moment he turned his head to look at her, the words died in his throat.
"You..."
There was nothing Jeanne could miss. That wasn't a matter of her will — she was simply made that way from the start.
So why, then? Her reaction right now... somehow, unmistakably, was steeped in longing. Faint, yes. But more than enough to feel.
"It's... strange. Why am I like this?"
Her eyes still glowed with that dim, misted light.
And yet — a little.
Just the smallest bit.
Something was trembling inside them.
That reaction unsettled Lee Jun more than he cared to admit. Why? She had lived her entire life without emotion. Why now?
"......"
That expression.
Something was surfacing.
Over those pale blue eyes, a girl from another time seemed to overlap, translucent as breath on glass.
—Why... why... so late... why did it have to be... too late...
"...Ugh."
A splitting headache crashed down on him. Things he had sedated in a far corner of his memory came crawling back up, inch by inch.
Lee Jun crushed down the emotions that rampaged painfully through his chest and forced his thoughts into order.
"...Whew."
Breathe out.
Out.
Out again.
A meaningless compulsion, repeated over and over — exhale, exhale, exhale.
Then, gently, Jeanne took hold of his wrist.
"...I'm sorry."
"......"
You have nothing to apologize for.
Not one thing.
But Lee Jun couldn't open his mouth and give those words to her. The reason was simple enough.
His lips wouldn't move.
"...I'm okay. I'm okay now."
He stopped the deep breathing, at least. He couldn't afford to worry Jeanne any further.
"For now... I'm sorry too."
For worrying her.
...Worrying her?
Jeanne was incapable of worry. Her emotions existed at a remove from reality itself. To share in someone's real pain, to empathize with their suffering — that act was structurally impossible for Jeanne, born without feeling.
"......"
Was it true, then?
Really — already?
Why now?
"...Oppa?"
This was different. What could the cause be? Was it because Jeanne had come to him in this era? Something that flimsy?
No.
It couldn't be that.
Nothing changed over a reason that small.
Then the reason was...
"Oppa. You seem very unwell."
"...Sorry."
"There is nothing to apologize for."
"Still... I'm sorry."
He was well aware it wasn't something that called for an apology. And yet, somehow, he'd wanted to say it.
Because of that memory?
His head... was spinning.
"We're leaving early tomorrow... so have everything ready ahead of time."
"Understood."
"Right. Go on up."
"Good night, Oppa."
Had she caught the meaning folded into his words? Jeanne gathered up the two dolls and rose from her seat.
Her back, retreating toward her room, settled into his eyes. Her long braid swayed left and right, blurring the edges of his vision.
How much longer, he wondered, would he be able to watch that figure walk away?
"Are you afraid?"
He didn't answer.
"Afraid of losing something all over again."
The voice had taken on a kind, merciful tone. The memories that had been churning his mind to pieces settled, little by little, alongside it.
"How pitiful you are. How cruel memory can be to a human soul."
Oblivion, the gift granted to humankind, was not a curse but a blessing.
And yet some things, inevitably, could not be forgotten.
Jeanne's back kept moving down the hall. Then, at some point, it simply stopped.
She stood before the staircase to the second floor and glanced back at Lee Jun, just once.
"If it hurts, please don't keep it inside. Tell me."
"......"
"Please."
With that, she turned away again and began to climb.
Pit-a-pat—
Small feet, moving at a brisk clip, almost running. A moment later came the sound of a door opening — and closing.
"...Thank you."
The words he hadn't managed to say to her face. Only once he was certain they couldn't be heard did his mouth finally open.
"Damn it..."
For a while yet, he suspected.
It was going to hurt.