Headpats and Half a Year Later
Pet me! …………… A palm touched the top of my head. The palm slowly stroked from my crown down to the nape of my neck, then back up. Stroke, stroke. Can this really be happening? I'm getting headpats. I showed off the cubes I'd made by dicing those entities into neat little blocks, but I definitely wasn't fishing for praise. A strange feeling bubbled up inside me. Still, this is nice. The warm sensation spreading from my crown, trailing down my neck and along my spine. Soft. Warm. My memories are fuzzy... but were headpats a common thing among Homo sapiens? If they were so common, why hasn't anyone done it for me until now? Shouldn't someone have petted me sooner? Anyway, this redhead sure is sharp. She grasped right away that I'd made the cubes when I showed them to her, and the moment she understood, she started petting me. Note to self: red hair, big breasts, I bestowed a favor on her at our first meeting, quick-witted. Summary complete.
Oh, right—and I suddenly remembered something I'd forgotten. The break room. The snack providers. I wonder how they're doing. Are they still hiding okay? It pains me to stop the redhead's headpats, but duty calls. I reached out and grabbed her hand.
“Wha-wha!?”
Holding her wrist, I headed deeper into the corridor. But her footsteps trailing behind me were all clumsy and awkward.
“W-wait a――”
The redhead let out a dazed yelp as she got dragged along. Her voice sounded pretty flustered. Anyway, let's go. No time for explanations. Not that I have a way to explain anyway.
Trot trot. Kicking aside the cubes cluttering my path and sending them rolling away, we hurried down the corridor. We slipped into the break room, its door smashed wide open.
The first thing in view: brown cube steaks scattered across the floor. Remnants of that muscle monster who'd wrecked the break room door earlier. And beyond them, huddled under an overturned desk, two women were hiding. The slightly taller one was still staring blankly into space, her sanity long gone. The other one—the slightly taller woman who'd offered me those durian choco cookies earlier—was different. She seemed okay. She was trembling, sure, but her eyes were focused, her hands clasped together as she muttered nonstop.
“I'm alive, I'm alive, I survived……”
Yeah. You did. Thanks to me. In conclusion, everyone in this facility is safe. Just clean up the cubes, patch the walls, and it'll be good as new. Thinking that filled me with a swell of pride.
That's when the shorter snack provider spotted the redhead standing behind me. Her eyes went wide, then lit up with recognition.
“Th-that's... A-rank Awakener Yeom Hana, right?”
The snack provider hesitated before speaking up. I could tell she was trying her best to stay calm.
“Is the situation outside okay? Have all the escaped threat entities been dealt with?”
The redhead—Yeom Hana, apparently—nodded blankly from behind me.
“Uh, yeah……right? I guess we can call it dealt with……”
Ahem. What a half-hearted answer. I took care of it. Diced 'em up without a drop of blood spilled. Still don't get it? I stepped forward to the snack provider and shrugged my shoulders—I did great, right?—extra expressively.
But the response was lukewarm. A giant question mark floated over the snack provider's face. Her eyes darted around in clear confusion.
……Huh? The redhead got my intent right away, but this one still hasn't caught on. Why? Does the redhead qualify and the snack provider doesn't? Is her communication skill just that low? My lips unwittingly puffed out in a pout. As I shot her a sulky glare, the snack provider flinched. Her eyes rolled every which way, her mouth opening and closing. She was at a total loss.
Why's she looking so troubled? Just praise my awesomeness already.
“Uh, um……”
Yeom Hana cut in. She must've picked up on something.
“It seems like she's saying ‘pet me’ or ‘praise me.’”
The snack provider's eyes went wide.
“……Pardon?”
She turned to look up at Yeom Hana. Did she get my intent now? Maybe thanks to her brief trip inside me and back out?
“Yeah, that's the vibe. Believe it or not, up to you.”
At Yeom Hana's words, the snack provider slowly crawled out from under the desk. Hesitantly. Her hand reached my crown.
Stroke, stroke. Yeah, that's the stuff. But her headpats felt a bit different from Yeom Hana's. This one was more timid, fingers tentatively weaving through my hair.
That's when the other snack provider—the one whose sanity had flown—suddenly offered more snacks. Plastic packaging labeled Three Run Balls. Tearing it open unleashed a cascade of round treats. I popped one in my mouth. Crunch. Nice texture when you bite down. But the inside was filled with soft chocolate. Exquisite.
As I munched away, I spotted Yeom Hana off in the distance, pressing something to her ear and starting a comms call.
“This is Yeom Hana. The escape incident……it's over. Probably.”
Crunch.
“Yeah. Probably. And there's a slight issue……Alpha Outer God has escaped.”
Crunch crunch.
Huh? Escaped? It was just a stroll.
“She's eating snacks right next to me right now……no, I'm not joking.”
Yeom Hana's voice rose. Silence on the other end, probably.
“It's true. I don't know what to do either. Ask the Director for me.”
Yeom Hana started rambling into her earpiece. Crunch. I leisurely surveyed the room while chewing the rest of the Three Run Balls. The snack provider who'd knelt before me in a sanity-lost daze. Beside her, the one presenting more treats. And the redhead earnestly reporting to thin air. Hm. Anyway, I've made three acquaintances at once. Way better than lying alone in an empty room. Coming to visit my old workplace was the right call. From now on, I'll live here with these people and have fun. A pure, warm resolve welled up from the depths of my heart. Chewing over that vow—and the snacks—a snack provider suddenly shrank back, trembling. Why's she doing that? Homo sapiens instincts sure work in mysterious ways. Anyway, the snacks are delicious. Crunch.
…………
The shocking part was that, the moment I stopped thinking to pretend I was asleep, half a year had flown by. I'd thought I'd only dozed off for a bit. Stopping my thoughts is pretty simple. My main body—Mom—spent eons beyond countable units like septillion or quintillion like that, outside the observable universe. Shut down consciousness, and external time just skips by. If I'd meant to fake sleep for a day or two, centuries might've passed. Better not stop thinking so casually from now on. Can't have the snack providers aging away on me. Homo sapiens are great and all, but that short lifespan is the issue.
And—one more thing. I need to hold onto the faint vestiges of my human self. Touch, eat; eat, grow; grow, touch. That's how Mom, my main body, devoured her universe. Without question, born as that kind of existence. If I don't hang out with humans, I'll forget those faint human memories, and end up the same as all my other thoughts. Then I'd live just like Mom: eat this planet, this star system, this galaxy, and finally this universe. Hard pass.
Right now, I'm making my home in the Threat Management Agency HQ—my old workplace. The door to my isolation cell means nothing. Locked or not, I can open it at will. They stopped fixing it after I smashed it a few times. But busting through the facility's heavy blast doors feels a tad guilty. Repair costs would be insane, pricking my conscience. So I found a workaround.
Rumble rumble rumble.
Today too, the massive blast door grinds open. Probably a researcher or staffer punching the panel. Before it fully opens—about 0.47 seconds in.
Whoosh.
I slip through the gap faster than the wind.
“……Wind again.”
“This floor doesn't have a ventilation system?”
“D-don't tell me Alpha Outer God is escaping—on my shift――”
“……Nah, nothing happened. Let's call it that.”
“Yeah. No extra reports, pass.”
As the helmeted researchers exchanged resolute nods, I'd already reached the ground-level vending area. It's unmanned. Supposed to be locked this hour, but locks don't work on me. I tore open a pack of Three Run Balls and a pack of Magic Wands from the shelves, munching away. Crunch. Not stealing. I'll pay back when I earn money someday. Call it an interest-free, unsecured, unlimited-term loan. Eavesdropping on the building folks' chatter revealed some fun facts.
One: My jaunts out of the isolation cell and around the Threat Management Agency building are top secret. Hasn't leaked outside.
Two: Lately, this guy named Shin Chang-seok's wrinkles have multiplied. Probably a Homo sapiens lifespan thing. Hope he takes care of his health. Maybe bring him some chocolate next time. Crunch.
Snacks harvested for today, time to hit the training ground. The Awakener-exclusive one bars regular staff. They say the gear doesn't match anyway, so no training possible. Lucky me—I'm not staff, so I can enter. The training ground reeks of sweat today too. And smack in the center: the redhead. Yeom Hana. Lately, though, every time she sees me, she looks like she's about to say something... then swallows it.