40. Once More, the Pursuers (1)
I closed my eyes and stayed still. The hair dryer whined loudly, and a faint violet fragrance brushed the tip of my nose.
"I'm getting married."
Hee-won, who'd been running her fingers through my hair, dropped it flatly. A dry voice—remarkably dry, for words spoken to a man she'd once loved.
"...Married?"
"Uh... yeah."
"When? To who?"
"In the fall. Right after the play ends."
A short silence. Beyond the stained, mottled mirror, I could see my own blank, stupid face.
"Why all of a sudden? What about graduation?"
"What does marriage have to do with graduating?"
"What about the civil service exam?"
"Gave it up."
"To get a job?"
"No."
Hee-won quietly smoothed the ends of my hair.
"It's gotten pretty bad, huh. Guess I need to wrap things up."
"Who are you marrying?"
"...Jinhu. You remember Jinhu."
"You mean that guy who runs the bar?"
"It's not a bar, it's a wine bar. And it's a hobby, not a living."
The broken intercom clicked and clicked and clicked, spitting out strange noises. The old studio apartment suddenly felt cramped.
"...Why are you telling me this now?"
"Because it was decided two days ago."
"What kind of nonsense is that? Who sets a wedding a month out?"
Hee-won slipped on her stockings in silence. And then, like a thunderbolt, it hit me.
"Yoo Hee-won. Don't tell me—"
"Don't tell you, what."
Facing those expressionless eyes, I couldn't force out a single word in the end.
"I'm leaving."
Maybe she'd hoped I would hold her back. But I was a coward through and through—a hopeless, spineless fool.
So I simply watched her walk away.
Meditation had been a singular experience.
The Potion of Focus had scattered my stray thoughts, and the verse Ellen whispered had gathered my mind into one. In that state, released from everything, I had found true peace.
It lasted only three or four hours, but my head felt clearer afterward—somehow, I even felt like I'd taken a step forward...
But at some point Ellen had fallen asleep, and the potion's effect had run out. I sat alone on the dark floor and tried to meditate a second time.
Naturally, it went nowhere. Too many stray thoughts were drifting through my head.
Then I must have blinked drowsily, because the next thing I knew I was looking at the character sheets. Of the five, mine, Ellen's, and Utekwai's had all risen a level.
An early level-up.
The most recent one had come right after we killed Akanku Karamak and escaped the rift. We'd jumped two levels at once that time.
And that had been barely a week ago.
"...We haven't done anything since, though."
Well, we'd fought our way through the Anupad encirclement, true.
But if I tallied up the experience we'd have earned from that, it wouldn't come close to ten thousand. Against a requirement of over thirty thousand, it was absurdly short.
Then the events at Southharbor drifted back to me.
The time I delivered the letter to Prince Ulkar. The time I killed the witch disguised as Lady Camilla. The time I slew the Robber Baron and the Dungeon Lord and saved the city.
Each time, I'd received an enormous sum of experience. Maybe this was the same—a kind of quest-completion reward....
But there was no way to know for certain. Reality had already veered onto a path entirely different from the scenario I remembered.
Longville holding out unscathed, the bizarre "culling" event, Baron Mallory having vanished—or died—the mercenaries' uprising. None of that had ever happened in the game.
One stray thought bit the tail of the next.
"...Ah, forget it."
Guess meditation's a lost cause for now.
Right—you can't get full on the first spoonful. I'd call it a day and try again another time.
Just as I resigned myself and began to rise—
Tap.
The figure sleeping on the bed sprang up like a released spring and planted its back against the corner of the room. The lightning-fast movement was followed by icy eyes sweeping over my whole body.
"...Mungchi?"
At that, Mungchi—who'd been glaring at me from the corner with the eyes and crouch of a leopard—let out a dopey little eh.
Then she hid the rope she'd been holding in both hands behind her back and scrambled clumsily to her feet.
"Ah-uh, sowwy..."
"You didn't do anything. What are you sorry for?"
I watched her fidget for a moment.
She'd reacted reflexively to the tiniest noise I made getting up—having been fast asleep on the bed. From defenseless to securing safe ground to combat-ready had taken her less than two seconds.
...God, that's insane. I guess that's the kind of performance you can pull off with around 38 Agility.
'Pigeon-Request-Note-Yo,' the level 95 Blood Knight, had had 52 Agility. If 38 looks like this, what would 52 even feel like? I couldn't imagine.
"Sorry. Did I wake you?"
"...Nope."
"Like hell. Go back to sleep."
As I said that and started pulling on my leather boots, Mungchi, still standing there awkwardly, went wide-eyed.
"Whewe awe you going?"
"Can't sleep. Thought I'd take a little walk."
"A walk, oh?"
"Yeah. A walk is when you—"
"I know, walk."
In the pitch-black room without a speck of light, two dark pairs of eyes met.
"I onwy know it. Wif Phoi."
"Huh? Since when did we ever—ah."
Back when she was a piglet, she meant.
Thanks to his sky-high health—or whatever the reason—Phoenix's body had never needed much sleep. Three or four hours of sleep and his eyes would be wide open, and even forcing it, five hours was his limit.
So on the mornings I woke early, before training, I used to take Mungchi for walks...
Remembering that, I couldn't help but smile.
"Come to think of it, even back then, all it took was the word 'walk' and your tail would wag like crazy."
"Ehh..."
Even through the dim, dark-blurred view, I could see her small face flushing. A needless wave of mischief rose in me, and I grinned.
"It was late July, wasn't it? Around when we were passing Ridburn—remember when you fell in the puddle?"
"...Yes."
"You were so shocked you squealed nonstop until you got your bath."
"Uuu."
"Hey—were you faking it back then? To act like a real piglet?"
"No, no! It weawwy scawed me. I wasn't acting like pig—" Both hands flapping in denial, Mungchi caught the mischief blooming on my face and shut her mouth.
Then, in protest, she put on an exaggerated pout.
"Ahem."
For Ellen's sake, sleeping soundly in the bed across the room, I swallowed my laughter.
"Fine, suit yourself. Go back to sleep."
"...I, I'm coming too."
"Hm?"
"I go walk too." With that, Mungchi hurriedly pulled on her leather shoes and threw an outer coat over her shoulders. Then she padded over and peered up at me.
"...All right. Let's go."
Mimicking me, Mungchi broke into a bright smile as well.
A moonless dawn.
It was before daybreak, yet not all that dark. Stars glimmered faintly in the clear sky, and far off along the palisade, torches swayed. We left the lord's manor and walked slowly down the narrow path between the fence and the kitchen garden. While I stared blankly up at the night sky, Mungchi followed three or four steps behind, soundless.
"Mungchi."
"Yes?"
"You said you trained in the martial arts from childhood?"
"......Ah. Yes."
"Could you tell me about it?"
She fell silent for a while and only spoke up after another ten paces or so.
"It was dawk."
"Dark?"
"Yes. Mountain and mountain. I wawk many days."
Her story continued.
Somewhere deep in the mountains. Training that began without explanation. Brutal beatings and faceless masters. Friends vanishing one by one, and the terror of not knowing why...
Listening to her tale, I realized Mungchi spoke rather well. Her Milanor was clumsy, but the flow and ordering of her story were so well arranged that it cost me nothing to follow.
And separately from that, the darkness bleeding into her voice was deepening, little by little. Just as her voice began to tremble—
"You can stop now."
"...Eh?"
As if she'd been waiting for exactly that, Mungchi's mouth closed.
Had she only been talking because she felt she had to? The thought made me feel guilty.
"Mungchi."
"Yes?"
"The name Mungchi—do you like it?"
"Mungchi......"
Somewhere along the way, I found myself walking beside her. When she slowed her steps, I unconsciously shortened my stride to match; when she stopped, so did I.
Walking shoulder to shoulder with me, Mungchi glanced over furtively, then gave a small nod.
"Yes, I wike it."
"...Glad you like it, but it's not exactly a name you give a person."
"Eh."
"People might laugh if they hear it."
"Dat okay."
The answer came flat and decisive, as if it didn't matter at all.
"Mungchi, wike it fiwst."
"...What do you mean, 'like it first'? You mean like it the most?"
"Ah, yes. Wike it da most."
I let out a wry laugh and scratched at my eyebrow.
"Once you get used to how people talk around here, you'll change your mind."
"Eh."
"Well—whatever you're comfortable with."
Despite our slow pace, we'd somehow made it to the gate district.
The taverns clustered nearby slept in silence, a far cry from their usual rowdy clamor. No doubt because Dionnea's orders had sent most of the mercenaries out of the fief.
"We're heading into the mountains the day after tomorrow."
"Mountain, oh?"
"Yeah. That one."
Mungchi's gaze followed my pointing finger to the northeast. A massive shadow, barely visible in the dark.
"It's called Mount Graduil. We have to cross the pass up there."
"Ehh..."
"It'll probably be dangerous. The leader of those Anupads we saw before is up there somewhere."
Before I could say another word, Mungchi jumped in at once.
"I come too!"
"...Oh. Would you?"
"Yes. I, say it. I go wif Phoi."
The answer came more readily than I'd expected, and a smile crept onto my face on its own.
"Good. We'll get our coordination down in training later, and once the sun's up, we'll go gear shopping."
"Hee, good!"
Then Mungchi, still grinning away, suddenly turned her head. Between strands of her hair, her ears pricked up sharply.
"Mungchi?"
"I hear voices."
"Voices?"
Mungchi started walking, her eyes locked on one direction.
Her profile showed no emotion at all, as if she'd never smiled in her life. She moved at a fair clip across the dirt path strewn with straw and pebbles.
No rustle of cloth, no sound of footsteps. A silence of movement eerie enough to raise the hairs on my neck.
Just as faint voices began to reach my own ears, Mungchi spoke.
"Phoi."
"It's Atawante, oh."
"Atalante?"
...Had Mungchi ever even seen Atalante before?
"Yes. She angwy."
"Who is?"
Maybe a minute into following Mungchi with bated breath, the furious voices grew gradually clearer. The source was the back yard of the Golden Blade tavern—the place we'd stayed at not long ago.
"Liljanun! Hel tismaeuni'am mad ha?"
"Ant tetiradeth althur, k'nat."
Nu-dein. I had no idea what it meant, but it didn't sound like a pleasant situation.
The one raging was Atalante; the one listening was an old man. One of the elders who had stood alongside Deltoto in the manor's hall.
"What are they saying?"
"...Hmm, I no know."
We hid behind the tavern's fence and watched in silence for a moment.
"Alkarf, mawzirabun!" Agitated, Atalante strode straight toward the elder. And in that instant, the old man whipped something out from within his robes.
"...A pendant?"
An ornate pendant of gold filigree set around a true-green gem. The exact same shape as the one Deltoto had carried.
Before Atalante could react in any way, the emerald jewel flickered faintly.
"Ngh—"
Gritting her teeth, Atalante clenched her trembling fists as though resisting something.
"K'nat—"
As she staggered toward him, the elder's face went pale.
"A, Alab-!"
At the elder's low bark, the pendant's glow strengthened. And Atalante, who had been forcing her legs forward one step at a time, crumpled where she stood and collapsed backward.
"Urrgh."
Her golden eyes flickered as if in seizure. Occasionally a violet light surged in them, and each time it did, Atalante twisted her body and screamed without a sound. Crazy—what the hell is going on?
As I stood frozen by the sudden spectacle, the elder standing over her chuckled low and smiled. Then he muttered something and closed his fist around the gold pendant once more.
...Like an insect being eaten away from the inside, writhing, Atalante thrashed in silence.
"You sick bastard—"
I finally lost it and vaulted the fence. Just as I was about to launch myself at the elder torturing Atalante, a blurred figure split the night sky.
Mungchi.
She kicked off the fence and launched herself into the air, then—a technique I'd seen from her before, that is, planting her foot on her own and leaping again—landed soundlessly behind the elder.
Even through all that, she made almost no noise, so the elder never noticed Mungchi at his back. Instead, he caught sight of me clearing the fence and opened his mouth to shout.
That moment—
Crack.
The thick rope snapped around the elder's throat. The old man's face flushed crimson in an instant, his eyes bulging as he clawed at his own neck.
Mungchi, gripping the rope tight, forced him down to his knees with motions so practiced they were almost routine. Then she stomped her foot down hard on the small of his back.
"Wait, Mungchi—"
Before I could even finish, Mungchi heaved her arms back with all her strength.
Crunck!
The elder's head wrenched around backward, and he dropped to the ground with a heavy thud.
"Uh......"
As I stood there, unable to finish a sentence, Mungchi looked up at me with shining eyes.
It was... if I had to put it into words, the look of a puppy hoping to be praised.
Words failing me, I hoisted the unconscious Atalante onto my back.