Toward Death (5)
"…Father."
"Address me as Deputy Director, Magical Girl of the Constellation."
The Magical Girl of the Constellation fixed Han Ho-jun with a long, unblinking stare.
Ho-jun paid her reaction no mind at all. His gaze was locked on the two figures slung across her back.
Both of them were barely clinging to life.
Their bodies were riddled with wounds. Illusion had already slipped completely into unconsciousness, while Libra gasped raggedly, just managing to hold on to her senses.
The moment Ho-jun realized the blood streaming from Illusion’s body had soaked the floor, he snatched both of them from Byeol-hwa’s shoulders in a single motion.
"These are serious injuries. Get them to the medical wing at once."
"Understood!"
The medical team on standby loaded the two onto stretchers and hurried away.
Byeol-hwa watched him with open distaste. Ho-jun looked down at her in turn—with eyes nothing like the ones he used for Ian-na.
There was no affection in that cold stare.
Father and daughter shared a striking resemblance even at a glance: the same pitch-black hair, the same flawless skin, the same sharp nose and large eyes.
As if their bloodline needed no further proof.
Save for the slight difference in the line of the jaw, they were nearly identical.
Where Ho-jun projected the image of a solid, disciplined physique wrapped in clean intellectual poise, Byeol-hwa swept her long black hair back and carried herself with a refined, almost austere beauty.
It was a strange, pure atmosphere. She radiated a subtle wrongness—something entirely different from the other two magical girls, an uncanny sensation that set the nerves on edge.
Everyone present registered her presence as alien.
Not the same species.
The exclusionary instinct wired into humanity since prehistory surfaced without mercy. Every human in that room felt an inexplicable revulsion, a deep rejection toward the Magical Girl of the Constellation.
All humans carry a fear of the dark—an indelible instinct stamped into the genes, impossible to refuse.
For Ho-jun and the others standing there, accepting her was simply too much.
Her form was far too dark.
A darkness deeper than the abyss.
That was the only phrase that could define her.
Beautiful—yet it stirred pure terror.
That was Ho-jun’s honest impression of his own daughter.
"Was this your plan?"
"What plan?"
"Putting those two in danger."
Byeol-hwa spoke slowly and stepped closer. The Bureau agents watching the exchange swallowed hard without meaning to; the air had turned heavy in an instant.
"I had nothing to do with it."
"Liar…!"
Those eyes of hers—blacker than anything—began to burn.
The sacrifice of magical girls.
It was nothing new, yet lately the rate at which they died had grown far too high.
Ever since her father, Han Ho-jun, and Ian-na had seized real authority over the Far East’s governing body—the Bureau of Magical Girl Correction and Surveillance.
Father.
Han Ho-jun was a piece of garbage. She had lived with him only through early childhood, yet even that brief stretch had been enough for her to see straight through to the core of the man.
And that man now occupied the seat of Deputy Director, free to wield enormous power.
There were far too many things that didn’t add up.
"It wasn’t me. The Director gave the order. I argued for reinforcements."
"…Waning Moon?"
"That’s right. So please… withdraw the Remegeton you’ve aimed at me."
Ho-jun’s unexpected stance left Byeol-hwa genuinely off-balance.
He was not the sort to shift blame for his own failures. He had never stooped to ugly lies just to wriggle out of a crisis.
His way had always been to face things head-on and crush opposition with sheer authority.
"…Is that true?"
Byeol-hwa turned her eyes on the Bureau agent standing behind Ho-jun.
"I-it’s true. The Deputy Director requested reinforcements, but the Director said, ‘Let’s trust the two of them,’ and blocked the request."
…Trust the two of them?
One of Ian-na’s transparent lies.
Ian-na had submitted to the Bureau simply to keep herself alive. Honor, pride—everything discarded. The squalid end of a magical girl.
A Bureau lapdog wagging her tail for the chance to cling to one more ugly day of life.
Nothing more, nothing less.
Until now Byeol-hwa had believed Ho-jun was merely using Ian-na. That assessment had changed.
They were clearly coordinating closely. Which meant… Ian-na intended to absorb the outrage and fallout that would follow the deaths of Illusion, Libra, and the artificial magical girl.
Ho-jun was still young among the leadership of the various governing bodies scattered across the world, but he was, at the end of the day, an ordinary human.
Once a magical girl’s death was made public, the flood of condemnation and blame would come—and in the worst case he himself would become a target for the others.
So the well-known Ian-na was stepping up as the shield. That much was obvious.
…A bad person.
On the surface Ian-na looked pure and kind, but inside she was every bit as dark and scheming as Ho-jun.
If she was desperately protecting a walking piece of human trash like Han Ho-jun, then she clearly belonged in the same category.
Whatever they were plotting, it would not go according to plan.
Because she would stand in the way.
Looking back, none of it made sense. Throwing relatively weak first-generation artificial magical girls at a Multus-class threat was one thing; sending only two people after an Unknown that required something on the level of Entreaty to subdue was another.
And one of those two had only just become a magical girl—someone from whom no real combat power could be expected.
If, as Ho-jun claimed, the order had come from Waning Moon—from Ian-na—
then this blade rightfully belonged at Ian-na’s throat.
Of course, she had no intention of forgiving Ho-jun either, the man who had let her mother die.
Byeol-hwa recalled the Remegeton she had aimed at Ho-jun’s throat.
A cross-shaped blade so minute it was smaller than a fingernail slipped free of his suit and returned to her hand.
No one except Ho-jun had even noticed. It had never been large enough for the naked eye to catch.
This was the Remegeton she had carried since birth—
a sword-shaped tool whose size she could freely control.
Its true nature revealed itself not against Unknowns, but against humans. Anyone pierced deeply enough to draw blood went mad in an instant.
What they experienced after that, even Byeol-hwa herself did not know. She had never been stabbed by it.
One second later, everything was decided. A person stabbed by her Remegeton was no longer fully human—little more than a living corpse, a ruined shell.
Then, under the crushing weight of agony and stress, their hair turned white in moments, and the sudden onset of aging killed them on the spot.
"…How did you notice?"
"Because we share the same blood. This father of yours knows every scheme Byeol-hwa is cooking up."
"You told me not to call you that."
"Haha. For now, call me Father."
Ho-jun smiled coldly.
Perhaps the brush with death at his daughter’s hands had softened him, just a fraction.
If necessary, she would kill him without the slightest hesitation. She even felt a small urge to watch him scream as he paid the price for every sin he had committed.
But this was not the time.
She could not face every magical girl alone. Too many still remained loyal to the Bureau and to the governing bodies around the world.
For now, the priority was to watch, wait, and cut the number of magical-girl sacrifices even a little.
"Han Byeol-hwa. You ignored Bureau orders and went into the field."
"…The result was good! The only reason those two were saved in time is because of me!!!"
"Results do not prove everything. Drop the attitude that only outcomes are truth. You trampled the Bureau’s authority."
The Magical Girl of the Constellation—Han Byeol-hwa—clenched her teeth and shot back.
"So what are you going to do about it? Father, are you going to kill me too? Like the other magical girls? Is that your goal—purging magical girls from under Ian-na’s skirts…!?"
Flushed with fury, Byeol-hwa spat the words, saliva flying. She wanted nothing more than to drive her Remegeton into every throat present.
"B-Byeol-hwa… speaking to the Deputy Director like that…"
"…It’s fine. Magical Girl of the Constellation, I am sentencing you to one week in solitary. If we fail to punish a magical girl who defies orders, the Bureau’s authority will never stand properly."
Ho-jun was smiling.
He was clearly mocking her.
"…And if I refuse?"
In that instant, Byeol-hwa’s Remegeton was leveled at every neck in the room. The blades were so small that no one except Ho-jun could detect them—needle-thin, yet more than enough to pierce a throat and draw blood.
"If you refuse, there’s nothing we can do. It’s not as though we can force you… ordinary people like us have no real options. Instead, I’ll cut your pay."
"…"
Ho-jun raised both hands in a gesture of helpless surrender.
The sheer absurdity of it made Byeol-hwa sheath her Remegeton without thinking.
"Well then, choose. Magical Girl of the Constellation. A pay cut, or one week in solitary."
"…Solitary."
"Understood. I’m sure you’ll find it quite comfortable. We accepted a great many of the magical girls’ requests for the cells. If you need anything else, call anytime."
"There won’t be any need."
Ho-jun began personally escorting her toward solitary confinement.
Byeol-hwa followed in silence.
Not a single word passed between them—the perfect picture of mutual affection confirmed.
Along the corridor they occasionally crossed paths with artificial magical girls.
Third-generation.
The last batch mass-produced before the Artificial Girl Project was scrapped.
They walked in neat ranks with vacant eyes, five or six at a time moving somewhere in formation.
Outwardly they looked extremely young. Their height was roughly the same as Ian-na’s.
…Surely not.
A Remegeton was most efficiently acquired at a young age. There had always been an upper limit on the age at which the power could be properly drawn out.
Even an artificially created Remegeton was no different.
The moment the memory surfaced, Byeol-hwa gagged on a wave of revulsion she could not suppress.
Ho-jun kept walking, unconcerned.
Strength drained from her legs; she sank to the floor where she stood.
Ordinarily, when creating an artificial girl, a body was built to match the size of the brain and spinal cord.
That was why most of them retained an appearance close to their original form.
At best they looked like early elementary-school children; at worst, younger than kindergarteners. Those artificial girls filled her vision.
…
Ugly.
There was no other word for it.
The stench of rot was so thick she felt her body might melt.
The same humans who dressed themselves as “virtuous weaklings” had turned even little children into tools just to protect their own lives.
…Yes.
Tools.
That was the precise word for magical girls. Nothing else fit.
Disposable tools to protect a single human life. Tools that could be broken and remade as many times as needed. Tools for which raw materials were always in endless supply.
Feeble as insects, yet they still regarded her kind as nothing but instruments.
Hatred flooded Byeol-hwa’s eyes.
The fuse was lit.
"…What are you doing?"
Ho-jun’s voice reached her. Byeol-hwa rose in silence.
And she began to walk.
Toward a future she could not see even an inch ahead.
"Your Excellency, Libra and Illusion have returned."
"…Ah."
The Adjutant reported over the intercom from beyond the glass,
and Ian-na, lying on the white bed with her hands trembling faintly, answered in a voice drained of strength.
Two chocolates sat neatly arranged on the shelf above her.