The Story That Began (7)
A longed-for voice reached her ears.
A terrifying, horrible voice reached her ears.
It was Illusion’s voice.
“Ah, ah, aah…”
A wet trickle.
Without meaning to—truly, without the slightest intention—Ian-na let go. Still clutched tight in the Adjutant’s arms, she soaked the front of his uniform trousers through.
It was the incontinence of pure terror. Her body was nowhere near ready to face Illusion again.
Naked as the day she was born, Ian-na could only tremble while the Adjutant gave a faint smile and began to wipe her clean.
“I-I’m sorry… I’m sorry… sorry… sorry… sorry…”
Panic-stricken, she shook her head violently as she apologized.
The Adjutant only stroked her hair with gentle patience, as if to say it was all right.
And Illusion, who had watched every second of it, curved her lips into a meaningful smile.
“Ugh, nn…”
The trembling in Ian-na’s body would not stop. Some small part of her was glad Illusion had come, yet the fear still burned like madness. Her eyes never left Illusion’s hands.
Clutching her stomach, she pressed herself even harder against the Adjutant. He simply held her tighter, burying her face against his chest so that contact with Illusion would be reduced by even a fraction.
Ian-na was shaking violently. The nightmare felt ready to return. She was certain the two of them would kill the Adjutant and violate her all over again.
Trauma was never so easily forgotten.
And Illusion understood that perfectly.
She knew every one of Ian-na’s reactions was because of her.
She had only delivered justice. She had only exacted rightful vengeance for the dead magical girls. It had been nothing more than one step in guiding Ian-na—reduced to a Bureau whore—back into becoming the Magical Girl of the Waning Moon.
To anyone else it would have looked like pure self-justification, yet Illusion believed it with her whole heart.
Seeing Ian-na like this hurt. There was not a shred of guilt, but it still hurt.
What hurt most of all was that Ian-na had not sought refuge in her arms. She wanted to see Ian-na calm and safe inside her embrace again, as soon as possible.
Excitement.
That was the emotion flooding Illusion’s mind.
Ian-na’s reaction drove her into a frenzy of arousal. The idol she had always adored—the parent who had raised her, the benefactor, the sister, the mentor, the figure of every dream—flinching and flushing with pure dread at the mere sight of her… it set Illusion’s sadism blazing.
The result was inevitable.
The moment Ian-na wet herself, Illusion felt herself grow damp as well. She gave no outward sign, but the place between her legs was soaked through.
Because Ian-na was simply too adorable.
Still—
The fact that Ian-na clung so desperately not to her but to the Adjutant left a sour taste.
She felt robbed. The one Ian-na should depend on was not some monkey; it was her. Instead of performing that disgusting act of nestling against a mere hunting dog, Ian-na ought to be nestled against her.
“…Magical Girl of Illusion.”
“I know.”
When Ho-jun offered the quiet warning, the fleeting urge to kill the Adjutant here and now vanished at once. She was not yet ready to raise open rebellion against the monkeys.
The Adjutant was Ian-na’s loyal hound. For a monkey he seemed reasonably useful. She had no desire to shock Ian-na by killing him just yet.
Everything she did was for Ian-na’s sake. Justice was on her side. Ian-na herself had supplied the justification.
All of it existed to restore Ian-na’s “correct heart.” That was also why she risked approaching her now.
…And, of course,
stealing Ian-na’s heart away from the Adjutant looked like it might be rather entertaining.
If everything rolled along exactly as planned it would grow dull, so a little risk was perfectly acceptable.
She would recondition Ian-na until the woman returned to her arms. Along the way she would uncover every scheme the monkeys plotted with Ian-na and strike first. That was the plan.
It was for the greater good. For the magical girls. There was nothing personal in it. She meant to claim Ian-na so that she could protect everything.
It was the purest proof of love. Just as one overcomes hardship to reach the far shore, she would overcome obstacles like the Adjutant and turn Ian-na’s heart around.
Thinking so, Illusion stepped closer.
“Stay back.”
“…Calm down.”
The Adjutant’s face was ice-cold. He lifted Ian-na onto the bed and shielded her with his own back, then turned to face Illusion head-on.
Just as Illusion opened her mouth to speak—
“Both of you, compose yourselves. The Magical Girl of Illusion and the others have come to put a complete end to a certain ‘minor disturbance.’ Do not take such a hostile stance.”
Ho-jun, who had been observing from a distance, approached as he spoke.
“…A minor disturbance? Do you have any idea what the Director has been through? She was in a coma for weeks…!!!”
“Adjutant.”
The Adjutant began to shout at the top of his lungs.
Ho-jun drew a heavy pistol.
“…What are you—”
Ho-jun’s sheer bulk was enough to make even the Adjutant—who never flinched before magical girls—shrink back a little. No one else in the room could match him. Behind the intellectual image of the glasses and neat suit, he hid a crushing physical presence.
The Adjutant, who was barely taller than Ian-na, was forced several steps backward under the weight of that frame.
On the medical bed, Ian-na continued to shake.
Her reflection gleamed in Ho-jun’s lenses.
He reversed the pistol and held it out to the Adjutant.
“The responsibility is entirely mine. I am sorry. I wish to offer a sincere apology to both the Director and to you. Shoot me.”
“…What?”
“I will take full responsibility. The round is chambered. Fire as you are.”
Ho-jun forced the muzzle of the pistol, now gripped in the Adjutant’s hand, against his own temple.
“W-what are you doing… Deputy Director…!!!”
“Neither of you bears any blame. This entire incident originated from the death of Spess 3 under an order the Director herself issued. During the interrogation I was able to determine that much. The whole affair was accidental.”
Ho-jun laid the responsibility squarely on Ian-na.
She only trembled harder and hung her head.
“It was a misunderstanding. Everything was a chain of misunderstandings. How fortunate that we have been able to gather in one place and clear them away like this. I will take the blame, so please—shoot.”
“D-Deputy Director…”
The Adjutant froze solid. Illusion and Scales both sneered coldly at him.
He understood well enough.
Ho-jun and the two of them had struck some private bargain.
In exchange for burying the incident, something had been offered—or promised—to Ho-jun.
The Adjutant’s fists shook, yet there was nothing he could do.
Because he, too, had made a deal with Ho-jun.
…
Byeol-hwa held her breath.
Even if the order had come from Ian-na, it could not have been given in her right mind.
Han Ho-jun.
Her own father—uglier than anyone else in this world—was using Ian-na to cover his own filth.
But she could not intervene now.
The situation would only explode into chaos.
“…You cannot even manage something this small, yet you dared raise your voice at Illusion.”
“I…”
“Never forget your place.”
“…Understood.”
Watching Ho-jun’s face carefully, the Adjutant stepped back a little.
Ho-jun walked straight to the bed, took Ian-na in both hands, and lifted her into the air.
“L-let me go… please…”
She tried to thrash, but her body locked solid.
Illusion stood right in front of her, tightly holding Scales’s hand.
Naked, raised aloft by Ho-jun, Ian-na looked down at the two of them.
Illusion’s face flushed a deep red as she cried out.
“…I’m sorry, Waning Moon. I… I misunderstood. I couldn’t control my rage over Oksana’s death. I’m sorry for misunderstanding you.”
“Me too.”
Illusion bowed low in apology. Scales tapped at her smartphone with an utterly uninterested expression and offered the most perfunctory apology imaginable. Silence settled over the medical room.
Illusion was smiling. She was smiling wider than anyone. Of course, with her waist bent, no one could see her face.
No one noticed that she was smiling at all.
“…Wh-what?”
In the dreamlike moment she had longed for all this time, Ian-na’s mind went blank for a second. She could not understand what was happening.
Clearing the misunderstanding with Illusion. Being close again. The two wishes she had prayed for so desperately seemed to be coming true at once.
She had always imagined it in her heart, yet when it arrived in reality she had no idea how to respond. The whole scene was something she had never once predicted.
“You’ll accept the apology… right?”
Illusion looked up at her with pleading eyes.
“Y-yeah…”
Ian-na answered in a trembling voice.
A little moisture gathered in her clouded eyes.
The crushing shock of standing face-to-face with the perpetrator of unforgettable, monstrous violence—and the joy that Harsa, whom she had always cherished and had always regarded as an ally, had come to clear the air and apologize—dragged her mind back into the past.
Back to the childhood when no one had ever taken her hand, when she had prayed only to be strangled to death, when she had survived by chewing on cloth in a semi-basement room that was little better than a garbage dump under the complete indifference of her parents, when she had been driven to the very edge of dying.
Even as her body shook with terror, tears of joy spilled over.
The moment she had always imagined had become real.
…Again.
With Harsa and the other magical girls—just once more, even once would be enough—she wanted simply to belong again. Idle corpse-chatter, cold jokes, anything.
She had not asked for anything grand.
She had already understood it was realistically impossible.
But now—truly—
Again… just once more…
It felt as though the dream had come true.
She could not contain the joy. She was still so frightened she could barely look at their faces, yet it no longer mattered.
Because she believed every misunderstanding had been cleared away.
She believed, with her whole heart, that they could be close again—really, truly close.
Of course,
Harsa did not think so at all.