Do I Look Pitiful?
I wondered if I looked pitiful.
Class didn't amount to much. It was the first day, so they were taking it easy — but even so, the entire lesson boiled down to other people's abilities and a lecture on why I had to attend this place at all. I propped my chin in my hand and either locked eyes with the teacher who kept glancing my way, or yawned my way through the hours in a fog of boredom.
The rest of the week was no different. The only thing that pricked at me even slightly was the date circled and underlined on the calendar hanging on the classroom wall: exam day.
After I'd spent about a week like that, something a little different happened.
"Teacher, the new student doesn't seem to be adjusting well. Would it be all right if I showed them around and helped them out?"
Instead of answering, the teacher waved a hand as if to say suit yourself, and left the classroom. The boy watched him go, then stood and came toward me.
It was clearly the same uniform, but the fabric looked a grade finer. There were expensive ornaments stitched here and there, too.
"Your name was Harin, right? Where did you used to live?"
"I see you've suddenly become curious. Weren't you the one who didn't care?"
The boy sneered.
"You don't have to tell me if you don't want to. Just follow me."
He gathered a few kids from nearby and closed in, the approach itself a threat.
"Why?"
"You don't seem to get the situation. Shut up and follow me. Do you slum-dwelling retard pieces of shit not even understand words?"
I had never said I lived in the slums. That teacher hadn't even made me introduce myself. Did it show that badly? Did I just look like a beggar brat? I wasn't sure. Or maybe it was because I'd been high as a kite the night before, slept through the morning, and shown up with my hair still a wreck.
I stood up without a fuss. The boy looked as if he'd expected nothing less. He and a handful of followers marched me off to some neglected corner of the school grounds.
"Late on the first day, not even listening in class, nodding off the whole time. What, are you some big shot's daughter? Or a bastard child? White hair, red eyes. A lot of whores came in after the old war, after all."
I didn't answer. I simply looked them over. Two boys snickering over dirty jokes. The one in front of me, who seemed to be the ringleader. Two girls staring at their phones.
"I had my father look into all the new kids this time."
He tapped my cheek as he went on.
"And you came from the slums. Same neighborhood as that bastard Lee Seojun, even. If you're the same rank as me you definitely won't be shit, so there shouldn't be any problem..."
He said it while slipping on a knuckle duster. Blunt spikes jutted from the striking faces. The metal was well used; the raised edges were scored with old nicks and scratches.
"So. Are you two close? If you lived in the same neighborhood you'd know each other's faces, right? Or maybe not — there's no school there, after all."
I didn't answer. I just looked at him for a long time. Whether it was because I couldn't answer the question of whether we were close, or simply because I didn't want to, I couldn't have said.
He frowned at me, let out a sigh, and drove a fist into my side.
"When I talk to you, fucking answer."
It felt as though a rib had cracked. I held my breath, and before long the bone knitted itself back together.
"Why do you think I left you alone for a week? Seeing as you haven't even met Lee Seojun, I'm glad it looks like you two don't know each other."
If I killed him here, there would be problems. This was a school in the middle of the city, staffed with any number of self-important people, and running afterward wouldn't be easy. One pop and there wouldn't be a trace left. I'd only have to mop up the blood. But if they took me somewhere and then simply vanished, that would be troublesome in its own way.
"Ughk..."
A fist sank into my side, punching a hollow into the flesh. I did nothing.
"From now on, don't talk back. Just follow along. You've got a pretty face. You don't actually want to live getting beaten like this, do you?"
The words landed with a slap. A reddish mark bloomed across my cheek.
Living like this, for the time being, might not be so bad. I had already decided I needed someone to bully me. Gathering as much information as I could and sending it to the organization was the condition for being allowed to attend this place at all — that was my work. And a frail little girl being picked on doesn't stand out nearly as much as you'd think. No matter what she does. No matter what is done to her.
So I decided to endure it a little. They weren't doing anything particularly strange. At most they wanted to throw a few punches. And I was used to being hit. It hurt, of course — but it wasn't a hammer. Just a fist wearing a knuckle duster. After a blow to the solar plexus my strength left me; I crumpled and retched. But this much was nothing. It wasn't as if my face were caving in and sliding off my skull.
"She won't say a single word."
The boy caught his breath, drew a cigarette from his coat, and lit it. Then he suddenly began clawing at his ear as if something had crawled inside and started itching. I wouldn't know what had gotten in there. Blood, maybe. Or just some gnat that happened to be flying past.
He flicked the butt at me, spat, and started nudging me with his foot.
I wonder if I look pitiful.
I hoped so. When someone found me — especially my one and only friend. I didn't know if he thought of me as a friend. But I wanted to look terribly pitiful when that boy found me. Because a pitiful child couldn't possibly burn down the Research Lab. A pitiful child couldn't kill innocent people.
"You — what do you think you're doing!?"
I lifted my head toward the voice. A girl stood there with a sword at her waist. Looking closer, her uniform was a slightly different color, too. Pale bluish hair, probably from mana; a blade at her hip; unnaturally beautiful. She had to be one of the girls who clung to Seojun's side. That was simply the feeling I got. Seojun had been wearing a uniform like that the last time I saw him, too. I'd thought they'd just changed the design, but apparently the color differed by rank. No wonder all the students who'd filed into the auditorium together had ended up in the same class, or the one next door.
This wasn't the kind of person I'd been hoping would show up.
The boy and his gang went slack-faced, stammered something shapeless, and bolted. The girl started after them, then saw me looking thoroughly wrecked and stopped to help me up instead.
"Um, a-are you okay? If there are rotten kids like that, you should tell a teacher, or someone passing by!"
Whether the teachers here were different, or the people themselves were different, I couldn't say. At the very least, none of that seemed to apply to me. Even so, the face she made as she spoke — genuinely worried — was quite pretty, so I looked at her for a long time. Then I said, quietly:
"N-no. This isn't the time for that. First we need to get you to the infirmary..."
Come to think of it, I couldn't remember her name at all. She had definitely been an important character in the novel. Far more important than me, at the very least. To anyone in this world. I was on the verge of forgetting even the person who had affirmed me and comforted me more than anyone else.
My head split open with pain.
But in the end they were just talking clumps of typeface. Were they really that important? I was this useless — Yu Harin was this useless — and yet someone got to be loved that much just because they had a backstory that needed saving? Then I was a clump of typeface too.
"What should I even say. Something proper. I can't remember. Anyway — get lost, please. This is pissing me off."
I hated headaches. More than physical pain, even. The body could be fixed in an instant with a pinch of snow-white magic powder or a single happy candy. A headache was nothing like that.
Even after being told to get lost, the girl couldn't decide what to do. She fidgeted in front of me in a way that was getting on my nerves. I could pierce her through with blood right here and go find Seojun together. I was fairly sure I could manage it.
Our eyes met while I was thinking that.
"A-are you really sure you don't need the infirmary...?"
She looked startled at being sworn at so suddenly. I would have been the same. You help someone and they start cursing at you.
"I'm quite all right, so please go. It's not as though you'll be sitting beside me in the same class."
She froze and wouldn't move, so I gave her a light smile and left myself. I scraped the spit from my clothes with a thread of blood, flung it far away, and pulled a cigarette from my coat. I lit it. I still wasn't used to the smoke, and I coughed through the first few draws.
Everyone stared as I walked, puffing away. Whether it was because I was smoking in the open, or because a girl my age was smoking at all, I couldn't say. At the dormitory entrance I snuffed the cigarette out on the back of my hand, crushed the butt to powder, and let the wind take it.
I should go find him after all. I should have asked her earlier — how close she was with Lee Seojun, what class he was in, whether she knew where he lived.
Inside my room I scattered a thick pile of white powder across the table and drew in a deep breath once more. I really couldn't face him sober. How should I meet him? What if I just went and found him myself. Right now.
Whether it was the powder of happiness or not, Seojun was welcoming me so warmly. Like a childhood friend he hadn't seen in so long. Someone he was truly close to. Someone he had genuinely, desperately missed.