Chapter 128: A Strange Afterstory 2
Chapter 128: A Strange Afterstory 2
Everything has its cause and effect.
A single carelessly tossed cigarette butt can set a forest ablaze.
Still, at least that much falls within the bounds of what a person can predict.
Is this even cause and effect anymore, or just the butterfly effect going haywire?
Lee Ha-rin, swamped with catching up on all the ritual-magic research she'd put off, hardly showed her face anymore.
Kim Ha-eun, meanwhile, came to me for orders without fail at every single meal—morning, noon, and evening.
Once I'd sent both Incarnations off to their work, only three remained nearby.
Han Ye-ji, Jeong Ah-rin, and Namgung Hui, all hovering around me with awkward expressions.
"Constellation, well...."
"It's only called a close-protection detail. You don't need to feel burdened. Why not pass the time with some training?"
The world might be a vipers' nest tangled in relationships and self-interest,
but I genuinely never expected those three to end up at the Academy.
Who could have predicted that healing one person would land three more Academy affiliations in the bargain?
At this rate, even Rube Goldberg would be shocked enough
to go back and rename the Rube Goldberg machine itself.
"Understood."
"That's right. It's all about having the right pretext. Make yourselves comfortable."
The trigger for all this was The Sword That Severs the Yoke's disciples.
As they were withdrawing from the Academy, they'd asked exactly one question.
'It seems you have no personnel attending the Constellation. Is there some problem?'
They had come to entrust us with a junior sister who'd fallen into qi deviation,
and what they noticed was Lethargic Nightmare's residence having no attendants at all.
In my case, I had simply kicked out every single male because I didn't want to cohabit with men,
but the eyes watching from outside saw something else entirely.
And little wonder—this world worships Constellations.
Even a mere celebrity has managers to handle their affairs and keep them on track.
Leaving a Constellation—an object of faith—without a single attendant or secretary?
Admittedly, the Academy had the excuse that I'd refused them time after time, but
'Oh, so the Constellation personally gave the word, and you actually pulled all the staff?'
'Didn't we just have an unsavory incident? Does this really look fine?'
People demanding answers won't accept those excuses.
On top of that, similar opinions were surfacing inside the Academy itself.
'Even if the Constellation said it was fine, wouldn't it be best to avoid giving anyone a stick to beat us with?'
Even in a world where Constellations, Incarnations, and psychic powers evolve alongside science,
politicians splitting into factions and fighting will always be a constant.
the Academy president's seat carries considerable political weight.
So The Sword That Severs the Yoke's disciples,
the soldiers Kim Ha-eun and I had healed,
and the Academy's own internal opinion all converged into one result.
The Academy would hire Han Ye-ji's team—up-and-comers in their own right—as my close-protection detail.
It was semi-coercive, but there's no chance they genuinely hate the work.
The Academy doesn't exploit people the way the K-military does.
I don't have a hobby of peeking at other people's bankbooks,
but I at least heard their salaries more than tripled.
The Sword That Severs the Yoke's disciples got to look after my Incarnations—good for them.
The Academy preempted a political landmine that could have blown up in their faces—good for them.
My three ex-team Incarnations got padded accounts and Academy affiliation—good for them.
Barely a week had passed; a staggering amount of political chatter must have flown back and forth.
Not that any of it gave me reason to stand guard over a Dream Demon who can simply escape to his Sanctum or into dreams at will.
Han Ye-ji, off to retry the shooting range for a perfect score;
Namgung Hui, given permission to use the training ground to work out;
and Jeong Ah-rin, perhaps because she was a druid, off to tend the flowerbed next to the dormitory.
Close protection in name only—I'd sent them off with a go-ahead to handle their own business.
After ushering all five out of the residence—Lee Ha-rin, Kim Ha-eun, and Han Ye-ji's team—I sprawled out, phone in hand, when—
"Um, h-hi?"
"What's the matter?"
The Unfading Giant Tree's voice came through the wooden bracelet Jeong Ah-rin had left behind.
Given the elf's famously unhurried sense of time,
it was almost unheard of for her to reach out first. What had prompted it?
"Nothing major. The tree spirits' responses have changed, so I thought I'd ask."
"Tree spirits?"
"Mm. The ones near your bracelet are confused. Is something happening at the Academy?"
Hearing that, I had a pretty good guess.
The fingers holding my smartphone were literally twice as thick as they were in elf form.
My height differed by over thirty centimeters, and my thighs and forearms were about three times thicker.
From my face to my height, weight, and overall bulk—I'd nearly doubled in size.
Was it any wonder the spirits were startled to see me?
Life's more convenient with a bigger build.
Specifically, when grabbing coffee mix or snacks from a high cupboard,
and when cooking simple meals with ingredients.
So I'd never bothered to transform back into the tiny elf frame.
I'd just moved as I pleased, knowing it wasn't permanent.
Looks like I can swap back if I want to.
As I focused my mind, my field of vision lowered bit by bit,
confirming I could shift back and forth between the elf body and the brawny one at will.
At this point, I was almost curious what that cat had actually driven out of me.
Could it chase out restraints and limits too?
The thing was more impressive than I gave it credit for.
"Nothing happened, really. I just changed back to my old form."
"The one from when we first met?"
"Yeah, the big one."
I'd been an elf the whole time since meeting The Unfading Giant Tree,
so she'd remember the muscular version too.
A bit bulkier now than back then.
"Is that so? What happened?"
The strongest Constellation of the Eastern Continent came to ask me to fix a disciple who hadn't yet contracted anyone.
One of my own Incarnations secretly entered the disciple's dreams to siphon off her talents.
A short while ago, Loyal Fang's messenger forcibly altered my body.
So my current status is: I punished my Incarnation and treated the disciple.
...Could anyone in the world follow an explanation like that?
"Mm. An odd sequence of events. Hard to explain."
"The world of humans really is a jumble, isn't it."
Whether it was an elf's bias or not, The Unfading Giant Tree said this as though she immediately understood.
But after finally receiving a call from her, it felt like a shame to let the conversation end there.
I had nothing to do anyway. Why not pop over and gossip?
Jeong Ah-rin's wooden bracelet—well, no one was going to steal it.
I'd leave it here and ascend to the Sanctum.
From the Academy to my Sanctum,
from there, riding the World Tree's branches to The Unfading Giant Tree's space.
My surroundings flickered, and then a radiant, smiling white face appeared before me.
I was thinking I might look like an athlete who'd evolved into a barbarian,
but The Unfading Giant Tree herself didn't seem to care one bit.
"You came right away! Hold on, I'll prepare drinks!"
Her pure-white hem fluttered as she pitter-pattered off. I seated myself at the table.
Watching her pull a vine from the cabinet and squeeze out gold liquid was endlessly fascinating.
"So. Did you come to explain what happened?"
"I had a question for you, too."
And I wanted to see her face,
but I also wanted her advice.
Advice on—what kind of punishment to give an Incarnation who'd done wrong.
Kim Ha-eun's situation had resolved with her magical power bound and Origin subjugated,
reduced to a passive state—and there the matter had closed.
But couldn't Han Ye-ji or Lee Ha-rin make smaller mistakes?
When they messed up in a way that was hard to forgive outright,
having a reasonably calibrated punishment ready didn't seem like a bad plan.
"Here, this!"
A gold-hued drink poured into the familiar leaf tea cup.
She had so many plants and therefore countless tea leaves,
but given my sweet tooth—practically a child's palate—I preferred the sugary option.
And the fact that she'd prepared a bigger cup
in proportion to my current size struck me as endearing.
I wetted my lips with the cold, sweet golden sap and began the tale.
"So, what happened was—"
Not being much of a talker, I laid it out as sequentially as I could.
One day The Sword That Severs the Yoke had arrived with a junior sister in qi deviation...
and one of my own Incarnations, addicted to demonic magic, had deceived me.
I skipped the leash-sex, naturally. No need to mention any of that.
"And that's what you wanted to ask about?"
"Yes. How did you punish your Incarnations when they transgressed?"
She sank into thought.
I watched her slender fingers tap-tap the tabletop where they'd held the cup,
and sooner than expected, her knitted brows relaxed and she gave me an answer.
"I keep two sorts of Incarnations, you see."
"Right? Farmers and druids."
That part I'd learned while helping her earn points earlier.
Farmer Incarnations who offered rituals and received blessings for a good harvest from the Eastern Continent's farmlands.
And druid Incarnations who were granted the senses of beasts in exchange for tending nature.
Han Ye-ji's own senior, Jeong Ah-rin,
was The Unfading Giant Tree's druid Incarnation.
"In times like these, the most important thing is to establish proper standards. What I give, what I receive—and what punishment I'll mete out when there's wrongdoing."
"Isn't that a little too abstract?"
I came to hear advice on how to set standards,
and the advice I got was that setting standards was important.
A rude thought, maybe, but wasn't this entirely unhelpful?
As if reading my thoughts, she gave a little grin and went on.
"I mean the standards have to be precise. Take the farmers. What I grant them is the promise of a bountiful harvest. So when I punish them, I withdraw some of that blessing. Enough that they clearly understand: wrongdoing means the reward ceases."
I felt like I'd read something in a past life about never tying reward to punishment.
Or wait—was that about parenting? Maybe it didn't apply here?
"When farmers err, the crops begin to wither a little. When druids err, their senses gradually dull. Taking back what I bestowed—and making the ultimate penalty I can conceive the point where they end up receiving nothing at all."
"Huh, is that so? I think I get the picture."
As she kept explaining, it started to make sense.
Look at the despicable gods of Greco-Roman myth.
The moment something displeased them, didn't they kill, curse, and rape mortals?
Viewed next to that, The Unfading Giant Tree was showing clear, defined mercy.
To take back what had been given.
And thereby, to sever the relationship.
That was the maximum penalty she decreed.
She never punished beyond what she'd first granted,
unlike some vile rapist gods elsewhere.
A punishment befitting a tender-hearted elf.
Banning them from lucid dreams and forcing nightmares on them—would that do the trick?
Sip by sip, I drank from the oversized cup and sorted through my thoughts
while she waited with a quiet smile, letting my reflections run without interruption.
Time flowed peacefully amid the scent of flowers and forest.
Until the bothersome call came.