Chapter 16: Incarnation, Han Ye-ji
Chapter 16: Incarnation, Han Ye-ji
A picture is worth a thousand words.
The old saying drifted through my head unbidden.
Might've been a little irreverent, but to be honest, the Authority "Sweet Lucid Dream" had never quite felt real.
Grinding stamina every day, studying law until she thought her skull might crack...
If someone had told her months ago, "You're going to become an Incarnation and study law instead of working a convenience store part-time job"—
would she have believed it?
But now she could feel it, unmistakably, at her fingertips.
"You haven't decided yet, have you? That's fine. I like the caution. So, for the next week, find a weapon that suits you. No matter how indifferent you feel at first, once a weapon settles into your hand, it pulls you in."
Her instructor was shouting with fervor. She'd heard there was only one instructor for Basic Weaponry,
but this woman had inexplicably dumped everything onto an assistant and plastered herself to the cadet's side, which was stifling beyond belief.
And there was the first trait, potent enough to make her forget even that discomfort.
The only sword she'd ever swung in her life was the kitchen knife she used to prep meals for her little brother.
She gripped the wooden sword and swung at the mannequin as if she were clubbing something.
She swung from left to right—and after the thud and wobble, before she could even pull the sword back, a second thump landed, and the mannequin lurched the other way.
[Incarnation Han Ye-ji has fully assimilated the Dream Demon's First Essence.]
[Talent Blooming: Illusion (幻)]
The trait she'd gained since that night—the night of that warm, irreverent dream.
If her contract with the Constellation had changed her life, this one trait, all by itself, changed how the instructors looked at her.
A trait that delivered a second strike with every attack.
She only realized after they had her fire a tranquilizer gun.
Even if the first shot was blocked, the bonus attack went through.
"So what we're seeing here," one of the instructors murmured, "is that even if the opponent blocks, the impact registers as a hit, and the follow-through attack executes regardless."
She wasn't listening to the bigwig handing her a business card out front—she was hearing the instructors muttering among themselves behind her.
"So that's it. Does the second strike just generate at the same point of contact the moment the first one lands?"
"Looks like it. The mannequin took the second hit directly because she struck it in person. If a weapon meets a weapon, there's probably a slight delay before the bonus strike. Counterplay is either dodge everything, or if you've got a sensory trait, bat it away at range with something long—a spear—then dodge one more time."
Not flashy, but ruthlessly practical.
The instructors, having delivered that assessment, clapped her on the shoulder, congratulated her on having her life made, and vanished.
What remained was an empty afternoon schedule and a single business card.
Clutching the card, she looked up the Incarnation Suppression Unit's promotional video on her laptop.
The footage of a squad subduing an Incarnation with tranquilizer guns and nets rolled past, but her head was too hazy to absorb any of it.
Before she knew it, she had naturally lain down on her bed—and bolted through a front door.
"Oh—Constellation?"
"What's wrong?"
A tall, handsome man was sitting on the sofa.
His smiling eyes curved gently as he patted the seat next to him.
But her emotions were churning too wildly today. She just stood there, rooted, unable to go forward or back.
"Did something happen?"
He rose softly from the sofa and took her hand—so unfailingly, achingly gentle.
The warmth against the back of her hand and the steady grip made the words she'd been holding inside even harder to let out.
It was a completely different sensation from swinging a wooden sword at a mannequin or firing at paper targets.
The feeling of aiming a gun at a person. That was what had terrified her.
It was only a tranquilizer gun, and she'd fired it against a shield, at that. The needle hadn't even pierced skin. The target had just dozed off for a moment from the trait's effect.
They'd woken up fine after a shot of stimulant. It was nothing.
They were probably at a bar somewhere right now, laughing it off—"got to experience a freaky new trait firsthand!"
No matter how many times she told herself that, a horrible thought kept creeping through a corner of her skull, spreading like fog.
The thought she hadn't felt while running on the training field or studying law—no, the thought she'd been working so hard to ignore.
That she was headed for war.
"Here, here. Sit down first."
She let herself be drawn along by the hand holding hers, and a steaming mug of cocoa materialized on the coffee table.
She hadn't imagined it. Had the Constellation made it for her?
The sweet heat slid down her throat, and only then did her mouth open.
Gratitude that he'd chosen her as an Incarnation, guilt over the erotic dreams, the weight of the instructors' and everyone else's stares,
and then the pressure of knowing she'd have to kill something that was alive—she spilled all of it.
Mumbling into the Constellation's chest, held in his gentle smile, his warm arms, she let every raw feeling pour out.
"So embarrassing. I'm a girl, and I'm dying of shame here..."
She just wanted to stay wrapped up in his arms like this.
A man straight out of a comic—the type who'd rot a woman's standards for good.
When he whispered in her ear, that was exactly what she thought.
If she let herself be spoiled like this any longer, she'd degrade into something barely human.
And when she heard that languid voice pull her close again and whisper that anything, everything was okay—well, wasn't it unavoidable?
※
The sight of Han Ye-ji curled up in someone's arms, pouring out her anxieties—that was something I'd never factored in.
No matter how mature she acted, she was a second-year high schooler.
You hand a gun to an eighteen-year-old girl and tell her to go kill some monsters—who's going to smile and start blasting?
That must've been why the counter-terrorism video had snagged her attention.
The gap between killing someone and subduing a criminal is just that wide.
"But you can't exactly tell her killing people turns out to be no big deal, either."
In the apocalypse world, how many people had I killed over a drainpipe, a can of food, a space to sleep in?
Bashing in skulls with a rusted steel pipe, stabbing into sides with a knife I'd sharpened from scrap metal.
The creatures—those bloated lumps of flesh—didn't die easy. I'd stab them over and over, then go find a hammer and tenderize them into ground meat.
And that was me. Han Ye-ji was completely different.
You send a high school kid who'd been working a convenience store job into a war against monsters with a blade in her hand—is she going to come out sane?
Whether it's a melee weapon or a firearm, send her to the front lines, and the future was already painting itself clearly in my head: PTSD, and a mind breaking before her body.
I'd seen it enough times—grown men, too—huddled in the corner of some underground room, their minds dying long before their bodies.
This was for the best. She's my first Incarnation. I could use safety as an excuse and keep her inland. She's got a little brother to look after, doesn't she?
First, though, I needed to breathe some life back into Han Ye-ji, who'd crumpled under all that shame, embarrassment, and terror.
I sat on the sofa and wrapped an arm around her shoulders while she sat beside me, face buried in her hands, rubbing at them dryly.
She flinched in my arms like a small, startled animal.
I leaned my head against hers and spoke low.
"I've told you all along. I'm fine. Let's do what you want. It hurts a little that you don't seem to believe me."
"But I just feel so... pathetic..."
Her voice thickened with tears.
Even the most positive, energetic person carries a hidden darkness tucked away somewhere in their chest.
And really—two siblings with no parents, scraping by on government subsidies and part-time jobs.
Han Ye-ji had been rotting on the inside long before she was ever chosen as an Incarnation.
A few conversations wouldn't be enough to heal that.
There was plenty of time before I had to pick my next Incarnation anyway.
With that much time, I could soothe her every night.
I gently took hold of the hands covering her face and guided them to my heart.
I doubted this broad male chest held any real meaning for me, but it seemed to hold plenty for Han Ye-ji.
Her frail trembling shifted into a different kind of shiver.
The tearful note in her voice vanished, and heated breaths began to slip out, one by one.
"I chose you because I saw you smile. Not because you had a talent that looked like it'd be best at butchering monsters."
That wasn't a lie.
Paralyzed by options, I'd just seen a smiling face that reminded me of an old comrade and picked it.
Once the anxiety about the future, the fear she might be abandoned, fell away—arousal crept in to take its place, her face flushing bright red.
We met every night. By count, we were closing in on ten times already, but she still couldn't shake off that virgin awkwardness.
All she'd done was lay one palm flat against my chest, and already her fingers had gone rigid, unable to press down with any strength.
I stayed like that, letting my body relax back against the sofa cushion, waiting.
Waiting until Han Ye-ji, twisted awkwardly halfway toward me, reacted and moved.
Maybe it was the drowsy warmth of the house, but she finally found her courage.
Her trembling hands began unbuttoning my shirt, one button at a time.
At some point my clothes had shifted into a crisp white dress shirt.
Observing it all with this kind of clinical detachment was a little ridiculous,
but for her sake—so deadly serious about unfastening each button—I could hold myself back.
The first button came undone. Then the second.
She stared fixedly at my collar as it fell open, my collarbone slipping into view, and her hands paused.
Was it because undoing the next button would fully expose my chest?
Didn't matter to me, but watching her hesitate was a bit frustrating. Still, what could I do?
That clumsy, unripe hesitation had its own flavor.
I heard her swallow dryly, and her frozen hands began moving again, slow.
At the same time, the eyes that had been boring into my chest slid upward and met mine.
I smiled a little, as if to say, "Go on, it's okay," and her gaze shot back down.
Then, as though trying to bury her embarrassment, she poured her strength into her fingers and yanked the rest of the buttons open.
The soft rustle of fabric, and the shirt fell apart, exposing my abs.
Were male muscles supposed to be the sexual appeal from her side? Day by day, my abs and pecs appeared to be carving themselves more and more sharply.
Or maybe Han Ye-ji was just getting more accustomed to the male body and imagining it with greater precision.
"There now. I told you. It's fine."
I spread my arms and smiled as I spoke, and at last she shook off her hesitation and burrowed into my embrace.
Just as she had in every dream before—to bury her face in my chest.