Have You Ever Killed Someone?

When she came to, she was standing on open grassland.

A long wind combed her cheeks and her hair, and the touch of it insisted that this, too, was real. Green earth stretched out under a blue sky without a single cloud. Of that much she was certain. Sua was not inside a dream.

"...What? Did I die again?"

She had already lived through one reincarnation. Had she died a second time? No—last time it had been a car accident. However she turned it over, there was no reason she ought to be dead now.

Then a thought struck like lightning.

Wait. My third Special Privilege?

It had definitely unlocked. So what had become of it? Surely being dumped in a field like this wasn't the whole of it. What was she supposed to do out here—start a fire? And this so-called acting privilege. Don't tell her they meant the other kind. The smoke.

"...Do you have any idea how hard I worked to unlock that?"

Swimming, golf, soccer. She had thrown herself into every field she could think of before the privilege finally opened. Had something gone wrong? If it had, then suicide really was the only answer left.

She wandered for a long while like a lost child, and at last she found one thing. Floating in the empty air was something like a notification on a phone.

What Sua had to say about it was extremely short.

"Nonsense I can't make heads or tails of..."

It was nothing but a wall of words that meant absolutely nothing. Still, people latch first onto whatever scrap they can recognize, and Sua's eyes locked onto the part that read audition script. Only then did the memory come back.

"Right. This isn't the time. My audition!"

What exactly happened to me? Don't tell me my turn already went by.

Anxiety spiked. She had just resolved to get out of this place first when the text on the window began unspooling downward all on its own.

"Huh?"

The question never reached anything. Indifferent, as if it meant only to do its job, the window kept writing.

Sua stared at it, blank, for a long time. Then, with a soft papery rustle, the world around her came apart like a puzzle. It went pitch-black, and a moment later an entirely different landscape snapped itself together, piece by piece.

A little while after that, Sua closed her eyes and opened them again. The smell of something delicious tickled the tip of her nose. In front of her, a familiar back was trimming vegetables.

...A kitchen?

It was, without question, the kitchen she had quit not long ago. The man with his back to her was definitely the chef. The problem was that she couldn't understand the situation in the slightest. Had time rewound? Sua parted her lips with care.

"Chef?"

"Yeah. Sua."

The voice was the chef she knew. But when he turned and his eyes met hers, Sua felt a wrongness utterly unlike anything before.

Desire.

His eyes were soaked through with some feeling, and instinct told her it was a fierce, hungry want. She had to get away. The alarm went off in her body, and she was already stepping back when—

"Sua."

The chef seized her wrist. The grip was brutal. Strength like that against her skin was enough to raise gooseflesh all over her, and her breath began to climb.

"...Please let go."

"Sua. Sua."

In the next instant his hands were around her throat. They hit the floor. He kept choking her, and the fear in her chest thickened by the second. The whole of it had taken no time at all.

"Kh—khhk...!"

She couldn't breathe. At this rate she really might die. How had it come to this? Why is this happening to me here? She couldn't understand it, and there was no room left to try. She had to fight. If she wanted to live, she had to thrash with everything she had. If she wanted to live, she had no other choice.

"Khh—!"

This was real. Pain like this could only be real. I don't want to die. I don't want to die.

"Nnngh—!"

She swung wild, striking the chef's nape, his face. Useless. It was an egg against a boulder. The moment she understood the blows were doing nothing, her hands began scrabbling madly over the floor. Anything. Please. Anything.

Maybe the desperate prayer reached something. Her fingers closed. At last, something was in her hand.

Sua didn't hesitate for even a heartbeat. Instinct, faster than thought, drove it with all her strength into the chef's nape. The blade went in with a soft, wet give. Both of them froze at once.

"Hah—!"

The sound burst out of her. She was shocked that what she had swung was a kitchen knife, and shocked again that it had sunk into a human body so easily.

"Hhk... hah...! Nngh...!"

She shoved the chef off with her foot and scooted backward, still sitting, until her back hit the wall. Both hands clamped over her mouth. He was dying. There was no way he wasn't. She could see all of it with terrible clarity: him thrashing, desperate to live; blood pouring more than she had ever imagined; a face red enough to burst; eyes swollen as if they might pop free.

A moment later, the chef went completely still.

"H-hey... excuse me..."

Sua said it through a full-body tremor.

"Excuse me...?"

No answer came back. A poke to the shoulder changed nothing. Dead? He's dead? Really? I killed a person? Me?

"Ah... shit...!"

Sua shuddered under the weight of the shock. How had it ended like this? It wasn't fair. The chef had tried to kill her first. She had only fought back with everything she had.

And then the world refused her even the time to put her thoughts in order. The bell on the shop door gave a bright little ring. A customer.

Sua shot to her feet on reflex. I can't get caught. The thought plastered itself over her entire mind. Lightning seemed to crack through her skull. Cold sweat ran ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠down her spine. Can't get caught. Absolutely not. No.

She tore off the bloodstained apron, sprinted like a madwoman to the customer, and planted herself in the way, chanting it inwardly over and over. Can't get caught.

"C-customer. Did you come in to eat?"

It was a restaurant. Of course they had come to eat. Even she knew it was a stupid question. She couldn't help it.

"Yes?"

"The ingredients... the ingredients, um. Right now the ingredients..."

She could barely breathe, let alone speak, so Sua clenched a fist and struck her own chest. Hard. More than once.

"We're completely out of ingredients. I'm sorry. I think we'll have to close for the day like this, so please head back."

Even while she shook and poured cold sweat, the lie came out smooth. She had no choice. I only fought back. Becoming a murderer like this isn't fair. It really isn't fair.

The customer ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠was looking at her as if something were off, so Sua smiled as naturally as she could manage, teeth and all. For a moment it seemed the customer would leave again.

"Ah."

Suddenly they stopped. They turned and looked at Sua, and her heart dropped straight through her.

"W-why? Why? Why?"

"...Is something strange?"

"Something strange?"

Sua asked it with the face of someone whose soul had already left. Had the kitchen smelled of blood? Or was it her expression? What if they noticed? What happens to my life? I become a murderer at this age and spend the rest of it in prison? They say once you're in there, even killing yourself isn't easy. What do I do?

A short reel of her life tore past in a frenzy. And then the customer said only this.

"You just look unwell. You should see a doctor."

They turned and walked out without another word. Sua watched that retreating back in a daze. She swallowed dry, locked the shop door, and pulled the shutter down as well. Only after checking several times that it would not open did she sink to the floor and let out a long breath.

"Haaaaah..."

Breath. She could breathe again. But nothing was solved. First she tore at her hair. Then she raked her own face with her nails.

"What! What is this! What the hell is going on!"

She had barely gotten through this once. But next time? In Sua's head, a murderer was the lowest trash alive. But her? Had this really happened because she was a bad person? The chef had tried to kill her first. She had only resisted because she wanted to live. Is this how I become a killer? Me? How am I supposed to live after this? My life—what happens to it!

"I don't want this.... I don't..."

Tears started streaming from sheer fear.

"I hate this.... I only wanted to check my aptitude...! What is even happening...!"

How long did she cry? How far down did the despair go?

"Hic—! Haaah...!"

She was still wailing when her vision bleached white again.

The notification filled her vision. Before she could even parse the words, a voice was already in her ear.

"Sua. Lee Sua?"

When she came to, the guild leader was watching her steadily, worry written all over her face.

"Can you hear me? You're not sick, are you?"

"Ah. Yeah. Yeah."

Sua nodded first. Only a moment later did she understand. What she had just been through was not real. One thought rose at once.

Thank god. Thank god. Thank god.

She dragged in ragged breaths. Strange. The horror was still vivid, and yet her body was soft and perfectly dry, as if nothing had happened at all.

"It's your turn now.... You really don't have to push yourself."

"I'll do it."

That was all Sua gave her. She had come this far to check her aptitude. She couldn't leave without trying. Even so, her legs wouldn't stop shaking. The shock had not let go of her yet.

They walked in together.

"Whew. Escorting you is not easy."

"Why?"

"You've got this presence. It's honestly terrifying."

"...This is just how my face is."

She kept it short. It wasn't a lie, either. She was extremely out of it right now, and this look was something she had been born with. Nothing to be done.

"Anyway, you just go in there and do it. I'll be rooting for you!"

"Thank you."

She parted from the guild leader and stepped into the interview room. There were no fewer than five judges. Hm. Not a single face she knew, and quite a few of them looked young enough to be college students.

"Please look over the script and start acting within one minute. It isn't a major role, but we're having you try it just in case. So there's no pressure at all. Just give it a go."

Sua followed the instruction in silence. The stack of paper was fairly thick—another bluff, apparently. What was actually written inside was exactly two lines.

Sua went still. She was flustered, yes—but not the kind of fluster she would have expected. Other applicants would have read the prompt and panicked over how to play it. Hers was cut from entirely different cloth. It was unsettling precisely because it was familiar.

Killing someone by accident? I just... I definitely...

She was retracing a memory so vivid it hurt when they pressed her again, right to her face.

"If you're ready, please start right away."

Sua hesitated a moment, then decided. Whatever else it was, the third Special Privilege she carried was acting. Which meant—

My life has already been pointed at ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠acting. Don't dodge it.

A privilege was a privilege for a reason. There had to be something here that hadn't been there when she tried the other fields. Thinking that, Sua began to reproduce what she had just lived through.

And a little while later, she was crouched on the floor, shaking. Shame ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠washed over her. Sheepish, she got to her feet.

"...I'll stop here."

Even if they asked for more, she couldn't give it. The situation she had lived through simply didn't continue past this. This was the best she had.

The silence ran longer than she had expected, and the thoughts in her head multiplied.

I'm going to lose it.

The more she thought, the more it felt like a mistake. What did I even just do? And is this even a privilege? I should've just checked at an acting academy. Why did I go and get my hopes up like an idiot... Her head was sinking lower and lower when a voice called her from across the room.

"Miss Sua."

It was the person at the center of the Snack Movie team. Sua couldn't bring herself to meet those eyes.

"Yes."

But the question that followed left her no choice but to raise her head.