An Abomination Among You (1)
She was sitting on the sofa, watching television with nothing much on her mind, when the international news segment brought up a fire in Turkey.
"…That wouldn't happen to be one of those, too, would it?"
"Most likely, yes."
Stories of that sort had been turning up a great deal lately. A gas-line explosion here, a great fire there, in every corner of the world. She asked Seoyeon, seated beside her, just in case, and the answer came back on a sigh. It was exactly as Hitomi had guessed: coverage manufactured for the sake of the Secrecy Protocol.
Several days had passed since Dr. Laura Groothuizen seized the Battleship Leviathan and Johnson County, Wyoming, came under attack. In that time the Leviathan had gone on warping in at intervals to strike one part of the world after another. Thanks to Mr. F, the memories of ordinary citizens were being wiped and the Secrecy Protocol was holding, if only by a thread… but when one side was taking a beating with no answer, there was no such thing as coming away unhurt.
The face Seoyeon wore as she sighed was bleak indeed. It was only natural. No solution was in sight at all.
It would linger somewhere safe, warp to a place chosen at random, pour down a one-sided bombardment, and flee. Simple, and fatally effective.
"Is there no way to read it through prophecy…?"
"Foreseeing exactly when and where a chosen target will appear is by no means a simple matter. If it is random besides, with no one's will involved at all, then all the more so."
That such a thing was possible at all was why Abraham-Delta held an Apostle's seat. The miracle of resurrection itself was something certain others could manage, and yet none could call it forth as freely, or across so wide a span, as Han Seoyeon; Abraham's prophecy had reached a height of just that order. But that Abraham now lay sealed. The two pillars charged with the Church's intelligence—Apostle James the Greater and Apostle John—had been neutralized together, and there was no hope of any proper pursuit.
"If we mobilized satellites, or something of the sort…"
"It is a space battleship."
If the thing were somewhere in this world, surely there would be a way to find it. To that question of Hitomi's, Han Seoyeon answered once again, her voice as level as ever.
"It can hardly warp the whole of the universe, I will grant that. But even if we take its range as no more than the distance from the Earth to the Moon, there is still no answer."
Warp to some random point in that vastness of space, and there is no way to find it. And even supposing they succeeded, if too much time had passed in the meantime the preparations for a second warp would already be finished, and it would only flee again. Then, whenever the whim took it, it would blink at random to somewhere on the Earth and rain down fire. There was one-sided, and then there was this.
Worse still, a weapon of that kind now rested in the Necromancer's hands. In the hands of the worst necromancer of all—one that could no longer even be killed.
They could not leave it so. And yet there was nothing to be done. Caught in that dreadful bind, Han Seoyeon let out another long sigh.
"Shion—no. Honey."
"…Hitomi."
She watched her for a moment with pitying eyes, and then carefully drew her in.
The woman known as Ninomae Hitomi was no Holy Knight. She could be of no direct help in a matter like this. So, thinking that if she could at least be something to lean on, that would be enough, she held Han Seoyeon close and lightly stroked her shoulder.
"It's all right. I'm sure it'll work out somehow."
"But this time, it truly is of an entirely different order…"
"Ugh, honestly. Are you just going to keep on with nothing but gloomy talk?"
That alone, though, was never going to loosen the knot in Han Seoyeon's heart. This was, quite literally, a crisis breaking over the whole world; no matter that the one doing the comforting was Hitomi, a few pats on the back were not going to put her at ease. Hitomi knew it too, and so at last, her brow furrowed, she carefully opened her mouth.
"Nothing for it, then. I'll have to take drastic measures."
"Hitomi?"
"I was saving this to use at least a few months from now……."
Hitomi, her face gone resolute, rose from the sofa. She spun about to face Seoyeon.
"Just sit right there and wait a moment!"
And with that she pattered off at a trot and vanished up to the second floor.
What on earth was she trying to do? Turning the question over, Han Seoyeon stared at the stairs Hitomi had climbed. The worry she had been nursing until a moment ago had faded, if only a little, under the pull of curiosity.
"——H-honey."
And when Hitomi came back, what remained of that worry vanished as well.
More precisely, it was less that the worry had been resolved, and closer to her mind being bleached a pure white.
"Well, things came up and we were busy on the day of the wedding, so… it wouldn't be so wrong to call this our wedding night, would it…?"
It was a pure white wedding dress.
No—it was something else entirely, only playing at being a wedding dress.
The bodice, already stuffed so full it looked ready to burst at any moment, had openings cut above and below, laying the valley bare without a shred of modesty. One of those openings was even heart-shaped, advertising the intent far too openly. And the skirt, rather than trailing along the floor as any ordinary wedding dress would, stopped above the knee—and she had gathered it in both hands and was lifting it besides.
The pure white knee-high stockings were trimmed in lace, and the garter belt rising from them only set off Hitomi's plump, yielding thighs all the more. For Seoyeon, whose desires ran to legs, the straps pressing faintly into that soft thigh were nothing short of violent.
"…What do you think?"
Hitomi asked it even as she turned her eyes aside, shy.
Only belatedly did Seoyeon recall that the outfit was a design she had seen once before, at the dress shop. The one cut for a succubus—the sort of dress people more often bought for play than for any actual ceremony.
"Ah, that is…"
Han Seoyeon was, as a rule, quiet and even-tempered. For her, being struck speechless was not a common experience. This moment, however, seemed likely to join that short count.
"Th-the skin and the dress are both white, and only the underwear is black, so there is an accent to it. Yes."
So thoroughly flustered was she that nothing came out but nonsense. Self-reproach boiled up as far as her throat—what kind of drivel had she just spouted?
And yet, for all that vacant answer, Hitomi seemed rather pleased by the fluster. A satisfied smile touched her lips, and somewhere in it there was something bewitching. Just like that she came slowly closer and drew Seoyeon lightly into her arms, as if winding them about the nape of her neck. The particular feel of silk gloves met skin, but Seoyeon had no awareness left to spare for it. There was no concentrating on the sensation at her back, because the soft, giving pressure coming from the front was far too overwhelming.
The opening at the chest was already drawn drum-tight by a size beyond any ordinary measure, and when Hitomi leaned her weight in, the heart shape crushed flatter still. From between the valley, a sweet and clinging dampness crept up and tickled at her nose.
"Not underwear. Only the panties are black."
She murmured it like a whisper.
What in the world did that mean? Han Seoyeon had just raised her eyes toward Hitomi's face—
"Mmph…"
Hitomi pressed down on the back of her head and pulled her in hard, burying Seoyeon's face straight into the valley of her chest. The bridge of her nose sank deep into the cleft, a little moist where sweat had gathered.
She flinched for only an instant at the scent that seemed to trespass upon her very sense of smell. Then, a beat too late, Han Seoyeon realized something.
Seeing it, Hitomi let out a soft laugh and whispered once more at her ear, sweet as before.
"Mm. I did tell you I only wore black down below, didn't I?"
It wasn't a lie. It certainly wasn't black.
——It simply wasn't any color at all.
"Kyaa…♥"
If she were honest, Han Seoyeon's memory of everything after that was a little hazy. That the thread of her reason had snapped about halfway was the one thing beyond doubt. Even so, there was one thing she could state with certainty: after that day, the dress was left in no condition to ever be worn again.
"I really can't wear this anymore."
Looking at the hem, reduced nearly to rags… no, at what had once been clothing, Hitomi gave a bitter smile.
No. She was so thoroughly spent that the corners of her mouth wouldn't even lift; her expression had gone a little slack.
"…I am sorry."
Hitomi found even that apology a little absurd. Sorry for what, in the first place? If the line were I'm sorry for being too good in bed, it would feel less like an apology and closer to provocation—an invitation to round two.
"Sorry? For what, exactly?"
Seoyeon was composed as a rule, and exceptionally good at holding herself in check, so the rare sight of her wife with her reason undone—Hitomi tried the word wife on Seoyeon in the privacy of her heart, and grinned all by herself, foolishly pleased—was nothing but adorable.
"For having given you something to worry about."
"……."
But she had never expected to hear those words. She had assumed, at most, an apology for going so hard the clothes were ruined, or for having "enjoyed" herself until Hitomi fainted outright.
Seoyeon, though, was hardly oblivious. There was no way she could fail to understand that Hitomi, unable to watch her spirits sink any lower, had been trying to let her forget the matter, if only for a little while.
Lying side by side and turned toward one another, the two of them looked into each other's eyes for a moment.
"Shion."
"Yes, Hitomi."
"I said it on our wedding day, too. We're married, so we carry the burden together."
"…Yes."
Han Seoyeon gave a small nod.
"Then let me worry with you. That's better than you clutching it all alone and suffering in silence."
It might be of no practical help. No—in all likelihood, it wouldn't. But people, by nature, feel at least a little lighter simply from opening their worries to someone else. However lacking she herself might be, surely she could manage at least the part of someone to confide in.
"…Long ago, there was a villain I believed had to be eliminated, no matter what. And in the end, that is what I did."
At Hitomi's words, Han Seoyeon seemed to hesitate a moment—but then she began to speak. About the Necromancer, who had died without the Church ever so much as learning who it was. About the seizure of the Battleship Leviathan. And about how that Necromancer had now returned in a state where it could no longer be killed, and had joined hands with the true culprit of the incident.
"The body and the soul are already dead, and yet it remains in the form of data. We do not even know how many there are, and from here on it can be mass-produced in any number it pleases. It has become a calamity of that kind."
That was the problem. The Necromancer had become an immortal monster, one that could, in theory, multiply without end. Of course, she had no thought of giving up. If only to protect the Hitomi before her eyes…
"Uh… wait a moment, Shion. I'm not sure I understood right, but can I check just one thing?"
"Yes? What is it?"
But Hitomi, having heard all of that, tilted her head as if turning something over, and then spoke again.
"When do you think a person dies?"
"Ah. Meaning… is this a philosophical question?"
"No. A manga question. One Piece."
"In One Piece, it was said that one dies when one is forgotten…?"
But what was this, all of a sudden? She had been right in the middle of explaining that the great villain of the age had reached a state where it could not be killed no matter how they tried—
"…Huh?"
"If my memory isn't wrong, I'm pretty sure Miss Frederica succeeded recently in developing a memory write."
"Huh? W-wait, what…?"
A great idea with the power to overturn the whole board is, surprisingly enough, apt to be born from the most trivial of places.