Alcohol, Cigarettes, and Me (2)

"Now I get it."

I read it over and over, letting it sink in.

Corruption Desire. The term sounded grandiose, but the principle was simple.

Fight magical beasts, protect the world, kowtow to the higher-ups. Stress builds up. You need an outlet, and if it's a healthy hobby, great—but...

"When your mental state cracks, you crave bad habits."

Alcohol. Cigarettes. Gambling. Drugs.

The so-called 'shortcuts to ruining your life.'

Does anyone drink knowing booze is bad for them? No. It's that hazy buzz, the escape from reality, the dopamine hit. You get hooked and keep chasing it.

Magical girls aren't any different. If anything, their psyches shatter more often than a regular person's, so their dependence on these stimulants runs even deeper.

Park Min-jeong's status window on the screen was still blinking red.

The reason she chain-smokes? That nicotine rush hitting her brain is her one and only escape.

And the function I was looking at? It let me twist that 'escape' in a whole new direction.

"Let's see what I can switch it to..."

I scrolled down.

What a brutal list.

Every single one a fast track to wrecking your life. Makes sense—it's a corruption desire, after all. Swap it out, and yeah, she'd quit smoking on the spot, but her life would implode somewhere else instead.

"These Magical Girl Administration bastards are darker than I thought. 'Therapy' like this? It's just kicking the can down the road."

My finger paused at the very last item on the list. I had to double-check my eyes.

"Huh?"

I rubbed my eyes and looked again. No typo. My name, clear as day.

Alcohol? Bad for the body. Cigarettes? Rots your lungs. Gambling? Bankruptcy city.

But why the hell was my name in that lineup?

Did that mean, to her, getting ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠tangled up with a guy named Jeong Ji-un was as destructive as booze or drugs?

What a load of bullshit.

Park Min-jeong. The neighbor from two doors down. I remembered that look she'd give me in the hallway—like I was trash.

"Hey, mind clearing that delivery box from the hall?" "Oh, yeah..." "Tch."

That contemptuous glare. Yeah, she probably saw even talking to me as a waste of time. From her perspective, associating with a loser like me could be a stain on her life—a path to ruin.

...Fine. I admit it. I am trash.

Working that dead-end job and all.

But at the same time, a twisted defiance bubbled up.

Wanna see just how fucked up it gets?

I was curious what would happen if this arrogant civil servant started obsessing over me like an addiction.

On impulse, I tapped [Jeong Ji-un] hard.

Thump!

That was the moment.

"Ugh...!"

A wave of exhaustion hit me, worse than before—like a cold straw jammed between my vertebrae, sucking out my essence.

"Hah... hah...!"

Finally, my finger lifted. I collapsed face-first onto the desk. My heart hammered like mad, fingertips ice-cold.

"Thought I was gonna die... you fucking machine..."

Catching my breath, I checked the screen. Park Min-jeong's profile had updated.

Thump. Thump.

I peeked through the crack in my door at the hallway.

Something had been yanked out of me just now—life force, essence, whatever. Didn't matter. I'd paid a price.

What changed?

Park Min-jeong. The magical girl (civil servant) two doors down. Her corruption desire had shifted from cigarettes to 'Jeong Ji-un.'

What did that even mean? How would it show? Maybe she'd bust down my door and jump me...?

Nah, no way.

Too hentai, too fantasy. It said 'low dependence' anyway. Probably just a mild itch, like craving a smoke or two.

But time dragged on, and nothing happened. The hallway stayed dead silent.

Tick, tock—the wall clock's hands were deafening.

"......"

I chewed my nails anxiously.

"Come on, there has to be some reaction or I won't buy it."

That pain was real, so the device wasn't busted. It sucked something out of me—mana, essence, whatever. Getting scammed like this? No fucking way.

I slipped on my slippers and stepped out.

Screech—the hallway was empty. The motion lights flickered on dimly.

I cleared my throat pointlessly and wandered, passing her door at 304, heading to the emergency stairs, looping back. Over and over.

Five minutes. ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠Ten.

Come on, you bitch, show yourself.

My legs ached by then.

"Hah... what the hell am I even doing?"

Reality crashed in. Pacing the hall like a creep, waiting for the neighbor based on some gadget? Pathetic.

I smacked my lips bitterly ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠and turned back to my door at 302.

That's when it happened.

Click, beep-beep—304's door lock disengaged.

I froze, heart revving up again.

Screech—

The door opened, and someone emerged.

Gray sweatpants, baggy hoodie. Hair messily tied up, stray strands poking out. Trash bag from the convenience store in hand.

Park Min-jeong!

She's out!

I swallowed hard.

How would she act? Blush at the sight of me? Shoot me a weird look?

Brimming with anticipation, our eyes met. Hers locked on mine.

But all my expectations shattered—

"......"

She scowled hard, like she'd stepped in shit. Pure, blatant contempt and irritation.

"Tch."

A sharp tongue-click, and she turned away.

Slap, slap—her slippers dragged toward the trash chute, exactly like always. Not a gram different.

'......'

Fucking bitch, at least acknowledge me!

My hopes crumbled.

Nothing had changed. She still saw me as a bug, and I was just the sketchy neighbor lurking in the hall.

Of course.

Why would I get the royal treatment?

Shoulders slumped, I grabbed my doorknob. But then—

"Hey."

A sharp voice stabbed me from behind.

"......?"

Misheard? No way she'd talk to me. She ignores my greetings every time.

I turned slowly.

Park Min-jeong was back from dumping the trash, legs crossed, glaring daggers.

"Me?"

I ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠mumbled like an idiot, and she crossed her arms, jerking her chin.

"Who else? Talking to ghosts?"

"N-no, what’s up...?"

Prickly. Pricklier than usual. Like an office worker hit with cramps and Monday blues at once—edgy as hell.

She strode toward me. I backed up instinctively.

"What the fuck you been doing out here?"

"Huh?"

"What've you been doing? Pacing back and forth, stomping around. Fucking annoying."

Her eyes burned. Skin pale, lips cracked dry.

"Oh, uh, just thinking about stuff."

"Think in your room, shut-in?"

"No, not specifically in front of 304... just walking the hall..."

"Same difference, ugh, you just grate on my nerves!"

She barked. I flinched.

Weird. Normally, she'd ignore me even if I tap-danced. She was the type who didn't give a shit about others.

But now?

She's picking a fight. Obsessively.

"S-sorry. I'll be quiet."

I apologized quick, trying to bail. Magical girl or not, civil servant or not—no way I'd win a scrap, and any escalation screwed me over.

Society's like that.

I bowed and reached for the door—but

Thud! Her hand slammed it shut, blocking me.

"Eh...?"

Panicking, I looked up. Her face was inches away, breath hot on my skin.

Menthol cigarette stench wafted over.

"Hey."

Park Min-jeong growled low.

"You avoiding me?"

"Huh? No, just heading in..."

"Who said you could? I'm not done."

She chewed her lip, fingers twitching restlessly.

"You piss me off. You."

"I said sorry alrea—"

"Think sorry fixes it? Huh?"

No logic. Pure bullshit. Like she was pissed just to be pissed.

Wait.

The status flashed in my mind.

Is this...?

Hypothesis: She's stressed. Normally, smokes it off. But now the target is me. So she needs to see me. Interact with me.

But rationally, she hates me. Doesn't want to tangle with a 'pathetic loser.'

The clash? This—!

"Hey, why the face? Got the shits?"

"No."

"Liar, why the bug eyes? Creeping me out."

This was picking a fight.

Yelling at me, bitching at me, talking to me—this was her 'smoking' fix?

Which meant this app was useless for getting laid. All it did was make her hassle me!