True Face
"Hey, what the hell are you gonna do about it?!"
The thug barked the threat and took a step closer. But Iseor's eyes weren't on him. An ominous presence right beside her had seized every last nerve, and she grabbed Hayan's thin wrist on instinct.
"Hayan. I'm okay. I really am."
"Iseor..."
Brown hair hung toward the ground. Through that curtain, a pair of eyes slowly turned toward her. Iseor's senses, though, were locked on something else entirely.
A low growl leaked out — and with it, a sound like tough hide tearing open.
Her gaze snapped sideways of its own accord.
Between the long, wavy fall of Hayan's hair, something red was gleaming from within.
An eye.
The shape was familiar. A murky dark sclera. A blood-red pupil. A sphere sheathed in a hideous husk of flesh. It was the very same eyeball she had seen one morning, perched on her mother's shoulder — and now it was staring straight at Iseor.
Only this one was far smaller than her mother's. Instead, it wasn't just one.
Iseor flinched despite herself. From the shadows of Hayan's hair, the horrors revealed themselves all at once. Like the split husk of a ripened bean pod, the hair had parted left and right — and every gap was packed tight with countless eyes.
What... what has she become...?
She had already guessed that something had changed in Hayan's body. But she had never imagined it would be something like this. No — perhaps she had known the truth all along, somewhere beneath thought, and had simply been turning her eyes away.
Get a grip.
Iseor wrenched her mind back on track. That didn't matter right now. Instinct was screaming at her. If she let this continue, Hayan would lunge at those men — to erase anyone who had shown Iseor hostility. And that wasn't the only wrongness unfolding.
"You ignoring me, you fucking bitch?"
"Middle schoolers with no fear, huh? What school are you from?"
"That's a Hannuri Middle School uniform, isn't it?"
The men in front of her hadn't noticed a thing. Not Hayan slipping outside the bounds of anything human. Not the black mist seeping from her body. Not even the crack and crunch of that small frame twisting, swelling, bit by bit.
And then—
"Hey. Hey..."
One of the thugs in the back jabbed a finger at Hayan's face and spoke in a rush, his color gone ashen, as if he'd just realized something.
No way.
Iseor tensed. Had this man seen what she was seeing? Fortunately — or perhaps not — the words that came out of his mouth were something else entirely.
"Isn't that Lee Hayan?"
"What?"
"...It really is. Seongun Electronics. That girl."
The high schoolers stirred at that. All except the one who'd been leading the charge.
"What? What's going on? Lee Hayan? Who the hell is that?"
"Fuck, you don't need to know. Let's just go."
The others grabbed their ringleader by both arms and turned him around.
"S-sorry, Lee Hayan! We didn't know it was you! We're just gonna go!"
"Hey! Hey! Let go! I said let go!"
The boys fled down the alley without looking back. For a confrontation wound that tight, the ending was almost laughably hollow.
"Iseor. You're not hurt, are you?"
A tender voice reached her ear. Iseor tore her gaze from the men scrambling away. Hayan was standing there as she always did, her face clean, as if nothing at all had just happened.
"Want me to go teach those older boys a lesson? Just say the word."
Beneath that innocent expression, a quiet venom gleamed. Even that was the same as always. The feral, skin-prickling aura from moments ago was gone without a trace. Iseor studied that face carefully, then shook her head.
"Don't. Let's just go home."
"Okay. But tell me anytime, okay?"
"Thanks."
Letting Hayan's words wash past her, Iseor turned over what she had just seen. It had been a clear abnormality — the process of a person becoming something that was no longer a person. And the moment it was over, Hayan had snapped back as if nothing had happened.
...I think I have to ask.
The girl made up her mind. It was a decision that ran directly counter to her vow to look away from whatever Hayan's group was involved in. She placed a hand over her chest. Her heart was pounding violently.
Don't tell me she planted something like that in me, too.
She couldn't just bury this omen in her chest and leave it there. Come to think of it, Iseor's own body had been going through major changes lately. Since becoming a girl, she had grown shorter and lost muscle — and yet her senses had sharpened to a razor's edge, and her physical strength had only grown. On top of that, even in heat like today's, she barely tired. There was no question about it. She was stronger now than she had ever been as a boy.
The doctors didn't know.
Yoonseong and the others had said this change was just one of the symptoms included in TS Syndrome — a common phenomenon among patients in whom the syndrome had manifested first. They'd all been healthy, the doctors said. But what if that diagnosis was covering up a truly terrifying truth? What if she was already no longer human? Worse — what if the change didn't stop with her, and she was scattering this thing onto others at random?
...What am I supposed to do?
Carrying a weight of worry too heavy to bear, Iseor quickened her pace.
"I'm home..."
The moment Iseor stepped inside, a sweet smell rushed to her nose. Wafting through the noisy whir of the exhaust fan came the scent of a soy-based sauce simmered down thick and rich — a familiar smell, and yet one she had never once encountered inside this house, in this life.
"You're back. Go shower first. Humans sweat an awful lot in the summer, I've noticed."
Her mother, standing at the sink, glanced back as she spoke. Her tone was as dry as ever — even though there was no way she didn't know about the questions filling Iseor's chest.
"Yes."
Iseor quickly turned her head away. On the side of her mother's body, which had just turned toward her, there were two pairs of arms. One human. One pitch-black. Forcing that sight out of her mind, Iseor headed for the shower.
Cooling her head under the cold stream, she steeled herself once more. This time, she intended to ask directly. Beating around the bush wouldn't do any good anyway.
When she came out, toweling off, a small plate was sitting on the table.
"Taste it. I'll serve it for dinner."
A glistening chunk of braised short rib. Iseor carefully picked up her chopsticks and put it in her mouth. The tender meat dissolved on her tongue — salty and sweet.
"...It's delicious."
"Good. You worked hard on your exams, so rest easy today."
Her mother set something down on the table with a soft tap. A few crisp fifty-thousand-won bills.
"Spend it however you like."
Iseor picked them up. Good food, encouragement, and pocket money — the things a parent would ordinarily do for a child who'd just finished their exams.
"...Thank you."
She slowly bowed her head. A tender gesture and an indifferent heart. Iseor had grown fairly used to that gap by now, even if she herself still hadn't adapted to this comfortable life.
"Mm. Ah, and one more thing." Her mother added, "As soon as summer break starts, we'll be moving out of this studio. I've found a slightly larger place nearby."
"Moving? Already?"
The question slipped out before Iseor could stop it. An ordinary middle schooler her age would have been excited just at the thought of a new house. But a girl who had once been an adult couldn't fail to notice. It had been barely two weeks since her mother had taken over "Mom's" body — and she'd already amassed enough wealth to find a new place nearby. It didn't make sense. This was Hanseong-gu. The equivalent of the Seocho-gu she remembered — one of the most expensive real estate markets in Seoul. The studio they lived in now was so old and out of the way that they'd been lucky to get it.
But a bigger place...
She couldn't begin to guess how her mother had made that kind of money. Still, the question didn't linger long. She had already come to understand that her mother was an incomprehensible being — and besides, she had a much bigger question.
Iseor clenched her fist and carefully opened her mouth.
"Mother."
"Speak."
"What did you... do to Hayan and those kids?"
Silence settled over the room. Only the exhaust fan, swallowing the smell of meat, filled the space with its noisy whir. Her mother tapped her fingers on the table a few times, then spoke in a calm voice.
"If you learn the answer, you won't be able to stay as composed as you have been."
It was a warning.
"Do you still insist on hearing it?"
Her heart beat heavily. Even so, the girl nodded with resolve.
"I want to hear it."
Her mother slowly closed her eyes, then opened them.
"That is—"
A low, even voice filled the small room. The moment those words seeped into Iseor's ears, her chopsticks slipped weakly onto the table. The color drained from the girl's face. The bills in her hand crumpled.
"That's..."
Iseor couldn't say another word. She could only stare blankly up at the being in front of her. Something wearing a human face.
"I-I'll... just step out for a bit."
"Be back before dinner."
"...Yes."
Iseor left the house. She'd just showered, and it was still hot outside — she didn't care. She needed time to think alone. Because even though she had already suspected it, she had hoped it wasn't real — and she had just heard a story she could barely accept.
Her feet carried her to the park near the house. A place where, in the old days, she would linger late into the night to avoid "Mom." The reason she'd come here now was similar — but the weight of it was entirely different.
The girl settled onto a swing. The voices of children leaving a nearby kindergarten drifted over — laughter, a bright cry of Mommy! — but none of it reached Iseor's ears.
"...Little miss."
A massive shadow fell across her small frame.
And a moment later, the swing creaked.
The girl was gone.