The Price of Lies
A murder had taken place.
It turned out the victim was a wealthy criminal who had assaulted the villain’s little sister.
Digging deeper uncovered human-trafficking charges as well.
The man who killed one person became a murderer. The man who sold dozens, hundreds, became a saint.
A wage-theft scandal erupted.
It turned out the union had made unilateral claims, and the company had already paid out everything it could.
Could the penniless and the poor always be called good?
Human-trafficking charges surfaced against an orphanage director.
Yet someone shouted that the director had shown them enormous kindness.
To one person he was a trustworthy father; to another he was a pimp of unspeakable cruelty.
"............"
Countless cases.
Filthy acts committed with effortless ease.
In those places there were no saints and no villains, no weak and no strong—only sin and stains, overflowing.
And then—
".....Ugh...!"
Was I making the right choices?
Had everything I done truly been me fulfilling my own responsibility?
I believed it was right and acted. Yet to someone else I was evil that needed to be judged.
I thought it was wrong and stood in the way. Yet to someone else it was the greatest hope of all.
I blocked despair. / I trampled hope.
I saved people. / I killed people.
Then was I a hero / a villain?
"I..."
The value of good. The standard of good.
What exactly was I standing here for?
"I...."
I didn’t know.
I simply could not find an answer.
One option was to follow my heart completely—stop thinking and unilaterally declare myself right.
But that was the one path I could never take. It made no sense to me.
So.
"....I..."
I needed good. I needed a standard.
A standard that could divide good from evil.
And I found that answer in morality.
The duty a human being ought to show another human being. The standard that followed from it.
There was no more ambiguity—only clear definitions of good and evil.
No more need to agonize. No more reason to suffer.
Simply realize justice according to morality.
So.
"This time is the same."
Without lies. Without personal feelings. Only truthfully. Morally.
"Nari is my friend, after all."
A friend. And a comrade.
Then it was right to do whatever I could for her.
Of course I wouldn’t do anything that inflicted more damage on me than necessary.
But refusing to act when I was able was not how you treated a friend.
"It’s not dirty."
She had slept with countless men.
Her STDs had driven others to death, almost to the level of a curse—
but you couldn’t call it a sin just because someone mixed bodies out of liking someone else.
She hadn’t cheated. She had simply done it for someone.
So you couldn’t look at that and call it bad.
"It’s not dirty."
She had used drugs, they said.
Drugs are bad. An absolute truth.
She was reflecting on it and trying to move forward.
Judging a person’s present state by past sins was not morally right.
So helping her rehabilitate as much as possible was the right thing.
"It’s not dirty."
The tattoos carved across her whole body.
The obscenely swollen breasts.
The ripe, voluptuous body of a female in heat.
Even the past self that could no longer be seen.
They were her choice,
her heart,
her freedom.
To look at them and declare “that’s not good” was oppression of someone else’s freedom, a refusal to respect another person—in other words, things that were not moral.
Not moral.
And that was a violation of the “line” I had drawn.
So I strove to do moral things.
That was clearly the line I had drawn long ago, the line “we” had drawn together.
"Right, Hecate?"
"..........."
"I noticed midway through. My head was working too well for this to be a dream."
"..............."
Far away I saw Hecate.
A hazy cluster of light. I walked toward it and reached out my hand.
"I’m sorry. I think I lost my original resolve. So once more—"
"—This body."
"...Hecate?"
I took one step back.
The light receded farther away.
"This body chose Sunwoo, it is."
"Yeah. I’m sorry. Without realizing it I wavered a little—"
"—Not some saint or priest. I chose ‘Sunwoo,’ it is."
".........."
Something was off.
I simply stared at the cluster of light.
"I like Sunwoo’s ‘light,’ it is. But that does not mean Sunwoo ‘shines brightest in this world,’ it is not."
"That’s..."
"Know your place. Sunwoo is not S-Class, is he not?"
".........."
Bringing that up suddenly felt a bit awkward.
Hecate stood one step behind, merely showing a soft glow as she whispered.
"Whether sun or moon or faint star-cluster, it does not matter. This body approached because it liked ‘Sunwoo’s light,’ it is."
"..........."
It was a little hard to understand.
Please, just give me the answer.
I sat still and waited for the next words.
"...Sunwoo. This body chose Sunwoo, it is."
A slightly trembling voice.
Not the usual blunt monotone.
A voice carrying a hint of emotion—resonance and tremor.
"This body. Chose him because he is Sunwoo, it is."
As if frustrated.
The light swelled and shrank repeatedly.
"The Sunwoo I like. The light. Is not a great light like the sun."
As if begging me to understand.
She pleaded toward me.
"Remember it."
In the hazy illusion,
I drove a fist straight into the face of the CEO who offered a handshake.
I had no hand free to shake with a human trafficker.
The union boss smiled and threw an arm around my shoulder.
I flipped him over and slammed him down.
The have-nots were worse than the haves.
Children sang in chorus while the orphanage director expressed gratitude to me.
In return I played real-time footage of the women selling their bodies as a coming-of-age ceremony.
Social status. Other people’s gazes.
I didn’t care. I didn’t want to care.
The me who had screamed that it was so fucking disgusting I couldn’t stand it—
"Ah."
—was now standing in front of my friend, Nari.
...
..
.
"────Hup?!!"
Cough! Khh, kehek!
Violent coughing. After barely recovering my senses I crawled toward the refrigerator.
"Pwaaaaaah!!"
I yanked out a water bottle and downed it in one go.
My mind cleared a little. No—my mind was still spinning, but my reason seemed to have returned somewhat.
"Haaaah."
My body felt terrible.
I thought I had dreamed something.
Yet I couldn’t clearly remember what the dream had been.
"....『Hecate』"
Half unconsciously I summoned her.
Hecate did not answer.
Today as well. Maybe tomorrow too.
It felt like sailing a pitch-black night sea with no horizon.
I couldn’t even tell front from back, couldn’t gauge direction at all.
The feeling of having lost the light in my life.
But that didn’t mean I could stop walking.
"Ah... I don’t want to go."
I didn’t want to work.
I never did, but this time the reluctance was more active.
Still, if I skipped out the kids’ condition would worry me.
This is a pretty critical period...
If a Spirit Contractor missed the window and their head hardened, there was no fixing it.
I dragged my half-dead body to the training center.
"Hello, Instructor!"
"I’m not well."
"Ehk."
"I don’t want to work...."
"...Instructor?"
Across the way Sujin’s eyes sparkled as she blinked, as if thinking hoxy...?
Yeah. We’re training.
I was fully prepared to work them until those eyes changed from “hoxy” to “of course.”
"Since ancient times, the best way to grow close to spirits has been said to be learning with the body."
"""....?"""
Seiren. Ran. Even Shinpung.
I summoned all three spirits except Hecate.
"From now on, kill each other."
"""───!!!"""
Nature hastily pulled out their spirits and took stances.
I also poured mana into my spirits and entered combat.
"Kh.... Flame! Just like last time!"
[Shiiiss, foom!]
The first to recover was Yeonhwa.
She charged forward with her greatsword; I blocked it with Seiren’s water bullets.
Sizzle!
Thud, thwack-thwack!
"...Well now."
Vital spots like head, solar plexus, knees—the spirits protected those.
But other attacks she simply tanked with her body and pressed on.
A very Yeonhwa-like assault. I sidestepped and let it pass.
"Dasu! Kill!"
[Beeeeeeep!!]
"Homi.....!"
Sujin, who had been fleeing quickly, counterattacked instead.
She was far from a natural combat sense, yet the skill honed through countless fighting games was showing itself here.
Maybe people really did need to go crazy over at least one thing.
"But soft!"
"Kyaaak?!"
I loaded wind into a water bullet and detonated it.
Water droplets naturally sprayed sideways.
Just as my whole body was damp and I lightly shook my hands to wring out the moisture—
"Nitro! Five churu charge!"
[Nyaooooong!]
"...Nice."
They were linking up.
Maybe the month of hellish training had been worth it.
Yeonhwa blocks the front, Sujin steals vision, Harin lands the finishing blow.
At this level they could perform plenty well even in a dungeon.
I decided to look into a dungeon later; for now I had to stop the swarm of lightning bolts coming at me.
"Ran. I’m counting on you."
[Woof!]
Lightning erupted from Ran’s body.
Soon Harin’s lightning and mine collided and began canceling each other out…
Crackle-crackle-crackle!
"Eh───?!"
A single thin strand of lightning that had bounced free rode the water droplets all the way to my body.
An unexpected phenomenon. Normally something like this shouldn’t happen...
Their coordination was that good?
No. No matter how good the coordination, there were limits.
Especially rank differences weren’t something you could casually ignore.
And yet an attack had reached me, which meant...
"───Got you."
"Ah."
Yeonhwa’s greatsword had reached just below my neck.
No time to dodge; a water bullet aimed straight between my eyes.
Behind it Harin approached, crackling with lightning.
"...I lose."
"Huh?"
"I said I lose."
"........"
Yeonhwa frowned as if something felt wrong.
"What. Got a problem?"
"....You."
Yeonhwa said,
"Did you wet-dream?"
"....?"
"You’re a guy so you don’t get periods."
"Well... that’s true, but..."
Words that left my mind blank.
Then Yeonhwa continued,
"Why’d you suddenly get this weak?"
"........."
A Spirit Contractor must not lie.
The dirtier the soul becomes, the more clearly the effect shows.
So conversely, if a Spirit Contractor suddenly grew weak—
I....
—was telling some kind of lie.
I couldn’t even begin to guess what it was—
───Thump!
"Ugh....!"
"Uh, uhh! Instructor! Are you really okay?"
".....Heh."
Pain as if my heart were being stabbed.
"Not particularly. I don’t think I’m okay."
The end was approaching, steadily.