The Necromancer
“Oppa! Are you okay?”
I had just finished charging Keira’s mana, then Elena’s as well. As if she had timed it perfectly, Suyeon walked into the hospital room right after.
She was wearing the same white patient gown. I’d heard her room was right next door. For the record, I had been unconscious for a full day.
“Yeah, I’m fine. How about you?”
“Me? Of course I’m fine.”
“I’m just glad you weren’t hurt. If that pretty face of yours had gotten scratched, it would’ve broken my heart.”
“...What?”
A faint flush rose across Suyeon’s cheeks.
Why?
“Ah—no, never mind. I, um… I heard everything was thanks to you, Oppa. I’m really grateful.”
“Come on. We only won because of the Ttanttani you brought.”
If it hadn’t been for that Ttanttani rod Suyeon had brought for research, we never would have survived. Sure, it would have been better if Mjolnir hadn’t been stolen in the first place—but given the Necromancer’s power, losing it had been all but inevitable.
“Ah… the Ttanttani…”
Suyeon suddenly dropped her head.
Did something go wrong?
“What? Don’t tell me the Ttanttani broke?”
“No, the Ttanttani’s fine. Both of them.”
“Then what?”
“I… I’m so sorry. Because of me, you ended up like this…”
Suyeon bowed at a full ninety degrees. Her voice was already cracking.
“It’s okay. Even without you, it would have happened eventually. Honestly, I’m glad you brought them. If both pieces of Ttanttani had been in one place, things might have gotten a lot worse.”
“B-but still… I’m truly sorry.”
Drip. Drip.
Thick tears hit the floor. It was hard to believe this was the same person who’d been smiling just moments ago.
I set my hand on her head and gently stroked her hair.
“It’s okay. It was a mistake. Just do better next time. We’re all still alive, aren’t we?”
“Hwaaaang—”
Suyeon threw her arms around me and started sobbing in earnest.
“Hic—hic— I’m sorry, I’m so sorry…”
I said nothing, just patted her back.
I hope this experience helps her. She’s sharp—she’ll learn a lot from one mistake, right? Hang in there.
Suyeon cried for a long time. She cried until the front of my gown was soaked through and clammy with tears. The crying had stopped a little while ago, but she was still nestled against me. Now she just seemed embarrassed.
“…All done crying?”
“…Yes.”
“Then lift your face.”
“…No. My face looks weird right now.”
“Is that how someone who’s in the wrong acts? You’re not going to listen to me?”
“That’s— that’s not fair…”
Suyeon raised her head. Far from looking a mess, she only looked prettier. As a researcher, she barely wore makeup, so there was nothing for the tears to ruin.
I wiped the corners of her eyes.
“You’re pretty, though.”
“…What? No, I mean…”
Her cheeks went scarlet. She clearly wanted to duck her head, but my hand was still cupping her face, so she just fidgeted helplessly. It was adorable.
“Your body really is okay, right?”
“Yes, I’m fine. Crying actually helped me feel better.”
A smile returned to Suyeon’s face. Smiling really did suit her best—though even crying, she was just as beautiful.
But that same power was leaking from her body too. Just like Keira and Elena.
“Good. That’s a relief. If you ever feel overwhelmed again, cry it out. And if anything’s hard, come talk to me anytime.”
I’m not going to mention that power yet. There’s no real way to fix it, so better not to scare her for nothing.
“Yes. I’ll come find you no matter what. Thank you for being alive. Thank you for saving us. I’ll repay this debt by making you an arm—I promise.”
“Make me an arm?”
“Yes. I’ll pour everything I’ve got into it and make one better than a real human arm. Absolutely!”
The moment her specialty came up, Suyeon’s eyes lit up and sparkled. A robotic arm—something that could satisfy her own curiosity while also expressing her gratitude and guilt. I was suddenly pretty interested myself.
Elena’s planning to regenerate my arm, but I’ll keep that a secret from Suyeon. I’d like to see a robot arm at least once.
Knock, knock.
“Oh—someone’s here.”
Suyeon scrambled off the bed and checked her clothes. A few dry-face wipes later, the tear tracks vanished and her usual expression was back. Was it because she was young? Her face recovered ridiculously fast, and she wasn’t even a Keeper.
…Then again, I’m only three years older than her.
“Who is it?”
“It’s me. May I come in?”
It was the Director. She must have come running the moment she heard I’d woken up.
“Yes, come in.”
The door opened and two people entered—the Director and Park Sena.
“You’ve woken up safely. I’m truly relieved.”
The Director’s face wore its usual smile, but her voice was thick with emotion. Even Suyeon looked startled—not so much by the emotion itself as by the disconnect between that composed expression and the feeling underneath it.
“It’s all thanks to you, Director.”
“I’m so glad you’re all right.”
Before I knew it, tears had gathered at the corners of the Director’s eyes—while that smile still sat perfectly on her lips. Cute, and somehow impressive. Where on earth had she learned that poker face?
I shifted the topic toward Park Sena for the Director’s sake.
“I’m glad you look okay too, Ms. Sena. Thanks to you, we were able to take down the Villain.”
“I didn’t do anything. It was all you, Mr. Jungmin. I’m truly grateful.”
Park Sena was dressed very calmly today—a black pantsuit, her hair tied back neatly. After only ever seeing her half-undressed, this look made her seem like a completely different person. So she wasn’t just endlessly frivolous after all.
She bowed to me with formal courtesy.
“On behalf of my fallen subordinates and those who survived, I offer my thanks. Because of you, Mr. Jungmin, the dead went peacefully, and the living barely made it through. I will never forget this debt.”
The only people who had died in this incident were five Association members. That was why Park Sena was dressed like this.
“We all did it together. If even one of us had been missing, everyone would have died. I offer my own condolences for their noble sacrifice.”
I bowed my head and observed a moment of silence.
Standing at the crossroads of life and death really hits differently once it’s over. I got lucky. I survived because of everyone’s help. I can’t forget that.
“Ahem. Shall we move on to business, then?”
After a brief pause, the Director opened the floor. Park Sena spoke.
“The Association has announced this incident to the world as a battle between a Villain and Keepers. The Villain is gone, and there were no civilian casualties. Of course there were Keeper casualties—but as always, those were reported as none.”
She bit her lip for a moment at that. It was only natural she’d feel wretched about her subordinates dying without name or glory.
“Incidents like this happen from time to time, and since there were no civilian casualties, we would have preferred to let this one pass as well. Unfortunately, that wasn’t possible.”
“…Why not?”
Did footage survive again, like last time? Well—that final explosion was pretty big. Even containing it had been a struggle.
“Because of the final explosion. It would be better to show you the footage than try to explain it.”
Park Sena pulled out her phone, tapped a few times, and handed it to me. A video was playing—a YouTube clip of Earth from space.
Why Earth, all of a sudden?
I understood soon enough. The video zoomed in—Asia, then Korea, then the outskirts of Seoul. From that point, a white light bloomed outward in the shape of flower petals. It looked small on the screen, but the petals stretched far enough to reach Seoul itself. Roughly twenty kilometers long, at a guess.
More footage followed, shot from various locations. Within thirty kilometers, all you could see was white light. Only beyond that range did the long horizontal spread of the shape become roughly visible.
“…What is this?”
I did this, but the scale is so massive it doesn’t even feel like something I did. Is this even real?
“People are calling it the White Flower—Baekhwa.”
“What kind of embarrassing name is that?”
“I think it’s a rather nice name. Much better than Ttanttani, at least.”
“Why are you dragging Ttanttani into this all of a sudden…”
Suyeon bristled at the unexpected jab, but Park Sena ignored her and continued.
“As you can see from the view count, the entire world is talking about the White Flower. The Association is under pressure to reveal who was behind it. If you wish, we can keep it hidden to the end—but the Association hopes you will step forward yourself, Mr. Jungmin.”
The video had only been up for about six hours, and the views had already blown past fifty million. Outside must have been pretty loud by now.
“What do you think, Director?”
“I believe it would be best to announce it as soon as possible. Right now, most people are simply astonished by the White Flower—but given time, more and more will start to fear it. You already carry the image of a hero, Mr. Jungmin, so even with the White Flower’s existence, it will be relatively easy to build a base of support around you. Miss the window, though, and a faction that fears you becomes far more likely. Better a little inconvenience than carrying that risk.”
People who fear me…
Even in the video comments, people were already fighting.
It was a stale old controversy. Thanks to the new materials discovered inside Gates, public opinion toward Keepers was friendly now—but fifteen years ago, Keepers had been treated like actual demons. A moderately strong person earns respect. Someone on a completely different level earns fear.
Even I, the one who caused it, found the scale of that explosion absurd. The odds of me—or anyone else—using that kind of power again were vanishingly small, and the actual destructive force was probably less than it looked. But spelling all that out wouldn’t make people accept it. People absorb a single clear image far more easily than careful explanations. The phrase “an explosion visible from space” was already burned into their heads. Of course the old debate was boiling back up.
I was going to have to step forward myself. This wasn’t a problem that would just blow over if I hid. The Association couldn’t handle it on its own either. I hadn’t planned on hiding it in the first place. I already had plenty of headaches waiting—if I flinched at something like this, I wouldn’t even be able to touch the next problem. I was already famous because of Mjolnir. Getting a little more famous wouldn’t change much.
“Tell them it’s fine to name me as the one behind the explosion. For the sake of every Keeper, I’ll take this on.”
“Thank you. As a member of the Association, and as a Keeper myself—thank you.”
Park Sena bowed formally once more. But I couldn’t take that as the Association’s true feelings. She was being careful because the light was shining directly on me; the Association itself would be different. Even if I hadn’t stepped up, they would have been ready to leak the information behind the scenes whenever it suited them.
“It’s nothing. I’m just doing what I should. There’s more we need to discuss, though, right?”
“Yes. I truly apologize for saying this to you and the other two Keepers, Mr. Jungmin—but this is principle, and I want to make that clear in advance.”
I already had a pretty good idea what Park Sena was about to say. This was actually far more important than everything before it—this was the real point. You could tell just from what came next.
“I know.”
“Understood. Under Article 3 of the Unregistered Keeper Act, I am placing the blue-haired mage and the blonde knight under arrest. If you register as Keepers even now, there is room for leniency—but for the moment, you will need to come with us to the Association.”
So it had finally come. I’d already decided my answer—back when I first resolved to debut.
“Those two aren’t Keepers, so that law doesn’t apply to them. They’re Otherworlders.”
“What?”
Park Sena’s expression twisted strangely. Of course it did. Who could have imagined that answer?