My Turn
The sky had gone dark before I noticed.
Whatever had collapsed up above, underground was still underground. Starlight and moonlight never properly reached the place, and that only made the dark worse.
The Waste Disposal Squad switched on lamps and started hanging them wherever they could. Crude work, but the space came up a shade brighter for it, and the layout inside finally read clear. Narrower than it looked.
The Gentleman was still blank from my talk of ordinary people. Dr. Myung got there first.
"......What the hell are you saying? Ordinary or not — I'm asking whose side you're on."
Her eyes were a breath from throwing light. The space was already half underground, so the gleam showed, and that only made her more threatening.
The Gentleman seemed to get his thoughts in order only after he heard her.
"You mean to hold to neutrality? Declining to take the doctor's side is not, in itself, a poor attitude. But if you intend to cast your companion aside regardless, you would have done better to choose the side that is properly in the right."
"The right side is mine."
"He will not take your side even in a situation like this. It would seem he has concluded, at the very least, that you, Doctor, are certainly not the one."
"Oh, piss off."
"A coarse-mouthed physician, I see."
"That bastard Woo Jungkook, I swear...... Do you have any idea what goes on in your head? No. Not sometimes. A lot of the time."
Even so, she was less angry than I'd expected. She must have figured I had some way through it. Same as always — if that faith was there, it was enough.
The chief only stepped in after everyone had had their say. Looked like he'd been watching the reactions on purpose.
"Leaving it to the Postman was the right call after all. Just as I expected."
Expected. Sure. When hell froze.
"Like I said before, the Postman's thinking is my thinking. An ordinary person can't easily act the way you or the doctor do. Pushing stubbornly down a single road is an impressive thing, I'll grant that. But someone who can't isn't spineless for it. It changes with the situation. Sometimes you make a choice you wouldn't make on an ordinary day. Isn't that what an ordinary person is?"
Being ordinary didn't mean having no convictions. There were tendencies. There were tastes. But there was also room to show a different face, depending on the situation.
"Chief, are you speaking of flexibility?"
The Gentleman had come close to the chief's meaning. He hadn't quite arrived.
Neither had Dr. Myung.
"I'll admit I'm not flexible. But that also means I don't bend."
"On that much, I am in agreement."
For the first time, the two of them landed on the same point.
But—
"Even so, Doctor, do not mistake me. There is no law that says one may not share the appetite of a parents' murderer."
"Who asked?"
Two people, drawing the line as hard as it would go. They didn't seem to notice that was exactly why they looked alike.
The chief appeared to settle on a simpler answer.
"It's a little different from flexibility. The Postman can explain that, too."
My turn again. That damned man. Once we reached the platform, I was shoving him straight down.
Anyway, flexibility wasn't an entirely different word. Only a shade off — the kind of shade that changes the meaning.
"It's possibility. Strength that comes from understanding."
Dr. Myung was starting to let my words slide straight off her. She wasn't much for understanding other people. Just like the Old Man.
The one at least going through the motions of trying was the Gentleman.
"Strength that comes from understanding?"
"You haven't fixed the answer in advance, so there's still possibility. Ordinary people consider a lot."
"Without a direction, one sways easily. Ideal for being swept along. A person like that is nothing more than a soulless shell. One might as well call them a brainless single cell."
Maybe so. The Human Meat Factory had been exactly that. The ones who actually put a vision on the table were the General and Tata. The rest, more often than not, weren't offering opinions so much as giving their bodies to the current.
But that also meant there was possibility in them. The General and Tata had none left. Their direction was already fixed, and by now they were in no position to change their stance.
"People like you and Dr. Myung are necessary, too. But two of that kind is enough. If I said the rest of the world is filled in with ordinary people — does that land?"
"Hm. I am not so sure."
He was conducting himself like a gentleman. Even so, anger was breathing inside him. I hadn't forgotten the reaction when he first found Dr. Myung.
I hadn't seen his face properly. The trembling in his voice had been enough. He was forcing the anger down. Keep it down, and he'd remain a gentleman to the end. Let it blow, and he'd become a worse mad dog than anyone in this place — the opposite of Dr. Myung, who went off constantly and yet never quite turned into a true lunatic. He was a bomb. Better not strike a match.
"So the conclusion is neutrality. Is that it?"
The only one still taking me on was the Gentleman. The chief said nothing more. Now and then he glanced my way and gave the faintest nod.
He's backing my way.
Put another way, the chief had come over to my side. That had been the point from the start. Siding with either Dr. Myung or the Gentleman meant declaring war on the spot. If I wanted to get through this with as little blood as possible, I couldn't put weight on either of them. The chief, commanding on the ground, would see it the same way.
Because it's a seat that has to answer for things.
I'd secured the most influential ally in this circus, for the moment. Even so, the Waste Disposal Squad still had the numbers, and the high ground hadn't moved. Might as well keep pushing.
"Neutral? Closer to the truth to say I'll go with the situation."
"Hm?"
"Wasn't the most important thing, right now, keeping people alive?"
I turned my eyes to the wounded strewn in every direction. Of those who'd been tagged black, about half had already had their lives go out. The ones under treatment, though — looked after properly from here, they could still get their health back. The Gentleman wasn't ignorant of that.
"We have already done all that can be done. The rest we have no choice but to leave to heaven. What I am saying is that the time has come to pass judgment on the doctor. Seeing it now — were you, in the end, intending to talk in circles and save her?"
"Done? Done what?"
"What more is there to do? We treated them to the best of our ability. We even borrowed the hands of a doctor steeped in sin."
"Best of your ability, sure. Leaving patients like that counts as done? Move them somewhere better. A real bed. Somewhere safe, warm, with plenty of food laid in."
A short, contemptuous breath — and at last the Gentleman laughed at me properly. This time he really couldn't hold it.
"This is hardly a jest. Do you imagine headquarters would take them if we brought them in? Doctor, why don't you say it? If it were you, would you accept, as a patient, a lowest-grade civil servant wounded to that degree?"
"......"
"What is this — a refusal to give testimony that disadvantages you?"
"They wouldn't take them. Not if it were me."
"There. You see."
That wasn't what I'd meant.
"I never said take them to headquarters."
"What? Then what exactly are you telling us to—"
Cracks, starting to show in the Gentleman. But the patience that ran out first belonged to the people who'd been watching.
"Cut it out! Is this something you settle with talk?"
"Chief, we can't give ground on this either."
"We've got to pay her back before we go. Damn right!"
"We've wrung her dry, so it's time to take that doctor bitch in hand!"
The air was heating. The one who moved to put it down wasn't the chief, and it wasn't me. It was the Gentleman.
"A moment. Even if we are to repay her, we must first settle how far—"
"What kind of bullshit is that? She pays with her life!"
"Kill her! Death's too good for her!"
Not that opinion locked into one piece. Besides the Gentleman, there were men who weren't hardline. That, too, was what ordinary people looked like.
"How about one arm?"
"What?"
"Even a murder charge has degrees, doesn't it? It's not like we don't know she's the type who just does what she's told."
"What the hell kind of nonsense is that?"
"We don't have to turn into the same kind of people, do we? What's so great about killing somebody."
"Gutless little shit. Getting scared now?"
Dr. Myung had drawn in on herself, eyes only on me. About time I got ready.
"Hey. Chief."
I used the confusion and pressed in close at his side.
"Mm?"
"Doesn't look like you want this turning into a complete shitshow."
"If I can help it, I'd rather no one does something they'll regret."
So that was where his head was.
"Then mind lending me a gun for a minute?"
"A gun......?"
He probably had one. The rank looked high enough.
"You've got one too. When I pulled that key, I definitely—"
"I used up the rounds."
Rounds I had lying around. I just didn't feel like showing that Backscratcher was a hunter-grade piece. Well — if I could spare my own ammunition, that was fine too.
"......If I lend you a gun, I have a feeling I'll regret it."
"I promise you won't."
"On what grounds?"
"Forget already? Your thinking is my thinking."
The chief blew a short breath through his nose. A moment later, though, a pistol slipped quietly around from behind his back. I took hold of it as if it were nothing, but he had no thought of letting go. If anything, he was gripping harder.
"Have I been put under some spell. I can't even tell if I'm judging this correctly."
Of course he was uneasy. But he remembered. I'd worked that key free with a ricochet.
"If you can't trust me, you deal with it."
"Tsk."
The instant the pistol came fully into my hand, the mood of the Waste Disposal Squad tipped all the way over with it.
"All right. Let's do it that way."
"Cut off one leg first, and think after?"
It had started as an arm or a life, and landed on a leg. The Gentleman opposed even that, but the current had already turned.
"Then we're agreed?"
"Only for now, you hear me — for now!"
"She could drop dead from that alone, and if we feel like it we can stick the knife somewhere else after. The neck, for instance."
It had begun with someone floating the idea that if they cut one off first, maybe the answer would show itself. Once you actually handed down a punishment, it might not feel the way you'd imagined, so start light.
"Fuck...... One lousy leg. The price is way too cheap."
"We think again after it's off. Next one could be an arm."
How it had shifted from an arm to a leg, I hadn't properly heard — too busy taking the gun off the chief. Not that hearing it would have fed me anything.
"Hey, Myung Hwa-young. That's the call, so swallow your karma."
"The cutting falls to me."
"The fuck you mean?"
"Ah, who cares who does it."
"W-wait!"
Dr. Myung couldn't keep still any longer either.
"Y-you were the ones going on about how precious life is!"
"A criminal is the exception."
"Woo Jungkook! You're just gonna stand there and watch!?"
And just like that, every eye swung to me. It wasn't time yet.
"Postman, you stay put."
"Now that you mention it, didn't they say that guy's shooting is insane?"
"Ah. Right?"
At those words, one man's hand slid inside his clothes.
Now.
The moment had come.
Click.
"Wh-what the fuck!"
"What do you think it is. Self-defense. You reached for your guns first. Clear as day."
Click. Click.
Whether I had a gun on them or not, they drew in a single motion. They had the numbers — that was the idea. But I was already behind the chief. The pistol I'd borrowed from him was pressed flat to his temple.
"That crazy son of a bitch!"
"Postman, you lost your mind? Dying to get turned into a sieve."
"This isn't even your business — what the hell are you doing? Hand over the doctor and back off. Put the gun down!"
Hah. Put it down and they'd cut loose without a second thought. The most thrown of all was the chief.
"......I rather think I've done something I'm going to regret."
"Shh. I told you. Your thinking is my thinking."
"This wasn't part of my thinking."
"Thinking you know everything going on in your own head is arrogance."
A few of them swung their muzzles toward Dr. Myung. Sensible.
"Gun down!"
"Keep this up and the doctor, you, and the chief all die!"
Not a chance.
Shall we begin.
Bang!
"Wh-what......!"
Into the gap their confusion opened, I put a round into the nearest lamp.
Pak!
The bullet that struck it ricocheted and shattered the lamp across the way, and in the same instant a thick dark dropped over me, the chief, and Dr. Myung.
Bang!
The second shot. A lamp a little farther off this time.
Bang! Bang!
A few rounds in a row, and the underground went pitch-black.
"Everyone, fingers off the triggers!"
"D-don't shoot! You'll hit our own!"
"The chief is in front of the Postman! Don't shoot!"
"Fuck, if it's come to this, at least the doctor......!"
"You know where that bitch even is before you shoot?!"
"She's got a head on her. She already got clear!"
"Don't shoot! Everybody's in danger!"
Bang!
"Fuck, which bastard keeps shooting!"
Who else. I was the only one still firing. My turn, for good. In a dark like this, theirs was never coming.
Fwing!
"Agh! Ricochet!"
"It skimmed right past my face!"
"Everybody down!"
A dark night. A darker space beneath it. But I'd had time enough to attune.
While I was sorting the moderate cases.
Narrow was a mercy. Walking the wounded, checking them, I'd had leisure to attune at my ease with the ground and the walls, place after place. And because they'd been kind enough to switch the lights on, I'd taken in the whole interior. A bonus.
Dark like this isn't a problem at all.
Try to read probability after an attunement, and a blue light comes up. Right now my vision held the whole of the underground as if someone had brushed it in luminous dye — every trivial piece of the space, all of it, lit blue.
"......It... it went quiet."
"Anybody hit?"
"Lights! Get the lights on!"
"We already turned on every last one we had!"
Of course I hadn't been able to attune to every man in the Squad. The wounded, maybe. The rest, I'd never had a chance to lay a hand on. They didn't show in my vision. But if something broke unexpected, the one who could see the interior clear through still held the better ground.
"Lighters! Hurry up and get the lighters out!"
"If you've got one, take it out already! I'm out of fuel!"
"Me too, fuck."
"I've got one! But I'd have to see something first, damn it......!"
"You can do it by feel!"
"I'm getting it out!"
Rounds left. Let's see...... Ten? No. Nine? Not that either? Five. There it is. Damn chief. Didn't even top off the magazine. What had he been doing.
"You'd all better hold still. Light a lighter and a bullet goes straight there."
Even with things gone this far, they weren't cowed in the slightest. That's the nice thing about numbers.
"Shouldn't we just eat the losses and fight?"
"You crazy? We've got a hostage!"
"So what, you want us to surrender like this?!"
"Fuck, does that even make sense? How many of us are there."
"Then light the damn lighters already!"
"Why — why me! You light it! Ah, now that I check, I'm out of fuel too......"
"Look at him. Scared shitless."
"Hey, I'll light it, you little shit. Watch close."
"Wait!"
The Gentleman's voice, for the first time in a while.
"If you light them all at once, that solves it, you fools! There is only one Postman! He cannot aim at several of you at the same time!"
Why was it that the people I ended up across from so rarely came up short in the head?
"Th-that's right?"
"Lighting it! I can light one too!"
"Didn't you say you were out of fuel?"
"Now. Listen carefully. On the count of three, light them, find the Postman first, and take aim. Confirm only the doctor's position. The chief is a hostage, so do not fire!"
Then I'd have to show them that numbers, however many, didn't mean a thing. Their eyes were covered anyway. Which meant I could bring out Backscratcher.
"One, two—"
I hadn't given up my turn.
