Call Me Noona
Once the debriefing—which had bordered on outright interrogation—was over, we left the faculty office.
Walking side by side with Dang Gyu-young, I tossed out a question.
"Are we heading back to the downtown district?"
"Yeah, we've got to go wrap things up. But we can take our time getting there."
Command had been handed off to Chae Da-bin, and the graduates were still on site besides. The most urgent stretch had passed, so there was no harm in ambling.
And so we set off at a leisurely stroll, for all the world like an afternoon walk.
A stretch of silence followed before Dang Gyu-young's eyes landed on a bench along the path, and she spoke up.
"My legs are killing me. Let's sit and rest a while first."
"Sounds good to me."
Her wounds had all been healed with the Lesser Elixir, but the accumulated fatigue was another matter entirely. Dang Gyu-young had spent the entire day running the Black Market, dashing from one end to the other, and had even fought a battle for her life against the Blood Cult Elder. Now that the tension had drained away, it was only natural for all that built-up exhaustion to come crashing in at once.
As it happened, there was a vending machine right in front of us, and Dang Gyu-young stopped in front of it.
"What do you want to drink? Coffee?"
"Coffee's fine."
Clunk.
Dang Gyu-young retrieved two cans of coffee and handed me one, and we settled side by side on the bench, sipping in silence.
Tilting her can this way and that, Dang Gyu-young finally opened her mouth.
"Judging by results alone, this year's Black Market was a success."
"It was."
The Thief Club and the Disciplinary Committee had been locked in a fierce game of cat and mouse over the Black Market, each probing and checking the other—right up until the Blood Cult Elder appeared and turned the whole board on its head. An enemy faction's infiltration of Dungeon Island was the one matter that superseded everything else; measured against it, the Black Market was little more than a minor sideshow. The Disciplinary Committee members stationed throughout the downtown district would have abandoned their spot checks and trading-zone sweeps in unison and thrown themselves into the case, chasing down even the faintest trace of the Bamboo Grove Hermit.
With the downtown district abruptly left wide open like an empty house, the Thief Club had been free to run the Black Market with an easy mind. If anything, this year's arrest rate would likely post an unprecedented record low.
"...Judging by results alone."
Dang Gyu-young echoed the words like a murmur to herself. Her expression was anything but bright; something was clearly weighing on her.
"Kim Ho, this only just occurred to me."
"Yes, Senior?"
"That graffiti—you had the time and the place changed exactly the way you wanted, didn't you?"
"I did."
"Then why today, of all days?"
"It had to be today."
Against a master on the level of the Blood Cult Elder, the strength of a mere student was laughably insufficient. I had needed help from graduates at the very least. Which meant the showdown had to be settled before the graduates left Dungeon Island—and I had to choose the day when graduates and Disciplinary Committee members alike would pack the downtown district in the greatest numbers. That day was today, when both the Downtown Market and the Black Market were in full swing.
"So you used us, is what you're saying."
"If I'm being honest with you—yes."
I didn't deny it. Dang Gyu-young's expression darkened a shade further. She sloshed her can of coffee around, dissatisfied, then asked again.
"What if I'd said no? That I wouldn't help you. What would you have done then?"
"I'd have looked for another way."
I had to bring the Bamboo Grove Hermit down by any means necessary while this chance was in my hands. Even if it meant laying some of my cards on the table, I would have secured help from the Disciplinary Committee, the graduates, someone—anyone.
Hearing my answer, Dang Gyu-young seemed to arrive at some understanding. She pulled her gaze from the can and turned to face me.
"Don't tell me... you were testing me?"
Her eyes pleaded with me to say it wasn't so. I held my silence for a moment, then answered.
"I was."
"...You're awful. Really."
The moment Chae Da-bin spotted the Bamboo Grove Hermit and tipped me off—the moment the Blood Cult Elder was lured to the rendezvous—had fallen right in the thick of the Black Market's busiest hours. Dang Gyu-young had been standing at a crossroads: send me off alone and keep the market running, or come to my aid. And she hadn't deliberated for so much as a breath. She had followed me, accepting the enormous losses that her own absence—and the Slick Graduate Alumnus's—would bring. And all the while, I had been testing her.
"You just use people, and test them, and... Am I allowed to be mad at you now?"
"It was my fault."
I nodded in silent admission. It had been something I needed to do—but it was equally true that I had valued efficiency above all else along the way.
The moment I owned up to it, Dang Gyu-young tipped herself toward me and knocked her head against my shoulder.
Bonk. Bonk. Bonk.
After a few more knocks, she spoke, her forehead still resting against my shoulder.
"Don't do it again. I told you, didn't I? That I'd be your accomplice. Whatever you told me, I'd have believed you—so why couldn't you trust me? Why did you have to test me?"
"..."
"Can't you trust me a little more, too?"
"From now on, I will. Promise."
When I held out my pinky, Dang Gyu-young whipped her head up at the sight. Astonishment was written plainly across her face.
"...Seriously?"
"Seriously."
Dang Gyu-young stuck out her own pinky and hooked it against mine.
"Stamp it, too."
"Gladly."
And so, at her insistence, pinkies still linked, we pressed our thumbs together as well. Sealed with a stamp.
Dang Gyu-young's face was bright again, as though it had never darkened at all. By then our cans of coffee were empty, so we rose from the bench. We'd rested long enough anyway.
We had barely started walking when Dang Gyu-young sidled up close and opened her mouth yet again.
"Hey, isn't it about time we changed what you call me?"
"What I call you?"
"Yeah. 'Senior' puts a bit of distance between us, don't you think?"
"I think 'Senior' suits us fine, though. Then what should I call you?"
As if she'd been waiting for exactly that question, Dang Gyu-young answered with a sheepish grin.
"Call me noona~ Go on. Gyu-young noona."
"No thank you. Senior."
"Aw, why not!"
"Just because."
"Oh, come on—it's not like it's hard!"
"It's hard for me. I can't bring myself to say it."
"Once! Just once!"
Dang Gyu-young seized my arm and shook it every which way, wheedling. Normally a firm refusal from me was enough to make her concede and let go, but today, unlike usual, she was relentless. After a long tug-of-war around the bench, Dang Gyu-young finally took a step back.
"You really won't do it?"
Her lips were curling into a pout bit by bit, her cheeks beginning to puff out ever so slightly. She was, without question, one step away from a full sulk.
Did she want to hear 'noona' that badly?
"Fine. You win."
Truth be told, just as she'd said, changing a form of address wasn't exactly a steep request. I started walking and tossed it out as though in passing.
"Let's hurry, noona."
"...!"
For a long moment, Dang Gyu-young simply stared at me. Then the corners of her mouth began, little by little, to curl upward—
"Heheh. Heheheh."
—and with a faint flush rising in her cheeks, she dissolved into snickers.
"Heheheh. Heheheheh."
"Come on, you're the one who told me to."
"I'm laughing because I'm happy. Say it one more time. 'Let's hurry, noona~'"
"No thank you, Senior."
I refused, keeping a perfectly straight face.
The Dungeon Hall. A dungeon somewhere in the underground floors.
A man dressed in coarse martial robes stood on a sandy shore, gazing out over the sea. Beneath the surface, every species of marine monster swarmed in droves—yet not one of them so much as dared show itself. That alone said everything about how overwhelming the man's martial might was.
As he stood idly watching the waves roll in, a voice addressed him from behind.
"Not a bad spot for a secret meeting, wouldn't you say?"
"It would certainly seem so."
The man assented and turned around. There stood a woman shrouded head to toe in a robe. Like his own martial garb, it was woven of coarse material, though something like an ornament seemed to glint here and there between its folds.
"I hear that before the Academy was built, villains of every stripe gathered here."
"It does have its share of places to hide."
The underground floors of the Dungeon Hall were so vast and so deep that even with security crystal balls installed and the faculty conducting regular patrols, blind spots were inevitable. For these two, prying open one of those gaps and slipping into a dungeon was a trivially easy task.
The robed woman came to the matter at hand.
"You've heard the news, I take it? Elder Choi was taken down."
"I have. They say the Human Butcher himself made his move."
"That seems rather different from our plan... What is your read on it?"
Her tone was gentle, but her eyes brimmed with a chilling menace. The man in martial robes and the robed woman were partners in cooperation; before infiltrating Dungeon Island, they had laid out several plans together. Nowhere in those plans had 'Elder Choi gets captured' been included—hence her question, reproach folded neatly within it, as to what exactly had happened.
Of course, the man in martial robes was every bit as much in the dark. He unleashed a silent torrent of curses inside his head.
That utter moron. Why the hell did he crawl in there at that exact hour?
They had agreed to communicate and move by coded messages alone—so why had he suddenly gone rogue? But the man let none of this show, holding an impassive expression as he replied.
"Your concern is understandable enough, but the plan will suffer no disruption. On that, you have my guarantee."
"Well... if you say so, Elder, I should like to believe you. But this incident has left a small crack in that trust."
"And what would you have me do about it?"
"Show me your hand in advance. That would put my mind at ease."
The robed woman smiled sweetly. When they had drawn up the plan, they had divided the roles between them but kept the details from one another—most of them touched upon the secret arts of their respective organizations, after all. But now the man's side had unilaterally shattered that trust, and if he wished to smooth things over, he had no choice but to accommodate her demands to the utmost.
He drew a briefcase from his inventory and flipped it open. Inside, in place of documents, sat row upon row of syringes filled with a liquid red as blood.
"Our sect's Blood Explosion Pills."
"It has been some time since I last heard that name. Though these aren't pills, are they?"
"They have been processed into liquid form for ease of use."
"I see."
The robed woman nodded slowly. A more detailed picture was taking shape in her mind—of how the Blood Cult's side intended to carry out its share of the plan.
"Very well. I, too, will extend my trust and lend my hand. I do hope you achieve your desired results in the midterm exam."
"There is no need to hope. It is already decided."
The man's voice rang with absolute conviction.
Meanwhile, from a short distance away, unseen eyes were watching the pair. A man in a business suit, a sword belted at his waist. He was one of the Dragon Slayer Academy's staff; while patrolling the underground floors, he had chanced upon suspicious movement and followed the two into this dungeon. And just as he had suspected, the man and woman belonged to a hostile faction. They appeared to be plotting something for the midterm exam.
I must return and report. Immediately.
"And what, may I ask, do you find so entertaining?"
Shwack!
The instant the voice sounded behind him, the suited man's blade cut toward it—a lightning-fast single strike so swift that not even the drawing of the sword could be seen. But his blade carved through empty air and nothing more.
The next moment, he felt something soft sweep across his abdomen. The result, however, was anything but soft.
Gurgle-gurgle-gurgle!
The flesh where that touch had landed rotted away at a terrifying pace, giving off a vile stench. His skin blackened in an instant, blood vessels bulging grotesquely to the surface. He had heard of this skill before—a necromancer's close-combat technique.
Necrograsp...!
Which meant the organization the robed woman belonged to could be deduced as well. She was a far more dangerous existence than he had imagined.
Even through the excruciating pain, the man kicked off the ground with every last ounce of strength he possessed. He had to put more distance between himself and them—any distance at all.
I have to make it back. No matter what—!
"To think you still have the strength to run like that. Your fighting spirit alone is admirable."
"Isn't it, though?"
Strangely enough, the voices of the two never drew any closer. There was no chance they had given up the chase. Just as bewilderment began to creep over him, he thought he heard the sharp snap of fingers from somewhere behind.
At once, his rotting abdomen began to swell like a balloon, expanding at a ferocious rate. And in that final instant, the name of yet another skill surfaced in his mind.
Rot... Explosion...
Pop.
[177] The Support Ate It All