Chapter 110 - The Former Companion II

4

Let us speed things up.

“Hello, Teacher!”

“Oh. Yohwa.”

“Yes! Hehe. It’s been ages!”

One day, Cheon Yohwa came down to Busan with a few of her closest subordinates.

True to the signature trait of Hundred Flowers Girls’ High School, every last one wore a white sailor uniform. By now, Yohwa was no longer a fourth-year high school student, but roughly a ninth-year. Surely it was about time she graduated.

The Korean Peninsula’s top guild leader cosplayed as a witch, and the runner-up cosplayed as a schoolgirl. This land had a bleak future.

“Have you been well?”

“Of course. I’m always well.”

“Ahaha. True, you could probably get dropped in the middle of the Sahara and come back perfectly fine. Anyway...”

While we were talking, the other Hundred Flowers guild members had drifted far away. With only the two of us left in the square, Yohwa glanced around.

“Busan’s changed sooo much.”

“Mm.”

She was right. The Busan of run 173 boasted a skyline unlike anything seen in previous runs.

Previously, though Busan had been the foremost city on the Korean Peninsula, it had not been particularly glamorous, befitting an age of apocalypse.

The red-light district might have squandered expensive electricity on yellow and pink lights, but most buildings stood no more than two stories tall. The elevators and sewer systems needed to sustain high-rises had completely broken down.

Now, however, things were different.

Most buildings were four or five stories tall, and a few even stood ten stories or more. It wasn’t that civilization had suddenly been restored. Ground-floor homes still fetched the highest prices.

There were simply that many more people determined to live in Busan, even if it meant living on the fifth floor and putting up with a leg workout on the stairs every single time they needed the toilet.

“How should I put it? It’s dazzling.”

“How’s Sejong these days?”

“Ah, well. Same as ever. We keep a firm grip on Sejong, so it still draws a few people, but the other cities must be in serious trouble. Whenever the guild leaders get together, someone always complains that Busan’s stolen all their skilled workers.”

Yohwa’s eyes narrowed as she gazed at the Korean Peninsula’s new capital.

“But it’s hard for all that discontent to rally behind anyone. There’s no guild leader powerful enough to stand against the commander of the National Road Management Corps, is there?”

“Well, there’s you, Yohwa.”

“Ahaha. The guild leaders say that all the time, too.”

She laughed awkwardly and waved the suggestion away.

“Why would I get into a battle of wills with the Commander? I’m perfectly happy feeding my girls, beating up anomalies, and traveling around to see you every so often, Teacher!”

“Well, now. That sounds like you.”

“Hehe...”

For someone with such a modest lifestyle, though, the auras of the guild members she had brought to Busan were anything but ordinary.

She had probably assembled her delegation entirely from Hundred Flowers’ finest elites.

I stole a glance at her waist. Just as a Pokémon Trainer carried Poké Balls, Anomalymon Master Cheon Yohwa wore an hourglass on a specially made belt.

A glass vessel containing exceptionally white grains of sand. Despite its appearance, it was an anomaly-sealing device impervious to physical force.

Gapless.

It was the most powerful weapon in Yohwa’s possession. Had it recognized me even from inside the hourglass? Her doppelgänger, “Cheon Yohwa,” stirred the sand in soft, sliding streams.

The instant Yohwa felt her belt vibrate, her gaze turned icy. The sunshine of her smile, radiating in every direction moments earlier, evaporated at once.

“Shut up.”

The sand whispered as the hourglass shuddered briefly, then fell still. It was probably my imagination, but that vibration felt like a sneer to me.

That was when it happened.

-Ah, aaah—

Soft singing began to flow from the speakers rising like utility poles throughout downtown Busan.

It was an a cappella recording of Dang Seorin’s voice.

-Ah... aaah... ah...

The tune resembled a children’s song, yet it was only bright enough to be pleasant, never so relentlessly cheerful that it grated on the nerves.

As the quiet song swept between us, Yohwa’s brow relaxed.

“Ah, this is it, right? Busan’s famous attraction?”

“Yes. The Corps commander’s song.”

“Ooh... Listening really does put you at ease, doesn’t it? Or should I say it makes you feel good? Isn’t this a drug?”

In fact, its effects were much like those of a drug.

The “Corps Commander’s Song” was broadcast on the hour every day from seven in the morning until ten at night. The effects of Spell-Song Chanting varied subtly with the time.

At seven in the morning, for instance, the song carried an effect that cleared away sleep and sharpened the mind. At ten at night, it made you pleasantly drowsy, ready to fall into a deep, restful sleep the moment you lay down.

“Thanks to that, you could search the whole world and never find anyone with healthier sleep than Busan’s citizens. There isn’t a single insomniac here.”

“Hmm...”

“And during the hours when most people are working, the songs fill them with energy and vigor. When work ends and it’s about time for dinner, a tune plays that relieves stress and leaves you a little buoyant for no particular reason, at just the right tempo for enjoying a conversation. Both productivity and overall satisfaction with life are at their peak.”

“A happy city.”

Even now, dozens of citizens were huddled beneath a speaker. When the song ended, they returned to their workplaces in little groups, looking refreshed.

A city made of song.

That was Busan today.

“No wonder Busan keeps sucking people out of the other cities.”

To create this system, I had spent six full years researching day and night with Seorin.

We developed five kinds of magic, each suited to a particular situation, and used haunted objects from anomalies to keep the magic’s effects relatively intact even in recordings.

“Well, Teacher, I have a meeting scheduled with the woman behind that song. I’ll excuse myself!”

“Ah. Right.”

“Yes! See you again in a little while!”

Dang Seorin and Cheon Yohwa. The leading figures of white magic and black magic. Busan’s de facto ruler and Sejong’s warlord. The commander of the National Road Management Corps and the student council president of Hundred Flowers Girls’ High School.

The meeting between these two awakened, considered rivals in so many respects, was held in secret. Of course, thanks to the Saintess’s Clairvoyance, I was able to eavesdrop on all the important parts.

I never learned the finer details of the negotiations, though. For some reason, the Saintess was reluctant to tell me.

The result of the meeting?

“Hehe. Now we’re neighbors. I’m counting on you as always, Teacher!”

“...”

Hundred Flowers Girls’ High School decided to move its base from Sejong to Busan.

The whole of Yeongdo District was allocated to the guild as its territory, and Sejong’s citizens were permitted to relocate freely.

Yohwa retained her title as student council president of Hundred Flowers Girls’ High School, but was also appointed deputy commander of the National Road Management Corps.

No matter who looked at it or how, there was only one interpretation: Yohwa had abruptly surrendered to Seorin, bringing her entire guild with her.

I think that was the decisive blow.

5

Let us speed things up a little more.

Once Yohwa, regarded as Seorin’s only possible rival, bowed her head with almost absurd ease, the other guild leaders could no longer hold out.

One after another, the guild leaders who had reigned like kings in their own strongholds bowed. They fawned over the Corps commander to preserve whatever they could of their worth and standing.

Seorin was generous.

“Undertaker. You said that undersea tunnel could connect to Kyushu in Japan, right?”

“Mm.”

“Kyushu has lots of famous hot springs. Could you run the tunnel out near one of those? If we build some gorgeous, grand villas there and give them away, the other guild leaders should be reasonably satisfied.”

And so it was done.

A few warlords tried to cling to power to the bitter end, but it was useless. The National Road Management Corps had the Sword Marquis. Unless he trod their farmland, all control over the Korean Peninsula’s food supply lay firmly in Seorin’s hands.

Wine sloshed gently as Seorin swirled her glass.

“I always respect your ideas, Undertaker, but I think a little differently about how we should run the Corps.”

“Do you?”

“Yes. Do we really need to leave all those cities scattered around so inefficiently and order our members out on deadly patrols? There’s only a handful of people left on the peninsula anyway. Busan alone is enough.”

“...”

“I’ll make Busan the best city on the peninsula... No, a city that need envy no other, so wonderful you couldn’t find anywhere better in this dying world.”

“... Then the entire peninsula will be consumed by the void. There’ll very likely be monster waves. You’ll see near-infinite numbers of anomalies invading from beyond the horizon every other day.”

I warned her.

“Honestly, I can’t predict what will happen. A monster wave is essentially impossible to subjugate. Are you planning to play a defense game in real life forever?”

“That’s frightening. But... yes. We can do it. With your strength and my magic, it’s possible. Undertaker. Please. Will you follow me?”

“...”

I hesitated for a moment.

Perhaps it was the intuition I had accumulated as a regressor. I sensed that this moment was a point of no return.

Even so, my answer was already decided.

“... Of course.”

Seorin smiled brightly.

“That’s my Undertaker! I’m counting on you!”

Accelerate.

Four years later, Busan was the only city left on the Korean Peninsula.

Ironically, the world of a certain witch who had wanted more than anyone to roam far and wide had become smaller than in any other run.

The average height of Busan’s buildings rose a little further. By now, it deserved to be called humanity’s last metropolis.

Even the Saintess, who always stayed in Seoul’s Yongsan District, moved to Busan. There was no longer any need to remain there observing the peninsula’s awakened.

Yet surprisingly, right in the center of Busan, where land prices had soared, lay a vast square without a single building on it.

Designed to seat tens of thousands around its perimeter, the square had a sunken center, allowing every citizen to watch what happened below in person.

Like the Colosseum.

That was Seorin’s “courtroom.”

Seorin occupied the highest seat on the judges’ bench. Beside her sat Yohwa—the girl who, at some point, had dyed her white sailor uniform black.

The judges looked down. A defendant knelt in the magnificent courtroom.

“I... committed an act of violence against someone on the street.”

The defendant’s quiet confession echoed throughout the vast courtroom. A feat accomplished by Seorin’s [Amplification Magic].

“Sometimes I can’t control my own body. It’s anger, I suppose, welling up all of a sudden... By the time I come to my senses, it’s always happened. This time, too, if the people around me hadn’t stopped me, I would have beaten someone up.”

Boos erupted from the tens of thousands packed into the spectators’ seats.

But when Seorin tapped her gavel lightly, the entire city fell silent as though nothing had happened.

“Go on.”

“... Yes. I hate being like this. I want to apologize to everyone I’ve hurt, to beg their forgiveness... And above all, Your Excellency, presiding judge, I beg you to fix this part of my personality...”

The defendant bowed low.

With a cold expression, Seorin flicked her fingers. A golden balance shone in midair.

The magic of Equivalent Exchange.

“Sinner. Do you repent of your wrongdoing?”

“Yes.”

“As you wish, [from now on, the violence within you will be excised]. On this condition, the victim has generously offered to forgive the violence you committed.”

One year earlier, in this very courtroom, the victim making that generous offer had received a verdict granting [the mercy to forgive anyone from the heart, no matter what wrong they had done].

“Do you accept the victim’s proposal?”

“Yes, of course. Thank you. Great Witch. Thank you...”

“Enforcer. If you would.”

Yohwa rose in her black school uniform.

She approached the defendant and placed a hand on their head. Her murmuring was deftly muted so that it did not echo through the courtroom, but I could infer that she was now “brainwashing” the defendant.

Personality alteration. Implantation. Distortion.

Those were Yohwa’s abilities.

“Ah...”

At last, the golden balance glittered.

On the left pan, the victim’s forgiveness. On the right, the defendant’s violent tendencies.

Having obtained both parties’ consent, the scales balanced—and granted their respective wishes.

The defendant sprang to their feet.

“I can’t feel it... I can’t feel it! That thing that’s tormented me my whole life, that emotion—I can’t feel it anymore! Ah! Thank you! Thank you! Your Honor, Great Witch! Thank you!”

Tens of thousands of spectators applauded in unison. Voices congratulating the defendant and cheers praising Seorin’s and Yohwa’s powers rang out.

They, too, were citizens who had received something in [exchange] in this courtroom, in cases both trivial and grave.

“Ah, Your Excellency, Guardian.”

A voice suddenly came from beside me. I turned to find Yu Jiwon standing there.

“Jiwon.”

“Yes. Why are you watching the trial from such an out-of-the-way spot? Surely you could watch from closer up, Your Excellency.”

For reference, that “Guardian” was a title for me. Guardian of the city, apparently.

The name was far too steeped in Seorin’s tastes for my liking. It actually made me miss Jiwon’s exaggerated habit of calling me “Your Excellency.”

“I was just passing through. I have to leave to stop another monster wave anyway.”

“Ah... Of course. You truly are busy.”

Jiwon smiled.

A smile so natural and warm that the original Jiwon could never have managed it. A human smile, and therefore utterly unlike her.

“But isn’t it thanks to your tireless efforts that the city’s citizens can live in peace? You always have my support. Please let me know whenever you need my map.”

“...”

Every word felt sincere.

Faced with a situation in which sincerity made truth difficult to discern, I was briefly at a loss for words.

Not long ago, Jiwon, too, had had her psychopathic personality traits excised by Seorin’s [Equivalent Exchange] and Yohwa’s [Brainwashing].

For a long time, Jiwon had supposedly had a habit akin to an incurable disease: secretly hunting down and slaughtering small animals roaming the streets, whether cats, dogs, or birds.

But, uncharacteristically for her, the slaughter had been discovered, and she had eventually been brought before Seorin’s “witch trials.”

“Jiwon.”

“Yes?”

“Are you satisfied with your life these days?”

Jiwon blinked.

“Of course. In fact, I’ve rarely spent my days so meaningfully. Ever since my trial, I’ve finally felt that I’m living like a human being.”

“...”

Was that really so?

I had a slightly different interpretation.

To begin with, I had never heard anything about Jiwon enjoying the dismemberment of small animals as a way to relieve stress.

Even if it were a hobby she had newly acquired in this run, it was hard to believe that someone of her caliber would “accidentally” let herself be seen slaughtering a cat.

Perhaps the hobby had been deliberately feigned, and the act deliberately discovered.

The person before me had staged “behavior anyone would consider psychopathic.” Then she had undergone a witch trial and had her personality corrected.

She had decided that “doing this” would be advantageous for surviving here—and for continuing to survive as one of the city’s powerful figures.

Jiwon knew how to view the world as nothing more than a map, a maze with fixed entrances and exits. To her, even her own personality and way of thinking must have been mere tools for reaching the “correct answer.”

“... I see. Good for you. Keep up the good work, Director Yu.”

“Yes, Your Excellency.”

I walked down a passage with no exit in sight.

A tremendous roar of cheering erupted from the distant spectators’ seats.

“Dang Seorin! Dang Seorin!” The whole courtroom shook as though struck by a speeding train.

As if drawn by that sound, I turned once more to look down before leaving the courtroom.

Just then, part of another defendant’s personality was being placed on the golden balance and exchanged. Seorin whispered something to Yohwa, who nodded.

Then Seorin’s eyes met mine.

“...”

“...”

But only for a moment. As the city’s ruler, as this courtroom’s presiding judge, Seorin turned away to continue her work.

So did I.

Even as I left the corridor, the cheers behind me never stopped. Dang Seorin! Dang Seorin! Dang Seorin...

The cheering never ceased in the courtroom, nor did the singing from the city’s speakers outside.

I walked on, the two melodies trailing my footsteps like shadows.