Chapter 27

Ȓ​&e;ａđ​& ;on̂​ &K;a&t;​Яeadｉ​nģＣ&a;ſẽ

It wasn’t just my imagination.

Once the bus started moving, Regina kept asking for more chocolate at every opportunity, like she was collecting a debt. She took every last piece, as if she’d struck gold, and ate all the chocolate I’d brought.

It was meant for Alice, but…well, I did have other snacks, so it wasn’t a big deal.

And I did want to get on Regina’s good side eventually, so maybe I scored some points early.

D-Class, where all the “problem students” were gathered.

Naturally, Regina was one of them—a delinquent who probably be in juvenile detention rather than school, if she wasn’t a supernatural.

But she wasn’t rotten to the core. Though self-centered, she could be considerate and regretted some of her reckless past.

In “The Dawn of the Sword”, she was a supporting character who eventually helped the protagonist and even had a decent role.

I’d already planned to get closer to her after the summer break.

Her supernatural ability was extraordinarily unique and ranked high on my list of powers I’d like to experience firsthand.

Drugs.

Regina’s ability was to produce drugs. Her entire body—her breath, her skin, her hair—was all laced with narcotics.

Even a single strand of her hair could induce addiction. It would leave you in a state of euphoria, robbing you of rational thought.

If she put her mind to it, she could create substances that could even enthrall high-level monsters. For an ordinary person, just a little bit of this could be fatal.

I’d love to experience that addiction at least once.

What would it feel like? What if I inhaled her drug, and then sliced open my abdomen? Or severed my fingers? Or cut out my tongue?

Heh, the thought alone sent a shiver down my spine. But not yet. It’s too soon for that.

When the time comes—after summer break—I’ll ask her for a taste.

Regina isn’t fond of people who approach her just for her powers. So, I’ll need to be careful not to show my true colors too soon.

“Got any more?”

“Nope, I told you. That was the last of the chocolate.”

“But your backpack’s still packed full.”

“That’s all the chocolate I brought.”

Regina smacked her lips in disappointment. After all that, she still wanted more?

If it were me, I’d be too overwhelmed by the sweetness to eat another bite.

I hugged my backpack protectively. No way was I letting her look inside. If she saw what was really in there, I’d be in big trouble. I’d probably have to silence her to destroy the evidence.

Or worse, I’d be down on my knees, groveling with a desperate “Please don’t tell anyone! I’ll do anything you ask!”

Thankfully, Regina didn’t seem too interested in what was inside. She seemed satisfied and nodded as she popped a piece of gum into her mouth.

Letting out a breath mixed with relief and resignation, I closed my eyes to organize my thoughts.

I mentally went over everything that was about to happen and how I’d respond.

I’d run through this simulation dozens of times already, but since I had some time to kill, I reviewed my plan from the beginning.

In about two hours, the bus would arrive at the National Institute for Monster Research.

When they arrive, a guide is waiting to greet them, giving a brief orientation before leading them underground.

Down there, they’ll encounter monsters.

These creatures have been prepared for students to practice their combat skills. Naturally, they’re very weak. Without their mental corruption, even a non-supernatural could defeat them with conventional weapons.

With instructors and supernatural researchers keeping a close watch, students will face a monster for the first time.

The field exercise should go smoothly. These are trained professionals, after all, and they’ll guide the students safely, ensuring they get valuable experience.

But, as always, trouble follows the protagonist wherever they go. The protagonist attracts chaos like a storm.

One monster begins devouring the others, like crabs in a barrel, until only one remains.

This last creature, having fed on its peers, becomes exponentially stronger. It breaks through the facility’s defense systems and escapes from the underground chambers.

Fortunately, the Institute has a comprehensive emergency protocol for situations like this.

The response is swift. The monster is quickly subdued, and as everyone breathes a sigh of relief, Eugene notices something unusual.

The monster’s corpse looks strange.

It resembles a discarded shell…or rather, it is a shell.

The creature had cleverly used this molted skin as bait, faking its death.

If they hadn’t realized this in time, the monster could have escaped into a populated city, causing a catastrophic situation.

Thanks to Eugene and the students’ efforts, the crisis is averted. The first incident in “The Dawn of the Sword” ends on a relatively peaceful note.

It wasn’t a severe or dangerous case—just a setup for future events, raising questions and hinting at mysteries to come.

So, there’s no need to stress too much.

I should focus on my own objective.

The best time to dispose of my backpack will be right after the monster sheds its skin.

Until then, there’s no opportunity, as the teachers and supernatural researchers will handle the creature.

It’ll be fine.

Even if the evidence disposal plan fails, another chance will come along eventually.

I just need to stay calm.

◈

The National Institute for Monster Research is classified as a quasi-military facility.

They don’t just study monsters; they also develop equipment to support warriors.

Their role is to back up supernaturals in the field.

Ordinary weapons can’t withstand the strength of these supernaturals, who can bend steel rails with just their fingers. They’d shatter a regular sword just by gripping it.

So, they require specially crafted weapons—equipment designed to handle and even amplify their immense power.

The same goes for other gear.

The protective suits, support items, and other equipment needed in battles with monsters are all specially developed here.

In a clash between supernaturals and monsters, conventional gear is practically useless. It shatters almost instantly under intense combat.

The Institute is vital for designing and testing equipment tailored to supernaturals.

It’s an important facility, of course. To prepare for potential external threats or monster escapes, armed security is stationed at all times.

“Haaam…”

A guard on patrol stifled a yawn, struggling to keep his eyes open. They patrolled in pairs, following a set route they’d walked countless times over the years.

His partner didn’t bother to correct his lax posture; he felt just as bored.

The guard had been in this job for a long time. Memorable incidents had been few and far between.

At most, there’d been conspiracy theorists sneaking into the Institute, or a monster waking up and causing a minor disturbance while being transferred underground. Those incidents were swiftly handled, fading quickly from memory.

But accidents are like unwelcome visitors—arriving unannounced. Just because yesterday was peaceful doesn’t guarantee today will be.

Yet, after years of uneventful days, it’s hard not to let your guard down.

In addition to the usual guards, a few heroes are always stationed at the National Institute for Monster Research. Only supernaturals can handle the monsters housed underground, so it’s necessary.

If any incidents occur, these veteran supernaturals will step in. Having seen their strength even once, it’s no surprise the guards feel at ease.

One of them can even catch bullets with his fingers.

As long as no rogue supernatural or monster attacks, there’s nothing to worry about—or so the guards believe.

“Hm?”

One guard nudges his partner with an elbow.

When the partner turns, confused, the guard gestures toward something.

“Who’s that?”

“What the heck… huh?”

The partner frowns.

Someone was approaching them, close enough that it was a mystery how they hadn’t noticed earlier.

This person held a blood-red parasol slanted over their shoulder. It might be more of an umbrella than a sunshade given the weather.

A loose, black dress obscured their figure, but thin, stick-like arms and legs peeked out.

They wore opera gloves up to the elbow and white stockings that emphasized the curve of their legs.

Long, waist-length black hair hung down, unmoving even as a breeze passed. Beneath it, a fox mask with a crimson tint covered their face.

“Who is she?”

“I asked you first. What do you think?”

With the mask covering her face, they couldn’t guess her age.

Judging by her petite frame, height, and attire, she appeared quite young—a girl, likely.

“Didn’t they say students from the Academy were coming here for field training today? Could she be one of them?”

“Oh, maybe. But…”

Aren’t they supposed to arrive in a bus all together?

Click. 

The faint sound of high heels echoed as the girl approached even closer.

The lead guard pushed aside his thoughts and walked toward her. If she was a student, she might have gotten separated from her group. And if she wasn’t, they’d find out her identity soon enough.

“Please stop. This is a restricted area.”

“…”

“If you’re authorized to enter the National Institute for Monster Research, you should have a pass. Could you show it?”

He spoke politely, accustomed to handling occasional lost visitors.

But the girl only stared blankly at him, as though she hadn’t heard a word.

Or maybe she didn’t understand him. With the mask, it was hard to tell where she was looking—he could only guess from the direction her face was turned.

“Let me repeat. This is a restricted area. Show your entry permit if you’re authorized to be here.”

Still no answer.

She tilted her head slightly; as if she didn’t understand.

The guard’s eyebrow twitched. Protocol stated that if a person remained unresponsive after a third warning, they were to be detained.

He took a deep breath and opened his mouth for a final warning, but she spoke first.

“Move away.”

“Pardon?”

“You’re annoying, you punk.”

The guard frowned and glanced at his partner, who looked equally puzzled. What language was that? (T/N: Just pretend that she is speaking in another language here, the raws depict her ‘language’ as a distorted korean so it’s hard to get the meaning across…)

With a sigh, the guard prepared to follow protocol. But before he could act, the girl spoke again.

“Are you pretending not to understand what I’m saying?”

“…?”

“Ah, that’s it, you punk.”

She swung the parasol in her hand in a lazy arc.

With a dull thud, it connected.

Then, there was a soft thump.

“Uh…?”

The partner watched in shock as his partner suddenly slumped to the ground.

Something red smeared his face. He touched it with his fingers—it was blood.

The dark red liquid pooled on the ground, and his eyes widened in horror.

“W-where’s…?”

Where did his head go?

He wanted to scream, but his voice was frozen in his throat, too numb with fear to make a sound.

“…!”

As the girl’s gaze turned to him, his mind raced to comprehend the situation.

He finally understood. He needed to run, to sound the alarm.

His legs felt heavy, as if weighed down with lead, but he forced them to move. He gripped his radio, but words wouldn’t come out, his throat as if blocked by terror.

“You bastard, why did you run?”

Her laughter was audible, close behind him, despite his sprint.

A silent scream ripped through him. He had to warn the Institute’s heroes—some deranged supernatural was attacking!

“Can you run away subtly? Uh… what should I say?”

Huh? The partner blinked, confused.

His vision spun. He saw his own back—his familiar uniform and body.

Why was he staring at his own back?

Thud.

He hit the ground and rolled a few times.

The disorienting sight of his own body running away filled his vision before his headless form collapsed like a doll with its strings cut.

Ah.

That was his last thought in life.

“Anyway, I guess I should have acted less rashly. I wonder if they could have helped with words…”

The girl tilted her head.

Realization dawned on her as she realized her mistake.

“Oh… right…”

The girl pressed her fingers against her temples in mild frustration.

After a few moments, she sighed and lowered her hands.

“Hehe… Oops. I forgot to use human language. Can’t believe I made such a silly mistake.”

She prodded the fallen guard with her foot and fiddled with her mask.

“Well, I killed them painlessly, so they have no complaints, right? If they do, they can raise a hand now. I’ll compensate them.”

She crouched as if actually waiting for a response.

None came from the headless bodies. With a sly chuckle, she stood up, unfolded her parasol, and began to walk.

It was as if nothing had happened.

To her, nothing had.

After all, people don’t have to worry about stepping on ants in their path.

 

Author Note

The girl stepped on a bug.

Oh no, the bug burst and died.

Oh well, it’s not a big deal.

Translator Note

This chapter was hell to translate…