Chapter 9: Mayfly That Flew Into Flames

After confirming my family’s death, I think I lost my mind.

I was consumed by a strange, indescribable feeling—something terrifying yet passionate.

I surrendered to an unbearable impulse, hatred, and rage.

The first thing I saw was a woman on the street.

Brown hair, brown eyes.

She became the first victim of Sanguine Obsidia’s killings.

Looking back now, she didn’t even resemble Ahn Yujin all that much.

It’s a meaningless attempt to justify myself.

I don’t remember much of what happened after that.

And a month later, when I finally came to my senses,

I had already become a murderer who had slaughtered over ten magical girls.

No—saying I “came to my senses” is just another excuse.

I remember all their deaths.

I remember what it felt like to kill each and every one of them.

Piercing their hearts with a black blade,

stabbing their necks,

shattering their magical cores as they collapsed.

I remember the helplessness I felt after doing something irreversible.

[…Wake up…]

[…Can you… hear me…]

[Snap out of it…! Sanguine Obsidia!]

“Ah…?”

My head cleared.

I had killed someone, and the impulse had subsided.

The voice that woke me was familiar, yet unfamiliar.

A small, dark ghost.

On the one-month anniversary of becoming a magical girl,

I first recognized Spooky’s voice.

Now that I think about it, this guy—Spooky, or whatever—was my mascot, right?

It’s already been a month since we made our contract.

What had I been doing all this time?

When I looked down at my hand, it was drenched in bright red.

There was still a bit of warmth.

The blood, sticky and lukewarm as it began to coagulate, clung to me unpleasantly.

Lowering my gaze further, I saw a girl’s corpse with a black blade stuck in her chest, lifeless.

Her head was twisted to the side.

Her limbs torn off.

Her whole body soaked in blood, to the point that I could no longer recognize her original form.

She was a nameless magical girl who had jumped me out of nowhere, saying she’d capture the killer.

How many have I killed like this?

If you include non-magical civilians, it must be at least a hundred by now.

That wasn’t me.

I’m normal.

I’m rational and reasonable.

So the person from this past month must not have been me.

[You killed them.]

The voice rang deep in my chest.

Seems like my mascot is the type who won’t even let me self-justify.

Stubborn, infuriating bastard.

I know.

I did it.

It was me.

So from now on, I’ll keep…

The impulse surges again.

My values and common sense flip.

Murder, blood, and pleasure seep into my logic and reason.

And so once more,

I went out in search of someone to kill.

With a clear mind.

Repeating to myself that I was sane, rational, and reasonable.

***

“Agh… it hurts… it hurts…”

A blood-soaked man missing an arm runs for his life.

Blood gushes from his left shoulder nonstop.

He should’ve gone home early.

Was it so wrong to finally go out after a long time and drink his heart out?

There aren’t even any monsters around this area—it’s a busy city.

Where the hell are the magical girls?

Where are the police?

Even as he lamented, death approached, unstoppable.

Shiiik—

With a slicing sound, a crimson blade cut through the air.

The man thought it strange.

I mean, come on—his own blood trail, the straight line left as he ran away,

turned into a straight-line blade that severed his right leg?

That’s not right.

“Ahh…”

The voice of despair was that of a beautiful girl,

but to him, it was the sound of death coming to take his life.

“I missed again. What the hell am I doing…”

Sanguine Obsidia muttered to herself in a small voice.

She missed twice.

That’s never happened before.

She had always killed efficiently—in an instant—to suppress the chest pain,

to silence the rising urge as quickly as possible.

For the past year, she’d always done that.

But this time, she’d anticipated the man’s pain.

So the first strike took his arm.

She was startled.

She empathized with his suffering.

So the second strike severed his leg.

It hurt.

This had never happened before.

[…Just end it quickly. Don’t panic. Do it like you always have.]

Spooky’s voice, for once, was calm.

Rather than blaming her or telling her not to kill,

he urged her not to prolong the suffering.

Maybe it was because he saw how pale her face was.

This wasn’t what I meant to do.

I just didn’t want to kill.

Yeah, I knew that was just childish denial.

If I didn’t want to hurt Ahn Yujin—if I wanted to see her again, even once more—

Then I had to kill someone else.

If I wasn’t going to kill Ahn Yujin, then I’d have to kill someone nameless instead.

“Hh… heuh…”

The collapsed man whimpered like a deflated balloon—his groans no longer even a scream.

With a sweep of the blood blade, I slashed the man’s throat.

He’s dead.

The pain in my chest subsides. The impulse quiets.

“…I should go home.”

As always, I should go back.

Back home.

Fall asleep without meaning,

wake up without meaning, burn time away with cigarettes,

then go out at night to kill someone again—

That colourless life is over now.

If I sleep and wake up, I’ll get to see her again.

To my existence—

To the ashen world left like a cigarette’s end—

Colour begins to return.

Like her hair, her eyes,

the colour of the cookies,

the colour of the bandages—

Brown.

It started with brown, and now it begins to be stained with many colours.

“…Void Passage.”

As always, I opened the path.

A gateway to return from a hunting ground dozens of kilometers away.

And in that dark road, where not even a step ahead is visible, guided only by the faint light of an exit—

Death cries echoed.

– Please… please help me… save me…

– Glacia unnie…

– It hurts.

Faces return.

The faces of those I’ve killed.

Screams whirl around my ears.

Screams.

And more final screams.

– You monster…!

– Just once, please spare me. I’ll do anything, I swear…

It hurts.

It hurts so much.

I’ve walked this path so many times before.

So why does it hurt now?

My breathing is ragged.

Cold sweat pours out.

I’m afraid.

Afraid I’ll be swallowed by this storm.

The murders I’ve committed.

The people I’ve killed.

I’m afraid of being crushed by the weight of guilt I’ve tried so hard to ignore.

Why didn’t I realize?

That the return of colour to my world—

Also meant the only colours I’d ever see

Would be the colours of blood, of corpses, of death.

The emotions I’ve ignored and denied overflow.

Guilt, anxiety, fear—

And ecstasy.

I clearly felt joy when I killed that man.

And now, disgust at myself for feeling that joy surges through me.

Not yet. I’m still normal.

I didn’t kill by choice.

***

“Did something happen?”

A small, trembling hand flinched.

Lee Seoa lowered her head and averted her gaze.

“…I just didn’t sleep well, that’s all.”

“You’re the one who told me to drop the formal speech, and now you’re doing it again. We’re the same age, you know.”

Ahn Yujin said teasingly, just enough to play around.

“Uh…”

The wound on Lee Seoa’s unbandaged right hand had almost fully healed.

Only faint traces remained where the glass had cut her.

As Ahn Yujin peeled away the bloodstained gauze and gently disinfected the remaining injuries, Seoa trembled violently.

“Just hang in there a little.”

She softly wrapped the wound in gauze and secured it with a bandage.

“All done. It healed faster than I expected, so we might only need to change it once or twice more.”

“…Yeah. Thank you.”

She seemed clearly deflated.

Last night, when she went back to her room, she had seemed okay.

Even though they hadn’t known each other long, Ahn Yujin felt she could read her emotions a bit.

Like a small animal afraid of being abandoned, constantly and unconsciously checking her surroundings.

Her expression was always stiff,

but when they held hands or hugged, she’d look awkward and flustered, and her expression would soften.

Even when they parted and she returned to her apartment, her face had looked a bit more relaxed.

Based on Ahn Yujin’s amateur guess, that meant she’d been in a good mood.

So was it really just a bad night’s sleep?

Or had something happened?

Or maybe she just wasn’t feeling well this morning?

Ahn Yujin had been thinking of taking her to work today, introducing her to coworkers,

maybe walking around town together—

But there’s no need to rush a relationship.

“Here, take this. I have to go to work now.”

“What is it…?”

“A lunchbox. I put a lot of effort into it, so make sure you eat at lunchtime, okay? You can rest if you’re tired, but don’t skip meals.”

It was just a warm sandwich with a bit of lettuce and some processed ham between freshly toasted bread—

But it was warm.

“And don’t smoke too much, either.”

Lee Seoa hugged the lunchbox close.

“Thank you.”

See?

That expression’s softening.

Ahn Yujin felt her own mood lift too.

Long, flowing black hair.

Eyes so dark they seemed to pull you in.

A lovely and beautiful face.

The way she blinked blankly when stared at was adorable too.

To think this was the same girl who’d been covered in cigarette smoke and living like trash just a day ago.

Maybe she really was a magical girl?

Maybe she’d gone through some unavoidable tragedy…

Ahn Yujin hugged her tightly on impulse.

“Mmgh…”

A flinch and a whimper.

She smelled soft and sweet.

Slowly, cautiously, Seoa wrapped her arms around Yujin’s back—just like she had last night.

The sweet sound of a breath being held and released tickled her cheek.

The sensation of fingers brushing the nape of her neck through her hair made her shudder.

Whether Seoa was a magical girl or not didn’t matter right now.

What mattered was that Ahn Yujin had become someone precious to her.

And for now, that was enough.