Chapter 51

Awakened abilities bloomed differently for every person.

Even within the same family with similar genetics, the firstborn might move at lightning-like speed while the second could do nothing more than turn their body into smoke.

It laid bare how unfair the world after the Gates opened had become, a hierarchy where usefulness was ruthlessly divided.

Magic and martial arts made up for that unfairness—at least a little. But they had limits.

Mastering magic or martial skills required far more effort than relying on one’s ability, and sometimes your inborn power even grew stronger as you trained those two disciplines.

In the end, only a “strong ability” surpassed everything else.

And No Yeon-hwa was one of Korea’s rarest—one of its strongest.

Word-Spirit, the power to make things happen just by speaking.

Unlike similar Awakened, the language that left her lips didn’t stop at living targets; it reached phenomena and even the laws of physics.

Used perfectly, it was an ability that would give even me a hard time. What she intended to do with it—

—was to remake me into a perfectly sensible, ordinary person.

“Who goes there?”

“This is a restricted area. Leave now or we’ll call security—”

“You two are sleepy, right? Super sleepy. Okay, go ‘snore~’ and sleep. Hug each other and don’t get up for an hour.”

“Yaaawn…”

We were in the Counterintelligence Unit’s underground interrogation rooms.

Ordinarily, nobody walked in here. But the guards at the entrance had gone defenseless after a single Word-Spirit command from No Yeon-hwa.

In the next room over—where Perez, still under interrogation, was confined—the air felt cold.

A poster on the wall read: “The Bureau respects the human rights of all suspects!”

“Sit.”

The red liquid soaking the space beneath the poster was definitely ketchup.

The last time I came here asking to interrogate Perez myself, Ha Yeri had been shocked, then said if I cooperated nicely with the investigation she’d buy me a hamburger set that came with a toy.

Park Mu-cheol yanked me out right away as he stripped off his bloodied gloves, but still.

I entered the interrogation room and sat where she indicated.

“From now on, I’m going to change you with my Word-Spirit.”

“Change me?”

“Yeah. If we don’t do this, you’ll never pass screening. Your personality, your mindset—especially that airheaded side of you—something has to change.”

“Is it safe?”

“I can’t push it hard enough to make it permanent, so don’t worry. Three days at most and you’ll revert.”

If I didn’t like it, she said, I should say so now. She waited for my decision.

Dragging me all the way here and then asking for consent felt a little late, but I decided to try it.

If Word-Spirit took hold, I could breeze through the screening.

I still had no clue why I’d failed the aptitude test questions, so leaving it to her didn’t sound like a bad idea.

“Will you buy me a Hambugi set too?”

“What’s a Hambugi?”

“A hamburger.”

“I’m the one helping you pass the screening—why am I paying for your food?”

“…”

“Look at that pout. Ugh, fine, I’ll buy it. Happy? But you owe me something pricey later.”

Once everything was set, I closed my eyes and relaxed into the chair.

Beside me, No Yeon-hwa took off her mask. I heard the rustle as she pulled out a notebook to check the incantation she had assembled.

Her ability grew stronger the more precisely she arranged compact, layered words—the tighter the construct, the greater the will it could carry.

After a short while, ready at last, she cleared her throat softly and leaned close, lips to my ear.

“Hoo… starting now, okay?”

“Yes.”

“Intellect—Occam’s razor that cleaves the surges of delusion.”¹

Her ticklish breath pierced my eardrum and lodged deep in my mind.

No Yeon-hwa always sounded thorny and sharp, like everything rubbed her the wrong way. But with her mask off as she whispered right at my ear, her voice became the sweetest tone I’d ever heard.

“Right Measure—the inner formula that cuts and patterns the cloth of emotion.”

My tongue moved, and I caught the faint bittersweet aroma of coffee beans from a drink I’d had at the café.

Riding a violet waterfall poured by gravity, that breath reached my nose and turned into the scent of a fresh grape vineyard.

“Self-Awareness—a recitation of tender longing that blooms the nameless desire.”

The soft fabric at my chest—the knit hoodie—shifted a third time, and then the final sentence resounded.

Warm air fresh from her lungs met the chill of the underground prison and flowed into me.

Something inside changed.

The instant I realized that, pain flared in my left hand.

“Urk!”

“I got it off—but… huh? You okay?”

I looked down. One finger was bent back painfully.

At the same time, something pure white fell to the floor and slipped into a crack in the wall, gone in an instant.

I thought about it for a moment, then stood up from the chair.

I turned to No Yeon-hwa, who watched me with a doubtful look, wondering if her Word-Spirit had truly worked.

“I’m fine.”

“Really? No headache? No sudden impulses?”

“Yes, perfectly fine. If anything, I felt clearer than usual.”

Had prisons always been this cozy?

Riding the elevator back up to the first floor, I felt an odd sense of unease.

I asked No Yeon-hwa for the workbook she’d taken from that couple earlier.

When she handed it over, she naturally started toward the main entrance, but stopped when she noticed I wasn’t moving.

“What’s wrong?”

“I think I’ll pass, but just in case, I’d like to study a bit while there’s still time.”

“You said you wanted a burger.”

“Let’s eat next time.”

With the workbook in hand, I headed straight to the library on the third floor.

For some reason, greasy, smelly hamburgers no longer appealed to me.

The sudden shift in Hayan’s demeanor left No Yeon-hwa unsettled.

The Word-Spirit she’d assembled in the interrogation room had used three key words: Intellect, Right Measure, Self-Awareness.

Depending on the metaphors that followed, the details changed, but the core effects reflected the meaning of the leading terms.

She had ordered Hayan to become more knowledgeable, more composed, and—most dangerously—more honest with himself.

Maybe I shouldn’t have added that last one… was it because of that?

Hayan was a man with far too many secrets, suspicious enough that a light nudge could make them spill out.

Everyone in the Special Unit had some past they didn’t want uncovered; she had no intention of digging deeper. But there was one thing she wanted to confirm with her own eyes.

That “self-awareness” she’d invoked—the recitation that bloomed nameless desire into affection.

It meant interest in the opposite sex.

“I must’ve lost my mind. What kind of idiot does something that idiotic?”

“Uh, excuse me….”

“If you’re done with my workbook, could you give it back?”

“Argh, I want to crawl into a hole. Damn it, this is all his fault. Always hanging around, distracting me.”

“Find a mouse hole, Yerin!”

“Yes, a mouse hole! I want to crawl into one!”

Ignoring the couple bickering noisily beside her, No Yeon-hwa scratched her head and made for the cafeteria.

The next day—

A strange post appeared on the Special Unit Bamboo Forest’s anonymous board.

(Anonymous8)
[The man by the library window this morning was so handsome!]

I wanted to give him chocolate, but he turned it down, saying he’d already gotten too many gifts ㅠㅠ

From what I overheard, he’s a new recruit in Division 3 this year. Does anyone know who he is?

— Anonymous11: There’s a guy like that in Division 3? Not the Butcher of Bishkek, so maybe Spear of Thunderclouds?
└ Anonymous13: He’s zero-years, so not Kang Ha-neul.

— Anonymous8 (OP): He was tall with really slender hands! No calluses, so maybe he’s a mage?
└ Anonymous29: Oh, I think I know! The one with the weird ID in Division 3.
└ Anonymous7: You mean SNCH?
└ Anonymous29: Yeah.

— Anonymous66: If it’s the mage I know, he doesn’t even have a library card.
└ Anonymous19: lol maybe he was just borrowing kids’ books for Commander Ha Yeri?
└ Anonymous42: Gasp!
└ Anonymous22: You can’t just say that…
└ Anonymous19: [Account suspended by Division 2 for guideline violation.]

The post was silly—someone gushing about a handsome guy studying in the library.

Normally, she wouldn’t have cared. But the details strangely matched Hayan.

Division 3. Zero-years. A mage. And the odd ID. Only one person fit.

Cross-checking his initials with the comments, No Yeon-hwa headed straight for the library.

As expected, Hayan was there.

Gone was the dingy, unwashed robe he always wore. Instead, he looked neat, well-groomed, and dressed cleanly.

“What the hell are you doing here!? Get out right now!”

“You should be quiet in a library, Yeon-hwa.”

“Y-Yeon-hwa? Don’t tell me you’ve really lost it? Even if it’s because of Word-Spirit, since yesterday you’ve been….”

“You did nothing wrong. In fact, I should thank you—for making me a person overflowing with common sense.”

He naturally took her hand.

The distance between them felt too close.

A gentle smile curved his lips, but his gaze was sharp—so sharp it made him seem like another person altogether.

The strangeness made her uncomfortable, yet she couldn’t pull her hand free.

“Thanks to you, I passed the screening. I took the aptitude test this morning and got a perfect score.”

“R-Really? That’s great. Then I’ll turn you back now—”

“No, that won’t be necessary. More importantly, it’s almost lunchtime. Shall we eat?”

“No, I….”

“I feel bad for turning you down last time. I already made a reservation, so please join me.”

It was a natural flow, impossible to resist.

Normally, she would’ve snapped at him with curses. But Hayan radiated a charm that left even a Word-Spirit user speechless.

Her heart hammered painfully. Then she noticed something on his desk.

Amid the pile of gifts from other women sat a white sculpture, twisted from a crumpled tissue.

The kind of thing you idly made in school when studying felt annoying. Something to pick at your nose or ears with.

“Th-That’s enough! Maybe next time!”

“Ah…!”

That small imperfection—proof of a crack still remaining—snapped her back. She tore her hand free and rushed out of the library.

Out in the hall, she pulled down the hood with cat ears and caught her breath.

A mocking voice came from behind.

“Heh, not as entertaining as I thought. Right?”

“Ch-Cheon So-baek!?”

“Why so shocked?”

Well, because she had appeared out of nowhere.

Still rattled enough to fumble her honorifics, No Yeon-hwa stared as Cheon So-baek spoke.

“That cool, put-together look isn’t bad. But I prefer the Hayan who feels worth looking after.”

“…”

“You’ll turn him back, won’t you? Or I’ll get mad.”

“Ugh, whatever. He’ll revert soon enough anyway, so stop worrying.”

It was embarrassing to say, but her Middle Level Word-Spirit wasn’t perfect. It couldn’t cause permanent changes.

The couple desperately looking for a mouse hole yesterday were probably back to flirting in a café by now.

As for Hayan—he could resist Word-Spirit even before this. That was why she’d judged it would last three days at most.

But Cheon So-baek mulled something over and then spoke.

“I may not know more about Word-Spirit than you, but I am a mage, same as Hayan.”

“And?”

“To cancel a spell, you need to know how to cast it too. Sure, overwhelming force can rip one apart, but that’s the basic principle of magic.”

“What are you trying to say?”

To destroy a spell, you had to understand it.

By the same logic, if Hayan resisted Word-Spirit, it meant he could wield something similar himself.

Like self-suggestion, or hypnosis.

“Didn’t it ever cross your mind? If he can resist your Word-Spirit, maybe he can also… keep it going?”