Another day passed.
There were a few cherry blossom trees on the mountain, though they weren’t nearby.
Unlike when I first came here, the pink petals were now clearly visible, dotting the green slopes.
Had someone planted them? It seemed possible.
After all, people must have lived in this village long ago.
Of course, the young and able-bodied must have left a long time ago, leaving only those who couldn’t leave or chose to stay behind.
The village likely hadn’t changed much.
I wasn’t sure where they did their shopping.
Perhaps one of the dilapidated houses served as a store, or maybe they relied on deliveries from afar.
People with cars might have occasionally gone to shop far away, but once driving became too difficult, they might have had no choice but to leave the village.
Since this was once a place where people lived, perhaps they wanted to decorate it a little. Just a touch of pink among the endless green was enough to be refreshing.
I leapt down from the tree.
But the sight of the village was devastating.
Honestly, it didn’t look like a place fit for people to live.
Coming from a city where the internet and phones worked everywhere and cars filled the streets, it felt even more stark.
Traces of human presence had vanished long ago.
Though we’d patched things up here and there, the scattered bits of plastic and the thin planks standing in place of broken doors only made the place look more desolate.
It resembled a refugee camp.
Well, in a way, it was a refugee camp—or even worse, since there weren’t enough people here to form a community or society.
Teenagers in their mid-teens were tending the fields.
They’d already harvested food twice from the land, and even now, the third crop was growing. It was a sight that showcased the power of magic.
I’d heard that some nations in the Federation were rapidly improving their food supplies, and it didn’t seem like mere propaganda.
Inside, cultivated meat was growing in a magically cooled area.
Watching meat grow to the size of a plate wasn’t exactly pleasant, but it was an irreplaceable source of protein for us.
The difference between chewing soy-based substitutes and actual meat was significant, especially for morale.
Morale.
The will to fight.
Considering that, this scene was utterly incomprehensible to me.
The kids here had no reason to be here.
If they hadn’t followed me, they could have been living normal, comfortable lives.
Yet here they were, helping to cultivate the fields, repair buildings with scavenged materials, and sleep under plastic blankets on makeshift beds.
I couldn’t fully understand it.
Of course, I was working alongside them. I’d loudly declared myself their leader at first, but even I couldn’t just sit around waiting for food to fall into my lap.
When they plowed the fields, I jumped in to help.
When they cooked, I either helped gather firewood or hovered nearby.
Frustratingly, the magical girls neither bullied nor excluded me.
When there was work to do—especially good deeds—they always included me.
By this point, I couldn’t help but seriously question things.
Were they the ones who joined me…
Or did I end up joining them?
I mean, I ran away first.
I found this place and started living here first.
If you think about it, they were the ones who joined me.
But somehow, probably due to their numbers, it felt like I was the one relying on their help.
And I hated that.
Magical girls were always my rivals in my heart.
People would scoff at that idea. James, for instance, would probably laugh himself to tears.
Back when I was a combatant, I’d never won against a magical girl.
Despite our greater numbers, they always managed to defeat us with ease.
Sometimes, I landed a solid hit and thought we might actually win.
But every time, they would somehow muster the strength, like protagonists overcoming adversity, and take us down effortlessly.
I hated being the “adversity” they overcame.
Why couldn’t I be the protagonist, the one who conquered everything? Even in gender-swap stories, the main characters still found love.
It was frustrating, and knowing I was now part of this narrative only made it worse.
So, I disliked magical girls.
I liked Hayoon, but I couldn’t stand the fact that she was a magical girl.
That feeling was something I couldn’t control.
Yet, as we continued living like this, I felt like I’d have to admit eventually that magical girls were all good people.
As petty as I might be, emotions aren’t something I could change.
“Jieun.”
How long had I been standing there, lost in thought?
Suddenly, I heard someone call my name and turned around to see Hayoon holding a notebook and pen.
Even in these circumstances, magical girls always moved toward hope.
They’d scavenged a reasonably intact spiral notebook and a bundle of pencils from the ruins, deciding to make the best of what they had.
The notebook, likely a promotional item from over a decade ago, and the pencils, long abandoned, became tools for a new purpose.
I wondered what they’d use them for, but soon enough, the notebook turned into a tic-tac-toe board.
That’s right.
Magical girls couldn’t stand the concept of boredom.
If they hadn’t found this, they probably would’ve carved a chessboard out of wood.
So, when Hayoon held up the notebook and pencil, it meant, “Let’s play.”
I wasn’t sure how to take that.
In a situation like this… even in a situation like this.
I closed my eyes and let out a small breath.
Then, trying my best to appear unfazed, I walked over to Hayoon.
She looked delighted just from that.
Maybe that’s why I ended up saying what I did that evening, driven by the mess of emotions swirling within me.
“Aren’t you guys cutting it close with your attendance?”
Sure, the start of school right after winter break leads straight into spring break, so fine, that’s understandable.
But March? That’s different.
The school year progresses.
Those who were first-years can no longer call themselves freshmen; they’ll now have juniors.
And for the second-years? This is the year of tension—they’re officially exam candidates now.
We had both types of students here.
Hayoon, Iris, and I were second-years.
If they wanted to move up to the third year without issues, they’d need to return to school soon.
I wasn’t familiar with all the regulations, but I was pretty sure there were minimum attendance requirements.
As for me? I’d already reached a point where I couldn’t attend school normally, so running away to this place was inevitable.
But it wasn’t the same for the others.
“If you don’t go back to school soon, it might really become irreversible. You’ve got to take the college entrance exams, right?”
That’s right.
Three of them were supposed to be seniors this year.
Actual seniors.
The kind of students who, in normal households, would make even the upstairs neighbors tread more quietly.
Yet here they were, having run away, skipping school entirely.
I couldn’t say much about spending time on hobbies after school, but running away and not attending school at all? That seemed a bit too much.
Then again, maybe their academic records were already beyond saving.
They’d likely fallen out of favor with their teachers long ago.
Kids attending a prestigious school, famous in the area, had run away from home.
Not just any kids, either—the magical girls who carried the weight of everyone’s expectations.
The kind of students who were seen as blessings just for being there had suddenly vanished, blindsiding the school.
It wasn’t surprising that good things weren’t being said about them.
And their parents? They must have been furious.
Hearing my words, the magical girls’ expressions grew slightly more serious.
The kids exchanged glances.
Could they communicate telepathically? Being magical girls, it wouldn’t be surprising, but I hadn’t seen that in the webtoons.
So this must have been a sign of shared understanding.
“So… you’re saying we should go back together?”
Hayoon hesitated, then carefully asked.
“Are you out of your mind?”
I didn’t bother hiding my disbelief.
“Why would I get myself arrested? I’m not leaving here until everything’s over. If I have to, I’ll run away to an even more deserted place.”
I didn’t know how far I could teleport, but if possible, I was willing to flee all the way to the moon.
“Why are you dragging me into your decision? This is about you guys, not me.”
“Jieun, we won’t go back unless you come with us.”
“Ha.”
I let out a short laugh, looking at the kids one by one.
I set down the makeshift bowl I was using—a repurposed plastic container that had been sturdy enough to serve as a plate after washing out instant rice.
It wouldn’t break easily, but to outsiders, it probably looked terrible.
Reusing single-use items multiple times? It could easily appear on an exposé about poor living conditions.
“So what? Am I something to you? Hayoon, maybe you’re a friend, so I could understand an emotional decision. But the rest? Why are they here, throwing away their futures because of me?”
At the mention of “future,” their shoulders flinched.
In novels or comics, high schoolers are often portrayed as if they’re already adults or reliable seniors.
By college, they’re shown as life mentors.
But in reality, they aren’t. Neither am I.
“I could understand for the first few days, or even while we were fighting together. You’re magical girls, after all. But staying here all through March? I don’t get it.”
Why were they staying in this situation?
I couldn’t understand.
Am I grateful? Sure.
Let’s be honest. I am.
Without their efforts to improve the food situation, I might not have survived until now.
Even if James could have helped with a heater, food was beyond my capabilities.
If I hadn’t died, I might have broken down and surrendered eventually.
But still.
Isn’t this enough?
I don’t mind, but they should at least be attending school properly.
Was my statement too abrupt? The kids stared at me for a while, saying nothing.
Or maybe I’d said it too late.
If I were going to send them away, I should’ve done it earlier.
By now, it was already too late.
The magical girls had stolen technology and run away, so even if they went back, punishment seemed inevitable.
University? After causing this kind of incident, what university would accept them? They’d have to appease the government first.
I was being too emotional.
What I felt was anxiety.
Whatever happens to my life because of my choices, that’s my burden to bear.
But I didn’t want to ruin someone else’s life because of me.
And the fact that I couldn’t control that—it frustrated me.
I even wondered if the magical girls were using my guilt to manipulate me into going back.
“Why do you think we’re here?” Rose asked.
I couldn’t answer.
Because I didn’t know.
No, that’s not entirely true. I knew one thing: “Because of me.”
But why? Just because of me? That’s it?
“Do you feel guilty?”
I asked. Rose fell silent.
“So, if none of that matters, are you planning to go back? What exactly are you trying to do here? Comfort my wounds?”
The kids looked startled at my words.
Was that really it? For such a reason?
If so, it meant they were here purely out of kindness or guilt for me.
Or maybe they wanted to convey some sort of truth, like an activist group?
But when I thought about it more, whatever reason they had, it all came down to being here for my sake.
Which meant my frustration or anger toward them was entirely misplaced.
Suddenly, I recalled the social issue programs I’d seen as a child.
Those scenes where people with mental health issues would lash out at those trying to help them, pushing them away.
Now, I realized I was the one doing the pushing.
Having vented my anger, I didn’t know how to end it.
At the same time, I didn’t want to apologize.
In the end, the only conclusion I could come to was to pathetically stand up and leave the house.
Afraid I might hear their voices, I wandered almost to the edge of the village and crouched down.
I wasn’t particularly scared of wild animals.
I hadn’t encountered a boar yet, though I had seen a few deer and unfamiliar birds.
They all fled as soon as they locked eyes with me.
I did briefly worry about what I’d do if I encountered a bear but decided there was no point planning for something I couldn’t handle anyway.
Far in the distance, I heard the sound of a car passing.
It wasn’t common; this place wasn’t that close to the road.
But the quiet of the night carried the sound far enough to reach here.
Not wanting to think about anything, I sat and played with the dirt at my fingertips.
The path ahead was overgrown with weeds, so much so that it seemed no one would guess there was a road here.
“Jieun.”
And, as always, I heard someone calling my name.
I felt embarrassed.
Even though I was mentally older than Hayoon, I couldn’t control my emotions.
There was a limit to how much blame I could place on the god or author who put me in this situation.
In the end, I was just a flawed person. That was the conclusion I came to.
“I get it… that you’re worried about us.”
“Worried?”
I replied reflexively, standing up.
When I turned around, Hayoon was there, looking at me.
Even in the darkness, her face was clear under the bright moonlight.
It wasn’t a full moon, but it was bright enough to illuminate her.
“Me? Worried about you?”
“…Sorry, was I wrong?”
Her voice lacked even the slightest hint of sarcasm.
That pure sincerity annoyed me.
I walked toward Hayoon, and she stepped back.
Her expression seemed slightly frightened.
Was she afraid of being hated by me?
Why did she care so much about me? Why was she trying so hard to stay by my side?
I didn’t understand at all.
“You know… I told you before,” Hayoon said, her voice trembling as she backed into an old, crumbling wall.
“Told me what?”
I asked, feeling a small, guilty satisfaction from her reaction.
I knew it wasn’t right. I knew I was only taking advantage of her feelings.
Yet, even as guilt gnawed at me, knowing this wasn’t truly about winning against Hayoon, I stepped closer.
Close enough that I could barely see her whole face.
Close enough for a part of me to brush against her.
I touched her chin and asked, “What did you say?”
“That… I’d do anything,” she said, her voice trembling.
“Anything?”
She hesitated, but eventually, she nodded.
“Yes, anything.”
Holding her face in my hands, I looked at her.
I knew what she meant by “anything” wasn’t what I was insinuating.
I knew her feelings for me weren’t in that sense, and neither were mine for her.
Or at least, I thought so.
“…Why?”
I let go of her face and stepped back quickly.
Yeah. Why?
I didn’t understand her reasons for going this far. I didn’t even understand why I was acting like this.
Was I losing my mind because of the situation? Was I secretly holding onto thoughts I denied outwardly?
It felt like venting.
I hadn’t planned to take it this far.
Part of me had hoped Hayoon would run away, that her promise of “anything” was a lie.
But she didn’t.
Even now, she stood there with her hands clasped in front of her chest, her face flushed red, looking at me.
In the end, I had no choice but to run away again.
Even if it was only within this village.