When I opened my eyes, the tilted world swayed up and down in a steady rhythm.
A hard texture pressed against my cheek.
I could also feel a hand supporting my lower body.
It seemed I was being carried on someone’s back.
My stomach churned.
“Ugh.”
As I twisted and squirmed to keep myself from throwing up, the person carrying me came to a halt.
“…You’re awake?”
It was Kang Han’s voice.
Barely calming my unsettled stomach, I asked, “What about the terror attack?”
“It’s over.”
“How’s your body?”
“No major injuries.”
“You were in overdrive for a while, weren’t you?”
“Yeah, but thanks to you showing up just in time, we made it.”
At that moment, a faint red glow brushed past us.
It came from the flashing lights of emergency vehicles.
A fire truck appeared, cutting through the smoke, its siren blaring in all directions.
Groans of injured people echoed around us.
Since the stadium had turned into a simulated disaster zone, there likely weren’t many fatalities.
Still, experiencing death could leave severe psychological scars on ordinary people.
Factoring that in, the number of casualties would be difficult to quantify.
Watching the terror site being cleaned up with blurry vision, my conversation with Kang Han continued.
As he resumed walking, Kang Han asked, “Did you come here straight from a fight too, Joo Yidam?”
“…What makes you think that?”
“You’ve got a lot of minor wounds.”
At his words, my eyes snapped open wide.
My hazy mind cleared as if cold water had been splashed on it.
Had he found out?
My gaze quickly shifted to my right arm.
The mark of heresy was hidden beneath the long sleeve of my academy uniform.
The only noticeable detail was the towel draped over the shoulder Kang Han had bitten.
Though the bleeding had stopped, the towel was soaked in red.
Summing it up, it seemed the fact that I had become a heretic was still undiscovered.
I made a mental note to collapse in more discreet places from now on.
What a ridiculous fate.
“At least I haven’t been found out,” I sighed in relief.
At that moment, Kang Han spoke again.
“Are you hiding something from me?”
“What?”
“Injuries, pain, anything like that… If you tell me now, I can take you straight to the hospital.”
“No, nothing like that…”
What was this? Kang Han was acting strange.
It didn’t seem like he suspected me of anything related to the terror attack.
But why this sudden concern?
Despite racking my brain, I couldn’t think of anything suspicious.
Kang Han’s questions persisted.
“Are you sure you’re not hurt? Even from before today?”
“I said I’m not!”
“…Really?”
“I can take care of my own body. Since when did you care, huh?”
I smacked him on the back, and Kang Han spoke flatly.
“Ow.”
He didn’t look hurt at all.
Annoying jerk.
Exhausted, I slumped back onto Kang Han’s back.
Even though I had known about the terror attack in advance, it had drained me more than I imagined, physically and mentally.
It was just one big event, yet there were already so many variables.
If this was how it was now, what about the future?
I didn’t even want to think about it.
For now, I just wanted to lie down somewhere and sleep.
I spoke weakly, “Take me home.”
“Dormitory?”
“No, not the dormitory.”
I had a few temporary accommodations set up around Seoul.
I took out my phone and marked the location on the map for him.
Kang Han’s body tensed up as he saw it.
“That’s not the academy dorms…”
“It’s my apartment. Please, just take me there.”
Considering that everyone involved in the attack would eventually be interrogated and investigated, even the academy dorms weren’t safe.
If someone came into my room while I was asleep and removed my coat, it would be over.
They’d catch the heretic infiltrating the academy.
I needed a place where I could sleep undisturbed for a few hours, and that meant leaving the academy.
Who would have thought I’d end up revealing my hideout to someone? It was humiliating.
I had styled it as my secret base.
This was all Kang Han’s fault.
Did he even realize the trouble I went through for him?
“This jerk. Arrogant jerk. Ugh. Just die, will you? Seriously.”
I smacked his back and pinched him, making Kang Han squirm.
“Why? Hey, stop that! Stop!”
This time, I hit him hard enough to actually hurt.
The sound of water poured down steadily.
Streams from the shower struck against my skin.
The humid heat warmed the surface and seeped deep into my body, as if trying to melt and break me down.
As Kang Han mentioned, there were many small cuts all over my body.
The water stung as it touched the wounds, but I kept showering regardless.
The pleasant drowsiness outweighed the pain.
Though fatigue wasn’t washed away, it seemed to swell up further instead, but I knew that the moment I lay down in bed, even that would transform into immense happiness.
Meanwhile, the mark of heresy had spread, darkening my entire right arm.
To cover the tattoo that extended all the way to the back of my hand, I’d likely have to start wearing half-gloves all the time.
How did my life end up tangled so complicatedly?
I turned off the faucet with a click and shook my head.
After finishing the lathering and rinsing process, a bath that lasted a full hour finally came to an end.
All that remained now was to collapse and pass out.
My mental endurance had already reached its limit long ago.
The image of a bed danced before my eyes.
“Phew.”
After roughly drying myself and changing into comfortable clothes, I stepped out.
But the living room was empty.
“Huh?”
Wondering why, I noticed Kang Han—who had carried me back to my place—was still awkwardly standing by the front door.
He had stayed in the same spot for an hour.
How could someone be so stubbornly persistent?
That’s exactly what people mean when they say, “Counting your chickens before they hatch.”
Clicking my tongue, I saw Kang Han flinch slightly.
“What are you doing there?”
“Huh? Oh, uh…”
“Why aren’t you coming in?”
“Well, um…”
Avoiding my gaze, Kang Han hesitated and stammered.
“Can I… come in?”
“I was about to offer you a drink or something before you leave, but don’t you need to rest too?”
“Oh, uh, right.”
“Consider this your reward for helping me. You can grab a drink from the fridge—there’s plenty—or just go and rest. Or, shall we throw a party to celebrate the end of the terror incident?”
“Uh, no, I think I’ll just go.”
Kang Han looked as uneasy as a tiger entering its den.
The flustered guy quickly shut the door and left.
But just after that, another guest arrived.
“Yidam.”
It was Lee Rasol, her face dark and sullen.
Unlike the other cadets, she was the only one who knew exactly where I lived.
I’d even shared my door code with her, so she let herself in.
Rasol looked between the messy shoe rack and my wet hair.
Judging by her pale face and awkward demeanor, she must’ve seen Kang Han leaving.
Though I didn’t know exactly what she was imagining—or rather, I did know—I denied it with all my might.
“No, it’s not like that.”
“Wait… did I come to the wrong place?”
“No, you’re in the right place. Come in and rest for a bit.”
I forcibly grabbed Rasol’s arm and pulled her inside.
Damn it.
Why now of all times?
To prevent her from overthinking, I quickly changed the subject.
“So… what about your side?”
“I handed them over to the Hunter Association.”
“I had a few things I wanted to ask them… guess it’s too late now.”
“There wasn’t much choice, given the situation…”
Trailing off, Rasol took something out of her bag.
“As you asked, here are the medical examination records.”
“Ah, thanks.”
What she handed over was a set of forged medical records.
Cadets affected directly or indirectly by the terror attack were required to submit evidence of a medical examination.
But with the mark of heresy etched onto my body, that wasn’t possible.
Thankfully, this was something Rasol could help with.
By enlisting the cooperation of her hospital’s attending physician, she had managed to discreetly forge the necessary documents.
Taking the papers, I said, “Well, let’s get into the details.”
We sat on the bed and the couch, respectively—me on the bed.
“How was the scene?”
“There were people from the Hunter Association, reporters from everywhere, police, firefighters… it’s chaotic. Even the instructors seem overwhelmed.”
“Yeah, I figured.”
Maybe I shouldn’t have asked.
I summarized what had happened during the attack for Rasol, including how I had absorbed the curse through the “Promised Ruin” and ended up under the influence of the evil god.
“I’m a necromancer now.”
“What?!”
“Shocked? So was I.”
I never imagined I’d come into contact with a Constellation so soon.
Usually, that only happens after entering the Tower.
If it weren’t for the fact it was an evil god, it could’ve been a remarkable feat.
I jokingly shook my arm marked with the heretic’s brand.
“Miss Heretic Hunter, are you going to hunt me now?”
“Yidam!”
She scolded me.
“Goodness.”
Joo Yidam, who had suggested continuing the conversation, leaned her head briefly against the bed, claiming she was tired.
She then fell into a deep sleep as if knocked out.
Lee Rasol stared at her friend, who had just fallen asleep on the bed.
“How can someone be so extraordinary…”
A girl so talented and meticulous, it was hard to believe she was the same age.
It was that brilliance that made Lee Rasol accept her as a friend in the first place.
But now, the fact that they were friends had become the most important thing, overshadowing everything else.
Rasol instinctively realized that some change had taken root within her.
At the same time, she felt pity.
No one understood better than her how much her friend had sacrificed for the one she loved.
“Kang Han, did you save a nation in your past life?”
Rasol chuckled softly to herself, then gently rolled up Yidam’s sleeve.
Looking at the brand that marred her friend’s slender arm, Rasol unconsciously held her breath.
How much pain had Yidam endured while this was engraved on her?
It had happened during the terror incident, so she wouldn’t have even had the chance to show her suffering.
If she’d let her pain show and been discovered by the other cadets, everything would have been over.
Just imagining the despair Yidam must have felt in that moment sent a cold sweat down Rasol’s back.
“Haah.”
Rasol couldn’t help but acknowledge the girl sleeping before her.
In the end, everything seemed to flow according to Yidam’s plans.
She had anticipated and dealt with the large-scale heretic terror attack, somehow steering it toward a reasonably successful conclusion.
Having the ability to do that was impressive enough, but planning and executing it was a whole other achievement.
Was she really just another cadet of the same age?
Rasol pinched Yidam’s cheek lightly with her index finger.
Her skin, as soft and stretchy as mochi, was enviably elastic.
Rasol gazed blankly at her friend, a girl who now had to live a solitary life after accepting the power of a heretic.
“So, you’ve become a necromancer, Yidam.”
Silence is like a blank canvas.
When surrounded by noise, it seems useless, but in a still and quiet space, it allows endless imagination to take flight.
That was how Rasol felt now.
“Necromancers, manipulators of life and death.”
While they were often criticized for resurrecting the dead in monstrous forms to fight, those who knew better understood their power.
At the pinnacle of necromancy, it was said they could truly bring the dead back to life.
Of course, this was only possible under strict conditions, primarily within the confines of the Tower.
But when all conditions aligned, the power born from a necromancer’s hands was undeniably life itself—sacred in a way no other power could rival.
It was this allure that drew people to necromancy, even knowing it would lead to ruin.
Even the wisest individuals, faced with their own death or the death of someone dear, often disappeared, only to be found later in the heretics’ lairs, transformed into monstrous beings.
Rasol knew this well.
Her thoughts intertwined Yidam’s situation with the countless stories she’d heard.
Eventually, she placed a period on the canvas of her imagination.
“Aha…”
Her mind arrived at a hypothesis—simultaneously ridiculous and plausible.
Rasol felt a surge of emotion welling up inside her.
“Could it be…!”
It was an overwhelming sense of pity.
The idea that even someone as brilliant and intelligent as Yidam could be blinded by tragedy was heartbreaking.
Rasol knew the secret Yidam carried: her infertility.
They had shared many secrets.
Among them, infertility didn’t even seem significant compared to the others.
Though Yidam had mentioned it once in passing, as if it was no big deal, Rasol saw it differently.
Perhaps it was this moment of vulnerability that drew Rasol closer to Yidam, forming a deeper bond.
Secrets, after all, are like glue.
The closer they are to one’s heart, the stronger the bond they create.
Infertility, in particular, carried an unmatched weight—a grievance stronger than most.
Rasol found herself unsettled by the connection between necromancy, the power over life and death, and Yidam’s secret.
Could Yidam have chosen to become a necromancer in hopes of overcoming her infertility?
Words swirled in Rasol’s mind: necromancer, resurrection, infertility, restoration.
“No way… Yidam, is that why you chose this path?”
The sense of certainty grew stronger.
Her hypothesis was little more than an exaggerated assumption, filled with leaps of logic, but it felt so real she almost wanted to wake Yidam and ask.
Was “Promised Ruin” truly the best option?
For someone as meticulous as Yidam, was there really no better plan?
Could Yidam have deliberately orchestrated the situation to ensure the heretic’s brand would mark her?
It was a bold and intrusive thought, but Rasol couldn’t stop herself.
Once the pieces of the puzzle began to fit, her mind couldn’t halt the process.
Human brains can’t comprehend denial.
The more her rational mind warned her not to pursue the idea, the harder her instincts pushed her forward.
Her heart pounded, her head spun, and her hands moved involuntarily.
Without a word, Rasol’s hand hovered over Yidam’s abdomen.
The warmth of her skin was all she felt, but it sent a chilling sensation down her spine.
“…Was it your body you wanted to restore?”
Perhaps, just perhaps, Yidam had become a necromancer to heal herself.