It was a selfish thought.
Childish selfishness, where I’d resist no matter which choice was made.
But Hayoon didn’t pick either option.
Silently, with her head lowered, Hayoon handed something to me.
It was a communicator.
The same communicator I’d seen when Hayoon and I caught that alien stalker together last time.
“Oh.”
James, who had been watching us, let out a sound of interest.
*
“Why?”
Hayoon couldn’t easily come up with an answer to that question.
The reason was simple.
Because the person was Jieun.
If it had been someone else, would she not have done the same?
If the person on the top floor wasn’t Jieun but someone else in the exact same situation, would Hayoon not have helped them?
No, she probably would have helped.
But at the same time, she might have tried to reason with them.
She might have said,
“Acting like this gains you nothing. In the end, it will only lead to self-destruction. Instead, let me help. I’ll stay by your side and do everything I can to achieve the best outcome, so let’s go together.”
But she couldn’t say that to Jieun.
Of course not.
That’s something you can say when you don’t truly understand someone’s heart.
When you don’t fully see their circumstances or empathize deeply with their pain.
For Hayoon, Jieun wasn’t just anyone.
She knew what foods Jieun liked.
She knew what Jieun did when they met outside on holidays.
She knew what Jieun usually ordered at cafes and what kind of streets Jieun enjoyed walking on.
She knew what expressions Jieun made when she was happy, how she smiled when she laughed, and the habits she showed when trying not to cry during a sad movie.
Jieun never held hands or linked arms while walking beside Hayoon.
But somehow, Hayoon felt closer to her than with people who naturally did those things.
It was comfortable.
Because she knew.
Even without holding hands or linking arms, Jieun wasn’t upset.
She knew Jieun thought it was enjoyable to be with her.
That’s why mere logic about the law, about right or wrong, or about justice crumbled into pieces before that reason.
Even if someone else had the same appearance, the same past, or the same reasons,
Hayoon couldn’t treat them the way she treated Jieun.
Because she wouldn’t have known those things.
Because she wouldn’t have felt her heart ache every time she thought of Jieun.
That’s why Hayoon couldn’t speak.
Because Jieun’s expression was telling her not to.
“Self-destruction,” was it?
Jieun’s life was already shattered into pieces, to the point where even after everything was over, it wasn’t clear if she could ever return to how things used to be.
Hayoon could feel that deeply.
If it were anyone else, they wouldn’t have understood why she disappeared.
It was already destroyed.
Was there anything left to destroy further?
Jieun could only move forward toward the end.
If she opened her mouth, she felt like she might burst into tears.
Because Hayoon knew that she herself was the one who had destroyed her dearest and closest friend’s life.
Because she thought that simply claiming ignorance wouldn’t absolve her of guilt.
Jieun is kind.
Even now, Jieun was holding back her resentment and asking Hayoon,
“What was all that you’ve done to me up until now, and why are you acting like this now?”
Hayoon wanted to apologize.
But was that okay?
Would it seem like she was trying to resolve all that painful time with just a simple “sorry”?
Hayoon couldn’t even begin to imagine how Jieun had lived during that time.
Where she had hidden, what she had eaten, how she had managed to sleep or bathe.
No matter how she thought about it, the reality must have been awful.
Jieun certainly hadn’t been able to live comfortably in a nice home, enjoying everything like Hayoon had.
She must not have been able to attend school or meet people who were like family to her.
Was it okay to apologize while being so ignorant of all that?
In the end, the choice Hayoon made was neither this nor that.
Hayoon suddenly extended her hand.
In it was a communicator, something Hayoon always carried.
Magical girls used it to communicate during emergencies or when the Federation assigned them tasks.
After handing it over, she realized how foolish it was.
The communicator contained location data—it was meant for tracking each other, after all.
Giving it to Jieun was almost the same as trying to monitor her.
But…
“Oh,” James said with interest.
*
“We’ll take that with us.”
When James spoke, I looked back at him, puzzled.
It’s a communicator.
Doesn’t it obviously track locations?
“If you store it in a subspace, tracking won’t be possible. Even if they can track it, it won’t point to where you are now.”
That… wasn’t wrong.
Though to be honest, I didn’t fully understand what the subspace was.
Maybe it wasn’t really a subspace but just some random hidden corner of this vast universe.
At least so far, opening it hadn’t fried me with cosmic radiation, so it didn’t seem like too dangerous a place.
“And if it’s a tracking device, I can remove the tracking function while still allowing calls to be received. By routing through several networks, they won’t be able to follow it directly.”
What a versatile guy.
Well, all the equipment I’ve been using so far has been made by him, after all.
I turned back to look at Hayoon.
She was still standing with her head down, holding the communicator out to me.
I reached out and took it.
It was just a simple plastic button.
I fiddled with it for a moment before looking back at Hayoon.
I wanted to say thank you.
But the words stuck in my throat.
“So… what now?”
I asked instead, thinking more calmly.
It was probably the question Hayoon wanted to ask me, too.
In truth, I didn’t have an answer.
I had no plans anymore.
I thought it might all end here, which is why I’d said my goodbyes to Pangpang before coming.
Maybe I was scared of standing there, unable to answer, and that’s why I asked her first.
“I’ll…”
Hayoon started to speak.
She was someone who often showed a vulnerable expression in front of me—when people deliberately ignored her, when she received attention from someone she didn’t care about, or when everyone’s eyes were on her.
But those were her everyday moments.
When Hayoon wore her magical girl outfit, she always shone.
No matter how difficult the fight had been, she always smiled at people and carried herself with confidence.
That version of Hayoon, I’d only ever seen on TV.
Although we’d crossed paths in battles many times, I was always the one to lose and run away.
Watching her, I had always felt envious.
So, I didn’t like her.
But I didn’t say anything. I didn’t like these feelings either.
They were so self-centered.
As always, the fact that things didn’t go the way I wanted was what I hated the most.
“I’ll do what I can,” Hayoon said, lifting her head.
Finally, she looked straight at me.
Her sparkling eyes.
She wasn’t smiling, but she looked at me with determination.
Those were the same eyes I had always faced during battle.
“All right,” I replied.
I stepped back.
The sound of a drone taking off reached my ears.
It seemed they had been preparing it while we talked.
Should I say goodbye?
Should I say, “See you again”?
I hesitated, then decided to simply keep looking at Hayoon until the end.
*
“Are you okay?”
A voice came from behind Hayoon as she watched Jieun disappear in a daze.
It was Rose.
“…Yes.”
She had hesitated when Hayoon said we should help Jieun, but in the end, she had followed and helped.
Not just Rose, but everyone else, too.
“There will probably be a lot of criticism,” Rose said.
“I’m sorry.”
“It’s not something you need to apologize for.”
Rose stayed silent for a moment before speaking again.
“If we had said everything from the beginning, none of this would have happened.”
No one here could bring themselves to deny those words.