Retire 495

495 Moby (1)

Under Kim Chaemin’s command, it had now been three days since the mages had begun supplying moisture to the monster. The fish continued to drift through the sky, never leaving the vapor. In truth, it lay still most of the time, looking for all the world as though it were dead. If it hadn’t occasionally flicked a fin or shaken its scales, one might easily have mistaken it for a corpse.

The bleeding, which had been the greatest concern, had completely stopped by the third day. The wounds on its eyes, though still ragged and unhealed, no longer bled; the blood simply pooled in the empty sockets. Now and then, a drop would fall as the monster moved, but even then, the blood remained suspended inside the vapor. This vapor, conjured by magic, was unlike any ordinary mist. Sealed off from the outside, any contaminated blood was easily purified by the mage maintaining the spell from the ground.

By that point, even the hunters, who had been keeping a vigilant watch for any unexpected developments, began to relax their guard.

“…Here to work again today?”

“Once a day!”

Kim Chaemin ascended to the rooftop of the building closest to the fish.

“Why not do it from below?”

“What if, by showing it up close, they realize it’s just an illusion?”

“Is it an illusion?”

“No. But it’s not the kind of thing people think it is, either.”

Kim Chaemin winked at me, grinning mischievously.

I watched as petals bloomed from Kim Chaemin’s hand, merging with the vapor that enveloped the monster.

The petals, drifting gently on the wind, seemed harmless at first glance, but the magic contained within each tiny blossom was not to be underestimated. They pretended to be docile for now, but if provoked, they would tear apart anything they touched.

This was a safety measure.

Or at least, that’s what we told others.

“More than that… it’s an aesthetic thing.”

Though, according to Kim Chaemin, that wasn’t the real reason.

“It’s not that I’m discounting your magic, but tell me, Dr. Woo—do you really think these petals could restrain that creature?”

“…If it’s you, Dr. Kim, I imagine it’s possible.”

“Thank you for the vote of confidence. But it’s impossible. I could probably pluck a few scales at most. But as for stopping it from escaping, or slicing off its fins, as we told people—there’s no way.”

“Still, calling it an aesthetic choice seems a bit much, doesn’t it?”

“But it does look nice, doesn’t it?”

“Hmm…”

The reckless plan to calm the monster by supplying it with moisture had only been approved thanks to Kim Chaemin’s magic. Kim Chaemin had insisted it was impossible, and even I, who had first suggested it, had doubted it would work.

But how reassuring is the phrase “the Archmage’s safety measure”?

In the end, Kim Chaemin had no choice but to use the kind of dazzling, ornamental magic that was their signature.

Even so, the tiny petals would hardly be visible from the ground…. Still, to reassure the city, reports were sent to the media. The main photograph showed the giant fish monster swimming among the petals.

“It even has a nickname now.”

“Isn’t it just Moby, anyway?”

Kim Chaemin, perhaps displeased by how their ineffective magic was being praised as some sort of salvation, avoided all the news articles.

“Well…”

“Why? I thought it was obvious they’d call it Moby. Wasn’t it?”

“It is the largest Moby so far, I suppose.”

“Then why the sour face?”

“Flower Moby.”

“…What?”

“That’s its nickname. Not Moby 004, but Flower Moby.”

“That’s awful. Completely lame.”

As expected, Kim Chaemin grimaced in disgust.

“I’ll never understand American taste… Honestly, even ‘Moby’ is weird. Just because it’s a white sea creature, they call it Moby, even though it’s not a whale.”

“If we get through this without any casualties, by next year, they’ll be selling postcards of that monster in Las Vegas.”

“Humans…”

“The white fish might even become a symbol of Las Vegas. With the petals as a bonus.”

“At this rate, maybe it’s better if the world just ends.”

Kim Chaemin pouted, grumbling, and I pretended not to hear, having nothing in particular to say in response.

Kim Chaemin probably still didn’t know that the fact there had been no casualties despite the appearance of such a massive monster was being called a miracle. Nor did they realize that, thanks to the petals encircling the fish, they had become the hero of this incident—more so than their father. They’d been too busy these past few days to notice.

Red petals in stark contrast to white scales.

Rather than focus on a monster that could turn at any moment, it was better to turn attention to the young Archmage wielding such spectacular magic. People always wanted a hero, after all.

Civilians, overwhelmed by Moby’s appearance, would fixate on the petals holding it at bay. But any mage who had even briefly checked the situation in Las Vegas would realize that the true focus should not be on those petals, but on Kim Chaemin’s magic itself.

In Marseille, thanks to Noah Michel, who had intervened midway, Kim Chaemin had received less attention. That was inevitable, given it was Michel’s home turf and the media would naturally focus on their own hero.

But not here. There was no Noah Michel. From devising actual countermeasures to executing them, Kim Chaemin had been involved in everything.

The large-scale magic orchestrated by Kim Chaemin was on full display.

The name Kim Chaemin reverberated through the magical community. No longer was Kim Chaemin seen as a clueless child riding on the glory of their grandfather and father, but as a true scholar of magic—a powerful Archmage in their own right, beyond all doubt.

“Enough with the depressing talk!”

Kim Chaemin shuddered, glaring at Moby before spinning on their heel.

“The bleeding’s stopped, so let’s tell Alex to take us to the dungeon.”

“Do you think Michel is still there?”

“No idea. But if you want to know, we have to go.”

Kim Chaemin’s hair fluttered in the wind. The deep scent of roses could be detected anywhere in the city. Even those who had refused to evacuate and remained behind must have smelled it.

Hmm.

Who knows. Perhaps it won’t be the white fish, but the rose petals that become the symbol of Las Vegas.

If the people of this city have any sense, surely they’d rather commemorate the mage who saved them than the monster that threatened them, wouldn’t they?

---

“I asked Grandma for more details.”

“Grandma?”

“The monster.”

I explained to my father, who was startled, the true identity of “Grandma.”

There hadn’t been any fighting, but as the person in charge, my father had been busy running from place to place.

At least Kim Chaemin, using magic as an excuse, had time to talk, but my father was so busy running around that it was hard even to catch a glimpse of him.

It was partly my fault. To be honest, it was entirely my fault.

If anything went wrong, my father would be held responsible, so of course the person in charge would be summoned everywhere. I felt a bit guilty seeing him so harried, but on the bright side, it meant there was little attention on the remaining guild members—a satisfactory outcome.

“Moby the Flower is Grandma?”

“That’s right.”

“Or was it Flower the Moby?”

“Does it matter? Just call it Moby Four.”

“Can’t we just call it the monster?”

Kim Chaemin, still unhappy with the nickname, suggested as much. No one listened.

“So, what did she say?”

Before the conversation could veer off again, I asked Hope. Hope, now with hair long enough to braid over her chest, began to speak.

“At first, she didn’t want to talk, but I kept asking, so she finally did.”

“She was happy to talk about everything else, but now she’s avoiding the subject?”

I frowned.

“Is it something dangerous?”

“No, not exactly…”

Hope hesitated, lips pursed.

“She said it would be hard for a child to understand.”

“……”

“She did tell me, since I kept pestering her, but some of the details might be missing. Still, it’s enough. Anyway, according to our guild’s motto—”

Hope’s voice grew firm as she emphasized,

“The past is the past, right? It’s not important. We can use it for reference, but we can’t let it rule us.”

My father looked at me, asking cautiously,

“…Is that what it meant?”

“It’s a little different, but not exactly wrong, either.”

“I said something like that?”

“Hmm…”

I shrugged.

One thing at a time, starting with what’s right in front of us.

Would knowing the monster’s circumstances change anything?

No matter how friendly a monster might be to us, a monster is still a monster.

No matter how tragic its story, that fact does not change.

Nor does what we must do.

All we have to do is make sure the monster never sets foot in this world.

That’s about all I gathered from Hope’s account. I could guess how that wretched fairy, unable to take a single step from Mont Saint-Michel, had managed to overturn the board, but it didn’t make me feel sympathy for it, nor did it make me want to follow it like Michel did.

“But still.”

Yet Hope’s usually blunt face suddenly shifted.

“This is important. Really, really important.”

A sharp, mischievous smile curled Hope’s lips, so reminiscent of the old Alex Hope that I almost missed the recent calmness and subtle emptiness she’d shown these past days. It was a smile so playful it bordered on wicked.

“The artifact—you know, the item that sends people back to the past.”

“…Really?”

“It was made by Grandma’s species—the white…”

Hope, having started confidently, soon faltered and turned to Han Taekyung for help.

“…How should I translate that?”

“Is that important, junior?”

Han Taekyung let out a disbelieving laugh.

“That’s really not the important part. You remember those white-feathered monsters we sometimes saw? The ones that looked so weird and creepy. Moby Grandma is actually one of the more docile-looking ones.”

“…Compared to the others we’ve seen, that’s true.”

“Remember when I explained about the genie that grants wishes?”

A monster with white feathers. One that could perform miracles, healing any wound in exchange for a price.

“Moby has that power too?”

It didn’t have wings, but it did have white feathers. I’d heard countless times that it might be the same species, but had never really made the connection.

Moby’s gouged wounds. The blood that rained down on the city. Hope had insisted that Noah Michel would never make such a contract. He hated humans, but cherished his own human body too much to throw it away.

But if a mage who had obliterated San Francisco and erased his own territory could disappear, what couldn’t he do? Moby claimed to have been driven out of the dungeon, but how much could one trust a monster’s words?

“It probably does have it, right?”

Han Taekyung shrugged.

“But the important thing isn’t that side—it’s this side.”

“……?”

“The item that brought you back to the past! You know, the item!”

Hope cut in, face flushed with excitement.

“It was made by Grandma’s species!”

“In the Middle East, it was used as a miraculous medical tool, but anyway, its nickname was the wish-granting lamp genie, right? Wanting to return to the past would be a desperate wish for most people.”

It hadn’t been my wish.

“Originally, the user had to die for it to pass to the next person.”

Hope, oblivious to how my face had hardened, continued speaking.

“If we’re lucky, we might be able to get it out!”