Mr. Magical Girl

Chapter:103. Operating Room (1)

The city was quickly traversed by a person who had all left behind.

The oxymoron, who seemed devoid of energy, actively moved her legs forward, and I quietly followed her pace.

There was not a single word exchanged between us, but the atmosphere was not awkward. It was merely a valuable silence to digest what had happened.

The long silence ended as the oxymoron took a deep breath.

“Feeling a bit better?”

I threw out the question I had been quietly mulling over.

“Yes. Thanks to you, the heaviness in my chest has lightened significantly.”

Good.

“Isn’t it fortunate you came?”

“Was there a chance I’d return in a day?”

“Indeed.”

It was all a coincidence that I ended up here, and that we visited that lodging.

However, the oxymoron had shed a burden there, due to the praise received from the party saved after decades.

“Now, we should work hard, right? The old man said so too.”

As long as her motivation had been rekindled, it was a good thing for me.

If the quality of the report improves, won’t the allowances rise as well?

“That may be the case, but work is work. I’m merely an assistant, after all, and I came here at the uncle’s request.”

It seems the world indeed doesn’t turn easily.

Still, if the mood among the companions has improved, isn’t that enough?

We conversed like that.

Old Czechoslovakia.

I stepped onto the ground painted white.

Thanks to the oxymoron’s S-Rank technique, the place was completely painted in white.

Buildings once covered in gray ash, roads, and the ground, all transformed into this eerily white land that felt as if my mental state might go haywire.

Even the sky was obscured by a translucent white sphere that looked like a protective shield, appearing very light blue and giving the place an even stranger feeling…

The operating room, once chaotic, wasn’t as messy as before upon my return after a long time.

Perhaps concerned for the mental health of dispatched personnel, creatures unaffected by the operating room were there.

Specifically, plants, wild animals, and insects sprinkled colors onto the white canvas.

Green vines climbing the walls, blue grass planted along the roads, yellow butterflies flitting around my vision, and cats passing by my side without a shred of fear.

The oxymoron, who visits here often, seemed to have some enemies, but it was far more splendid than I had imagined.

“Are patients sprawled everywhere, and is that okay? I doubt those cats would carry fleas.”

While people inside do not die or age, they’re still treated as living entities, so diseases could easily spread.

“Oh. I ordered the nurses to take care of that. They’re smarter than me.”

Nurses.

Barely had I heard that when all kinds of living beings rushed past me.

Between houses filled with discomfort even for small nations, those creatures slipped through without any trouble.

Nurses.

The summons of the oxymoron who can only survive inside the operating room.

They can’t speak but act according to orders, resembling a shapeless, white entity that expresses itself with its body.

Perhaps noticing us, one of them slightly bowed its head in greeting.

A natural gesture, with the emotion felt within.

The joy of gratitude for our visit and blind loyalty.

“Get to work.

By the oxymoron’s command.

Upon hearing that order, the nurse shook her head vigorously, and I could hear the liquid on her surface sloshing about.

Then she squeezed herself back into the space between the houses and disappeared.

Hmm. Something feels off.

Were they originally so expressive with their emotions?

“Were they always that natural in their movements?”

“Definitely a better version. More like head nurses and whatnot.”

What the heck is that? Scary.

“Does living long lead to intelligence… ? They seem almost like living beings.”

“They’re probably living beings. When Kalavela visited before, he freaked out asking why they had souls.”

…That’s genuinely frightening?

They can independently arise and evolve?

If that’s true, does it mean the oxymoron created new life?

Even if they are false entities that can only survive in the operating room, if they possess souls, intelligence, and emotions…

Souls.

I used to not believe in such things, but after experiencing various events, I came to realize there is some semblance of such things.

Whether it’s a true soul or a remnant containing part of a person’s information, it is clear that the fundamental factors composing the ego of a life form exist.

Among those I’ve known thus far, only one could facilitate that.

Linshua. My daughter.

But today, there was one more added to that list.

The oxymoron.

As that thought crossed my mind, a conversation I had with the former librarian resurfaced.

“Who do you think is the most talented among the Awakeners?”

“Let’s just say it’s you.”

Anyway, I figured they’d just say something odd in response.

“Regrettably, it’s not me.”

“Then who is it? The Infinite Architect?”

“Personally, I think it’s the oxymoron.”

The oxymoron? That girl?

“Aren’t her combat abilities lacking and her skills nothing special?”

“Combat isn’t the only talent, you know.”

The librarian dismissed my remark with a wave and continued.

“Think about it, the existence of the oxymoron is actually very alien.”

“Alien? I’ve heard that term more than enough.”

How could someone with no abilities reach this level?

“True, but there were many factors at play, right? Effort and serendipity, not to mention the countless pitfalls overcome. There’s the underground too.”

“Tell the underground to shove it. Ugh, do I really have to hear that while eating?”

My appetite really took a dive.

“I apologize. Lately, my food intake has decreased, so I’ve been less attentive to that. Where was I…”

After some meaningless apologies passed…

“Continuing on, she had none of those. No training, no connections, no knowledge, yet she reached such a lofty height. Even to the S-Rank technique of the operating room.”

If looked at from that perspective, it indeed makes sense…

“But in return, the story is rather trashy.”

“Ah. Have you not seen the piece since it’s from Asia?”

“Of course I have. I’m convinced after seeing it. It’s exceedingly alien. As if tossing in an impossible riddle from the start.”

His story continued.

“Every tale must come to an end somehow, as long as the hero doesn’t abandon it midway. Just look at the example of the Colossus, the Overmind Emperor; even if he has to kill four out of five.”

Why is he talking like this today?

Colossus. Thanks to him, it feels like the steel plate in front of me is alive and wants to dance. Maybe I should just ditch dinner and throw punches instead.

“However, the tale of the oxymoron was an exception. It was impossible right from the beginning. A story that compelled someone’s sacrifice from the get-go.”

“What are you trying to say? If it’s just some bizarre delusion, can I leave?”

Since I can’t even eat now.

“You are still in a hurry, aren’t you? Someone, filled with malice, likely wanted to kill her. To snuff out that talent.”

Seems the time spent in the lab has messed up my taste.

I stood up from my seat, patted his shoulder, and spoke.

“Stop playing games, research moderately, and get some fresh air. I’m off.”

“Wait a moment? Huh?”

At that moment, I brushed it off, but could his words actually hold some truth?

The existence at the end of the story. The ‘Modifier’ I directly witnessed. The conviction about the being governing this tale was buried deep in my memory, reminiscent of a past joke.

“What are you thinking?”

I, too, have yet to step out of the realm of delusion. The information just isn’t enough.

I could consult the oxymoron regarding this story, but the issue is the source of that information.

Isn’t it intertwined with the Dark Marauder?

Of course, knowing the oxymoron would keep quiet, the odds of her remaining silent if I mentioned that are high…

But if poking that unknown nerve, like back in the divine, makes her hostile, I cannot disregard such a possibility.

Then, let’s divert the conversation.

“Wait, I was thinking about the design of the nurses.”

“What about the nurse design?”

Her bland response showed she didn’t quite understand my point.

“I’m pretty sure they were just simple human forms back in the day.”

They had no hair, looked like mannequins, and seemingly struggled to retain even that appearance, often taking the shape of mucus.

“Indeed.”

“But why has every single one been designed to be female?”

As soon as I uttered that, memories associated with it resurfaced.

An incident from when I bought clothes. The oxymoron had an oddly intense obsession with me.

The nurse who passed by earlier even wore a coat similar to mine.

Though her hairstyle differed and the coat had different intricate details, the overall design seemed alike.

…Does she think it looks better?

That’s a lie.

“No way, it definitely resembles me…”

“Just like the uncle?”

I made a mistake.

Feeling heat rush to my head instantly caused me to fumble in steering the conversation.

This was practically self-detonation.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, but I didn’t command that appearance. They made that choice themselves.”

“So, they chose to look like that on their own? I didn’t give such an order.”

It can’t purely be coincidence…

Unless the oxymoron’s subconscious influenced this somehow.

“Resembling the uncle… Hmm…”

But the oxymoron seemed to ponder something as if she caught onto my words.

Then, after a brief moment…

“I should check… Gather!”

As she muttered in a quiet voice, she suddenly raised her voice, shaking the calm white space.

Glub. Glub. Glub.

Sounds of water emerged from various places.

Simultaneously, all surrounding structures began to bubble and boil.

With the sound of popping bubbles, a dozen nurses unveiled themselves.

Crawling out from the walls of houses.

Erupting from the ground.

Falling upside down from the tip of lamp posts.

A congregation of white, humanoid entities gathered around us.

Typically, it would take countless entities to converge, but seeing only a dozen gather likely meant these were the nearby ones.

The nurses that appeared tilted their heads, as if questioning why they had been summoned.

With a monotonous outer appearance like puppets, the way those humanoid objects tilted their shadows to create faces, while somewhat eerie, had their movement so human-like that the fear began to dissipate.

“Stand in a line next to the uncle.

Let’s compare appearances.”

Barely had those words left her mouth when the nurses began to move toward me.

“Why not just leave at this time?”

“You’re the one who brought it up.”

She spoke cheerfully, as if with a smile.

They say you can’t spit on a smiling face, and I lost the will to rebel.

Alright, it’s all my fault. What was I thinking to bring up such a topic?

The nurses surrounded me, lost in my regret.

Perhaps for medical reasons, they were about one or two heads taller than me.

At first glance, they all looked quite similar, but upon closer inspection, I noticed some had medical tools inserted, white accessories, and hairstyles that varied slightly.

And now gathered closely, I could clearly see that…

…Definitely, by gathering like this…

The oxymoron tilted her head.

“The clothes or the basic outer design motif seem to be modeled after you, uncle. Why is that?”

As she adjusted her head, the nurses surrounding me started to tilt their heads too.

How the heck would I know? If the oxymoron doesn’t understand, how should I?

In my opinion, it’s probably an influence of the subconscious I thought earlier, and a hypothesis that the nurses were affected by that.

But mentioning this might escalate things, so I kept my mouth shut.

“Huh? That one has a slightly different outfit.

Who? They were all coats…”

A nurse donned a flowing, gothic dress.

The intricate patterns like ruffles could not be rendered out of liquid, so they seemed to have managed it with bracelets or ribbons, leading to a vague design.

Could that be the Black Marauder‘s outfit?

…Let’s hurry to the branch.

“That sounds good.”

Did she sense the despair and suicidal thoughts in my voice?

The oxymoron smiled and nodded with a serious face.

Truly, it’s a tough life.

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