Chapter 9: The Lies and the Truth

Jin So-a’s mind was a whirlwind of confusion.

“I’ll ask again,” she said.

“You already did,” Si-yool replied.

Her initial curiosity and the satisfaction she’d derived from the Association’s response had long since vanished.

“I need confirmation,” she insisted.

“Fine,” Si-yool sighed.

It wasn’t his casual tone or his unusual circumstances that bothered her. It was the sheer absurdity of his story.

A 33-year-old, unemployed high school graduate, an orphan with no family or relatives. The epitome of a loser.

Yet, his story was so outlandish, it overshadowed everything else.

“Where were you while you were ‘deserting’?” she asked, using air quotes.

“I didn’t desert. I was discharged ten years ago. I can even give you my military ID number,” Si-yool insisted.

“We already checked. That number doesn’t exist,” Jin So-a countered.

“That’s what I’m saying! It doesn’t make sense! Why am I listed as a deserter?” Si-yool exclaimed.

He denied deserting.

“Let’s say you were discharged. Where were you all this time?” Jin So-a asked, changing her approach.

“Another world,” Si-yool replied.

Another world? What nonsense was this?

“How did you get there?”

“I don’t know. I bought a burner phone, and the next thing I knew, I was there. I had a terrible time.”

“Yet your clothes and phone are pristine,” Jin So-a pointed out.

“My clothes changed to isekai style when I got there. And my smartphone disappeared. I thought I’d be like those light novel protagonists, you know, ‘Smartphone in Another World’ and all that.”

A ridiculous reason for a ridiculous journey.

“And what did you do there?” Jin So-a asked, her patience wearing thin.

“I was a warrior. The Moon Warrior, remember?”

A warrior. Sure.

“Proof?”

“I told you, I don’t have any. I used up all my power. My sword disappeared too.”

He had no evidence to support his claims.

Jin So-a sighed. This was insane. Even the most delusional people didn’t come up with stories this outlandish.

But she couldn’t dismiss it as mere delusion. He was being truthful. She knew, not from gut feeling, but from the magical lie detector embedded in his chair. It measured his heart rate and displayed the results on a screen visible only to the interviewers.

And the results were…

True.

She’d pressed him for details, but his story remained consistent, and the lie detector confirmed his truthfulness.

There were two possibilities: he was an Oscar-worthy actor, or he was so delusional, he believed his own lies.

Or… he was telling the truth.

Jin So-a looked at the other magical girls. They all wore the same expression of bewildered confusion. Even her longtime friend, Lee Seo-bin, the purple-haired magical girl, had lost her usual composure.

Jin So-a considered her options. She didn’t think he’d deserted maliciously. Her magical girl intuition told her there was more to the story.

“What do you think?” she asked her mascot.

“[He’s not the type you were worried about!]”

“You think he’s telling the truth?”

“[Not sure! But it feels…true?]”

Even her mascot agreed. It wasn’t always reliable, but it usually had good instincts.

So, killing him wasn’t necessary. Yet.

But she was still undecided. She wanted to defy the Association and grant him an exemption, or at least public service. He was a man; he wouldn’t be much use as a magical girl. And he would undoubtedly suffer for being different. Jin So-a knew firsthand the pain of being an outsider.

But she needed a valid reason. He’d passed the physical, and he wasn’t mentally unstable enough to warrant an exemption, even if his story was true. Magical girls were always in short supply, which meant the bar for mental instability was set incredibly high. Essentially, anyone who wasn’t a complete lunatic was fit for duty. And Si-yool, aside from his gender, was a perfect candidate.

“What are you two whispering about?” Si-yool asked.

“We’re just discussing a few things,” Jin So-a replied.

“Like what?”

He was using casual language now, but he’d started with formal speech. He was intelligent enough to adapt.

“Can you read and write?” she asked.

“What do you take me for?” Si-yool scoffed.

He could communicate effectively and was literate.

“What’s twenty-five plus thirty-six?”

“Seventy-one. Why are you asking me this?”

He could even do basic arithmetic without using his fingers.

He was perfect. Except for his tendency to be confrontational.

Even Jin So-a had been surprised by his audacity. He’d provoked a high-ranking magical girl, nearly getting himself killed, and then proceeded to taunt her again after being saved. If she hadn’t intervened, he would be dead. Green Blobfish might be annoying, but she was a skilled killer.

And he was conversing calmly with Jin So-a, the Strongest Magical Girl, as if he had no fear.

Was he truly fearless?

Or was he simply… broken?

Neither was a valid reason for exemption.

Jin So-a racked her brain. He was intelligent, a perfect candidate for a magical girl. But the risks were too high, not just for her, but for Si-yool himself.

“I need more information,” she decided. She couldn’t grant him an exemption without a valid reason. She’d have to gather more information, even if it meant sending him off to become a magical girl.

Unless…

Unless his story was a lie. If he’d deserted maliciously…

Then he would pay. The blood of the magical girls, and her brother, would not be shed in vain.

“What was the other world like?” she asked, resuming the conversation.

“Terrible. Disgusting. And f*cking awful,” Si-yool replied.

Jin So-a chuckled. He seemed sincere, and the lie detector confirmed it. But she couldn’t imagine it being worse than what they’d experienced. During the kaijin invasion, Earth had been hell. And she’d seen it all.

Si-yool mistook her chuckle for mockery. “Are you laughing at me?” he growled.

“I just find it hard to believe it was that bad, even if another world does exist,” Jin So-a replied calmly.

“Have you been there? You know nothing! You’ve never seen another world!” Si-yool retorted.

Now Jin So-a felt a surge of anger.

“And what have you seen?” she asked, her voice flat, but laced with a simmering rage. “Do you know how bad it was here?”

It wasn’t just the monsters. People had killed each other for mud-covered crackers, eaten corpses, and even cannibalized the living. It had been a daily occurrence.

“People feared other people more than they feared monsters,” she explained.

“That was common in the other world too,” Si-yool replied.

“Oh, there’s that ‘other world’ again,” Jin So-a muttered, annoyed. Everything he said was about the other world, as if he was a child bragging about imaginary treasures. And the lie detector confirmed every word.

She didn’t know what to believe anymore.

“I’ve only told you a small part. There were far worse things. Can you even imagine?” she challenged him.

She immediately regretted her words. It was a petty squabble. They were both victims in their own way.

To her surprise, Si-yool answered. “I saw my grandma having s*x.”

It was a strange answer, and his eyes seemed… hollow.

“And I suppose that was in the other world too?” Jin So-a asked sarcastically.

“No, that was here,” Si-yool replied.

Jin So-a’s blood ran cold. A murderous rage surged through her. Her orange eyes narrowed dangerously.

“Hey,” she growled.

“[So-a, calm down. We don’t know anything yet],” Seo-bin said quickly, sensing her friend’s fury.

But Jin So-a ignored her.

“Hey,” she repeated, her gaze fixed on Si-yool.

“What?”

“Answer carefully. Did you see it in person?”

“Online,” Si-yool replied.

The lie detector confirmed his answer.

Jin So-a’s rage subsided slightly, but not completely. It was still disgusting.

That damned Magical OnlyFans.

Magical OnlyFans, the vile product of elderly magical girls prostituting themselves and perverts paying to watch. It was one of Jin So-a’s most hated things.

“What do you think of magical girls?” she asked, her voice dangerously low.

“Heroes,” Si-yool replied, his voice sincere.

And the lie detector confirmed it.

Something snapped inside Jin So-a.

“You…!” she roared, her voice thick with rage and disgust.

“[So-a! Stop!]” Seo-bin pleaded.

But Jin So-a couldn’t stop. Not this time. She’d maintained her composure until now, but she couldn’t hold it in anymore.

“You call them heroes, and you watch that?!”

How could he call magical girls heroes and then consume content that degraded and exploited them? It was a contradiction.

She would have preferred him to be lying. At least it wouldn’t have felt like a betrayal.

“Do you know how much people suffered because of those bastards? Do you?!” she screamed. Magical girls, and even ordinary people, had been victims of this industry. Did Si-yool even know? He probably didn’t. That’s why he could do such a thing. Or maybe he knew and did it anyway.

He was just like them.

“If you truly respect magical girls, you wouldn’t watch that filth!”

She was convinced now. Everything he’d said was a lie. He must have somehow manipulated the lie detector.

“What’s wrong? What did I do?” Si-yool asked, his face a mask of confusion. He showed no remorse.

It was infuriating. Disgusting.

“Shut up! Did you enjoy watching those disgusting old hags pretending to be magical girls?! Did you?!” she screamed, wanting to tear him apart—

“They weren’t magical girls,” Si-yool interrupted.

Jin So-a’s mind went blank.

“What… what are you talking about?” she stammered.

“The grandma I saw… she wasn’t a magical girl,” Si-yool repeated.

Jin So-a clutched her head. This headache was getting worse.