Chapter 48 - Tuna Can (2)
Translator: Elisia
Editor/Proofreader: SemiPickle
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The tuna can was the problem.
I don’t remember the exact date, but it was a long time ago.
It was a laboratory.
They seemed to be researching the right amount of drug to use so it wouldn’t leave scars and would regenerate tissue.
I didn’t know why they were doing it on my body, though.
“Is there anything you want to eat?”
A researcher asked.
“You seem hungry.”
Were they asking me?
“Me?”
“I’m not asking you.”
The researcher, who had been staring at the computer screen, turned his gaze toward me.
“Can it talk?”
“They say it can if prompted.”
“Really?”
I could talk.
I was just staying quiet because they’d scolded me for being noisy.
And, there weren’t many people who talked to me.
People tended to avoid me.
After all, hardly anyone talks to a blood-soaked monster.
“What food do you like?”
What was it?
Let me think.
“They’re not answering.”
“No, they will. Their favorite food.”
There were a few people I liked.
People who were kind.
“What do you like to eat?”
Food.
Things I ate a lot.
What was it?
“Do I need to say ‘eat’ for you to understand?”
Not much came to mind.
“Tuna…”
The voice trailed off.
“Oh, they spoke.”
“Tuna, can…”
“They’re saying tuna can.”
The tuna cans I used to eat with Si-Hoo.
We had them at home.
They were tasty.
They were a bit pricey, so we couldn’t have them often.
The tuna-filled triangle kimbap was also good.
We had to go all the way to the city to buy it, though.
I remembered Si-Hoo cutting his hand while opening a can.
It didn’t open easily.
There was blood.
There was blood.
“Hey?”
What are you doing?
What are you doing?
They were doing something with a knife.
It was a pocket knife.
They slightly slashed my lower abdomen.
As if drawing a line with a pencil.
“Let’s make a note that they like tuna cans.”
“Will it leave a scar?”
“Huh.”
What are they talking about?
“Or maybe I should draw it. They said they were hungry.”
I didn’t say I was hungry.
What does drawing have to do with being hungry?
“Tuna can, huh.”
“I can’t put it in their stomach, but I can draw it there.”
What on earth are they saying?
They said the scar experiments were done on my arm.
I was restrained and couldn’t move.
I was too weak to resist, anyway.
I had no way to stop them.
I didn’t fully understand yet.
What were these people doing to me?
“Show it to your friend when you meet them.”
They said, laughing mockingly.
“When they ask, ‘What do you want to eat?’ you can just show them this.”
“Huh, ah.”
What did they do to me?
I hated it.
“Isn’t it nice? You can’t talk well anyway.”
What nonsense.
What were they saying?
I wanted to close my eyes, but somehow, it wasn’t easy.
A dreadful sensation spread from my abdomen.
Tuna can?
My memory was being defiled.
I didn’t want to eat tuna cans anymore.
Eating them with Si-Hoo.
I liked it.
But why on my body?
Ah.
I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.
I don’t like tuna cans.
Don’t write it.
Don’t scribble on my body.
What are you doing?
“I messed it up. Ovals are hard to draw.”
“I told you to write it in letters.”
“It’s hard to do with a knife. What should I write?”
I don’t like tuna cans.
But eating them with Si-Hoo was delicious.
No, but I don’t like it.
But tuna cans taste good.
I like tuna.
But why are you writing tuna on my body?
Why?
I don’t understand.
“Ah…”
Am I the tuna or the tuna can?
I used to tell Si-Hoo, “Let’s eat together.”
We even tried tuna ice cream once.
I liked that.
I liked tuna cans, so Si-Hoo bought me many.
They were delicious.
But there’s no need to write it on my body.
Si-Hoo knows without me saying anything.
Even if it’s written here, no one would know.
“Then why tuna can?”
“Did someone give it to them as food? Like feeding a cat.”
Why are they doing this?
Si-Hoo, Si-Hoo, together, together.
There wasn’t much to eat at home with rice and ramen.
So we’d sometimes take one out and eat it.
It was delicious.
I liked it.
I shouldn’t have said I liked it.
I shouldn’t have said I liked it.
I shouldn’t have said I liked it.
What are they doing?
A sense of helplessness wrapped around my whole body.
“Ha.”
Something snapped inside me.
No.
It’s fine.
It doesn’t matter what they do to my body.
No one would know, anyway.
As long as I don’t show my friend.
Tuna can.
I liked it.
It was an obvious fact, so there’s no need to write it down.
There’s no need.
A light prick.
A small dose of the drug was injected.
If the healing effect was minimal, scars would remain.
A scar remained.
The carefully inscribed letters and drawing remained.
Tuna can.
It was written there.
I couldn’t believe this was done to me.
Who had this done?
Yoo Seo-Ah?
Who’s that?
Who’s that, who’s that, who’s that.
I don’t think it’s me.
Ahahaha.
Time passed and passed.
Yet the scar didn’t disappear.
Today’s experiment supervisor said he’d have coffee tomorrow morning.
I see.
A researcher told me the shopping list for tomorrow.
He said they’d buy a lot of vegetables.
And fruits.
Specifically, a bundle of cabbage, five radishes, and a box each of apples and pears.
Oh, they also planned to buy cereal.
Looks like they’d also get some beer.
It seems to be a shopping list.
Write that on a memo pad.
People’s backs aren’t memo pads.
Even if finding a pen and paper is annoying.
Most of the scribbles are on my back.
They seem to write there because writing on my abdomen doesn’t work well.
I wonder if this scar will fade.
I found out the initials of one researcher’s name.
What was it… something that started with K.
They wrote it on my shoulder before leaving.
Was it for signature practice?
I don’t know why they did it with a cutter knife.
Maybe it was because they were bored.
It was a relief that most didn’t leave scars.
The drug worked well, so many wounds healed perfectly.
Why is scribbling popular?
I wonder if they play around scribbling on other monsters, too.
It seemed like the researcher who wrote “tuna” must have spread rumors or something.
“Hehe.”
What if Si-Hoo sees this?
What if a friend sees this?
What would they think of me?
What did they say last time?
Think hard.
At the end.
Didn’t they say something harsh?
Was it that they called me trash?
No.
How do I prove it now?
People just came and scribbled.
Hehehe.
Why did they do that?
Do you want to do it, too?
What do I do, what do I do?
People will think it’s strange when they see it.
What do I do?
Do you like tuna cans?
No.
Then why is it written on your stomach?
I don’t know.
I don’t know.
I don’t know.
I don’t know.
Those people did it.
They said it was break time in the lab.
I didn’t do anything.
Why is there a shopping list for vegetables written on my back?
I don’t know.
They said they were the ones buying it.
They seemed to like using me as a memo pad.
There’s a phone number, too.
Is that so?
I don’t understand.
To keep it clean for future memos, they said they’d erase it with the drug.
Did it disappear?
Probably.
I could confirm it with a mirror, but I’m scared to check.
I’d rather pretend it didn’t happen.
That it never happened.
Even the scars originally on my arms, I didn’t want to show anyone.
But I could show them to a friend.
I can’t understand why there’s a scar saying I like tuna cans.
What if they find out?
Would they think I’m crazy?
Maybe they’ll dismiss me as just a bit odd?
Look, about this.
I said I liked tuna cans, so they drew one for me.
Isn’t it cute?
Heh.
That couldn’t happen.
Yeah.
Say something that makes sense.
“Haha…”
There’s no one here but me.
No one but me to see myself.
“Haha.”
If I pull my clothes up just a little, I can see the clumsy drawing of a tuna can.
They wrote that I liked tuna.
“Hehe…”
It makes me laugh, though I don’t understand.
I just…
liked eating it with Si-Hoo.
When they asked what food I liked, I answered.
“Ehehe…”
The drug made me feel good.
But I kept thinking something was wrong.
What if they didn’t know?
One day, we might be close like before.
“I’ll pretend it never happened.”
I don’t like tuna cans.
So there’s no reason to call it my favorite food.
So there’s no reason to be scribbled on.
But if you like food, do you get scribbled on?
I don’t even like vegetables that much.
Why did they write the shopping list
?
What if my friend sees it?
“You’re not going to get out of here, anyway.”
I can’t get out.
I mustn’t get out.
“It’s fine, you don’t have friends anymore.”
It’s all people I can’t meet again.
And even if I did, I doubt they’d recognize me.
I don’t care.
I never planned to meet anyone, anyway.
I’ll just watch.
The main character will handle everything, so I’ll just watch.
“Forget it, just forget it.”
I’ll forget it.
There’s so much I’ve already forgotten.
I will forget.
I will forget.
I will forget.
“Ahaha.”
For someone who remembers nothing important.
“…[Forget it.]”
And then, I really did forget.
Until the doctor reminded me just now.
***
Hyperventilating.
“Ha—ha, ha.”
[394 hours, 12 minutes]
Apart from the effects of the drug, it seemed like the trauma had resurfaced.
Now, I couldn’t see the scar.
The doctor had wrapped it with a bandage.
The amount was small, just enough to cover my lower abdomen, but it was enough.
“Ha, ha, ha.”
My breathing was rapid.
In the end, the fundamental issue wasn’t resolved.
It wasn’t that I overcame it; I just forgot about it.
I was pulled out of the happiness of oblivion.
It was just some scribbling.
Just a trivial joke.
“[It’s okay.]”
Is it?
It put me at ease.
My breathing calmed.
“[Rest assured.] It’s just scribbling.”
Is that so?
Right.
I feel reassured.
“Oh, and I have all the experimental footage saved.”
“……”
Footage.
Was that recorded, too?
“Your friends won’t ever have to see the footage, so don’t worry.”
How much did the doctor know?
If they’d seen the footage of the experiments.
If they knew the experiment even happened.
If they knew I was trapped in such a place.
Why didn’t they come to save me?
They’re supposed to be good people.
They’re good people.
They should be.
Why was I in that place?
The doctor acted as if it was something I chose, but I didn’t have any memory of that.
“I also retrieved all the surveillance camera footage.”
It’s a happy ending, anyway.
The people who tormented me were all dead.
I made them suffer just as much.
They couldn’t even hold out for 30 seconds.
Should I have asked what they liked?
“No one but me knows Miss Seo-Ah is a killer.”
No one.
“…Huh?”
Killer?
“You half-destroyed the research facility. If the world found out, they’d pretty much consider you a villain. If it weren’t for me, that is.”
Does the doctor know everything?
If it weren’t for the doctor, I don’t know what would have happened by now.
They’re truly a good person.
“I plan to keep the recovered footage for a while. Especially the experimental records, as I think they might be needed. Don’t worry, I’ll keep them safe.”
There’s no reason they’d be needed.
Are they threatening me?
“Oh, it’s not a threat… You seem to have no memory of it.”
The doctor continued, looking troubled.
“There’s a beneficiary. Someone who owes Miss Seo-Ah a great debt. Do you remember?”
Debt?
Beneficiary?
I didn’t understand.
Not at all.
“They’re known as the saint, but now they’ve forgotten everything and live happily…”
The doctor straightened my clothes for me.
“It’s time to collect that debt.”
They held my hand and lifted me up from the bench.
“The wind is chilly. Let’s go inside and talk.”