Chapter Index





    [136] Children Who Had to Grow Up (2)

    Talking about the past is like tracing a wooden round table you made yourself. The parts that aren’t properly finished are rough, and there are often grooves and dents.

    And sometimes, there remain splinters, thorns that you weren’t able to fully remove.

    That’s why, as I told them about what happened in ‘that place,’ I often stammered over my words, and even more often fell silent. As if the words themselves were stumbling, I continued my story.

    But Feya and the Captain simply listened to my story without a word.

    “That’s how ‘they’ and ‘Feya’ died. Though I didn’t see it myself… Irene, she had no reason to lie back then, so they must have died without doubt.”

    …Even if that ending was pathetically miserable.

    A heavy silence followed the end of the story.

    I looked up to check the Captain’s face and smiled bitterly.

    “I guess it wasn’t that surprising of a story.”

    There was no shock or horror on the Captain’s face. Only deep concern for me. It was the same with Feya.

    “…If you had died that day, I probably would have done something.”

    *Though I didn’t think I’d go that far*, the Captain added with a self-deprecating smile. Feya also mumbled before adding.

    “I probably… Would have made the same decision.”

    As if her hands were a loom weaving words, Feya looked down at her fidgeting hands.

    “If, if big bro had died that day… wouldn’t that be our fault. More precisely, wouldn’t it be my…”

    “Stop.”

    I cut her off quickly.

    “I’m telling you again, that was just a tragedy. A tragedy no one wanted.”

    “…The same goes for what happened in the other world.”

    Then I heard her calm voice, my gaze turning to the Captain.

    “Vice-Captain, don’t feel guilty.”

    “…!”

    I unconsciously clench my fist at the sudden words. The Captain’s red eyes, on the other hand, calmly settled.

    “Of course, I’m not ‘them’. And neither is Feya here. But as someone who was almost ‘them’, let me tell you this…”

    A soft voice, like a sigh, flowed out.

    “That wasn’t your fault, it was just a horrible tragedy. They would have thought the same.”

    Sometimes comfort can be more painful. I bit down on my lower lip as if trying to crush it.

    So, what happens to those who have crumbled away.

    What about my stupidity, calling Irene family and laughing with her, not knowing their fate.

    *Woooong-!*

    The small stone resonating in my chest cut off my thoughts. It was the signal the ‘civil servant’ was supposed to give me when the ritual preparations were complete.

    “…I should go.”

    “For what?”

    “I have things to discuss with those ‘administrators’ for a moment.”

    I couldn’t tell them that I was going to resurrect Amy. They were already mentally and physically exhausted. I didn’t want to add to their worries.

    I only headed toward Clara and Parsley, who were still asleep. With haggard expressions, they were sleeping as if they were dead.

    It was an aftereffect of that black crack.

    When Irene fell, the crack disappeared, but the accumulated fatigue hadn’t disappeared with it.

    Clara’s complexion, especially, was like a blank sheet of paper. She had endured the pain of her body rotting while constantly healing herself.

    I grimaced as I gently stroked their foreheads. Swallowing my guilt and gratitude, I turn my head.

    “Then, Captain, I’ll be back soon.”

    “…Alright.”

    And so, the moment I grabbed the doorknob to leave. A sudden thought stopped my hand that was about to push open the door.

    “Big bro? Did you forget something…”

    “I’m sorry I loved you. I regret cherishing you.”

    I quietly spoke the words that lingered in my memory.

    “I’m sorry because I loved you. I’m full of regret because I cared. And I couldn’t forgive myself because I loved you.”

    I turned to look at the Captain. The Captain was looking at me with an unreadable expression. Or rather, it seemed like she didn’t know what expression she should be making.

    “Those were the words the Captain from that world said to me.”

    “…It does sound like something I would say. So?”

    I bring up an old question that I had received an answer to long ago.

    “Captain, no, Rosalia. Do you love me?”

    Rosalia’s smile vanishes.

    “I know you rejected me when I asked you to stay with me after I was resurrected. But let me ask again.”

    “…”

    “Rosalia, do you love me?”

    It was as if I were watching a stone crumble. Her hardened face barely manages to show an awkward smile, as if cracking.

    “If I did, would I have suggested leaving you and going to some remote place?”

    “That’s not an answer to my question.”

    I stepped closer to Rosalia. Before she could back away, I grabbed her wrist and pulled her body close.

    In an instant, we were so close our noses almost touched.

    I look into her eyes and ask again.

    “Answer me, Rosalia.”

    Rosalia’s red eyes tremble. With each tremor I feel through her wrist, her expression crumbles.

    “No.”

    But her answer remained unchanged.

    I let go of her hand. The Captain massaged her wrist, then shot me a glaring look as she spoke.

    “I told you, I don’t have feelings for you anymore. In the first place, why are we still calling each other Vice-Captain and Captain…”

    “It’s alright. I still have feelings for you.”

    “What…?”

    Originally, before being kidnapped to that other world, I would have been terrified by that answer. I would have desperately tried to hold onto her from my position as Vice Captain.

    But I could understand after facing ‘their’ tragedy and death. It became even clearer after organizing it into a story again.

    Was what I felt looking at their broken forms really just pity. Was what I feel for them now only guilt.

    No, was there even a need to separate the two in the first place.

    [I’m sorry because I loved you. I’m full of regret because I cared. And I couldn’t forgive myself because I loved you.]

    ‘Their’ words applied to me as well.

    I looked at Rosalia’s bewildered face and declared.

    “I’m not giving up on you, Captain.”

    It didn’t matter whether she truly loved me or not. It didn’t matter if her feelings for me were just guilt.

    She just had to stay by my side.

    …And the same was true for that other her.

    “Kid, it’s the same for you too.”

    “E-Eh?”

    Feya, suddenly singled out, jumps in surprise. She stammers while looking at me with dumbfounded eyes.

    “B-Big bro, what do you…”

    “I’m not going to overthink it anymore.”

    The image of Feya who had become a monster flashes before my eyes. Naturally gritting my molars, heated words flowed out.

    “I’ll keep both of you with me somehow. Do you understand?”

    In the end, it’s easier to tell than to ask, as the common saying goes.

    I glared at them as if picking a fight and declared.

    “If you don’t like it, then knock me out and leave.”

    And I slammed the door shut.

    ***

    The ‘civil servant’ looked at me walking over with a bizarre expression.

    “…What did you do?”

    “What do you mean?”

    “No, it’s just… I have this feeling that you’ve done something incredibly stupid, driven by your emotions.”

    “Spare me the useless talk and tell me how to save Amy.”

    My cold words made the ‘civil servant’ grumble. He approached Amy, or more precisely, the machine surrounding Amy.

    If I had to compare it to something, it resembled a spider made of metal. However, its legs numbered over thirty, and in its center, instead of a body, there was a small glass panel.

    “Don’t look inside yet.”

    The ‘civil servant’ quickly blocked me from peeking inside. He even hid the machine with his own body as he continued explaining.

    “The principle is simpler than you’d think. When the machine activates, those legs will connect to your girlfriend’s shattered soul. And your soul will enter the shattered soul through that glass panel.”

    “I understand. All I have to do is look into it.”

    “Wait, listen to my explanation till the end.”

    A serious expression appears on the ‘civil servant’s’ face.

    “I’m telling you this because you’re my savior, but this really isn’t a good idea. A shattered soul is more dangerous than you think.”

    “It doesn’t matter.”

    “No, it’s not that it doesn’t matter to you…”

    “Sister Amy wouldn’t hurt me.”

    It was as if I heard the sound of the ‘civil servant’s’ words get stuck in his throat.

    I know. This is simply blind faith. It might be delusion stemming from childhood memories.

    But trust is fundamentally like that, isn’t it.

    I took a deep breath, let it out, and asked the ‘civil servant’ again.

    “So, I just have to look into it?”

    “…Hah, well, if you’re determined to do it, who am I to stop you…”

    The ‘civil servant’ sighs and moves away from the machine. I naturally approach the machine and look at the glass panel.

    Up close, the glass panel was unexpectedly opaque. Or rather, something was constantly swirling inside, obscuring what was within.

    “Okay, here I go…!”

    The sound of a lever scraping against gears as it’s pulled down.

    Simultaneously, the swirling slows down. The churning waves subside, and the surface flattens. Something becomes visible beyond the flattened surface.

    Yes, something resembling the moon…

    g

    r

    a

    d

    u

    a

    l

    l

    y

    e

    a

    t

    s

    i

    n

    t

    o

    m

    y

    e

    y

    e

    s

    .

    .

    .

    becoming an adult might mean realizing that in the end, everyone is inevitably alone. And that’s why we call it ‘becoming wiser’ when someone grows up.

    (TL Note: ‘Gaining iron’ or ‘철이 들다’ is a Korean idiom meaning to mature or become more responsible. Essentially, developing resilience and strength of character, much like iron.)

    Just as a clay doll can’t stand properly without the iron wire frame inside, humans too can’t stand properly alone unless they put iron, that cold thing, inside themselves.

    That’s why we feel so sorry for children who grow up too quickly.

    Because it means they had to put that harsh thing inside their young bodies. It means they had no one to help them, no one to support them enough to stand without it.

    Where should I begin this story?

    When the boy, at the age of seven, fell into this world?

    When the boy and Amy met for the first time at the orphanage?

    When Amy was sick and the boy cared for her?

    When, after that incident, Amy began to blush secretly, thinking about the boy?

    No, I’m going to start a little bit later. For a bit of dramatic effect.

    The sky was clear, but it was a dark night without even a crescent moon.

    An untimely commotion erupts in a shabby orphanage.

    *Thwack. Bang. Thud. Crash.*

    Sometimes, *Cough. Sniffle. Cough.*

    And occasionally, *Ah, Ugh, Argh.*

    It was the sound of a boy being beaten to death.

    You see, it was discovered that the boy had stolen herbs for Amy The orphanage director, furious, decided to make an example of him. After all, orphans were a dime a dozen in this rural village.

    The director beat the boy as hard as he could, making sure the entire orphanage could hear. He wanted the orphans to be afraid by that sound. And indeed, that sound became terror for the orphans.

    Except for one girl.

    “Ugh…!”

    The orphanage director looks down at his stomach with disbelief. The protruding blade was dark red, unable to even reflect the moonlight.

    “You… Amy…!”

    Those were the director’s last words.

    Then, with a few gurgling sounds, the director collapses face-down. Leaving behind only a girl covered in blood.

    A skinny little girl who looked about 8 years old. Her eyes and hands trembled from the aftereffects of her first murder.

    “Uh…”

    But the shock didn’t last long.

    Because the sight of the boy dying in a corner came into view.

    In that moment, the burden of murder, the corpse, the fear, all became meaningless to the girl.

    The girl simply picked up the blood-soaked boy. And, barefoot, she ran out of the orphanage.

    The sky was clear, but it was a dark night without even a crescent moon.

    And because of that, it was a beautiful night where the starlight alone was vivid.

    That’s how Amy and the boy escaped from the orphanage.

    The boy was 6, and Amy 8. That’s when it all began.


    0 Comments

    Heads up! Your comment will be invisible to other guests and subscribers (except for replies), including you after a grace period.
    Note
    // Script to navigate with arrow keys