âI never thought of Miss Scarlett as a friend from the beginning.â
After saying that, Sylvia turned around and went back to the classroom.
As I stared blankly at Sylviaâs back, I felt something nudging my legs.
When I looked down, I noticed that my hands were trembling uncontrollably and kept touching my legs.
...Hmm, is Tourette's syndrome an acquired disease?
I interlocked my trembling hands and applied some pressure, which helped to calm them down a bit.
Still, Sylvia seemed particularly on edge today.
Well, since Sylvia is a girl, there might be a few days each month when she feels this way.
Even elves are no different from humans when under a spell.
If Sylvia is in her Magical Elf mode, I should be more careful for a while.
I thought to myself that it was a rather silly thought.
I was having a silly thought.
So, manage your expression.
My distorted expression returned to a blank one.
*
When lunchtime ended and class started, the tense atmosphere in the classroom, which had been unusually quiet until just a moment ago, seemed to have eased up a bit.
One reason was that Sylvia and Yun Siwooâs faces were less stiff than in the morning, but the biggest reason was probably the teacher at the front of the class.
âOnce youâve entered Aegis Academy, you can already be considered heroes! Aegis only accepts the strong, so if youâre here, it means you already possess a certain level of strength!â
The female teacher in charge of the subject called "Heroic Mindset."
She looked very calm at first glance, but once class started, she spoke with such passion and enthusiasm that it seemed like sound effects were playing around her.
Despite being a tall adult woman, watching her made me think of a bird flapping its wings vigorously.
The other students, who were listening to the class, all seemed to be smiling unconsciously, as if they were watching a cute creature flapping its wings.
âDonât think of a heroâs duty to protect people as some grand concept like noblesse oblige. Instead, think of it as something natural!â
The teacher continued her enthusiastic explanation.
The students listened with pleased smiles.
âCompared to ordinary people, who are like babies, you are all grown adults! When something dangerous happens, even if itâs dangerous for grown adults, you canât just leave a defenseless baby behind, right? Do you understand, everyone?â
The teacher, who often ended her sentences with âDo you understand, everyone?â received a loud âYes!â from the students, who laughed and responded.
I was the only student who didnât answer the teacherâs question, as I was busy checking if Sylviaâs mood had improved while half-listening to the class.
But the only thing I thought about during the class was one thing.
Even though Sylvia seems sensitive, sheâs still beautiful.
Everything else, well, wasnât really my concern.
*
On the way home from school, I saw a man carrying a child on his shoulders.
The child, perched on what seemed to be his fatherâs shoulders, was looking at the world from a much higher vantage point and laughing happily.
Does the child realize that the father carrying him is sweating profusely?
The man, carrying the child, walked silently without a single complaint.
Distracted by this scene, I realized I had already arrived home.
As usual, I took off my clothes and took a shower as soon as I got home.
After showering, I opened the refrigerator to prepare dinner.
âAh...â
I had forgotten to buy groceries on the way home.
I thought about going out to buy some now, but after having a shower and changing into pajamas, I lost the motivation to go out.
You know that feeling when youâve just come home from work, taken a shower, and changed clothes, and then something happens.
I might as well skip dinner for a day...
Thinking about it, I hadnât eaten breakfast either because I was late and rushed out.
Why canât I spend the money I earn...
Yesterday, my luck was strangely good...
I sighed and lay down on the bed.
It was too early to go to sleep.
Is there nothing else to do but kill time?
Sigh, I wanted to avoid any more slaughter.
If only my superpower was the ability to sleep whenever I wanted, it would be great.
Then I wouldnât have to deal with these pointless thoughts and could just sleep.
Maybe tomorrow, Sylviaâs mood will improve.
With that thought, I closed my eyes, still interlocking the trembling hands that had been shaking since I got home.
*
When I was young, I loved my father.
No matter how much I heard stories about how much money other peopleâs fathers made or what prestigious jobs they had, I never felt envious.
My father was the only one who was told by people around us that it was hard to find someone like him in todayâs world.
He was kind, always helped others, valued relationships, repaid favors many times over, and forgave othersâ mistakes generously.
I thought my father was the coolest person in the world.
I always wanted to be like him.
But the world wasnât like the stories I read as a child, where being good brought good fortune.
It was quite the opposite.
From a certain point on, many unknown people started visiting our house.
Whenever someone knocked on the door, I would crawl into the closet.
Father and I had agreed that when this sound was heard, we would start a game of hide-and-seek.
The only place to hide in our house was that large closet, so I always hid in the dark, where nothing could be seen, until the noise outside subsided.
When the noise died down, Father would open the closet door and tell me with a smile that I had done a good job hiding.
Honestly, being alone in the closet was scary, but I was happy when Father said that.
Because Father said such things, I had the courage to endure the darkness.
One night, while I was lying awake, feeling uneasy, Father gently hugged me and, after a long silence, spoke with a trembling voice.
He said he was sorry that he couldnât think of any other way to solve the problem because he wasnât smart enough.
After that, Father extended his pinky finger and said,
Letâs make one last promise.
A pinky promise is something that should never be broken.
Because Father taught me that, I made a pinky promise and deeply engraved his words in my heart.
That was the last memory I had of Father.
The next day, after making the promise, I went to school and came home to find the house covered in red paper, and Father didnât come home until late at night.
Not the next day, nor the day after that.
Father had debts.
Mother only said that much, so as I grew older and learned more, I thought Father had run away, leaving Mother and me behind.
I thought Father, who I believed would never do such a thing, had let us down even more by disappearing and leaving us behind.
I thought this until a man who claimed to be Fatherâs friend appeared in front of me and knelt down.
Guarantee.
The man said that Father had incurred a huge debt because of him.
He cried, saying that he had run away with his debt, causing Father to end up like this.
On the paper the man held, Fatherâs name was written in the guarantorâs section.
Next to it was a familiar name, probably the manâs.
It was the name Father always mentioned as a good friend.
The debt Father took on in place of this man was not something that could be repaid by taking our furniture.
It was an amount that could have taken our entire house.
Only then did I realize.
Father hadnât run away.
He had gone to fulfill his responsibility as a father to protect the home where Mother and I could live.
Motherâs words came back to me.
She said that if you donât pay your debts, other people will suffer.
The one who didnât pay the debt was this man, not Father, and the one who suffered the most was probably Father.
If I had known the truth, I would have harbored resentment against this man who betrayed Father, so Mother must have told me not to tell me the truth.
Father was the kind of person who said that hating someone doesnât help in life.
He silently helped the man up and sent him away.
Hating this man wouldnât bring Father back.
Father wouldnât have wanted that either.
In the end, the person I should blame wasnât Father or this man.
The world was harsh to good people.
Trust was exploited, and trust was betrayed.
Living a good life meant being called a pushover.
Why did good people always have to suffer?
Thatâs why I hated the world.
That day, I remembered the promise I made with Father.
âLetâs promise to always be strong, no matter what happens.â
The weight of the pinky promise felt heavier today.
Feeling suffocated, I asked myself,
Father, am I doing well?
Naturally, there was no answer.
Author's Note
I was originally planning to take a break today, but I wrote a chapter for the readers who were waiting.