Chapter 13
Yeonwoo, organizing his notes at the bottom, smiled at the memories that flooded back when he saw the faded sketchbook.
As he picked up the sketchbook, pieces of drawings scattered down. They were pictures of a wolf walking on two legs, an insect with a large bomb attached to the end of its tail, and a mermaid holding a spear.
In childhood, when Yeonhwa drew pictures, Yeonwoo would sit beside her and cut the drawings with clumsy hand movements.
“This comes out of the gate, and this one too.”
Yeonhwa, drawing bizarre creatures, tugged at Yeonwoo’s clothes as if telling him to focus on her story.
“Han Yeonhwa, Oppa is holding scissors.”
“Listen to my story. If you don’t, it will hurt.”
“Okay. You want me to listen? Or cut out the drawings?”
After thinking for a moment, Yeonhwa lay on her stomach. “Then listen while you cut.”
“So?”
“So, everyone died.”
It was a somewhat chilling story for a child to tell, but there were no adults around who would understand. Yeonwoo, the only listener, simply thought all the stories were from Yeonhwa’s imagination.
“Oppa. I don’t want to go to the playground.”
“Suddenly?”
Just yesterday, Yeonhwa had been whining to go to the playground the moment she put down her spoon. Even when Yeonwoo packed the play bag and asked if she really didn’t want to go, Yeonhwa just shook her head, clutching her crayons.
I hope she doesn’t throw a fit later about not going.
Yeonwoo narrowed his eyes, put the play bag down by the front door, made Yeonhwa sit up, and set up the desk for her. As he rolled up her sleeves, stained with crayon marks:
“Mom called.”
Right as Yeonhwa finished speaking, the phone rang.
“Yeonwoo-ya!”
Yeonwoo briefly covered his ears at his mother’s piercing voice on the phone. Mom spoke hurriedly, rambling that a gate had been discovered near the playground by their home and that they should come home immediately.
Mom, who had already rushed home at the mention of “already at home,” hugged Yeonwoo and Yeonhwa tightly and spent a long time soothing her chest.
“You didn’t go to the playground today?”
“No. Yeonhwa said she didn’t want to go.”
“That’s right. Today I felt ummm.”
“My goodness, our daughter. You have such good intuition.”
Yeonhwa wasn’t simply a child with good intuition.
She was an Esper with the ability to foresee the future. Awakened Espers had an obligation to register with the Association, but their parents had hidden Yeonhwa’s abilities.
Espers typically awaken around age 12, during puberty, but Yeonhwa was only 6 years old then. Their parents made Yeonwoo swear to secrecy, saying that just imagining such a young child frequenting dungeons felt like the sky was falling. They hid Yeonhwa’s ability, saying they could reveal it when she needed Guiding.
Yeonhwa ended up confined to a small room, but she didn’t seem particularly unhappy about it. As long as she had enough sketchbooks and crayons, she didn’t seem to care where she was. All day, Yeonhwa would sleep, wake up, draw pictures, and fall back to sleep.
Sometimes she would call for Yeonwoo and beg him to listen to her stories about her dreams.
“So Choi Yeoreum went into the water and cut off the octopus’s suction cups, and the sea turned black.”
As Yeonhwa chattered without pause, she let out a deep sigh. On cue, Yeonwoo, who had been cooling porridge, offered her a spoon. Like a baby bird, Yeonhwa took it, quickly chewed and swallowed the porridge, then tugged at Yeonwoo’s clothes.
“The octopus got angry and swung its arms, making waves this big, and so, Choi Yeoreum rode the wave and killed the octopus.”
“And then?”
Yeonwoo, who had been listening to the continuing story, looked at Yeonhwa’s forehead. He pulled aside her hair, damp with sweat, and wiped it with a wet towel, making Yeonhwa sigh again as if relieved.
“Drink water too.”
At Yeonwoo’s words, Yeonhwa stretched out her arm, grabbed the cup, and gulped down the water before grabbing Yeonwoo again.
“A magic stone this big came out of the octopus,”
Three years.
During that time, Yeonhwa’s foresight had become increasingly detailed. Unlike before, when she only saw fragmentary scenes, now she saw the context surrounding events. She would spend a long time contemplating which scene to draw before picking up her crayons.
And every drawing Yeonhwa made came true in reality.
Each time, Yeonhwa would suffer from severe fever and, upon waking, would look for Yeonwoo. She would hold onto him, chattering about her dreams at length, then collapse from exhaustion, only to wake up the next day looking perfectly fine.
She was a fragile daughter who became exhausted just from seeing the future. Their parents’ protection intensified as days passed, and both Yeonhwa and Yeonwoo spent increasingly more days unable to go outside.
Their parents were constantly anxious that Yeonhwa might get caught up in a gate or dungeon break, which would reveal her as an Esper. They carefully examined the pictures Yeonhwa drew, worrying about what might happen near their home, and immediately reported any gates discovered nearby.
The reward for reporting a gate was a substantial amount, and that money became a welcome rain on dry land for their parents, who had quit their jobs to protect Yeonhwa.
“Given Yeonhwa’s condition, and thinking of Yeonwoo, wouldn’t it be good to earn as much as we can while we can?”
“…I suppose so.”
And so, the snowball of their parents’ greed began to roll.
For Yeonhwa, for Yeonwoo, because they must be bored being cooped up at home, because they can’t eat out but must want delicious food, to buy a bigger house. As their greed grew, guild members clung to them to get gate subjugation rights.
“Hey-hey. Guild Master. What kind of information is worth only this much reward? Hmm? It’s not like I’m digging up the ground to sell information~ Ah~ If the reward is like this, it’s difficult for me too. If you come at me like this, I can’t do business with you, Guild Master.”
After a long argument with someone on the other end of the phone, Dad hung up and immediately embraced Mom. After giving her a deep kiss, Dad rushed past Yeonwoo to Yeonhwa and showered her with affection.
Toys that children her age would like cascaded at Yeonhwa’s feet. Unlike Yeonwoo, whose eyes lit up at the toys, Yeonhwa showed little excitement and only yawned deeply. Then she reached out to Dad with a wide smile.
“My goodness, our beautiful daughter. Do you like Dad more than the toys?”
Yeonhwa, blinking her large eyes at Dad who was acting cute, nodded.
“What about Mom? Do you like Mom too? Want to come to Mom?”
Yeonhwa, who moved to her waiting arms, yawned deeply once more.
“Sleepy?”
“Our daughter. What kind of dream will you have today?”
While their parents carried Yeonhwa to the small room, Yeonwoo followed behind, arms full of toys. Mom, tucking Yeonhwa into bed and covering her with a blanket, smiled as she stroked the cheek of Yeonhwa, who hadn’t taken her eyes off her until then.
“Do you like Mom that much? Enough to keep looking?”
“Yes. Because I won’t be able to see you soon, I want to look a lot now.”
“…What?”
“Dad too.”
Dad’s face, which had been wearing a puzzled expression, turned pale. He shook Yeonhwa’s sleeping shoulder and, with an ungentle hand, lifted her eyelid. Seeing Yeonhwa’s eyes gleaming silver, Dad bit his lip.
Yeonhwa wasn’t just sleeping—she was having a vision. No matter what anyone did to her during these visions, Yeonhwa wouldn’t wake up. Despite this, Dad, trying to wake her, looked at Mom whose eyes were brimming with tears.
“Surely… she’s not saying we’ll die caught in a gate?”
“What are you…”
“Think about it. Yeonhwa always has visions about gates. And then gates appear nearby as if it’s natural! What if she’s not foreseeing, but actually calling the gates?”
“No, Dad. Yeonhwa sees other visions too.”
Yesterday morning, Yeonhwa had woken up and asked Yeonwoo if there was bread at home because she would be eating toast the day after tomorrow. Yeonwoo was about to say that Mom and Dad only remembered visions about gates, so that’s all they recalled, and that Yeonhwa often saw minor visions like accidents or cups breaking tomorrow, but he was pushed out of the room by Dad’s hand.
Mom, looking at Yeonhwa with fear-filled eyes, rushed out and began packing. Dad, who had tucked Yeonwoo under his arm as he tried to return to Yeonhwa’s room, fled the house.
“Yeonwoo, fasten your seatbelt.”
“What about Yeonhwa?”
Yeonwoo, awkwardly fiddling with the seatbelt, looked at the seat beside him.
“Yeonhwa doesn’t wake up once she falls asleep, you know that.”
“Son, shall we go to the mart with Mom and Dad for a change? You said your sneakers are too tight and hurt your toes.”
At Dad’s words, Yeonwoo looked down at his sneakers where his big toe was squeezed. Not just the sneakers, he needed pants too. Yeonwoo nodded as he pulled down the hems that revealed his ankles. Mom reached out to gently stroke his head, then covered his eyes.
“Do you want to sleep a little? I’ll wake you up when we arrive.”
With her gentle voice, drowsiness washed over him. Yeonwoo closed his eyes but opened them again moments later.
He heard a strange sound. Reflexively looking around, Yeonwoo unfastened his seatbelt and looked out the window. They weren’t in a mart parking lot but somewhere unfamiliar.
“Mom?”
“You’re awake? Dad has an urgent matter to check on quickly.”
“Then what about Yeonhwa?”
“Ah.”
Mom, who had handed him bread to eat instead of breakfast, couldn’t meet his eyes. Only after Yeonwoo finished eating did Mom show him her phone and cleaned up the trash.
“I called the neighbor grandmother earlier.”
A lie.
The elderly neighbor often couldn’t hear the doorbell due to her poor hearing. She would only answer the phone if it was placed in her hand, and even then, she usually couldn’t understand the content.
The car bumped as it boarded a ferry. Yeonwoo searched for Yeonhwa again, but Mom didn’t answer, and Dad just stared at the steering wheel. Only after the ferry departed did Mom call Yeonwoo’s name with an anxious and angry face.
“Han Yeonwoo. Listen to Mom carefully. From now on, you don’t have a sister. If anyone asks, say you’re an only child.”
His parents told him to forget Yeonhwa.
It made no sense. Just yesterday, no, even this morning, they had insisted that as her older brother, he needed to take good care of Yeonhwa. He couldn’t understand why they were suddenly acting this way.
When he asked where they were going, Dad thought for a moment before answering.
“We’re going to Mom’s hometown. There, we’ll start a new—”
“Then what about Yeonhwa?”
“Han Yeonwoo. What did Dad tell you? You don’t have a sister anymore.”
“Why?”
“Because she’s an Esper.”
“That’s right. Espers are emotionless and just mindlessly strong, Yeonwoo. What if you get hurt being with her? Does Yeonwoo want Mom and Dad to get hurt? Does Yeonwoo want to feel pain?”
“Yeonhwa liked it. She liked Mom and Dad getting hurt. Did you see how she smiled cheerfully when told her parents would die? Will you be like that too? Do you want Mom and Dad to die like Yeonhwa does?”
No… Yeonwoo mumbled softly, shaking his head, swallowing countless questions as dawn was breaking. Standing at the bow of the ship, Yeonwoo stamped his feet as he watched the rising sun. Yeonhwa used to wake up every morning making faint crying sounds, and each time she would look for Yeonwoo.
She’ll be in pain without me. If no one listens to her dream stories, she’ll be seriously ill like last time.
I need to be by Yeonhwa’s side!
At that moment, Yeonwoo’s vision turned pitch black. Clutching his chest, troubled by his unpleasantly pounding heart, Yeonwoo curled up to escape the ringing in his ears that felt like they were being torn apart. A moment later, even after the ringing disappeared and his heartbeat settled, Yeonwoo couldn’t straighten his body.
“Child, what’s wrong?”
Only after a passerby helped him up did Yeonwoo finally straighten his body and slowly catch his breath. Blinking his tear-soaked eyelashes, Yeonwoo looked around with trembling eyes.
The world had somehow changed, and his heart was beating to a strange rhythm. As he stroked his tingling heart, Yeonwoo looked down at the green pattern that had appeared beneath his feet.
He couldn’t explain it, but he felt certain that if he stepped on it, he could go to Yeonhwa. After wiping away his tears and taking a deep breath, he took a step forward, and the space surrounding him changed.
“Oppa, you’re here?”
As he staggered briefly from dizziness, he heard Yeonhwa’s voice. Without even raising her head, Yeonhwa greeted Yeonwoo as she lay on her stomach, drawing. Yeonwoo took off his shoes, placed them in the entryway, then sat Yeonhwa up and set out a table.
“When did you wake up?”
“Just now.”
“Have you eaten?”
“I was waiting for you, Oppa. So we could eat together.”
On the sketchbook Yeonhwa held up was a drawing of Yeonwoo standing on a green pattern.
And so, Yeonwoo awakened as an Esper.
Author: Hyacinthus B
Hyacinthus
