TBBS 19

Chapter 19…

However, contrary to his worries, this place—Jakobsberg—is somewhere I know as well as the back of my hand.

Moreover, here, a randomly parked Rolls-Royce is far more likely to get into trouble than I am, a local resident.

“Of course. It might look a bit gloomy in the evening, but this is our home.”

I spoke honestly, but seeing Erik still looking skeptical, I added another sentence.

“And I’m a black belt in Taekwondo. You don’t know Taekwondo, do you? It’s a martial art like jiu-jitsu or karate, but it’s Korean.”

“…You’re a martial arts black belt?”

Erik furrowed his brows as if he’d heard something absurd.

I shrugged and swung my leg out of the already-open car door. Then, after fully stepping out, I bent slightly to look down at Erik.

“Thanks a lot for today. If you ever want to see a Taekwondo kick, just let me know.”

But as soon as I thanked the driver who had opened the door and waited, a familiar voice came from across the street.

“Bii!”

Bii is my Korean name.

Seeing my message that I was almost home, my father had come out to pick me up.

“Dad!”

So now Erik wouldn’t need to worry about me anymore.

I dashed toward my father, waved, and threw myself into his arms.

My dad held me and laughed while glancing at Erik’s car.

“Wow, you kids at school really ride in nice cars.”

“Don’t even mention it, Dad. I had to sit with my knees pressed together the whole time so the seat wouldn’t get scratched.”

We joked like that as we walked toward the corridor-style apartment we had been living in for seven years, while Erik’s car slowly passed by.

“What kind of helpful friend brought you all the way here? Do you have a friend who lives nearby?”

Mom asked brightly, having hurriedly made kimbap for me.

Her face was so radiant that I could never tell her I had come in Erik Branel’s car from Yursholm.

“Well… not a very close friend. I just happened to find out we were going the same way, so I caught a ride.”

“I’ll make some cookies this weekend. Make sure to thank them properly.”

I quickly changed the subject so Mom wouldn’t focus on the friend who had given me a ride.

“Oh, by the way, Mr. Denny came to school today.”

Naturally, Mom’s attention immediately shifted to Mr. Denny. She had been ecstatic even when she heard I had met Liam at school.

“Oh? How was Denny? Did he seem well?”

“He looked completely fine.”

I quickly grabbed a piece of Mom’s kimbap and continued.

“But Mrs. Celine divorced him and returned to Albania several years ago.”

“Oh… Denny must have had a tough time.”

“Yes, and Liam too.”

“I’d love to meet them both sometime.”

I smiled, grateful for Mom’s enthusiastic interest.

In my childhood memories, Mom had always been cheerful and confident. During the first few years when she became wheelchair-bound, she suffered from depression, which was sadder than my own severe lower-body paralysis.

“Mr. Denny and Liam have been pestering me to meet you and Dad. Should we invite them over during the break?”

“That sounds exciting.”

I looked at Mom’s bright face and cautiously asked,

“How was your hospital appointment today?”

Since the accident seven years ago, hospitals had become terrifying places for our family.

“Nothing special. They said nerve recovery is slow, but it’s progressing.”

Thank goodness…

A doctor could have declared my mother’s incomplete paralysis in one sentence, leaving our family to wander in despair for years before even mentioning the possibility of recovery.

Now, Mom can move short distances with crutches, but in our wheelchair-friendly home, she still uses the wheelchair to avoid overexerting herself.

Seeing my relieved face, Mom smiled.

“See? Even without me, Dad helps you, so you can manage. And you’re really working hard on exercises too.”

In fact, Mom was the one who had sent me to Branel.

She had shouted at me to seize the opportunity in front of me, even though I had thought helping her at home was more important than sudden, grateful educational opportunities.

“Not being able to walk doesn’t matter anymore! But I can’t stand the thought of you going anywhere just because I can’t…!”

Then Mom pulled an old-looking account balance statement from her vanity drawer.

My account had a substantial sum of money, and even during the hard times when we moved from a house to a rental apartment, she never used it. It was originally my study abroad fund.

Of course, my childhood dream was to go to the U.S. and become an art historian, but I had assumed Mom had given up on that dream long ago, just like I had.

“It’s a school with an IB curriculum. You can at least try, right?”

Understanding a little of her pleading mood, I knew I had to go to Branel.

“That’s a relief, Mom.”

Anyway, our family no longer seemed precariously perched on a downhill slope. I smiled gently at my mother.

Around the same time, Erik sat across from his personal doctor, Dr. Wilhelmson, on the dimly lit terrace. It was, of course, entirely against Erik’s wishes.

“…I didn’t realize you’d be here.”

In truth, he had roughly expected it, so he wasted time taking a long route back to Zarba. Wilhelmson wouldn’t have gone home either, though.

Dr. Wilhelmson smiled, his expression as difficult to read as ever.

“I heard you were home. It’s a rare chance to have a conversation.”

“…Doctor, you’ve called me more often than my own parents these past two weeks.”

Wilhelmson smiled kindly at Erik, who could not hide a sigh.

“But conversation is best face-to-face, isn’t it?”

Erik closed his mouth and swallowed his dissatisfaction. If it was something that had to be done, it was better to get it over with quickly.

Wilhelmson seemed to notice Erik’s attitude and clasped his hands together in front of his chest. Erik, having met the doctor for ten years, knew this meant the counseling session had begun.

Sure enough, the first question came.

“Erik, are you sleeping well?”

The days when falling asleep was easy felt far away, almost impossible to recall, but Erik simply nodded.

“Lately, the dorm seems a little better than home.”

“Hmm, that’s good to hear. Have you thought about why the dorm might be better?”

Erik shrugged.

“Because there are a lot of people?”

“A lot of people… hmm, how about friends? Made new ones this semester, or fallen out with someone?”

“Pretty much the same as always. You know Branel, Doctor.”

Wilhelmson chuckled. Indeed, he had graduated from Branel too, like the board chair and his spouse.

From the second-floor terrace where they sat, the beautifully lit swimming pool and the expansive lake were in view.

But Erik hadn’t looked outside even once since sitting on the balcony.

Even as the autumn breeze ruffled his dark blonde hair, he only stared at the glass in front of him.

His once emerald-green eyes had rusted at too young an age, and now they were completely frozen.

Wilhelmson felt a pang of pity for his long-time patient, who was also his friend’s son.

“You still don’t want to talk about what happened in the summer?”

Finally, when he asked, Erik’s green eyes slowly met Wilhelmson’s gaze.

“Yes.”

The refusal was short and firm.

Wilhelmson smiled bitterly and nodded.

“Alright. It’s okay. Call me anytime you want to talk, even in the middle of the night.”

“Gasp…!”

Even as I woke from sleep, gasping for breath, the sound of gunfire from the dream echoed in my ears.

—Bang!