The Strange Flowerpot (4)
"C-can't... can't win."
I shouted in a trembling voice. It wasn't just the extreme difference in their appearances and sizes. I'd seen her face every enemy until now with a resolute expression and fight valiantly, but even her face had gone pale.
"Run!"
My words probably wouldn't reach her, but I yelled them anyway. The mana beast ant that had revealed itself at the entrance of the ant burrow slammed down its front leg with a thud. She stumbled, fell flat on her butt, and scrambled to her feet without even thinking to grab the arrows she'd dropped. She bolted without looking back.
For some reason, that monstrous ant didn't chase her out of the burrow—it just watched. But I couldn't tear my eyes away.
My mind was a whirlwind. What the hell was that ant? Why had something like that appeared? And what could I do to help her break through this crisis?
Why is she alone?
Only now did the fundamental question hit me.
Why had she come here by herself? The moment I'd discovered her probably wasn't long after she'd arrived in the flowerpot. But she seemed strangely accustomed to it all. Gathering alone, tending the bonsai alone, building her house alone, hunting alone—as if it were the most natural thing in the world. And crucially, she didn't seem flustered about ending up here. Nothing like my own shock when I first saw her.
There had to be some story behind it, but no way to hear it.
"..."
My thoughts kept spiraling without end, and before I knew it, evening had fallen. Skipping dinner had left me starving as a side effect.
After witnessing that shocking monster at the ant burrow and returning home, the first thing she did was climb the bonsai using a rope twisted from cut-up handkerchiefs clenched in her teeth, heading to a high spot. She looped the rope over a high branch, spread out the blanket draped over her body, and fashioned a hammock, then lay down in it. The raw fear was palpable—clear anxiety that the mana beast ant might come charging in.
How could I feel at ease watching that?
I needed to eat, but I couldn't bring myself to leave the flowerpot.
"Seung-hyun, you looked wiped out this morning, but you're good now? Hey, into miniatures as a hobby?"
"Huh? Oh, not really a hobby... just browsing."
Monday, the day every office worker despises, and its drowsy lunchtime. With everyone still shaking off their Monday blues, taking their rest in their own ways, the team leader wandered over, glanced at my monitor, and chuckled.
On my screen was a site selling various miniature items. Naturally, I was hunting for things that could help the 'elf' back home, the one consuming all my focus.
I'd pulled an all-nighter searching, found no clever solutions, and now here I was, still at it.
"Compound bow? Got that hobby too?"
"Just looked cool..."
As I closed the browser tab, I accidentally showed him another screen. If miniatures weren't an option, maybe I could scale down real items and send them in. Watching yesterday's fight, I'd thought a machine bow packed with modern tech might outperform the crude one she'd whittled herself.
"Whatever, doesn't matter. When Team 3 gets back later, we'll have a flood of footage again. You'll handle the editing, right, Seung-hyun?"
"Ugh, yeah, of course."
Of course I would. That's how I made money to eat and live.
But I couldn't do it with a smile like I was giving the team leader now.
Like most people in this era, I was doomed to be chained to labor and money.
"Phew."
The miniatures and compound bows I'd just browsed? All cost money. Even if it was for her, I didn't have the luxury to bleed myself dry helping her.
"An Hyo-jin's videos are racking up views as expected."
"Right? Forget skills or whatever—visuals are everything."
"Her ad revenue looks pretty solid too. Man, getting paid to sit around is enviable. The company handles all the editing and management anyway."
A deputy manager passing by chatted idly with the team leader. My ears perked up at "videos" and "money."
The few clips dormant on my phone right now? They were all about the elf. In an age overflowing with every concept imaginable, no one cared if you believed it or not. It was all about the fun factor.
I had no idea if others would like them, but I got lost in that serene immersion watching her, oblivious to time. Could I upload them and make some cash?
But doing that meant secretly filming and posting her without consent. My conscience prickled at the thought.
"Damn it."
In the end, after tearing at my hair, I decided to put it on hold. If and when I could properly communicate with her someday. Then I'd push forward with it.
Payment complete. I'm insane.
In the end, the gift for her current crisis came at the cost of my own flesh. But I didn't regret it.
Opportunity favors the bold. Encounters might be chance, but what follows is up to my choices. I just wanted to extend this bond a little further with that nameless, beautiful elf.
"Team leader, I think I'll finish the rest at home."
"Yeah, makes sense. Why not head out early and wrap it up there?"
"Sure, I'll finish at home then."
Of course, I'd pay the price for it.
That afternoon, instead of overtime, I grabbed my work and headed home.
"Mm."
I got home around 7 p.m. Even with the perk of a job where I could work from home, the sun had already set by arrival.
Rushing to the flowerpot, I groaned inwardly at the sight of her preparing dinner. After testing toothpicks and seeing her use them well, I'd sent a bunch more as building material—and she was steadily putting them to good use. She'd made several torches from scraps of handkerchief cloth and such, lighting up her surroundings.
The terror from that mana beast ant yesterday clearly lingered. In the midst of those bright torches, she sat with a hardened face, quietly sharpening arrows.
What bothered me most was the smile gone from her frozen, rigid expression. I was seriously anxious if the items I'd ordered would even help.
Making clothes? Shoes?
Once the arrows were done, she started on something else. Truth be told, most of her actions boiled down to crafting something.
At night it got cold, so she'd wrap herself in a cape from cut handkerchief cloth over her thin, light clothes. Her bare feet on the rough dirt worried me, so I'd scaled down hoodies, other clothes, and sneakers to send—but she'd tried them on once, then carefully set them aside without wearing them again.
She seemed to find wrapping her exposed limbs or anything on her feet suffocating.
Instead, she'd made sandals from wood and cloth. Uncomfortable-looking homemade ones laced up to her shins.
If it's sandals, maybe she'll wear these. I stood up.
Come to think of it, I had women's sandals in the shoe cabinet at home. A mistaken delivery meant for someone else that I'd forgotten to return. Who'd have thought they'd come in handy like this?
"---..."
A pair of gray sandals dropped from the sky with a plop. She startled, picked them up, and looked heavenward.
It might come off as a creepy voyeur peeking from below, but I wanted to make my presence obvious. To let her know she wasn't alone.
And hope that helped.
Did it work? She smiled again.
And didn't stop there. She suddenly stood, grabbed a wooden stick meant for arrows, and started drawing on the ground.
Not a simple picture. Winding, but following a consistent pattern—a script, a writing system.
"No idea what it says."
I shook my head with a wry smile. No way could I read the script of elves, whose existence I'd doubted just days ago.
But somehow, I felt like I understood the gist. So I scribbled a reply on a Post-it from my desk and sent it down.
The tiny yellow square fluttered from the sky. She reached out and caught it.
Of course, she couldn't read it either. But seeing her greet me toward the heavens and tuck it preciously into her bosom, I was convinced she'd understood my heart.
No early night for me today either?
Only after she fell asleep did I return to my room. She'd dozed off before 10, but with work brought home to finish, I collapsed at my computer in the dead of night, face haggard, and passed out.