Into the Blizzard

I thought I'd walked into the wrong classroom.

Why on earth was Kwon Haeseong sitting in our room?

"What are you doing over there?"

He was perched on the single teacher's chair tucked into the corner of the classroom — a chair that, as far as I remembered, had been shoved even further into the corner than usual.

At my entrance, Kwon Haeseong shot up from the chair like a man caught red-handed.

"Ah, I had something I wanted to ask you…."

Something to ask?

I pulled the observation journal off the shelf where it was filed and walked over to stand in front of him.

"Go ahead and ask. I only have to finish writing my observations today, and then I'm done."

When he offered me the chair with a hesitant little gesture, I accepted without ceremony and sat down. He lowered himself cross-legged onto the floor directly across from me.

What could he possibly want to ask that he'd come all the way here?

And he was nervous on top of it, no less.

"……"

"……"

Yet even after a considerable stretch of time, Kwon Haeseong showed no sign of opening his mouth. I resolved to be patient, held out, and held out — until thirty minutes had crawled past and I finally spoke up myself.

"Is this about a personal problem?"

"……No."

"Then is it some interpersonal issue that's hard to talk about?"

"That's also… no."

"Trouble at work, maybe? Thinking of quitting?"

"……N-no… absolutely not!"

Then what the hell is it, you giant lump of a man?

Don't tell me you've caught the no-disease from the kids too?

"So what is it you want to ask?"

"……It's just."

I wanted to tear my hair out from the frustration.

It's been a while since a person tested my patience like this.

I was glancing at the clock, watching the closing time inch closer, when my gaze drifted toward my bag sitting nearby — just as a voice drifted up from inside it, from the white puppy plush.

…Remarkable, honestly.

He'd managed to stir up that kind of emotion even in Nabi.

Several more suffocating minutes crawled by before…

…Kwon Haeseong finally began, haltingly, to speak, his voice cowed and small.

"I, um…."

"Yes."

Yes, that's it — say it fast so we can both go home!

"Dayeonie and Wongangie haven't been eating their meals lately…."

…Huh?

After all that waiting, the answer he'd finally wrestled out was so trivial it felt almost anticlimactic. I stared at Kwon Haeseong, my soul briefly leaving my body in an entirely different sense.

Seriously? That's all it was? You could've just said it with confidence…

Drip.

"……?"

Hold on.

Something had just fallen to the floor.

Something transparent. Liquid.

…A tear?

I gaped at Kwon Haeseong in horror. The massive frame hung its head so low that his face was completely hidden.

Y-you're not — you're not actually crying, are you?

Nabi, that's going a bit far.

Y-you're not actually crying, are you?

Nabi, that's going a bit far.

I was at a complete loss.

When had an adult man of his sheer tonnage ever last stood in front of me with a reason to cry? I was confident when it came to soothing children, but comforting a ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠grown adult… yeah, not so much.

Okay. First, I'd gently calm him down, then ease into some empathetic words —

"Sir, let's just take a breath first."

"……"

"Life doesn't always go the way we want it to. And children especially — well, you know, um…?"

I was straining every ounce of gentleness I had, weaving my sentence together — when the bowed head snapped up. Kwon Haeseong swept his dripping hair back and looked straight at me.

Dripping hair?

"A-ah…! It was so hot I splashed some water on myself before coming over. And now it's all over your floor…. I'm so sorry. I'll wipe it up."

"……"

Oh, for crying out loud.

He wasn't crying?

"Where's a mop…?"

He was scrambling up off the floor in a fluster, and I fixed him with a level look.

"Leave it. It'll dry on its own."

On second thought, my face was probably drying too — from sheer embarrassment.

What made it worse was knowing this bear of a man hadn't done it on purpose. I nudged my shoulder toward him, planning to follow my comforting line with a friendly pat —

'If I'd actually done that, I might've bitten my tongue and jumped out the window.'

Kwon Haeseong faltered at my words, shuffled, then awkwardly settled back down onto the floor. Fine — dignity was beyond saving, so let's just get to the point.

"So. Dayeonie and Wongangie haven't been eating well lately?"

The bear nodded hard, and I paused to think it over.

'Wongangie and Dayeonie are a different breed entirely from our little monsters.'

I knew it well, because I'd kept an eye on the Seal Class for the two days the twins were banned from the Dolphin Class after setting the room on fire — the time it took to repair everything. Two whole days of observing those two up close.

'They're unbelievably mild-mannered, both of them.'

Which was exactly why I'd been inwardly shocked yesterday when I heard they'd caught the no-disease too.

Kids really are just kids, huh.

"Actually, for gentle, well-behaved children like Wongangi and Dayeoni, starting to express their own will can be a perfectly good sign. Even if that expression takes the form of refusal."

It was a question I myself agonized over from every angle.

"……Yes, I'd thought of that too. But…."

But?

"They do say it's tasty."

…Huh?

"They won't eat, but they keep saying the food's delicious. They don't seem to actually be chewing, and the trays don't empty at all — ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠but when I ask, they say it's good. And it doesn't feel like a lie, either…."

"Well, that's a new one."

"…It is, isn't it."

"Both of them are like that?"

"Yes. Both…."

What was this? What was actually going on?

I was calmly replaying the twins' past behavior in my head, grinding away at the problem — when Kwon Haeseong pulled a familiar notepad out of the pocket sewn onto his apron.

That was…

Any trace of its former condition was gone; the thing was creased and tattered, worn down to a rag.

'That's the one he used to scribble in secretly off in a corner, isn't it.'

He opened the notepad and passed it to me, gentle as could be. The contents read as follows:

The meticulous scheduling and handwriting spoke to a considerable investment of care. I studied it quietly, then flipped idly to the back page —

These were… astonishingly, things I'd tossed out to him as "tips."

You wrote even that down?

That one I'd explained on the spot when I caught him about to put them down for naps, not knowing any better.

The next page. And the next after that.

My advice, a full day's schedule, and comments that looked like they'd been scavenged off the internet and out of parenting books — all of it marched on in an unbroken line.

I looked at the bear before me with eyes that were, despite myself, a little proud.

'So instead of mugwort and garlic, this one decided to live on foraged information!'

Kwon Haeseong watched me with bewildered eyes as I gave a slow, wobbly nod.

Good man.

I'd worried about him because of that one deeply pathetic corner of his, but maybe I'd been wrong about him after all.

And thanks to this notepad, I was able to pinpoint the cause almost immediately.

"You only recently stopped putting them down for naps, didn't you?"

"Ah… yes. It's been about a week now."

Hm. Well, that would explain it.

"The 'it's delicious' — I don't think that part's a lie."

"…Th-then, why?"

"Because they're sleepy."

"…I'm sorry?"

Picture it: up until now, their whole routine had been lunch, a little playtime, and then a nap — and one week ago, that nap was cut off cold.

'They'd be dying of sleepiness.'

They eat lunch, they eat a snack — and then they don't get to sleep. Repeat that for a week straight, and of course a kid can nod off mid-bite of rice, or mid-bite of snack.

"It's not that they won't eat — they're simply too sleepy to. But you don't need to worry. Give it about a month and they'll adapt like little demons and eat just fine again."

The kids I'd seen on my teaching practicums and volunteer stints had all been the same, so I doubted these two would be any different.

"Ah… if that's all it is… then that's a relief."

Relief washed over Kwon Haeseong's face, and his shoulders sagged. I closed the notepad and handed it back to him.

"You're doing well. Stop worrying so much."

I meant that sincerely.

Certainly, his habit of asking the moment he didn't know something was admirable — but this was hardly the sort of crisis that warranted tying himself into that many knots.

"……I'm afraid I'll make a mistake, because I don't really know what I'm doing. Back then — I mean, before — staying tense was a habit, even if only because of my environment. But this place is so safe, I find myself… going slack."

What kind of environment does it take for vigilance to become a habit, exactly?

But I shelved the question for the moment and reached for a stock, comfort-appropriate line instead. And then —

"Mistakes are…"

"Everyone makes them. But the results of a mistake are always the worst."

…?

Kwon Haeseong had swallowed my words whole, speaking again without a single breath between. His pitch-black eyes brimmed over with pure conviction.

Look at this guy.

"Even something done with good intentions is useless if the outcome is bad. I never want to repeat that kind of mistake again. And going hungry — going hungry is dangerous."

As he said it, both his fists clenched tight.

I watched in silence as the notepad crumpled mercilessly inside his palms.

Come to think of it, his status window —

Right on cue, there it was.

The thing to pay attention to here had to be this:

the Status Condition.

…I didn't need to chew it over to grasp the rough meaning.

'A textbook case of a man whose past has him by the ankle.'

And that ankle-trapping past probably had something to do with the scenario chapters sitting at the very bottom of the status window —

I narrowed my eyes. To look more closely.

NEW?

A brand-new chapter that hadn't existed before.

And the title read Mistake.

A word that dovetailed precisely with the present situation.

A strange certainty began to bloom in my mind.

If this newly appeared chapter was connected to Kwon Haeseong's current status condition…

'Then wouldn't it be all right to check it right now?'

Before I knew it, my finger was hovering beneath the status window.

The instant I pressed down on my finger, regret flooded me.

…Hold on. What exactly did I think this was?

But regret was already too late.

The world was turning upside down.

Whirling dizziness swamped me, and just as I was losing my grip on consciousness, my eyes fluttered open —

"Ah."

I was standing in the middle of a blizzard.

And wearing Kwon Haeseong's body, no less.