Chapter 7
Chapter 7
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Translator: MadScientist
Chapter: 7
Chapter Title: December 25th, Seven Years Later
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Opening my eyes, I saw an unfamiliar ceiling.
A fragrance brushed past my nose, a mix of lavender and cherry.
The bed was also something I'd never seen before, yet somehow incredibly comfortable.
As if I'd been using it for years.
'A hotel room?'
A TV and fridge in one corner, a tidy room, a bathroom connected right to it.
At first glance, it looked like a decent hotel, but some sense of wrongness lingered.
"Wha—ugh."
I quickly shut my mouth as I tried to speak.
My throat stung like it was resuming its function after years of disuse.
Maybe thanks to the humidifier in the room, my lips weren't chapped, but my throat was parched beyond anything I'd experienced.
I sat up.
Something tugged at me.
'An IV?'
That thing they stick in hospital patients?
Why would I, whose one strong suit was a sturdy body, be hooked up to this?
Then, finally, memories flashed back like a hammer blow to the head.
A light so bright it burned my eyes.
The overwhelming mass and force slamming into my body.
And, and...
- Legend!!!
"Urk."
The sensations from that day felt vividly real, and I bolted to the bathroom.
Something ripped from my arm with a crunch, but I had no time to care.
"Urghhh."
I shoved my head into the toilet and dry-heaved repeatedly, but nothing came up.
Probably because my stomach was empty.
A good thing, at least—no visual damage.
It didn't take long to realize that was wishful thinking.
"Hurk?!"
Vomiting on an empty stomach hurt more than I'd imagined.
Stomach acid refluxed, stabbing my throat, mixing with saliva for a high-five with the toilet water.
After a while of dry-heaving, I stood and looked in the mirror.
'Have I aged a bit?'
Maybe from the ordeal.
There was a slightly haggard, faintly older version of me staring back.
Or... maybe I looked a bit handsomer?
...Nah, too far.
I hurriedly rinsed my mouth with tap water.
The acid washed away with the cool water, and though I wouldn't normally, my thirst was overwhelming, so I gulped it down.
I'd heard Korea's tap water is safe to drink.
Praise be to the water purification systems.
"Ah. Aah."
Steadying myself, I cleared my throat, and my normal voice rang clear.
Then, composing myself, I examined my body closely.
After an accident like that, there must've been surgery.
I wanted to find my scars.
"Hiiik."
They were there.
Proof of that day, on my arms and legs.
My right arm had a scar running from wrist to elbow, and the same on my right leg.
Come to think of it, I'd twisted my body to the right at the end.
No facial scars was a huge relief.
"Guess I should lie back down for now."
My body felt weary; I wanted to lie down again.
I returned to the bed.
On the shelf beside it were dozens of books and something like a phone.
Not mine—maybe Dad left a new one.
I reached for the phone to check the date.
I must've been out for at least a few days; hopefully Myth's debut hadn't passed.
"What? It's not activated."
Unfortunately, the phone wasn't set up.
The date read December 25th.
Only a day unconscious?
That explained why it wasn't activated.
"Wait, just one day?"
Instinctive dread washed over me.
I could still vividly recall that moment anytime.
The absurd mass crushing me, the eerie, chilling sensation of life draining away.
Blood fleeing my body, hot blood covering me yet making me colder.
Death—nothing else described it.
And I'd only been out a day?
Even I, no expert in medicine, knew wounds like these don't heal in a day.
I traced my scars again.
They were fully healed.
New skin covered them like years-old wounds.
"Eh, no way."
Maybe I'd been out much longer?
It's December 25th, so maybe a year?
Anxious about losing a year of my youth, I turned on the phone again to check the year.
20XX, December 25th.
Exactly seven years and one day since that Christmas when I met Myth.
A Christmas a bit late.
I'd opened my eyes after seven years.
I squeezed my eyes shut and pressed the red call button right by the bed.
The moment I called the nurse, two doctors and four nurses—six in total—rushed into my room despite the early dawn.
The doctors stopped me from getting up to greet them and gasped at my condition.
"...This doesn't make sense. No, it really doesn't."
"Why mutter scarily in front of a patient waking after years? What's wrong, Dr. Oh?"
"Dr. Park, come feel this. The muscle mass is off."
Waking to two male doctors kneading my limbs was a bizarre sensation.
Dr. Park joined in and soon wore the same stunned expression as Dr. Oh.
"...? This is a patient after seven years?"
"Told you it was weird. He's in the state of a normal person. Looks like he could walk right away."
"Come on, even so, that's impossible."
"Um, I already went to the bathroom earlier?"
"Really? By yourself?"
"Yes. Before calling the nurses..."
"If you fall, we'll catch you, so try standing?"
I got out of bed and walked around the room.
Standing on one leg as ordered, small jumps, lifting a slightly heavy object,
"Now, Legend, grip my hand tight."
"...Won't that hurt?"
"It's for checking. We'd normally use a grip meter, but this'll do for now. Just need to know if you can hold things and how much."
"Then, excuse me."
"No problem—owaaaah?! Wait, wait!"
Unintentionally causing the doctor pain too.
About two hours of various checks in my room, then the door burst open with two people entering.
Not anyone else—my parents.
Dad headed straight to the doctors, not me.
"How's Seol doing?"
"It's a reunion after seven years; shouldn't you greet him first..."
"No. Status first. Wife can comfort him."
Dad left with the doctors right away.
Mom stayed.
I expected tears, but she smiled brightly as she approached.
"Oh my, my son is awake?"
"...That's pretty casual for a son you haven't seen in seven years."
"I've cried my fill over the past seven. No tears left now."
"...Sorry."
I bowed my head.
She said that, but did she know her lips trembled, her eyes glistened?
Her slightly smudged makeup, her hand shaking like an aspen as she held mine?
She'd probably cried the whole way here, yet smiled.
For me, just awake.
So I wouldn't feel anxious facing the world seven years later.
Like always, like Mom from seven years ago.
'Mom really is strong.'
I hugged her tight.
A bit harder than usual.
To fill even a fraction of those seven years.
"Aigoo, why do this when you never have?"
"Think of it as belated filial piety."
"Enough. You waking up is the greatest piety, you rascal."
Forcing tears from Mom holding them back wasn't right.
Mom and I silently embraced for a while, feeling each other's warmth.
"What have you been up to, Mom?"
"Same as always. Helping your dad a bit, taking design gigs when they come."
"And Sis?"
"Her... we'll talk later. Not a topic for now."
"...Nothing bad happened, right?"
"No. She's doing well as a pro gamer in Europe."
"Huh?! She made the first league? Our sis?"
"Apparently. Goes by 'Emperor' these days."
"Urk."
"What 'urk' to your sister. Urk yourself."
This everyday banter for me was Mom's first in seven years.
Bitter yet heartwarming, we talked endlessly.
I had little to say, so mostly listened to her.
"You can really walk?"
Dad returned from the doctors downstairs during my chat with Mom and asked.
Dad's face was stern as always, unlike Mom's.
I grinned and bounced around.
"Ta-da~."
"Ta-da my foot. After making us worry seven years."
"Honey!"
"...Sorry."
"No need. Just waking is thanks enough."
Dad approached.
Then spread his arms wide and hugged me.
It felt strange.
Maybe because I couldn't recall the last time he'd hugged me.
Not a bad dad, but not affectionate either.
A typical gruff father, his CEO position making him sterner.
"Stay still."
"Yes."
The shoulders I always looked up to trembled.
A faint shake, his throat gulping desperately.
His shoulder dampening a bit.
Dad hugged me tight, so tight.
I knew what it meant without words.
I silently patted his back.
"I'm home."
"Yeah."
"Come on, 'welcome home' is the rule, Dad."
"Quiet."
"Don't hog it selfishly; include me."
"Pfft!"
The three of us hugged.
As if we'd never let this warmth go again.
Maybe because it's Seoul.
White snow fell heavily outside the window.
December 25th.
A day for some, seven years for others.
We felt each other's warmth.
It was surely a Christmas miracle.