The Thinking Wall
Even with my basic handiwork skills, I thought I could manage somehow.
“Ughhh…”
Looking at the result in front of me now, it seemed I had been sorely mistaken.
There were more problems than I could count.
The leather thickness was uneven, leaving a bumpy surface.
Since I didn’t know how to sew, I had tried riveting and welding instead. Some spots were slightly scorched, while others hadn’t bonded properly and were peeling away.
And above all…
‘If she carries this sheath together with that shield-sword…’
She would look like nothing short of a berserker.
A sheath that resembled a monster’s carcass slapped together in a hurry.
And from within it, that grotesque shield protruding.
If people saw Sua wearing that and immediately losing her reason to rampage wildly, what would they think?
“Hmm.”
I glanced over my shoulder.
Sua was still fast asleep.
‘…She’ll figure it out on her own.’
Wasn’t it enough that I had gone to the trouble of making her a weapon?
The sheath had been an extra service anyway.
I nodded to myself and carried the finished(?) sheath out into the yard.
In one corner sat the shield-sword, left alone like something quarantined.
It was still a weapon without a name.
‘When I made Sawol, the name came to me instinctively.’
This time, even while washing it and after thinking it over again and again, nothing felt quite right.
‘It’s not on the level of Sawol, after all…’
A little disappointing.
When I forged Daon’s weapon, I had poured in her entire life, her fighting style, everything, over a long period of time.
This time, the only material I had was Sua’s rough, reckless combat method.
‘Can’t really blame myself for feeling let down.’
Still, it wasn’t a failure, so leaving it completely nameless felt awkward too.
Thud, thud.
Standing right in front of the shield-sword made its appearance even clearer.
A weapon that had once radiated a savage aura while devouring red magic stones.
And, to borrow Daon’s words, an avant-garde sheath.
Seeing them side by side in reality rather than imagination, I could almost believe they belonged to some cultist group crawling up from the abyss instead of a hunter.
“…A name.”
I was still mulling it over, the weapon’s ominous presence reflected in my eyes, when—
“Ugh… ah…”
A zombie-like groan came from behind me.
“D-don’t touch that…”
I turned to peek and saw Sua stumbling toward me, still half out of her mind as she muttered.
Her body was rail-thin, her eyes unfocused.
“…Maybe it suits her after all.”
It was a rather satisfying sight.
She looked exactly like a madwoman straight out of a painting—no, a perfect berserker.
‘Is that how it works…?’
Anyway.
“Ugh… thank you—no, sorry—no, thank you…”
“Sua.”
“Y-yes…?”
That nameless shield-sword had definitely found the right owner.
It had no name.
Not yet, anyway.
“You give it a name.”
The moment I said that, the shield-sword left my hands, but I didn’t feel much regret.
It had been forged solely from Sua’s wild, reckless fighting style—raw power, nothing more.
So the final touch should come from the one who would truly wield it.
“Me…?”
“Yeah.”
I wanted to make something perfect.
This shield-sword wasn’t perfect.
Because of that, I had no lingering attachment.
“Uh, uhh…”
As Sua fumbled through the air, her cloudy eyes gradually regained their usual light.
Once she had collected herself a little—
“F-Flame Tooth?”
“……Yeah, sure.”
I didn’t want anyone finding out I had made that shield-sword.
But what could I do?
I crouched down, slid the sheath over the shield-sword, tied the leather straps to seal it neatly, and held it out to Sua.
“I can touch it now…?”
Sua asked again, double-checking.
Watching her, I suddenly remembered something I had forgotten.
“Ah, right.”
“W-why…?!”
She looked like she regretted her earlier greedy behavior and backed away in a panic.
“Follow me.”
Retracing the path Sua had retreated along, I set the sheath down and led her to a corner of the yard.
Gulp.
The sound of her swallowing nervously.
I listened in silence and pointed at one wall of the house connected to the yard.
“Press your face right up against that and stand there.”
“Y-yes!”
Sua nodded with determination and followed my instructions.
“Attention!”
“Yes!”
“Hands straight up!”
“H-huh?”
I ignored her question and approached the wall her gaze was fixed on.
I raised my index finger, channeled heat, and wrote a single phrase.
[Thinking Wall]
“Stay like that until I say you’re done.”
This was nothing short of punishment.
Freedom was precious.
It was something I had come to understand painfully after escaping the endless time in the forge that had felt like eternity.
To waste these precious moments of freedom—moments that should be savored every second—by simply standing and staring at a wall.
Ignoring Sua’s teary, resentful stare, I turned away with a spin.
She needed to reflect.
*
Sua stood there for about an hour.
The moment I told her she was done, she apologized repeatedly to both Daon and me and tried to head home.
But it was already far too late. She decided to stay one more night.
And the spot where she had stood was now occupied by someone else.
“Sorry.”
It was me.
“Y-you don’t have to…”
I shook my head at Daon’s attempt to stop me.
I hadn’t noticed, but while carving the letters, I had accidentally drilled a hole clean through to the other side of the wall.
“Hmm.”
What defined a leader’s dignity?
Accountability.
If I imposed something on others, I couldn’t make an exception for myself.
I clenched my fists and calmly faced my mistake.
“Th-then just five minutes…”
“Huh…? Uh, okay.”
In my opinion it was only a three-minute mistake, but it ended up being a little longer.
I tried not to look flustered as I stared intently at the letters illuminated by the living-room light.
One second, five seconds, one minute.
Analyzing the crooked letters and the wall’s pattern, I waited endlessly.
After counting exactly 301 seconds, I stepped away from the Thinking Wall.
“Mmm…”
Then I hesitantly opened the yard door and stepped inside.
Daon was sweeping up stone dust from the floor with a dustpan and broom.
In front of her, I could clearly see the dust still crumbling from the wall and the holes letting in the late-winter wind.
“It’s really fine, so don’t worry about it.”
Daon said that, but my heart felt heavy.
It had been such a cozy den…
“Just a moment.”
I quickly wiped my feet on the mat Daon had laid out and sprinted toward the front door.
I grabbed the small money pouch.
Inside, after I had already paid for the materials and the Dry Room, only empty dust remained.
“Hmm.”
Honestly, I had no idea how much repairing the wall would cost.
But asking and paying the exact amount to Daon would make me seem too calculating.
“I’m heading out for a bit!”
“Huh? At this hour?!”
The sun had set long ago.
It was time for most people to be asleep, but for me it was actually a comfortable hour.
‘Something about the dark just feels relaxing.’
I burst out the front door and ran along the magnetic field to my usual spot.
Near Namsan Tower—my secret place.
“Hmm.”
Step, step.
I looked around, confirmed there was no one nearby, and approached the familiar tree stump.
‘…Would Daon hate it?’
She had just finished bathing, so getting dirt all over myself again would be a bit much.
This time I used only my soles to dig, made a loop with my fingertips, and carefully unzipped the money pouch.
I knew the location of my secret spot by heart, and the spot where I had buried the pouch as well.
And the amount of cash inside…
“H-huh…?!”
By heart.
My memory couldn’t be wrong.
Yet what I saw now was clearly a reduced stack of bills.
My mind went blank.
“So what I felt back then… wasn’t just my imagination…?”
Earlier today, when I had taken out the money to buy materials, I had definitely felt it was strangely lighter.
I had dismissed it as just my mood at the time, but…
“A thief…”
It hadn’t been my imagination.
Both my memory and instincts were certain.
The amount in this pouch had decreased—subtly, but unmistakably.
“Grr…!”
Infuriating.
It wasn’t even that much money, but the fact that someone had discovered my den—and stolen from me—was infuriating.
“I’ll find them…”
Too angry to hold back tears, I roughly wiped my eyes with my sleeve and made a firm vow.
When I found them…
“You’ll be sentenced to twelve hours at the Thinking Wall.”
I clenched my fists and swore it.