One Year Since the Escape

The article about President Lee Jo-won visiting Nami's hospital room right after returning from his overseas trip seemed to calm public opinion somewhat. But when follow-up reports revealed that the floral tributes had been dumped in a landfill, the people's anger only grew.

Is she really fed up with Korea? Is she going to up and leave for America?

Eventually, on Saturday, June 10, 2051, at 10:30 a.m., President Lee Jo-won chaired a meeting with his chief secretaries. In his opening remarks, he directly mentioned the operation to eradicate Walpurgis. He also announced plans to request the UN forces' timeline records of the incident—a move that unexpectedly drew fire from both the ruling and opposition parties. The ruling party criticized it as a reckless decision that undermined trust with allies and jeopardized national security. The opposition blasted it as a stalling tactic when the National Intelligence Service and Defense Security Command needed to be turned upside down immediately. The media, fueled by outrage, cheered wildly.

If patriotic "Korea-pride" videos blew up on VTube, then the mainstream news outlets' so-called "Korea-bashing" clips guaranteed views. OECD stats like "Youth Suicide Rate #1," "Elderly Poverty Rate #1," "Annual Working Hours #1" and so on. The public preferred blaming external forces for their harsh lives rather than looking inward, and the media fanned those flames.

But there was hopeful news too. The medical team led by Professor Dong Jin-su from the Department of Cardiology had successfully completed surgery related to Nami's Aura Heart condition. With that, people who had been holding their breath finally exhaled and turned their attention back to her whereabouts.

Nami's Twish streaming lobby hung in heavy silence. Viewers couldn't tear themselves away despite knowing no stream was coming anytime soon—their plight was heartbreaking.

Three people received online invites from Nami: 'HoyaMuyaHo', 'SaveGradStudent', and 'CatKyomiIsTheBest'.

All top fans of Nami's streams, they shared that in common.

The winners of her first Twish community event ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠giveaway couldn't hide their excitement.

* * *

"Happy eighth birthday to our Nami!"

The dark room lit up in an instant. I rubbed my eyes, groped for the bed button, and sat up. The voice belonged to Professor Cheon. He'd timed it perfectly for midnight. Adella had beaten him to the punch, though.

"What? You stayed up this late just to wish me happy birthday?"

"And I told you to turn on the light when using your phone. It'll ruin your eyes."

"Either wish me happy birthday or nag—pick one."

"Hahaha."

Professor Cheon, who usually hit the hay at 10 p.m., had somehow toughed it out late. A pretty strawberry cream cake sat on the table, and in his hands was what I assumed was my birthday gift, wrapped in teddy bear paper.

"Was worried you'd bring sweet potato cake."

"I know your tastes inside out."

At Professor Cheon's urging, we'd moved to a much larger VIP room. It had a reception area, kitchen, bedroom, and even a side room with constant medical staff—fully equipped. The homey interior made it hard to believe we were in a hospital, easing the tension. If anything, it distracted from the insane cost of a VIP suite.

"A present?"

"Wanna open it?"

"What could it be... Kinda exciting."

"It's perfect for you."

With Professor Cheon's bold claim, I untied the ribbon slowly, curiosity sparkling in my eyes. The teddy bears on the wrapping crumpled as I went, but my face was probably beaming with joy. Right in the center of the pristine white box was a logo I knew well.

"Figured something like this suits you better than Rolex or Omega."

"Whoa... But if it's just a watch inside, I'll be super disappointed. You get me?"

"Hahaha, no way. Go on, open it."

The doctor said no strenuous heart activity for a while. Professor Cheon could be thoughtless here. Heart pounding, I peeled off the seal and eased open the box. The logo was stamped boldly on the lid, screaming luxury. I pulled out the long, cushioned object and stretched it out.

Like a flute but smaller—piccolo-sized rod gleaming silvery.

"Portable Transmutation Circle Drafter...!"

Also called a wand—an expensive tool. With a luxury label? Price unimaginable.

"Try it?"

For mages, a wand was like a clone—skipped tedious recording, injected optimal mana. Couldn't hide my excitement now. Didn't know controls perfectly, but no biggie.

"What's its name?"

"IWC Reminiscence."

"Reminiscence? Kinda sentimental for IWC."

"Like it? Not too heavy?"

"Love it... Shoulda thanked you before opening. Feels like I'm just wand-obsessed now."

Couldn't put ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠it down—hugged Professor Cheon tight, wand in hand.

"Thank you..."

"Glad you love it."

"Thanks for adopting a kid like me."

"...!"

Felt his hand tremble against my back.

"Been thinking awhile. I'm super lucky. Seven rough years? Whatever—ninety happy ones ahead."

"......"

The imposing grandpa vibe gone—Professor Cheon gazed misty-eyed.

"Today's exactly one year. Since escaping the capsule. Sometimes wonder what'd happen without meeting you."

Professor Cheon was wonderful. Understood a newbie-to-the-world kid's struggles—like a newborn experience-wise.

"Lately realize: few as great and kind as you. So... thanks for raising me. Not going anywhere—don't misunderstand...!"

"Thank you..."

"No... I'm thankful. For real."

Silence hung. Gratitude felt awkward, ticklish. Unsure how to continue. I broke it.

"What made you decide to adopt me for sure?"

His lips parted, hesitated. Too serious—switched topics quick.

"Never mind, just casual. Uh, birthday party? Text apologies?"

"Invite 'em here."

"Here?"

Glanced around—bigger than our living room.

"Okay?"

"Of course."

Poked head out curtain to peer at first floor. 19th story—fuzzy view, but crowds outside. No white patient gowns anywhere. Reporters? Vtubers? Politicians or activists? Megaphones boomed occasionally.

"Tough breaking through..."

"I'll greet at the entrance."

"Haha, got it. Tell the kids."

Chatted more, then he said goodnight and killed the lights.

Like its name Reminiscence, past year flashed panorama-quick. Clutching my new wand like a teddy, faint lullaby in ears, I drifted into sweet sleep.

"I miss you... Mom..."