The Eipperos Family (11)
Thud, thud!
The sound alone was enough to make anyone wince. A dull, heavy percussion of fists on flesh settled over the park, where the evening glow was already dying. Passersby glanced over, assumed it was just kids roughhousing, and moved on. Not a single soul stepped in to help — not even though it was less a fight than a one-sided beating by a crowd.
But outnumbered as he was, the boy's grit refused to be outnumbered with him. Time and again his classmates knocked him down, and time and again he rose like a roly-poly toy that would not stay toppled.
"Hah... hah...!"
"Yah — that little bastard's up again...!"
"Freak of nature. Does this guy not know how to quit?"
He just kept getting back up after all that? The students clicked their tongues in disgust. The bullied boy's body was a canvas of wounds. Bruises bloomed purplish-blue across his skin, and cuts and scrapes were visible everywhere at a glance. His uniform had long since been ruined from rolling around in the sand, and in the worst spots it had even soaked through with blood. Anyone judging the fight by appearances would have pointed at him without hesitation as the loser.
"..."
And yet even under that one-sided assault, he would not yield. There was nothing in his eyes that admitted defeat. Gritting his teeth, he radiated the will to lunge right back in and land at least one more blow. If he had at least bawled, they could have mocked him — told him he'd lost, fair and square. But even his attackers found themselves unable to laugh.
In the end, they withdrew, unable to break the boy's stubborn, hard-won endurance. Left alone, the boy spat out a bloody wad of phlegm, silently shouldered his bag, and headed home. His expression, however, was anything but bright.
"..."
Evening had fallen pitch-dark by the time he reached the house. The door handle sat right in front of him; all he had to do was open it and step inside. His hand would not rise.
He knew what came next: strip off the bloodstained uniform, throw it in the washing machine, scrub himself clean, and apply medicine so the scars wouldn't set. He'd need plenty of rest to recover, too — and he couldn't be skipping meals. Did he not know all this? Was that why he stood there, refusing to open the door?
No. It wasn't that. The boy understood better than anyone that he couldn't just stand there. If he still didn't open that door, it was for a reason entirely his own.
When the long silence finally broke, the boy gave a hollow little laugh and opened the door at last. The nagging flew at him instantly.
"Oh? The brat's home. Hey, Kim Minhyuk! What the hell were you doing that you're only getting back now?"
A voice as irritated as the scolding itself. His second-oldest sister. She emerged from the master bedroom into the living room, and it didn't take her long to explode.
"God, fuck. Hey. What is this? Don't tell me you went and got in another fight?"
Another fight? That meant he'd fought before. It meant he'd come home looking just like this before, too. And in fact, he had.
But right now, the words Minhyuk needed most would never reach him. His lingering at the door proved it well enough.
"You retarded piece of shit. Can't you ever just listen when your sister tells you to stop fighting?"
How was anyone supposed to want to open a door and walk into that? His reluctance made perfect sense. The younger sister snickering at him from behind was a bonus. So was the eldest, who drifted out at the commotion, looked at him with contempt, drained a glass of water, and turned right back around.
He'd been bullied and beaten. He'd gritted his teeth and fought back, knocked one of them flat as an example. And there wasn't a speck of fault on his side in any of it. Not one of them asked if he was okay. They weren't, after all, Minhyuk's family.
"Hey. Are you ignoring me? HEY!!"
Minhyuk walked straight past the tirade, into the bathroom, as if he hadn't heard a word of it. The moment he turned on the shower, cold water came out. His youngest sister had deliberately shut off the hot line. Even so, the uniform had to be washed. School waited tomorrow.
With his injured hands, he washed it himself. Scrubbed at the blood until his arms ached — though the throbbing pain of a body beaten by fists was something he'd forgotten long ago. Every time the water touched his wound-covered skin, a stinging flare shot through him. Even so, Minhyuk simply went on quietly doing what needed doing.
And that night, whether from washing so long in the cold water, he came down with a vicious cold. More painful and far longer-lasting than the one he'd suffered through his second sister's birthday.
It was cold, and it hurt. The chills had sunk deep into his bones and refused to leave. His body temperature plummeted. He had reached the state where someone needed to look after him. Anyone who had so much as touched that freezing body would never have let it slide.
And yet — how could the timing be so cruel? Misfortune piled up from every direction. The next day happened to be a weekend. Outside, winter had passed into early spring, cherry blossoms blooming as if to announce the season, and the weather was so bright and warm it would have been perfect for a family outing.
"We're going out with Mom, so just focus on healing those wounds, you idiot!"
So shouted his second sister, who left medicine outside Minhyuk's door on her way out. Ointment, bandages, anti-inflammatories — everything he needed was there. But it was all utterly useless. No one entered the room where Minhyuk lay in bed.
And so he had to fight off the chills alone, in wretched solitude. Without a single thread of warmth reaching him.
Faced with that scene unfolding vividly before my eyes, I realized, dimly, that I was dreaming. And so—
'Goddammit.'
A curse spilled out of me before I could stop it. Why did that memory, of all things, have to surface as a dream? I'd merely gone to sleep, and yet it left me feeling filthy all over. Sure, the chills had been bad back then, but looking back now, it was a memory I could have simply forgotten. Why did my connection to that family have to be so damn persistent?
Desperate to wake up, I tossed and turned. I didn't want to dream this dream ever again. ...And yet. Strangely enough, my body felt heavier than usual. But something else registered before the weight did.
Warmth. It was the warm, gentle heat — the very thing I had longed for so desperately in the dream I'd just had. The warmth flowing along my upper body spread soaked through my entire frame. Soft, and snug, and... wrapped around me by something warm.
'What is this?'
Trying to identify it, I opened my eyes. And to my astonishment—
There was Harnie, asleep, pressed flush against my body.
Ten seconds, maybe. I could only stare at her, mouth hanging open. Because I had to retrace how on earth she had come to be here.
I churned through my memories of the conversation before I'd fallen asleep. There had been two consecutive mistakes on my part — and she'd said that if I'd been in normal condition, there was no way I would have missed them. I had to concede that point. In response, she'd offered me a tea to help me adapt to the demonic energy as the remedy for Dipeshan Syndrome, warning that it would send me into sleep. She'd also mentioned that my body's defense mechanisms would kick in and lengthen my rest, and that she'd use it to verify whether my excuse was true.
Well... I followed all of that. But—
'Then why... were you sleeping right next to me?'
That question remained unanswered.
-Shff.
'Eek!'
Still staring blankly at Harnie, still not quite adjusted to any of this, I shifted my body without thinking — a big, careless movement. And then—
"Mmnh...?"
"..."
Our eyes met. Hers and mine. We were close. Close enough for breath to touch. Her warm exhale teased across my skin, and the drowsily blinking violet eyes widened — a moment later, into a full-blown earthquake of shock.
...And then a scream exploded, loud enough to burst my eardrums.
"Kyaaah!!"
She snatched up the blanket in a flash, and I froze solid as stone. Judging by the bare shoulder that had been showing...
Wait. Was she dressing?
"Y-you...!"
"I didn't do anything! I didn't do ANYTHING, I swear!"
What was I supposed to have done in the span of waking up and taking a look? No — hold on. Before any of that! I never had any intention of touching your body in the first place! ...Although. If I'd been twitching around until I woke her up... did I... touch her? No! There's no way I can admit to that!
In the middle of my confusion, Harnie spread the blanket out and wrapped it entirely around herself. Then—
"Urk—!"
She dropped it straight over my head.
"Would you HOLD STILL?!"
"I didn't lay a hand on your—! Gahk!"
Whether I protested or not, Harnie had no intention of lifting the blanket. If anything, it cinched tighter around me, and she started tying it into knots besides. Just when I was beginning to wonder if a Restrained status effect or outright suffocation was about to pop up, she spoke in a trembling voice.
"If you stay still, I'll let you out in a minute. So just — just don't say anything and hold still for now!"
"...F-fine, I understand."
She sounded thoroughly furious, so I decided to stay put. When told to raise my hands, I raised my hands, meek as a lamb. Meanwhile, Harnie blocked my vision completely with the blanket and tied it down. The hands crushing the blanket finally slackened, I heard the rustle of clothes being straightened out, and a short while later my field of view was liberated as well.
Leaving my arms bound, just in case, I ventured a careful question.
"...Is it, ah... finished?"
Amid the silence, she gave a small nod. Another stretch of quiet followed. For me, and for Harnie alike, it was one of those stretches of time where neither of us could quite find anything to say. I didn't know why, but the whole room felt like it had shot up several degrees.
It was she who broke the awkward atmosphere first.
"It's... morning."
"I'm sorry?"
"Y-you really were exhausted, after all. Don't you remember?"
...Right. If it was morning, that meant the moment I drank that tea yesterday, I'd been out like a light.
"Well, that settles it, doesn't it? You've been pushing yourself too hard. So from now on, you're going to take proper rest. Understood?"
"..."
She declared it with her hands planted firmly on her hips. I wanted to protest that this was just Karsein's body being difficult, but... I decided a clean surrender was simpler.
"Understood. Three hours of sleep a day should do it, right?"
"Yes. Oh — and no naps! Naps don't count!"
That much I could live with. This was, unambiguously, a bet I'd lost. If it were my own body, who knew — but it had now been proven that Karsein's body demanded longer sleep, so I couldn't run it the way I had been.
"Right, s-so... let's have breakfast. I'll go call for it!"
Apparently that earlier memory had been well and truly buried, because she suggested we eat the morning meal together and hurried out of the room. Though for the life of me, I couldn't tell why she was rushing out quite that fast.
The moment she stepped outside, Harnie's face flared scarlet. Unable to shake off the lingering heat, she buried it in both hands.
'What do I do?!'
She'd managed to play it cool on her way out, but the instant she thought about walking back into that room, the scene came rushing back unbidden. The two of them on the sofa, bodies pressed close, trading warmth between them.
'No. That was just... an accident. It happened so I could save him. R-right. That's exactly what it was.'
Harnie steeled herself, doing her best to cool the flush from her cheeks. She let the faint breeze touch her face, trying to chill the heat away. Not that the warmth, once delivered, had already taken up a very different residence around her heart.
-Ba-dump. Ba-dump.