Chapter 8. We Made Fifteen Minutes of Memories
Chapter 8. We Made Fifteen Minutes of Memories
When I opened my eyes the next day, the morning sun was already high in the sky.
“If I leave now, I’ll get there at just about the right time.”
After washing up in a hurry, I climbed into the truck.
Today was the day I was going to visit the home where Daniel’s family lived.
Daniel Reed had been my swim buddy in the Navy SEALs.
He had been my senior, my friend, someone I could trust with my back—more of a family to me than the family that had abandoned me.
He had protected me during our final operation, and because of that, he died in my place.
I miss you more than usual today...
Something in one corner of my chest sank heavily.
That weight probably would never grow lighter for the rest of my life.
I drove the truck along I-10 West.
It was only a little over an hour to Tucson, where Daniel’s family lived. It was not a long drive, but today it felt especially far.
Three whole years had already passed since he left this world, and yet it still did not feel real.
“Hyung... don’t worry.”
(Translator’s Note: Hyung - A Korean term used by a younger man to address an older brother or an older male he is close to.)
I muttered it to myself.
“I’ll look after your family.”
It was something I repeated every time.
But it was also something that always felt insufficient.
A cloudless blue sky stretched over the road.
Unlike the heaviness in my heart, the Arizona weather in June was absurdly bright and clear.
As I drew closer to Tucson, familiar orange-colored rock formations came into view.
The Rincon Mountains overlapped on the left side of the road, and the Santa Catalina Mountains on the right.
I turned the wheel not toward downtown, but toward an old residential neighborhood lined with adobe-colored brick houses and chain-link fences.
And at last, standing in front of a certain house’s front door, I made my voice as bright as I could.
Ding-dong—
“Who is it?”
A familiar voice came from inside.
It belonged to Rachel Reed, Daniel Reed’s wife.
“Rachel! It’s Jason.”
Bang—
“Oh my goodness, Jason! Come in. Have you been well? Are you healthy?”
The front door opened quickly the moment she heard my voice.
At the same time, Rachel came hurrying out from inside and gave me a light hug.
“Yes, I... I’ve been doing well.”
Whenever she asked after me, answering that I had been doing well always made me feel strangely guilty.
“That’s such a relief. Come in quickly. Tea? Or juice?”
“Just a glass of water is fine.”
“Oh, don’t be like that. Have some tea. I happen to have a good one.”
With practiced hands, she set water on to boil.
In the quiet house, the small whistling sound of heating water rang out softly.
“Um, is Noah not home?”
I asked after Noah Reed, their son. He had been a little kid when I first met him, but now he was already in middle school.
“Noah stepped out for a bit. He’ll probably be back soon.”
As I sipped the hot tea she had poured for me, I asked the same question I always asked.
“How have things been lately? No problems?”
“Problems? Haha, none at all. Still, thank you for asking.”
She said it with a gentle smile.
Rachel was not the kind of woman who ever spoke weakly.
That was probably why my hyung, Daniel, had fallen for her.
But there was no way a single mother raising a fifteen-year-old boy alone truly had no problems at all.
Without pressing further, I reached into my pocket and pulled out a paper envelope.
“Here...”
After leaving the Navy SEALs, I had drifted from one construction site to another.
And whenever I managed to save a little money, I would come see her and hand over some living expenses.
This time, thanks to selling the Mustang, I had come into a large sum, so it felt good to be able to put in more than usual.
“No, Jason. I can’t accept this. You really don’t have to do this. You need to let him go now and live your own life.”
Rachel’s face tightened the moment she saw the envelope.
Not once had she ever accepted one of my envelopes easily.
“...I’m doing this so I can keep living. Please accept it.”
I bowed my head deeply and held the envelope out even farther.
“Oh... please... Jason.”
There was moisture in her voice.
I squeezed my eyes shut.
I did not have the courage to look directly at her tears.
I had no right to.
Click—
While we were still going back and forth over her refusing to take the money, I heard the front door open.
It was Noah.
“Oh, Noah, you’re back? Say hello. Uncle Jason came to visit.”
“Hey, Noah! Where’d you go? You’ve grown even more since the last time—”
Happy to see him, I hurriedly tossed the envelope onto the table and waved toward him.
“...Mr. Kwon. Hello.”
But Noah only gave a vague nod as if he had half-heard my greeting, then—
Thud—
went straight into his room and shut the door.
Huh?
Mr. Kwon...?
What happened to Uncle Jason?
Uncle Jason! Look at this. I made it myself! I didn’t even look at the instructions!
It felt like only yesterday that he had been chattering all day long while proudly showing me some unidentifiable robot he had built out of Legos.
Looks like puberty hit him hard.
It was not hard to understand.
My life had been hardest at that age too.
“Noah! Honestly... I’m sorry, Jason. I don’t know why he’s been like that lately.”
“No, it’s fine. Noah must be... dealing with a lot too. Anyway, I should be going now. If anything comes up, please don’t hesitate to call me.”
Now that I had seen Noah’s face, I rose from my seat, planning to head out.
“What? Go where? You haven’t even eaten yet.”
At that, Rachel’s eyes widened.
“Eaten?”
Uh... it was only three in the afternoon...
Though, come to think of it, I had gone the whole day without eating.
In any case, once Rachel’s eyes took on that look, absolutely no one could stop her.
People said married couples grew alike, and in this sort of stubbornness she really was very much like Daniel.
She forced me back down onto the sofa, then rushed into the kitchen and immediately began throwing something together at high speed.
“Jason, you like chicken enchiladas, right? Wait just a little—I’ll make them quickly.”
(Translator’s Note: Enchiladas are a Mexican dish built from tortillas rolled around a filling and covered in sauce, with roots going back to earlier Mexican food traditions.)
No, actually, I did not particularly like chicken enchiladas.
One time in the past, I had eaten a lot out of politeness, and ever since then she served them every single time I visited.
And every single time, I would say they were delicious and eat them all...
It was what you might call the Enchilada Cycle.
“Is there anything I can help with? If I’d known this was going to happen, I should’ve at least brought a bottle of wine...”
I felt awkward just sitting there, so I hovered around the kitchen for no reason.
“Not at all! Sit down and relax. It’s not even anything fancy.”
“Still...”
“Oh, honestly. If you really want to do something, could you take a look at my car? Jason, you’re good with cars, right?”
Back when Daniel was still around, there had been an old Camaro he cared about, and whenever I came over, I would always fiddle around with that car and kill time.
Thinking back on it now, I suspect I was probably breaking it more than fixing it...
But apparently that had made quite an impression on her memory.
Fortunately, now I actually did know a thing or two about cars, so I answered confidently.
“Yes, that’s something I can help with. Is there a problem?”
“Maybe it’s just because it’s so old, but it keeps fluttering and acting like it’s going to stall in the middle of running. And I think I hear a squeaking sound from the engine bay too... It’s not mice nesting in there, is it?”
Rachel looked genuinely worried.
“Mice... probably not. I’ll go take a quick look.”
I grabbed a few basic tools from the storage unit and quietly headed out to the front yard.
There was an old silver Japanese car parked there.
Even though it was just a car, it somehow gave off a palpable sense of fatigue.
[1998 Honda Civic LX][1998 Honda Civic LX]
As I drew closer, the car’s year and information appeared automatically.
A sixth-generation Civic sedan made by Honda, the Japanese company famous for motorcycles.
(Translator’s Note: Honda Civic LX (1998) / sixth-generation Civic was produced from 1995 to 2000, with the 1998 Civic LX falling inside that generation. In the U.S., Civics became known for being affordable, fuel-efficient, and durable, which is why they were popular as first cars, commuter cars, and practical family vehicles)
Cheap, durable, fuel-efficient.
That was the image Americans had of the Civic.
Usually, when people thought of durability, Toyota came to mind first, but Honda had a reputation nearly as good.
That was why Civics were such a common choice as a college student’s first car, a young office worker’s commuter, or the kind of car single mothers like Rachel often relied on.
But a Civic this old also happened to be the kind of car that quietly exposed how tight someone’s circumstances really were.
For the moment, I got inside.
There’s... no cushioning left at all?
Foam poked out through holes in the torn cloth seats, and a thin coat of white dust covered the dashboard.
The odometer read around 290,000 miles.
Converted, that was roughly 470,000 kilometers.
No wonder the car looks tired.
When I turned the key Rachel had given me, it started with a struggling purruk, vroom.
It did start, but just as she had said, there was an intermittent fluttering sound, like a bird flapping its wings in the middle of it.
And whenever that happened, the RPM needle danced up and down too.
(Translator’s Note: RPM means “revolutions per minute,” a measure of how fast the engine is spinning. On a dashboard gauge, a shaky or unstable RPM needle can signal rough running, misfires, or air/fuel problems.)
Hmm... The symptoms point straight to unmetered air.
One symptom could have multiple causes, so instead of jumping to conclusions, I opened the engine bay and activated the skill.
—————
[Appraisal Skill (Basic Visual Inspection) Applied]
Vehicle Exterior Condition: C-
*Paint consistency: 48% - multiple panels repainted*Panel gap deviation: 5–7 mm - mounting points aged*Headlights: yellowing (UV degradation)*1 vacuum hose: hairline crack*Drive belt: minor surface cracking + insufficient tension
(Translator’s Note: Drive belt / tensioner - A belt that helps power engine accessories, and a tensioner keeps that belt properly tight. If the belt is old or loose, it can squeal or chirp.)
Visual Appraisal Score = 36
—————
At least with the current limits of the skill, that was as much as it could tell me from what was visible to the eye.
Thirty-six points...
It could not even clear forty, the line for a failing grade.
Still, thanks to it, I found the cause of the rough engine behavior easily enough.
The unstable idle was probably caused by air leaking through the crack in the vacuum hose.
(Translator’s Note: A vacuum hose carries airflow or vacuum signals in older engine systems. If it cracks, extra air can enter where it should not, creating a vacuum leak.)
And the squeaking “mouse” noise Rachel mentioned was most likely friction coming from the old drive-belt bearing.
Huh? The air filter’s new. And the battery looks like it was replaced recently too.
But when I looked closer, there were signs that someone had already replaced a few simple consumable parts.
Did Rachel take it to a repair shop?
For the moment, I opened the Coin Market and purchased the parts needed for the repair.
In truth, these were things I could easily have bought at a nearby parts shop, but...
If I was late for mealtime because of that, Rachel would be furious.
She absolutely did not tolerate being late for meals.
In that way, she really was just as naturally suited to military life as Daniel had been.
[1998 Honda Civic LX]
Vacuum hose = 3 (C)
Drive belt = 7 (C)
Purchase.
Ding!
[Order complete. The item has been stored in your inventory.]
Coins Deducted: -10 (C)Remaining Coins: 11,385 (C)
I swept my gaze around once, then used [Withdraw] in a secluded spot behind the house.
Thud—
At once, the brand-new belt and hose popped into existence on the ground.
“Ahem!”
Acting as though nothing unusual had happened, I picked up the parts and went back out to the front yard where the Civic was parked.
Just then, Noah was lingering around near the engine bay, sneaking glances here and there.
Good thing I went around back to withdraw the parts.
“Noah, what are you doing there?”
I deliberately called out to him in a casual, natural tone.
“Ah! Uncle Ja—... Mr. Kwon. Um... Mom told me to tell you lunch will be ready in about fifteen minutes.”
Noah answered awkwardly.
Why was he being that stiff?
For reference, the way he said Mr. Kwon had exactly the same feel as the way a student would address a schoolteacher.
“Really? Okay. I’ll finish this up quickly and come in.”
Fifteen minutes. That was not much time.
I started by removing the cracked vacuum hose.
Then I fitted the new hose and secured it tightly with a clamp.
That part took about a minute.
The proficiency adjustment really was a huge help.
It was a simple task, but somehow...
there was a familiarity in the hands gripping the tools, like I had been doing this kind of work professionally for ten years.
Noah lingered nearby the whole time, sneaking glances over my shoulder at what I was doing.
I mean, if you want to watch, you can just say so.
Was I like that at his age too?
“Hey, Noah.”
“Uh—yes...?”
When I suddenly turned my head and called his name, he flinched.
“Are you interested in this kind of thing, by any chance?”
“Uh... not completely uninterested...”
Noah answered in a tiny, shrinking voice.
It was not like he had committed some crime.
“Hmm, really? Then was it you who changed the air filter and battery, and cleaned the terminals?”
Nod.
Now he was not even answering aloud, just bobbing his head.
At that point, the way he fussed around awkwardly almost came off as cute.
“Good job. But that much alone wouldn’t fix the unstable idle. See this?”
(Translator’s Note: Idle / unstable idle - Idle means the engine is running while the car is not being driven. If the idle is rough or unstable, the engine sounds uneven and may feel like it is about to stall.)
I said it while handing over the vacuum hose I had just removed.
“Look at the side. See that long crack? It might not look like much, but it interferes with the engine getting the exact amount of air it needs. In other words, it makes the engine breathe like it’s gasping.”
Noah did not reply, but he looked all over the crack in the hose with bright, intent eyes.
“All right, next I’m going to get rid of the mouse sound your mother mentioned. If it’s okay with you, could you grab a flashlight and shine it here for me?”
To be honest, changing an exterior belt was easy enough that with the support of the special ability, I could probably have done it with my eyes closed.
But I deliberately gave him something to do.
That way, he could watch the work openly without having to sneak around.
“Uh... okay. One second!”
Sure enough, he dashed into the house at incredible speed and came back with a flashlight.
Honestly, what was that? Not completely uninterested?
I was not especially confident at communicating with people either, but Noah seemed much worse than I was.
Hyung Daniel was such a chatterbox, the very definition of a people person...
In any case, since I did not have much time, I moved as quickly as possible.
With the ratchet, I loosened the tensioner bolt—which adjusted the belt tension—just enough,
pulled out the old belt,
then slipped in the brand-new belt I had bought from the Coin Market.
The sixth-generation Civic’s D16 engine was a four-cylinder and relatively small, so it was extremely easy to work on.
(Translator’s Note: D16 engine is a 1.6-liter Honda four-cylinder engine used in many Civics of that era.)
Then, when I went to look for the ratchet I had set down on the ground for a moment so I could tighten the tensioner bolt again—
“Here...”
Noah, who had been holding the flashlight beside me, placed the ratchet into my hand.
Thump—
Half-inch.
Here, Dad. This is the right one, right?
For a moment, the image of myself helping my father when I was little overlapped in my mind.
“...Jason? Jason? What’s wrong? Did something go wrong?”
When I came back to myself, Noah—who had somehow already gone back to calling me Jason—was looking at me with concern.
“No. Nothing... Nothing’s wrong. Thanks for the ratchet, Noah.”
“Uh... yeah. Sure.”
Maybe because I had thanked him for something so small, he instantly turned back into awkward Robot Noah.
And then, a little later—
“All right, start it again.”
Standing in front of the engine bay, I called out toward Noah, who was sitting inside the car.
Kikikiki, vroom!
Vrooom-vrooom-vrooom-vrooom—
“Okay! Hear that? No more noise, right? The RPM needle isn’t shaking either.”
“Yeah, it’s completely steady!”
The truth was that this level of maintenance was nowhere near enough.
The Civic was already far too old and worn out.
Before long, the day would probably come when scrapping it would be a better option than repairing it.
But regardless of all that, the fact that the engine was now running smoothly in this moment alone was enough for Noah and me to look at each other and smile genuinely.
Maybe moments like this were what people called memories.
It could never come close to filling the space his father had left behind, but as much as I was able, I found myself wanting to make more memories like this for Noah.
“Ah! Come to think of it, Noah! Haven’t we gone way past fifteen minutes?”
“Uh...... we’re dead.”
Without so much as looking back, Noah sprinted straight into the kitchen.
“Hey! You can’t just run off like that first!”
I ran after him in a hurry.
It was the first time I had really sprinted in a long while.
[1998 Civic sedan]CC0
[Chicken enchiladas]CC-BY-2.0 Photographs by Sarah Stierch