Reflection
“…Sara?”
I had figured Angela would be the one in the medical room.
But the person leaning deep into the chair with a gas mask hanging around her neck was unmistakably Sara Omen.
Her hair had grown out at some point, long enough now to cover her neck.
“Um, so… where is everyone else?”
I set the bag heavy with goods gently on the floor and took in the hospital room that somehow felt like I hadn’t seen it in ages. The air was thick with the sharp stink of medicine, yet the people who ought to have been there were nowhere in sight.
The Rangers—Carlos, Cole, and Hartwell. James and Angela, who’d gone out with them. Curtis had already told me everyone was safe, so nothing major could have happened in the short time I’d been gone.
“…Hyunwoo?”
“I’m… back, I guess I should say.”
My head buzzed dull and empty like an idiot’s, but my eyes stayed wide open and painfully clear. Even so, I managed to force something like a smile onto my face.
“You look… fine.”
She rose gently from the chair.
“I did crack the back of my head against a wall, but I got ridiculously lucky and some people helped me out.”
“What people?”
“New Skins from a splinter faction of the Rebirth Church, and the survivors following that person.”
“The Rebirth Church—?!”
“If they’d been hostile, I wouldn’t be standing here. Ah, and also…”
I undid the bag and carefully drew out what was inside to show her. Potatoes, and—grains of wheat that spilled like water through my fingers, shimmering before her blue eyes.
“I brought these. From them.”
“….”
“They were farming. As the price of my life, and for fixing a few pieces of equipment so they could run smoothly, they handed me this as payment… What do you think?”
“…You fixed things?”
“Took about a day, but it wasn’t that hard… Honestly, getting crops this fresh and alive for that little work felt like pure luck.”
“Luck, you say.”
“Yeah. If this isn’t luck—”
“…Ha.”
Her head dropped. And I watched the corners of her mouth twitch upward, just a little.
“Guess we’re finally done living on nothing but dried rations and salt-bomb ham. Still no leafy greens, but—ah, right. Have you met the Rangers yet?”
“….”
I stretched out my arm to hand her the bag. What came back was a cold stare.
“Sara?”
“…Luck, you say?”
I’d been sure the harvest would make her happy. Instead, what I saw were tears.
“You know what every single person who came back said? That you’d definitely make it back alive.”
Was she… worrying about me? To think I’d get this kind of worry when even my real family never gave it. My chest felt warm, and a little tight.
“But still, I made it back—”
“Against a flock of two-story crows. Yeah. You fucking bastard. Welcome back.”
Crying. Face flushed hot and red. Sara sobbed right in front of me.
“Like you were never going to die.”
The Teacher’s quiet warning that you only get one chance seemed to echo in my ears again.
“Isn’t that right? You barely sleep, just keep making things, and even when gear’s fine you tear it apart day and night to check. I’ve never once seen you rest properly. And still, every single time, you stick your head into the most dangerous place first.”
“Well… because I’m the one who actually knows how things work around here?”
“Have you ever once thought about what happens if that person dies?”
“…I didn’t die—”
“I’m saying it doesn’t end with ‘I didn’t die,’ you fucking idiot.”
Her sincerity-laced venom… hurt. Enough to make my chest ache.
“Do you know what Rangers are?”
“They’re good at recon—”
“They’re trained to be an all-purpose unit. Armed recon, hostage rescue, supporting fire, breakthroughs, covering retreats… When everything goes to hell and you need a hammer to smash it, the Rangers are that hammer.”
“Sara, those people were carrying wounded. And none of them had ever even seen those crows…”
“So a weakling who couldn’t even do ten push-ups went charging in?”
“…I’m not that weak anymore.”
“….”
Yeah. That wasn’t the right answer either. That was why she let out that hollow laugh.
“Fuck, the Rangers are tougher bastards than me or my dad. To get in you join the military, take insane training, build your body until it’s huge, and eat personal attacks mixed with insults about your parents. That’s the Rangers, you stupid genius bastard.”
“….”
“What I’m saying is—why you? Why didn’t you shove that doctor girl instead? She was the one ranting about how confident she was when she dragged you out. Said if someone had to die it would be her. So why—”
“If she got hurt, who’d do the treatment—”
“Please get a grip. The wounds we deal with are just bad scratches and tears, and we can handle those ourselves. Wrap bandages, staple a few times, flesh sticks. But bullets? Guns? Boilers? Filters? Flamethrowers? Pipes? This… home we live and breathe in? You think any of it holds together for one second without you?”
“….”
“Don’t you have any thoughts of your own in that head?”
My thoughts. Meaning my own condition?
“You don’t, you crazy bastard. You didn’t. Ha, haha… That’s why. Right?”
But a Crafter was… just like that. Until everything was more or less established, you conserved power as much as possible… and you kept grinding without end until a system that could handle any situation was in place.
“…Fuck, just like my dad. Yeah, I thought something felt familiar.”
“—James?”
“He’s not in the family photos, but still, that idiot smile like he’s winning just because I’m laughing.”
Wiping her tears roughly with her sleeve, Sara glared at me with reddened eyes. Then she clenched something and threw it at me. What thudded against my chest and fell was a medicine bottle.
“Take that and get the fuck into the isolation room.”
“…Sara.”
“No. Don’t talk. You selfish bastard.”
She snatched the bag from the floor, pulled out a single potato, and raised her arm high as if to hurl it.
“Sara?!”
“Because of these fucking potatoes…!”
Her hand trembled for a long time, frozen in the air. Face twisted, teeth bared. And the moment all of that drained away, Sara simply collapsed right there on the spot.
And then… probably… the bag slowly crawled into Sara’s arms. Unless she was the one pulling it in.
“…Get lost.”
“….”
“Just get the fuck out. Why don’t you just do what you always do? Go to the others. Today you have to do this, today you have to do that… Go around talking excitedly. Then another day flies by and you’re still hammering away at the workbench. Then when the Rangers show up you run around saying it’s dangerous or whatever until no one even knows if you’re dead or alive. Just…!”
The eyes shedding tears were no longer angry. Her arms were locked tight around my gift.
“I don’t want to worry anymore… Please.”
“….”
“I’m tired of counting the nights until you come back, sleeping alone in bed.”
—Creeeak.
I opened the door to the room the Newman family used to use. Clumsily hung curtains caught my eye right away.
“Ah…!”
Lisa and Matthew were there too, both wearing oversized protective suits and gas masks. Each held a bucket in both hands. A liquid with a faint bluish tint, and the ammonia reek mixed with chemical agents. Urine.
“You’re back…!”
“Lisa, shh. The others are sleeping.”
“Ah, um, sorry. But… I’m glad you’re back.”
Even while cautioning his wife, Matthew nodded to me as well.
“Is there a place for me?”
Lisa stretched out her arm.
“There’s empty space across from Dietrich. I’ll get a sleeping bag and a bucket ready for you right away.”
“Are you… hungry by any chance? I can bring something light. Just crackers, though.”
There were benefits to enduring an empty stomach. I decided not to. Looking at Lisa, I felt I could tell them I’d gotten things to plant in the garden. If I said it now the work would go faster. But—I decided not to do that either.
“Crackers, and something to drink… and something sweet. Do you have any?”
“Something sweet? Just packaged sugar cubes at best…”
“That’ll do.”
“Yes, I’ll bring them right away.”
Nodding, the two hurried out. I made way for them and settled in, clothes much lighter now. How long had it been since my body felt this light—yet heavy.
“…Haaa.”
Maybe my heart had gotten heavy. Is this what it feels like when someone cries for you?
“….”
Insomnia or whatever. Right now I just wanted to lie down and rest. Thinking that, I leaned back—
“…Hyunwoo…?”
A woman’s thoroughly hoarse voice came from beyond the curtain. Light switched on behind it, casting a silhouette. She seemed to be crouching.
“Angela?”
“…You’re safe.”
“What was that?”
“Ah, uh, th-that is… I’m glad, no… I mean…”
She swallowed the words she was about to spit out. Swallowed them again and again. Then:
“…Are you… okay?”
“No major injuries… Yes. I’m fine.”
At the answer, Angela’s unstable, almost sobbing breathing reached me. Then the shadow nodded.
“….”
“Angela?”
I called her name. No answer.
“Angela—”
“Shhh.”
When I called again, Lisa appeared, finger pressed to her gas mask.
“I brought the things you asked for. Sorry… For anything with a scent, to keep the room as clean as possible…”
A bottle of water, water mixed with military energy-drink powder, a few individually wrapped sugar cubes, and crackers. She handed me the tray, put a finger back to where her mouth would be, and left at once.
“….”
The shadow didn’t move an inch. A little worried, I set the tray down and gently drew the curtain aside.
“….”
Thick dark circles under her eyes, staring blankly ahead. Hair a little longer, which only made her look more miserable—Angela.
“…!!!”
“Angel—”
Before I could finish, the curtain I’d opened was yanked shut.
“…P-please go back. Please.”
“Um, but still… we should talk.”
“Uuuu.”
Shaking her head hard, Angela seemed to be gripping the ends of the closed curtain with everything she had so it wouldn’t open again.
“…I can’t. I… shouldn’t.”
“Angela.”
“So… I’m sorry. No, I don’t even have the right to say that. So.”
A voice thick with tears came out, then cut off. Only the tips of her fingers, locked hard on the curtain, remained of Angela. And those looked as if they’d been chewed over and over…
“….”
I went back to my spot. And slowly… I chewed over every word that had been poured on me.
“Only as much as I can carry… is that it?”
I had believed it was the best choice. And the result had been the best as well. The Rangers had all joined safely, and I had seeds to plant.
But.
—Clack.
I put a cracker in my mouth. It was terribly stifling.