Video Tape (1)
The Beril Orphanage never came back. Strangely, that fact didn't sink in for a long time. Even when I left the hospital, even when we moved to the man's office, I kept feeling like I'd hear the old nun's gentle voice from somewhere. Telling me to eat, not to fight, not to get hurt and to behave. Whenever I closed my eyes, the lingering scent of the orphanage yard clung to my nose, so the idea that it was all over felt like a lie.
But reality, cruel as ever, wasn't lying.
Of course, the man's office was nothing like the orphanage. Cramped, stark, reeking of that grown-up smell. Paper and ink, metal and oil, stale cigarette smoke soaked into the wallpaper. No yard for kids to run and shout in, no kitchen where the nun cooled boiled potatoes. Instead, there was a sofa for sleeping, a table for simple meals, a tiny lounge with a TV. That was enough, they said. Maybe it was, probably.
Not all the surviving kids stayed in the office. The too-young ones were handed off after the man and the office folks scrounged up places for them. The older ones left one by one to fend for themselves. They went their separate ways, but in the end, it was just Ganet and me who stayed. And Rapis, too. At least for the first few years.
Ganet fit into the office best of all. He'd always been like that. Even if nightmares woke him crying at night, he'd get up like nothing happened. If someone was in trouble, he'd reach out first to help. He took over the office folks' errands, and before long he was learning real work, not just odd jobs. By the time he snapped out of it, he was prepping for the Fixer exam. He smiled less than before, but he'd learned to grit it out instead. Turning into a real "City" kid.
Rapis was different. On the surface, she seemed the most normal. Always teasing Ganet and me, devouring every fruit in the office pantry until she got scolded. But sometimes, just for a split second, she'd stare off into empty space. A blank face, gazing at some distant place. Whenever I saw that look, I couldn't bring myself to say anything.
I was somewhere in between, in an awkward spot. By day, I blended in like Ganet, acting like the "tough kid." But at night, sleep wouldn't come—I'd toss and turn. The kids' screams as we fled that grotesque monster, feet slipping in blood, the torn-up teacher... it all replayed inside my head. I couldn't just lie there on the sofa with my eyes shut. I'd sit up, shove on my shoes, grip my broken sickle like it was dragging me, and head to the little lot next to the office.
At first, I was terrible. I figured my body remembered. That final strike slicing off the monster's arm, the light pushing my body up, the warm rings unfurling from my fingertips. I'd done it once, so I thought I could at least mimic it. Total delusion.
That day's me and today's me were different people. The sickle felt weirdly heavy, my swings wobbly. Too much force cramped my shoulders; swinging too hard twisted my wrist. Once, trying to recreate that last blow, I dropped the handle and cut my hand.
As I hissed "Ow, ow..." over the stinging wound, a familiar voice came from behind.
"Why try that again."
I turned. Vergilius stood there. No idea when he'd come out. He wasn't in his usual black coat, and somehow he seemed more relaxed than normal.
I snatched up the sickle quick.
"That day... it worked."
"That day's you and today's you are different."
Short answer. He didn't come closer, just glanced at my hand and the sickle.
"Start by changing your grip."
"...Huh?"
I blurted like an idiot.
Whoosh. Instead of replying, he tossed me the long cloth bundle he was holding. Heavier than it looked when I caught it. Unwrapping revealed a sickle. Brand new. The blade longer and smoother than my old one, handle extended for as I grew. Unlike the first one I'd gotten, this was built for real combat. Plain, no frills—almost ruggedly practical.
I stood there speechless for a bit. Then he said,
"Clinging to something broken breaks you too."
No special warmth in his tone. Dry as always, blunt like stating a fact. But to me, it felt warm.
I slowly gripped the new handle. The feel was different. Unfamiliar, but a sense it wouldn't stay that way long.
"Thanks."
He didn't answer. Just waved lightly and left the lot.
After that, my dawn training in the lot changed a little. Vergilius didn't show up often. Didn't teach long sessions either. He'd just watch me swing, then drop a word or two.
"Too rushed."
"Don't let your body get dragged by the sickle."
"Don't stare into the opponent's eyes too long. They'll read you."
"Again. Angle down this time."
Short. But they hit just right. No long explanations—he always picked exactly what I needed most.
*
Ganet became a Fixer. Or at least, he started looking the part. Suited up, sitting at the table with the office crew, handling paperwork, taking real jobs instead of errands. He didn't just walk past shady stuff anymore—he'd act sometimes.
But Ganet was still Ganet. Still first to help the weak, couldn't ignore someone crying.
Rapis left the office before us. Said she got a job at a fruit-packing factory. Sounded just like her. She'd always loved fruit, dreamed of tasting every kind in the City someday.
But I couldn't picture her settling in easy. She seemed chill about it, though. Grumbling that she couldn't mooch forever, had to earn somewhere in this City—but flashing a grin at the end.
Ganet tried talking her out of it for a good while that day. Me? I couldn't. Didn't know if I should or not.
Around then, the faint future fragments lingering in my head started fading even more.
I'd definitely seen everything that day before the monster. The whole City flooding my mind—passersby's trivial days to massive events yet to come, all shoved in at once. I still remembered the sensation. But trying to grasp it? Nothing solid left. Like waking from a long dream: outline remains after washing your face, details gone.
Just the sense something important was there. What bus? What name? What face? All blurry.
Sometimes tiny shards surfaced. A red bus. Limbus Company. And... people coming for Vergilius someday.
Weird part: every fragment starred Vergilius. No me. No Ganet. Rapis... not there?
Anyway, it stuck in my throat.
One day after training, wiping the blade, I finally asked.
"Mister."
"What."
"Even if you see things... they're not all right?"
He didn't answer right away. I just brushed sand off the blade.
"Keep seeing stuff. Bits and pieces, but the outlines sharp."
"...What'd you see."
"Not sure... but people coming for you."
Still silent. I hesitated, added,
"I wasn't there. Neither were Ganet or Rapis."
Short silence settled over the lot. Then,
"Clinging to visions—that's the curse humans get."
I chewed on that a while. Not comfort. He never soothed like that. So I mulled it over more.
*
Shin (Heart) was harder than the sickle. At least the sickle was tangible. Had weight, edge—mess up a swing, you knew where.
But Shin? I remembered the sensation pushing my body that day. Heat rising from my feet, force lifting my crumbling frame. But calling it back? Nothing.
Breathe deep, lower stance, tense toes—floor stayed mockingly cold. Made me impatient. Worked then, why not now? Over and over.
After endless frustration, I went back to Christmas Eve. Kids fleeing screaming over snow. Collapsed wall. Blood smell. Voices calling my name. The thought: one step faster, maybe I'd have reached them.
That feeling lingered like an old wound, hidden deep till moments like this, then bleeding fresh. Hated recalling it at first—stomach churned. But after failures, I got it.
Shin didn't come from calm. The moment I'd gritted my teeth: can't run, can't fall, can't stop before those kids. Had to seize that.
"........."
Eyes shut, gripping the handle. Monster's shadow reformed. Kids' faces in the snow too. One step. Just one more back then. Clutched that thought tight, crushing.
Then,
"...!"
Faint heat rose from my feet. Thought it illusion at first—so weak, gone quick. But the warmth was real. Brushing ankle, calf, below knee—thin spread. Like first snow touching earth, soft.
I held my breath. Heat vanished fast, but now I knew. What to grasp.
After, it shifted bit by bit. Forcing got nothing. But nailing that day's feeling, resolving one step ahead—warmth flickered short underfoot.
Anger alone no. Sorrow alone no. The tangle pushing forward anyway. That spot where Shin was born in me.
Couldn't hold it long yet. One minute short, two max. Still, that minute felt different. Not dragged—me surging ahead. Like relearning the step I never took at the orphanage, step by step.
*
Mang (Hope) was harder than Shin, naturally maybe. If Shin pushed me forward, Mang held what slipped away.
Didn't take long to get. Christmas Eve always ended same: not letting go this time.
Gripping that, raising sickle—thin light thread unspooled from fingertips. Breath could snap it, but real. Wound short along the blade.
One ring. Barely. But enough.
Bright afternoon sun. Light stretched long across office floor, dust motes drifting. Denver half-sprawled on sofa, dozing. Rikako flipping newspaper one-handed, not folded. Ganet at desk with yesterday's request file. Me against wall, wiping blade.
Quiet. Eerily normal afternoon.
Then, door knocked twice.
Knock knock.
No one moved right away. Too ordinary—felt off. Not many knock like that, hesitant-free, this time of day.
Vergilius looked up first. Brief quiet, then he rose, opened door.
No one outside. Just small parcel box at threshold.
He grabbed it.
Ganet stood. My grip tightened on sickle handle unthinking.
Box on desk. No one touched. Ganet's face hardened seeing sender.
I looked too. Short name scrawled there.
Rapis
Parcel from Rapis, silent for years. Air in office sank.
Denver's doze fled. Rikako stopped flipping pages. Shim Nan-seul looked away silent from desk. Ganet stared at box, fingertips trembling faint.
Vergilius sliced tape with knife. Packed tight with cushioning. Way too much—like fragile glass inside.
Out came small video tape. Black plastic worn, but oddly clean. Spots gleaming like freshly wiped, despite age. White label messy scrawl, short:
To. G
From. L
Ganet swallowed hard. I stared at tape, nape chilling for no reason. Outside blazed bright, but office felt sunless.