In Front of the Book Boxes
After their first outing, the things the Saintess had chosen began to take their places one by one inside the house.
Beside the entrance, a pair of low ivory shoes now sat where the space had been empty until the day before. Even when she stepped out into the living room in the morning, the Saintess would pause in front of them for no particular reason. The new shoes, still barely worn against the floor, held a faint leftover brightness among the other things in the entryway. On the inside where the top of the foot rested, the faint marks of yesterday’s streets still remained.
A white canvas bag hung on one side of the living room. The clothes taken from the shopping bags had been divided between a drawer and a section of the wardrobe—a white cardigan, a beige long skirt, a few comfortable T-shirts, and pajamas. The beige dress she had worn out the day before was carefully folded and set deeper inside the wardrobe.
At first the Saintess had moved carefully, unsure where anything belonged, but now she at least remembered where to take a cup from in the morning. The milk sat on the inner shelf of the refrigerator, and the tea the Hero often drank was in the second cupboard above the sink.
The sound of the washing machine still felt unfamiliar. Even so, she could recognize the short chime that rang when it finished. Sometimes her head turned toward the machine even before the sound came. Each time, a small smile caught at the corner of the Saintess’s lips.
And in the innermost compartment of the wardrobe lay one small secret she had not yet shown the Hero. Even while putting clothes away, the Saintess would suddenly think of that section. Her fingertips would pause near the handle, and the tips of her ears would grow hot first. She knew what rested beyond the closed wooden panel. Whenever that happened, she would fuss unnecessarily with the strap of the canvas bag again.
Today the Saintess was wearing the most comfortable knit and long skirt among the clothes she had bought that day. Wearing jeans for long stretches inside the house still felt a little awkward, but the skirt was easy to move in. It was not as heavy as her saintess robes, nor was it a temporary garment issued by the Bureau.
The knit sleeves covered the backs of her hands a little. The Saintess touched the ends of the sleeves with her fingers once, then lifted her head again toward the news screen.
The Hero was boiling water in the kitchen. Few words passed between them. The Saintess sat on the sofa watching Earth’s news, trying hard to read the subtitles that scrolled beneath the screen. There were still many words she did not know. Before she could finish one sentence, the next pushed forward. Words whose meanings she could not guess vanished beneath the subtitles, and the Saintess’s eyes followed a little late. Even so, she did not turn the screen off.
When an unfamiliar character passed, the Saintess would very quietly shape the sound inside her lips. She could not tell whether the pronunciation was correct. Still, a few times, characters similar to words the Hero had taught her the day before went by. Each time, her lips traced the same sound once more even after the subtitle had disappeared.
Then the entrance bell rang—short and clear. The Saintess turned her head by reflex. The Hero also stopped the hand that had been boiling water.
“Is it a delivery?”
Saying so, the Hero headed for the entrance. The Saintess rose and followed. Until a few days ago, the idea of something arriving outside the door had felt strange and cautious, but now curiosity came first.
Yet the moment she saw the boxes placed in front of the door, that curiosity settled.
There was not just one box. Three thick brown cardboard boxes were stacked neatly in front of the entrance. The mark of the Settler Management Bureau was stamped on the sides, and beneath it the recipient’s name was written in small letters.
Riane.
In the other world her title as Saintess had come first; on Earth, her name was written first. The Saintess paused for a moment at the sight of her own name rendered in Hangul.
The Hero lifted one of the boxes and seemed a little surprised.
“It’s heavy.”
Hearing that, the Saintess looked at the boxes again. The corners were firm, the tape thickly applied. Outwardly they were ordinary paper boxes, yet the height of the three stacked together blocked the entrance with a solid weight.
The two of them carried the boxes farther into the living room. The Saintess tried to lift one of the smaller ones, but the Hero absently reached for it instead, then stopped. After thinking a moment, he pushed the lightest-looking box toward her.
“Want to try lifting this one?”
The Saintess looked down at the box that had been pushed in front of her.
“Me?”
“Yeah. It’s yours after all.”
The Saintess supported the box with both hands. She could lift it. But the corners pressed deeply into her palms, and by the time she had walked the few steps to the living room, strength had gathered in her arms. Still holding the box, she walked as far as the table. When she set it down, a low sound rose—a dull paper thud.
While that sound lingered on the table, the Saintess looked again at the name on the side of the box.
Riane.
Her own name, written in Earth’s letters, was stuck to the brown paper.
The Hero brought a box cutter and carefully sliced the tape. When the lid opened, books, binders, and envelopes of informational pamphlets were packed tightly inside.
At first the Saintess looked at them calmly.
“Textbooks.”
“Looks like Stage One prep materials and daily-life adaptation materials came together.”
The Hero checked the spines one by one.
Basic Living Laws.
Settler Social Adaptation.
Emergency Response Standards.
Modern Korean Fundamentals.
Agency Reporting and Administrative Procedures.
Stage One Settler Evaluation Sample Questions.
The Saintess read down the titles one after another until, at some point, she fell silent.
The books kept coming. Even after emptying one box, thin booklets still remained at the bottom. When she lifted a booklet, a thick workbook appeared beneath it. Informational envelopes were wedged between the books, and the online education notice carried a mark telling her to check it on a tablet. There was also an exam schedule.
The living-room table grew steadily narrower. Space that had been enough for a single box was soon filled with books, binders, and pamphlets. The Saintess’s hands briefly lost their place and gathered on her knees. The air of the house she had just begun to grow used to shifted with the smell of paper on the table.
The Saintess spoke quietly.
“Is all of this… my textbooks?”
Looking at the pile of books, the Hero answered.
“Yeah. More than I expected.”
He did not try to laugh it off. The Hero checked one more spine and set it down on the table without a word. The soft sound of books stacking rose.
At that quiet touch, the Saintess lightly bit her lip. She picked up an informational envelope. Inside were the education schedule and exam guidance. The Saintess read the Hangul sentences slowly. Whenever an unknown word appeared, the Hero quietly told her the meaning from beside her. First the class times and subject names appeared. Then the evaluation criteria, the passing score, and the supplementary education notice.
And at one line, the Saintess’s fingertips stopped.
In case of failure, possible conversion to supplementary education and institutional dormitory classes.
The sentence was not long. Yet that single short line changed, in an instant, the air of the house she had just begun to grow used to.
Dormitory classes.
The cold corridors of the Bureau building, the unfamiliar room, the fixed timetable rose first in her mind. After that, this house rose. The dining table where they had faced each other in the morning. The bedroom where the Hero’s T-shirt had hung. The new shoes beside the entrance. The small secret inside the drawer. The things that had only just begun to find their places all drew away at once.
The letters on the notice remained the same, yet the Saintess could not move for a long time from that same line.
In case of failure.
Supplementary education.
Dormitory classes.
Holding the notice, the Saintess could not lift her head.
“If I fail…”
The words did not come out to the end. The Hero saw the sentence as well. A short silence formed between them. The sound of water boiling in the kitchen rang faintly from far away. It had been a sound filling the house until a moment ago; now it had stepped back a pace.
The Saintess asked again.
“If I fail… will I have to stay at the Bureau again?”
The Hero did not immediately say no. He looked once more at the sentence lower on the notice. Then he looked at the crumpled corner of the paper in the Saintess’s hand.
“It doesn’t mean it happens right away.”
The Saintess looked down at the notice.
“But there is a possibility.”
“Yeah.”
It was a short answer. The Saintess’s fingertips gripped the corner of the notice harder. The paper crumpled slightly.
These were the hands that had held an injured soldier’s arm on the battlefield and wound bandages. Hands that had not trembled even while gripping cloth stained with blood and dirt. Hands that had not set down the pen even before the Order’s oral examinations, even when receiving the most difficult doctrinal interpretations. Those hands had stopped in front of a single sheet of paper. The corner of the notice was lightly crumpled beneath her fingertips.
The Hero looked again at the textbooks on the table. He turned one volume a little toward the Saintess. He righted the notice that had been upside down and pressed the folded corner with his fingertip. Then he folded the notice and set it on the table.
“Ria.”
The Saintess lifted her head.
“This is a test you have to pass.”
At those words her fingertips stiffened faintly on the notice. The Hero continued at once.
“But it isn’t a path you have to walk alone.”
The Saintess could not answer.
“You’ll have to solve the exam papers yourself.”
The Hero glanced once at the pile of books, then looked at her again.
“But I’ll keep the seat next to you.”
The Saintess carefully opened the hand she had rested on the notice. The books on the table were still many. The sentences inside the notice remained in the same place. Yet the Saintess’s hand moved a little toward the textbook on top.
“Then… shall we look at them starting now?”
The Hero looked at her as if a little surprised.
“Right away?”
“Yes.”
The Saintess gazed at the books. On her fingertips the pressed mark of the notice’s corner still remained. Like paper that had been crumpled and then smoothed, her heart still held a slight fold. Even so, she thought she could open one volume.
“If it’s a test I have to pass, then I have to study it.”
She paused a moment, then looked at the Hero.
“But if it isn’t a path I have to walk alone… please look at them with me.”
Instead of answering, the Hero picked up several of the books.
“Let’s go to the study.”