The Lair Under the Bridge (2)
Serpina’s daily life was simplicity itself. She slept in the morning. She slept at lunch. In the afternoon, if Heerin dropped by, she’d play with her for a bit before going back to sleep. And at night, she slept again. The hours she spent awake weren’t merely fewer than the hours she spent asleep; they were shorter than the average person’s sleep schedule.
That unchanging routine finally saw a small shift.
— Meow…
A tiny paw tapped Serpina’s arm. The blow was little more than a cottony swat, hardly worthy of being called a “kitty punch,” yet it was enough to wake her.
“Haaam… What? You want food?”
Serpina pushed herself up from the cardboard bed, rubbing her eyes. The kitten was already sitting in front of its bowl, meowing insistently.
“Ugh… Where did I put the kibble? Was it in that corner…?”
With a flick of her finger, the bag of cat food floated out of the corner and drifted toward her. She caught it, tore it open, and dumped a generous heap into the bowl without ceremony. The kitten immediately buried its face in the food and began eating.
Of course, Serpina, living under a bridge, had no money to buy cat food. This bag had been brought by Heerin.
‘I brought it home, so I’ll take responsibility! You just have to look after it, pretty unnie!’
The memory of Heerin puffing out her chest with such confidence was still vivid. The moment she needed a favor, “beggar unnie” had instantly become “pretty unnie.” How shrewd.
“Heemang. Tasty?”
Serpina tossed the question out casually. Heemang was the kitten’s name. When Serpina had suggested calling the black cat “Kkamang,” Heerin had insisted it was like her little sibling and attached one syllable from her own name, turning it into Heemang. The kitten seemed to recognize the name; it lifted its head from the bowl, looked at Serpina, and let out a small meow.
Serpina found the reaction oddly fascinating. She was a dragon—the pinnacle of all living things. Even in human form, a dragon’s inherent majesty leaked out to some degree. Because of that, animals usually kept their distance. They either fled or played dead out of fear. Those were the only two reactions Serpina ever received.
Yet Heemang treated her like an ordinary person. No—considering how most cats avoided humans, it treated her with unusual friendliness. Was it because dragons didn’t exist in this world? Did it simply not know how terrifying she was? Still, that didn’t explain why every other animal instinctively avoided her. Not a single rat or insect dared approach the space beneath the bridge, and even the pigeons flying overhead gave the area a wide berth.
“What kind of creature are you?”
Curious, Serpina murmured and lightly stroked Heemang’s head with a fingertip. The kitten’s head bobbed along with the motion while it stubbornly continued eating.
While petting Heemang, Serpina fell into thought. What now? She considered going back to sleep, but judging by the time, elementary school would be letting out soon. Heerin would probably wake her again anyway, so lying back down didn’t appeal.
Serpina got up and inspected the cardboard walls—floor and ceiling included—of her “house.” She reinforced the sections that had grown damp or torn while she slept, using magic. Heerin had worked hard cutting and taping everything together, but the craftsmanship of an early elementary student could only go so far. Without occasional reinforcement, the whole thing would collapse sooner or later. Of course, with magic at her disposal, a flimsy cardboard house made little difference either way… but imagining how disappointed Heerin would be if it fell apart, Serpina figured a bit of effortless maintenance was worth doing.
Around the time she finished, light footsteps approached.
“Pretty unnie! Heemang! Hello again today!”
Heerin had come straight from school.
“Oh? Pretty unnie, you’re awake today? What’s the occasion?”
“Heemang woke me up asking for food. More importantly, is it really that surprising I’m awake?”
“Of course it is! I can count on one hand the number of times you’ve been awake when I visited!”
“…Is that so?”
Serpina scratched her head, feeling slightly awkward. It wasn’t exactly embarrassing—dragons sleeping a lot was only natural—but she was vaguely aware it wasn’t the best example for a child.
Heerin dashed inside, peered around, and shouted.
“Ah—! Unnie, how could you give Heemang this much food all at once!”
“It’s smart enough to pace itself even if I just dump it in.”
“Eeh? But in all the cat-feeding videos I’ve seen, people always measure the portions carefully.”
“Maybe those cats weren’t as clever as Heemang.”
“Really…? I see! As expected of Heemang!”
Heerin tilted her head for a moment, then nodded vigorously and began vigorously petting the kitten. The sight reminded Serpina of an overzealous parent bragging, “My child is definitely a genius!” She couldn’t help but chuckle.
Still holding Heemang in her arms, Heerin plopped down on the cardboard bed and started chattering.
“Pretty unnie, listen. Today at school, something happened…”
Serpina’s responses were limited to nods, the occasional “Mm,” or a brief “Really?” Heerin seemed perfectly content with even that minimal feedback and kept talking. Thanks to her, Serpina had unintentionally learned far more about Heerin’s school life than she’d ever intended.
While listening, one particular story caught her attention.
“…So anyway, Mom and Dad finally got their Night Outing Permits! With those, they can go out even after curfew.”
“Huh? Hold on. Curfew? What’s that about?”
“Hehe. You don’t even know what curfew means, unnie? It’s short for ‘passage prohibition.’ From midnight until dawn… um, what time was it again? Anyway, if you’re wandering around after that, scary police uncles come get you!”
“No, I know what the word means, but…”
As far as Serpina knew, curfews in Korea had disappeared decades ago. The only curfews left were the household rules parents made out of worry for their children. She’d never heard of an elementary-schooler needing a “Night Outing Permit” to bypass one.
‘No wonder there aren’t many people out at night.’
Serpina sometimes went for walks when the mood struck. There was no fixed schedule; she simply walked whenever the whim took her. Because of that, the timing varied—sometimes morning, sometimes night. Aside from Heerin’s visits, her routine was completely erratic. Yet whenever she walked at night, especially past midnight, she almost never sensed another person nearby. She had assumed it was normal for fewer people to be out late and that there simply weren’t any shops open past midnight in the area, so she hadn’t thought much of it. Apparently, the lack of people was the reason there were no shops, not the other way around.
One small mystery solved. Still, the very existence of a curfew was strange. What could have happened to make such a rule feel natural? And Serpina realized something else.
“Wait, kid. So your parents are coming home even later than before?”
“……”
Heerin’s parents already came home late. That much was obvious whenever they brought food and ate dinner with Serpina. Their return time was already delayed, and now they could ignore the curfew entirely. There was no chance it would get earlier—only later.
Heerin, momentarily at a loss for words, answered with difficulty.
“…It’s fine. Mom and Dad are both working hard for our family.”
Her voice lacked its usual cheer. It was low, almost crawling, as if she were trying to convince herself.
“Good grief.”
Sometimes children didn’t need to act so grown-up—especially when all they really wanted was their parents’ warmth. Serpina reached out and pulled Heerin into a tight hug.
“Unnie. I can’t breathe.”
Heerin grumbled, but her voice remained listless. She didn’t push Serpina away either. She simply stayed there, held.
— Meow.
Heemang, curled up on Heerin’s lap, let out a small cry as well, as if comforting her.
……
That same night.
Heerin had already gone home. Serpina, lying comfortably on her bed and enjoying her sleep, snapped her eyes open. The alarm spell she had set up had activated. Someone with ill intentions was approaching the space beneath the bridge.
— Wuuong…
Serpina glanced at Heemang, who was sleep-talking in an odd tone, then stepped outside. It wasn’t particularly surprising. Serpina was well aware of her own appearance. No—being a dragon, her confidence in it was unmatched. Living in a cardboard house with no proper security (aside from magic), she had expected something like this eventually. If anything, it was surprising it had taken over a month to happen.
Serpina raised her voice toward the direction the alarm had reacted to.
“Who’s there? You don’t seem like someone just passing by.”
The approaching figure flinched at Serpina’s voice.
“…There’s someone here?”
The muttered words sounded as though the person hadn’t expected anyone to be present. But the alarm spell activating was proof of malicious intent, so Serpina studied the intruder while debating how thoroughly to beat them. Not beating them wasn’t an option. They had disturbed a dragon’s sleep; surviving was already something to be grateful for.
Thanks to the hat, mask, and loose clothing, her figure was hard to make out, but from the voice and center of gravity, the intruder was female. Serpina had assumed it would be a man, so that was unexpected. Yet something else was even more surprising.
The items in the woman’s hands were neither the knife nor the club Serpina had anticipated. In one hand she held a selfie stick. In the other…
“Stockings?”
Black stockings. Fishnet stockings, at that.