The Blacksmith (3)
“This blade. It’s trash, you know?”
“Oops!”
The words slipped out, and I flinched the moment I said them.
A blade made for me. It looked cool enough, so it was probably made with at least some care…Rude didn’t even begin to cover it.
“Ah, I’m sorr—”
“Heh heh. For all your attitude, you’ve got a decent eye for blades.”
“…Huh?”
Unlike me, who was flustered at my own rudeness,
Old Man Park just chuckled as if it were nothing.
“Yeah. Put that piece of trash over there.”
“O-Okay.”
“Next, try this one.”
He handed me another blade. It looked similar to the one I’d held before, but…
Wham!
The result was the same.
I spoke my mind.
“Grandpa Park. There’s… something wrong with these blades, isn’t there?”
“As if I don’t know that. Next one.”
My brave, honest comment was brushed off lightly.
“Hm. Try the…
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Emilybronte
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