Chapter 80 · BMMAW

Chapter 80

I Met That Child

She runs. She runs. She runs.
For the first time in a while, she kicked off the ground and ran freely, feeling the wind.

Today is not the same as yesterday.
Because today, she met that child.

When she used to talk about him, she didn’t really understand what it meant. But now… somehow, she does. It felt like she had become smarter.

“But it wasn’t what I imagined.”

She thought he would be smaller, cuter, prettier.
Because she always said he was tiny and adorable.

So she imagined that one day, when she met him, he would be soft and fluffy and cute.

But that child… was big.
His face… well, maybe you could call it cute.

“Ah!”

Maybe that was what her husband had called “memory bias.”
Whenever she said he was cute, her husband would laugh and say, “What’s so cute about that big guy?” A middle schooler bigger than an adult couldn’t possibly be small and cute.

She didn’t know what a middle schooler was, but she never asked.
She didn’t want to interrupt their conversations. She liked just listening.

When she first met them, their faces were smooth.
But as time passed, wrinkles appeared. People began calling them grandmother and grandfather.

But in her memories now, they were young.
For some reason, they had returned to how they looked when she first met them. Their wrinkled faces at death only came to mind if she forced herself to remember.

Maybe prettier memories stayed longer.

“Is this memory bias too?”

It felt strange.
The “cute child” she remembered—memory bias.
The young versions of the two she imagined—also memory bias.

Being able to think and feel just like they did… made her incredibly happy.

“Hehe.”

Behind the house where she used to live, there were two graves.
Until the Guild Master came to fetch her, she had lived there with them.

She ran there in one breath and scattered the grass she had just picked from the field.

Originally, she was told to place flowers. Chrysanthemums.
Or maybe not scatter—just lay them down.

Anyway, flowers should be offered. But flowers were hard to find this season, so she brought the prettiest grass she could find.

She knelt before the graves and bowed deeply.
This was called a bow—she had learned it from her husband.

After bowing, she remembered he had said pouring alcohol would be nice too.
But alcohol was expensive. She couldn’t afford it.

So instead, she filled a leather pouch they had left behind with water from the lake and poured it.

After doing both, she felt satisfied.

[When you meet that child, then pour something at our grave. Before that, I don’t want anything. If too much time passes and you still haven’t met him, then go find Santa and beat him half to death. Got it?]

Those were her final words.

Her husband had simply smiled quietly.

“I met him. I met that child.”

She spoke to the small graves.
As always, there was no reply.

Tears welled up.
She touched her eyes and laughed.

“I’m crying.”

The two of them had died together.
She had grown old, her sight fading, her body failing. They said she was dying.

So her husband asked her to draw Zentangle.

[I don’t want her to die alone. I want to go into the grave with her. I want both of us to die without pain.]

After hearing that, their adopted son cried for a long time. His daughter cried too.

But the girl did not cry.
Back then, she didn’t understand what crying was.

She didn’t understand why tears flowed.

She simply did as she was asked.
She drew beautiful patterns on their bodies—circles, squares, triangles, flowers, stars.

Everything she thought was beautiful, she filled them with.

The patterns she called Zentangle erased all their pain.
And let them pass like falling asleep.

They died with beautiful designs covering their skin.

Only much later did she understand why the others cried.

Once someone is buried, they can no longer speak.
That is death.

She had been told that, but she only truly understood it long after they were gone.

She felt sad.

But still, no tears came.

She had learned what crying was, but tears didn’t fall.

She found that frustrating.

But now—

“I can cry now.”

Even though she wasn’t sad… tears still came.

“Ah!”

Only then did she realize her mistake.

She had been so eager to tell the graves that she met that child…
that she forgot to tell him her name.

Humans were supposed to exchange names when they met.

The two had given her a name.

Yeonhwa.

So she wouldn’t be lonely after they were gone.

[If you carry my name, it’s like I’m always with you. Even when you punch Santa someday, it’ll be like I’m punching him too. Nice, right?]

She nodded.

“Yeah. I like it.”

What she had to do from now on:

Stay by his side and protect him.

And punch Santa.

…Well, maybe not necessary anymore.
But still—he made them wait too long.

“…”

Yeonhwa smiled brightly at the graves.

“I won’t be able to come often. But I’ll visit sometimes. When flowers bloom, I’ll bring flowers. And when I have money, I’ll bring alcohol.”

The wish made in that grave—

To have someone always stay by their beloved child’s side and protect him—

Had come true.

Because from now on—

She would protect him.

*

Lizzy, who had been so happy because of the Scream Carrots, was now clouded with worry.

It should have been a perfect day—silver coins turning into gold.

But instead…

Juhwan walked through the central plaza with one arm around her shoulders.
Their pace was unusually slow.

People had heard the rumors. Some even came just to see them.

Dorothy noticed too.

When people stared and whispered “carrot,” she pulled open her front pocket, letting Oz’s face peek out, and lifted her chin proudly.

Higher and higher.

At this rate, people in front of her could probably see straight into her nostrils.

That made Lizzy laugh a little.

“You’re finally smiling.”

“….”

Juhwan squeezed her shoulder gently.

Lizzy leaned her head against him.

“I’m sorry.”

“For what?”

“….”

She grew gloomy again.

“Lizzy, I know what you’re worried about. But you don’t need to.”

“….”

“You heard it earlier, right? That I’m Santa’s contractor. That’s true. I made a wish and came to this world.”

“….”

“Do you know what I wished for?”

Lizzy stiffened.

Maybe she thought it was power. Or magic. Or money.

But—

“I wished for a wife and a child. That’s you and Dorothy.”

“…What?”

“You and Dorothy are my wish.”

“…Really?”

“Yeah.”

Right there, in the middle of the plaza—

Lizzy stopped walking and burst into tears.

People stared. Whispered.

Juhwan panicked.

Dorothy hurriedly dug into her pocket and pulled out a small towel.

“Dad, here!”

It was the towel Lizzy had made for her.
With a tiny embroidered rabbit.

Dorothy treasured it.

But she handed it over without hesitation.

Juhwan carefully wiped Lizzy’s face.

Lizzy cried—and smiled.

That evening, they returned to the inn.

Lizzy was too exhausted from crying to go shopping.

They ordered the inn’s special meal: thick meat seasoned with salt and herbs, hearty stew, and rough bread.

Nothing fancy. Just large portions and cheap wine.

But it tasted as good as anything in Modeni.

Even Oz got a thick piece of meat—and devoured it instantly.

“Amazing, Oz! You’re incredible!”

Dorothy cheered.

Lizzy… looked worried about food costs.

Juhwan laughed.

They both got slightly annoyed.

Looking at them, he realized—

Even without blood ties, they were becoming alike.

That night, after Dorothy fell asleep—

It was time for just the two of them.

Under the dim lamplight, Lizzy looked shy.

Even now.

Even after everything.

“….”

Was this also Santa’s gift?

Every day, she felt more lovable than the last.

Like grains of sand falling steadily—
his feelings deepened.

“I love you.”

He whispered.

Lizzy turned red—completely.

In the days that followed:

The Red Sword ordered karambits

Juhwan took carriage repair jobs

Lizzy did sewing work with the village women

Dorothy ran errands and earned small rewards

Oz somehow got a cute cloak (which he hated)

They lived.

Worked.

Learned.

Little by little—

They were becoming part of this world.

And sometimes—

That mysterious girl, Yeonhwa, could be seen around the village.