Black Badger

Yehyeon, eighteen.

He spread the Christmas cards out on the table.

There were five. He had spent an hour at the bookstore agonizing over them. They were mostly simple, with calm, muted colors.

Yun looked down at the cards with an expressionless face.

“You’re just going to throw them away without really reading them again anyway.”

Ami came running over and punched Yun in the arm.

“Ah.”

“That’s the wrong answer.”

Ten-year-old Ami looked at Yun, who was sitting cross-legged on the floor.

“That’s a socially inept answer.”

“It’s not wrong, though.”

“But you can’t answer other people like that, Choi Yun.”

Yehyeon smiled bitterly.

The room was warm enough. They had gathered in Yehyeon’s room without worry. As he did every year, Seunghyun had once again left some money behind and disappeared quietly around Christmas.

Lee Seunghyun usually came back after the 26th.

Around the 27th or 28th.

Yun wore an expression that said he couldn’t understand it.

But now, on the verge of graduating high school, Yehyeon was no longer surprised.

He fidgeted with the sleeve of his school uniform and lowered his gaze.

“Just pick one for me. You’re better at this kind of thing than I am, at least.”

“They’re all similar.”

“Oppa, I like the one with the snowman. The snowman!”

“The ivory-colored one?”

“That’s it!”

“Thanks. Then I’ll go with this.”

“Do you even read what’s written inside?”

Yun picked up the Christmas card with the small silver-foil snowman embossed in the center.

“You said you find them in the trash every time anyway.”

Ami punched Yun’s shoulder again, thump.

Yun whipped his head toward his younger sister.

While the siblings glared at each other sulkily, Yehyeon looked down at the Christmas cards.

“...I actually don’t know if he reads them or not. He might read them all and then throw them away.”

His voice grew quieter.

Yehyeon fiddled with the ivory snowman card, then gathered the remaining cards into a stack and pushed them aside.

“And I’ll be going to the US soon anyway.... I still want to say thank you. He paid the expensive tuition and all....”

“You guys going to America....”

Ami, who had been clenching her fists, drooped along with him.

“I can’t believe iiiit....”

“I’ll come back often, Ami. I’ll contact you every day. Second oppa doesn’t hit your head anymore, right?”

“Yeah.”

“If anything happens, you have to tell Yun or me right away. You remember what we promised, right?”

“Yeah.”

“And the tteokbokki is on its way.”

“Wow!”

Ami jumped up and ran out of the room.

“I’ll get it!”

“Huh? No, it’s not here yet!”

“Just leave her.”

Yun stopped Yehyeon, who had started to stand up in a panic.

“If it’s not there, she’ll come back on her own.”

Yehyeon blinked, then sat back down.

Then he looked at the classmate sitting across from him with his head bowed over his phone. Yun was deeply absorbed in something. It looked like he was reading another paper Yehyeon couldn’t understand.

Now accustomed to this sight, Yehyeon smiled faintly and murmured that he’d borrow one of Yun’s fountain pens.

“Go ahead.”

Yun answered without even lifting his head.

Yehyeon naturally launched into his usual nagging about how it was better to look people in the eye when talking, and pulled Yun’s bag toward himself.

He opened it to take out the pencil case.

Yehyeon froze.

“...Yun?”

“What.”

“Do you smoke?”

Yun lifted his head.

The inorganic high schooler looked into the other’s widened eyes.

“Ah.”

“Ah...?”

“Yeah. I started recently.”

He answered in a tone like someone saying he’d tried out a game.

“Out of boredom.”

Yehyeon picked up the cigarette pack from the bag.

He snatched it quickly and sprang to his feet. But he couldn’t throw it away. Yun lunged at him.

The two high schoolers started wrestling over the cigarette pack.

The one trying to get it back showed no expression at all.

The one trying to take it away looked like he was about to cry.

Yun spoke.

“Yehyeon. Give it back. You’re going to tell me not to steal other people’s things—what, is ◈ Nоvеlіgһт ◈ (Continue reading) this hypocrisy?”

“Don’t smoke! Who starts smoking just because they’re bored?”

“Me. It’s not illegal. I was born in January, so it’s been legal for a while.”

“Your parents—.”

Yehyeon opened his mouth, then belatedly realized that the siblings’ adoptive parents had little interest in them. His expression showed it.

Yun raised one eyebrow smugly.

Yehyeon bit his lip, then spoke again.

“My dad—.”

“Lee Seunghyun wouldn’t care even if you told him I smoke.”

Yun pointed out calmly.

“Do you really think someone like that would blink an eye over whether I smoke or not?”

Yehyeon stayed frozen for a while.

What snapped him back was the sound of a small girl scampering into the room.

Ami made a beeline for Yun.

She swung her fist.

“Ah.”

“That’s a bad thing to say!”

Ami shouted, brows knitted.

“Hurtful words!”

“It’s factual criticism?”

“...That’s exactly why, Yun.”

Yehyeon smiled bitterly as he answered, finally regaining his senses.

“I told you before. Pointing out facts so bluntly can hurt someone. ...No. Let’s talk about this later.”

“Fine. Then give that back.”

“No.”

“Oppa! I forgot to add cheese to the tteokbokki!”

“Really?”

Yehyeon turned to Ami in a panic.

“What do we do? Should I go buy some outside?”

“No. I bought cheese and put it in the fridge here last time.”

Ami replied casually, spun on her heel, and walked back out of the room.

“I’ll take it out.”

Flustered, Yehyeon followed after the small girl, saying he’d do it himself.

And that day, they succeeded in eating tteokbokki topped with cheese.

They also succeeded in writing the eighth Christmas card and placing it on the desk in Seunghyun’s study.

They failed to stop Yun from smoking....

Yehyeon’s eighteenth Christmas passed like that.

A carefully chosen card, tteokbokki, and cheese added late.

An empty house and a warm floor with the heating on.

Aside from the cigarette pack found in the backpack, it was no different from usual—just a little lonely and peaceful.

***

“Ricardo.”

Ricardo, eighteen.

A man looked at Ricardo with tear-soaked eyes.

“Please.”

The rough man’s hands were bound tightly behind his back.

“Have mercy. It’s Noel, isn’t it?”

The green eyes were dry.

So dry that even Ricardo himself was surprised at himself. He didn’t even feel betrayal anymore.

That made sense.

He had been through too much on the way here.

A long war.

In two years of war, Ricardo had lost many things.

Most notably, his family.

After losing his family, he lost his faith in the world. His hometown. His friends. Even so, he knew very well that he was luckier than most.

His father had died, but what his father had built saved him.

Friends of his father, whose faces he’d known since childhood, stepped forward to protect Ricardo.

They took him into the organization as a temporary measure, and even afterward continued to respect his opinions. Thanks to them, Ricardo had been able to make it all the way to America.

The safest land at this point in time.

That he hadn’t starved or been beaten along the way was entirely thanks to them.

In the process, though, Ricardo came to understand his father.

The third man kneeling before him now—the one who had betrayed Ricardo and the family....

“Choose, little Sordi. He tried to sell you, the son of your father.”

A Glock pressed against the trembling man’s temple.

“He’s even worse than the last one. What will you do? Christmas mercy? Or the price of betrayal?”

“Sordi, Sordi. Please....”

“It’s your choice, Sordi.”

His father’s longtime friend said.

“Once again.”

Ricardo didn’t deliberate long.

To begin with, he had already noticed the betrayal.

A sharp nature was both poison and medicine.

Because of it, he hadn’t been dragged off by his father’s enemy to die miserably—but trusting people had become harder and harder.

At the same time, his psychological resistance to deciding on judgment had begun to fade.

My father must have been like this too.

Carols rang outside the building.

Clear bell chimes....

“I was taught that betrayal is the one thing that can never be forgiven....”

Ricardo answered with a faint smile.

“That is my answer, Elias.”

“Smart boy.”

Elias, his father’s longtime friend, grinned.

“You raised your son well.”

Taang!

A crisp gunshot mixed into the carol.

It happened not long after the sky had closed.

***

Ska, eighteen.

He was sprinting through the house to avoid the slipper his mother had picked up.

“No, Mom, Mom!”

He snatched a bottle falling from a shelf he’d bumped into and set it down in the corner as he shouted.

“I said I’m sorry! I told you it was an accident!”

“It was a cake I spent three hours making!”

“I’ll go out and buy another one!”

“Michael!”

The woman didn’t stop running, a slipper in one hand and a whisk smeared with whipped cream in the other.

“Michael! Look at what your son does when he comes home for the first time in two weeks! On this holy Christmas, instead of sitting his butt down and eating the cake his mother lovingly prepared, he crushed it like peanuts! Oh Lord!”

“Mom, I’m sorry I came home after two weeks! But I brought back a lot of money!”

“I can feed and raise someone like you all by myself!”

The woman succeeded in grabbing the back of Ska’s neck.

Ska let out a terrified sound.

There was no mercy. She pummeled the broad back of her hulking, hunched son with her palm.

“Don’t work! Don’t work! Don’t work! Just study!!”

“Mom! That hurts!”

“Stay home!”

She flung whipped cream into the air as she shouted.

“You think I can’t do your father’s share too?!”

In the end, Ska shared what remained of the surviving cake with his mother.

Dinner eaten in the calm after a storm. They even boasted the fragrant Christmas food to the photograph of Dad, Michael Owen.

It was the third anniversary of Michael Owen’s death.

Michael, a soldier, had fallen in the First War.

A family reduced from three to two.

But they didn’t collapse in despair.

In their own way, they spent a pleasant Christmas.

Carols faintly sounding outside.

Sirens no longer heard.

A night where they could forget the pile of unresolved problems.

After eating an enormous amount of food and cleaning up, the two of them lounged lazily on the sofa, watched dramas, and fell asleep.

A Christmas wrapped in warmth.

***

“Why did you enlist so early?”

A senior asked as he lit a cigarette.

“And why are you stuck on base even on Christmas? Don’t you have a home to go back to?”

Carl Dow, eighteen.

Carl Dow, who had been organizing his personal belongings, looked up.

He looked at the senior with clear blue eyes.

Then he nodded.

“Yes.”

“An orphan?”

“Yes. Both of my parents passed away in the war. They were both soldiers.”

“Ah.”

The senior raised his hand and patted his back.

“So you’re one of those kids too.”

Carl didn’t answer.

He simply stood silently beside the senior smoking.

He had nothing in particular to say. He was always a quiet kid.

The military he’d joined a few months ago suited him.

He liked the simple life. The regular routine was good. Stray thoughts disappeared, and he slept well.

It also felt good to be following the path his beloved parents had walked.

The sense of belonging, too.

Unless something extraordinary happened, he might stay here for the rest of his life.

Calmly, Carl waited for the senior to finish his cigarette.

He didn’t have to wait long. Soon, the senior put away his e-cigarette and lightly tapped the top of Carl’s head.

“Let’s go. There’s a special meal.”

“Yes.”

Carl replied.

“Eat a lot.”

This time, he only nodded silently.

Normally, that was the kind of response that would earn him a sharp rebuke. But the senior didn’t voice any complaint. He just walked toward the cafeteria, hoping that this year’s special meal wouldn’t be as lousy as last year’s.

Carl followed behind him with a faint smile.

His first year of enlistment.

The war was over, and he had found his place.

And he was overcoming his loss.

A Christmas that was no longer unbearably lonely.

Carl Dow spent a peaceful Christmas in the military.

***

“Dad!”

Bobby shouted as she ran down the second-floor stairs.

Bobby, eighteen, getting ready to go to a party.

She dashed through the spacious mansion clutching a pearl necklace.

“Dad!”

“Oh, what is it, Sugar?”

Claudio Winter came out from the kitchen, wearing an apron.

“Didn’t you say you had plans today?”

“Put my necklace on for me!”

Bobby flicked her blonde hair over her shoulder and bared her neck.

“My pearl necklace! Hurry! I’m already late!”

“Ah, then.”

Claudio stepped forward gracefully and helped her fasten it.

“Of course.”

The clasp closed in a single try.

Having completed his daughter’s mission, Claudio placed a small kiss on her cheek as she shouted, “Thanks, Dad!”

Bobby smiled crookedly and kissed Claudio’s cheek in return.

“I’m heading out!”

“Be careful.”

The man smiled kindly as he saw his daughter off, running out of the house.

Bobby Winter dashed out like a gazelle, wearing heels nearly ten centimeters high.

Claudio watched as his daughter—precious enough to hurt just to look at—slid into the black sedan driven by a subordinate.

He kept his eyes on the departing car, then spoke to the subordinate standing guard by the entrance.

“Keep a close watch so no trash clings to her and pulls any nonsense.”

“Yes.”

The subordinate replied.

“Don’t worry.”

Could he really not worry?

No matter how many guards he assigned, he would always be anxious about his daughter’s safety.

But trusting and letting go was also a parent’s role. Claudio smiled faintly, then closed the door and went back inside his home.

In the living room was his lovely wife, waiting for his cooking.

He intended to enjoy Christmas in his own way.

“Merry Christmas, Bobby.”

Claudio whispered softly as he stepped into the kitchen.

“I hope you have a wonderful Christmas.”

He began icing the cake.