Black Badger

My breathing slowly calmed.

As the frequency of my gasps decreased, the flood of memories settled into place. I still hadn't recalled everything, but the memories of my old comrade who had faced my sword remained vividly clear.

Ray.

I wasn't sure if I even had the right to call his name.

Or if I had the right to cry like this.

But the tears wouldn't stop easily, so I wept quietly for a long time before wiping them away again.

He might as well have been killed by my own hand.

I also recalled Lee Seung-hyun, the soldier who had been scouted from Korea. He was someone born with a natural talent for combat.

I remembered being astonished by his skills . . .

And his smile.

He wasn't one to smile much. His face wasn't so much expressionless as slightly furrowed by default. Even though he was young and promising when we first met, he wasn't someone you could easily get close to. I always kept a certain distance when dealing with him.

But exactly twice, Lee Seung-hyun smiled brightly, basking in the congratulations of his comrades.

I muttered blankly to myself.

"Now I remember."

The tears had stopped now, but the shock hadn't fully faded.

"Lee Seung-hyun was an orphan."

Ye-hyeon, who knelt and looked up at me, nodded quietly.

The revived memories were accurate. I had exchanged simple conversations with the young man.

Among the human soldiers I had trained, he boasted the most outstanding skills. Lee Seung-hyun was someone who didn't know how to give love. He had never properly been cared for.

That didn't justify abusing his son, of course.

But even so, he had smiled purely and without a trace of pretense exactly twice.

Once when he announced his marriage.

And again when he shared the news of his child's birth.

Just those two times.

So . . .

"That child back then was you."

I looked down at the person who sat there in a daze in front of me.

Now that I saw it, Ye-hyeon really resembled Lee Seung-hyun. The lines of his face were much softer than his father's, but the arrangement of his features was identical.

I remembered telling Lee Seung-hyun how much I congratulated him on becoming a father.

"You've grown so much since then."

Unconsciously, I reached out and patted the head of the one who looked up at me.

Ye-hyeon widened his eyes a bit but didn't move.

Wow, he really looked just like him. Even the deep eye color and hair color were the same.

The fluffy black hair . . .

. . . Huh?

Hair?

Ye-hyeon's hair?

"Argh!"

I screamed and jerked back.

Ye-hyeon, who had been looking up at me quietly, also widened his eyes and sprang back.

The distance opened up in an instant.

I froze with my hand pulled back toward my body, while Ye-hyeon froze in a standing position.

Silence descended upon the living room in a flash. The men stood rigid in the tense air. We remained frozen like that for a while, just staring at each other with rabbit-like wide eyes.

The only sound was the slurp of Yoon drinking his coffee.

Ye-hyeon was the first to break the silence.

"Why are you doing that?"

"Argh! Please don't use formal speech with me!"

Why was he using formal speech with me of all people?

No, as the commander, why was he using formal speech with me?

I freaked out and frantically shook off my foolish hand that had been patting Ye-hyeon.

"I'm sorry!"

"Huh? No, what?"

"I'll correct it. I'm really sorry!"

"You've really lost your sense of propriety."

Yoon commented in a dry voice.

He sat calmly on the sofa alone, drinking his coffee, with his legs crossed and one hand draped over the backrest.

The mentor added without batting an eye.

"This is even worse than Richard's case. Should I start using formal speech with you too?"

"Argh!"

Don't!

I jumped to my feet.

"Please don't!"

"What?"

"I don't like it! No formal speech!"

"Why are you rejecting it so vehemently?"

"Treat me like a newbie!"

I shouted with all sincerity.

"Treat me like the green rookie I am, just like before!"

The mentor let my words go in one ear and out the other.

He fixed his gaze on me and brought the coffee cup to his lips. One eyebrow arched silently. His pitch-black, emotionless eyes scanned my face.

Even after hearing everything, he seemed unchanged—that was so like him.

I looked at Yoon seriously and said.

"In our line of work, what does age matter, respected senior?"

"Oh. That's a proper attitude."

Yoon pretended to be surprised.

The senior set his coffee cup down on the table.

"But someone with such convictions goes around patting the head of their top superior?"

"Argh! I'm sorry!"

What was I thinking?

Making a tearful face, I bowed deeply to Ye-hyeon again. Ye-hyeon tried to stop me in a flustered voice. The top superior approached, telling me to lift my head, then turned to Yoon.

Ye-hyeon furrowed his brows and scolded Yoon.

"Yoon. Don't do that."

Yoon looked at Ye-hyeon and lifted one corner of his mouth.

"What did I do?"

"Don't tease Hilde for no reason. And in private, it's right for me to use formal speech with Hilde."

"No, it's not."

I made a serious face at his absurd statement.

Yoon bowed his head and started chuckling lowly. Ye-hyeon turned to me, his already large eyes widening further.

The top superior blinked a couple of times before asking back.

"You hate it that much?"

"Yes. No, please."

Why did he keep using formal speech?

"Please treat me like before."

"Hmm . . . I could if you want, but . . . "

Surprisingly, Ye-hyeon hesitated.

Blood slowly drained from his face.

As I felt increasingly dizzy, the man slowly added.

"I heard you taught my father swordsmanship."

Ah. That's right.

Lee Seung-hyun was an exceptional disciple.

More outstanding than anyone I'd trained up to that point.

"I learned the swordsmanship you taught my father, and I also received the voice messages you left behind. So, even setting age aside, in private, it's only natural for me to use formal speech . . . "

"It's not natural at all."

What part of that was natural?

But the superior just blinked and looked at me. He had an expression that said he wouldn't listen if I explained it normally.

With no choice, I started begging him to treat me like before. I apologized profusely for the hyperventilation-induced ramblings and for mindlessly patting his head like an idiot.

And I eagerly exposed my shortcomings, saying that while the past might be like that, my current skills were still pathetic.

Ignoring Yoon's lament about my messed-up sense of propriety, I went on like that for a while.

Until Ye-hyeon's work phone rang and the atmosphere shifted.

*

In the end, the issue of how to address each other was resolved the next morning.

At 8 a.m., summoned to the cabin, I persuaded the two seniors once more.

Fortunately, Yoon quickly promised to treat me as usual. He didn't know how old I was, but my skills were still subpar, so I'd remain the fresh-faced newbie.

How gratifying those blunt words were. I offered my mentor a heartfelt greeting.

Then I switched targets to Ye-hyeon and began pleading.

The top superior hesitated for a long time.

"You use informal speech with my father, right?"

"No, that's because he's my disciple . . . No, because Father is an old acquaintance of mine. But you're my top superior."

"It's right to respect each other's positions in official settings, but in private like this . . . "

"I haven't fully recovered all my memories yet."

I was desperate.

"At least use formal speech with me after I've regained all my memories and can pull my weight as one person."

That argument was accepted.

The conversation returned to how it was before. As the superior naturally spoke informally to me, a small peace settled in my heart. I placed my palm on my chest and let out a sigh of relief.

Of course, that peace didn't last long.

Strangely, Ye-hyeon wasn't preparing to go to work. He looked at me with relief and said.

"So, do you want to pick up the sword again?"

I stiffened reflexively.

My chest ached as if pierced by sharp glass. Last night, I'd tried to ignore the pain and get some sleep.

My sword, stained with Ray's blood.

If I asked for it back, Ye-hyeon would surely hand it over willingly. He might have been waiting for that day ever since I arrived here.

But I still wasn't certain.

It felt oddly like a weekend morning. Maybe because Ye-hyeon showed no sign of heading to work. Clear morning sunlight poured in through the living room's large windows. The scent of early morning air wafted in through the open kitchen window.

With my sharpened senses taking in the cool sensations, I answered.

"I don't want to hold it until my skills return."

The superior listened quietly to my heavy response.

"You might think it's foolish, but it feels like the proper thing to do . . . "

To Ray, and to my sword that had slumbered for so long.

I trailed off, but no one pressed me. Ye-hyeon, with an inscrutable expression, simply nodded. I was grateful that they didn't ask anything.

My recalled past still hadn't been properly sorted out.

Suppressing the guilt and self-loathing that gnawed a hole in my chest, I offered a greeting.

"Thank you."

"No."

Ye-hyeon replied shortly.

"Let me know when the time comes."

"Yes. Please bear with me a little longer."

"Sure."

After responding straightforwardly, the superior fell into thought.

Standing still under the white morning sunlight, he only looked at me after Yoon lazily rose from the sofa and approached, saying it was time to go.

Unsure who Yoon was addressing, Ye-hyeon said to me.

"Then let's go spar."

"Huh?"

"Sword sparring."

The superior said it casually.

"Let's have a sword match with me, Hilde. I need to see your skills."

I stared piercingly at Ye-hyeon.

Various thoughts crossed my mind. But I only voiced the one I was most curious about.

"Do you have a sword, Commander?"

Or was he planning to use mine?

Perhaps sensing the implication in my question, Ye-hyeon smiled bitterly.

"I haven't touched your sword since that day."

There was an inexplicable apology in Ye-hyeon's voice as he explained.

"I haven't shown it to anyone else or talked about it in detail. I've taken it out occasionally to maintain it. I'm worried it might not meet your standards . . . "

"No."

I replied softly.

Looking into his black eyes that always seemed tinged with sorrow, I said.

"Thank you for keeping my sword so precious."

It was the possession I'd poured the most affection into.

To the point where longing surged just knowing it existed. Even knowing it was stained with Ray's blood, I couldn't suppress the nostalgia.

I didn't know what I'd feel when I actually held the sword again.

In any case, I was grateful to the one who had treated the bequeathed sword with care.

Once my skills returned, I could hold my long sword once more.

"Will you spar with me?"

When I looked up and asked, Ye-hyeon smiled sadly and nodded.