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The Academy’s Sashimi Sword Master Chapter 240: The First Snowfall (4)

Chapter 240: The First Snowfall (4)

“Hmm…‍‌​ where should I start?”

Ms.‌‍ Cynthia took a cube of yokan‌‍ with a fork‌ and chewed it⁠ slowly. I watched‍‍ subtly and offered,‍​

“If‍ my presence makes⁠ you uncomfortable, I can step out.”‍

“Please,​⁠⁠ don’t worry. If‍ it were anyone‌ else, maybe… but‍‍⁠ if it’s you‍‌‍ listening, Mr. Kang‌ Geom-Ma, I’m grateful.”⁠‌

“Ah…‍ I see.”

“I​⁠ live alone, so‍ I rarely get‌ the chance to⁠ talk. It’s hard⁠ to speak sometimes.⁠​⁠ I’m sorry if‌​​ I’ve made you‌⁠ uncomfortable.”

She⁠‌‌ treated me with⁠ extreme politeness—so much⁠‌⁠ so that it‍​ felt overwhelming.

‘I⁠⁠ knew this world‍‌​ had a strong‌​‍ sense of hierarchy,‌‍⁠ but being in‌‌ a situation like​⁠⁠ this really makes‌ it awkward.’

Ryozo⁠⁠​ speaks to me⁠‌⁠ casually, but her​⁠⁠ mother treats me‌‌ with deference. It’s​‌‍ strange for an‍​ outsider like me,‌​‌ but in this​​⁠ world, it’s normal.‌​

Still,​⁠⁠ this peculiar situation⁠‍ was twisting my‌ stomach. That the‍​ woman—Cynthia—who looked just​⁠ like Ryozo acted​⁠ this way made‍ it even more‍ uncomfortable.

‘Ryozo⁠‌‍ only got Kojima’s​​⁠ eyes and hair.⁠ Everything else came‌​​ from her mother.’‌‍‌

No‍ wonder she didn’t‍​ resemble her half-sister,‍ Saki Hina. Apparently,‍​‍ the Korean bloodline⁠‌ was stronger in‍‍ Ryozo.

Thinking‌‍‍ that, I warmed​⁠‌ my hands on​⁠ the teacup. The​ heat melted away‍ my frozen fingers.​

Then,⁠‌‍ Ms. Cynthia began​‌ to speak.

“If⁠‌ I’m going to‍ tell you why‍‍‍ I left, Ryozo,‍⁠​ I have to‍⁠ start with your‌​⁠ father, Saki Kojima.​​⁠ You can criticize⁠ me after that,​ all right?”

“…”⁠‍

At‍‍ that name, Ryozo’s⁠ face subtly tensed.⁠ Her mother gave⁠‌ her a soft‍​ flick on the⁠⁠‍ forehead.

“I‍⁠​ know your father⁠ is a difficult‌⁠ man, but don’t‌⁠‍ make that face‌ in front of‍‌ Mr. Kang Geom-Ma.”‍​⁠

Then,‍‍⁠ with hands on‍‌‌ her hips, she‍ scolded her daughter.⁠‍​

“How‍‌ is it that‍‍‍ you’re the same‌‌ age and yet‌⁠ not half as⁠‍ composed as he⁠‍ is? You act⁠‌⁠ mature, but you’re⁠ still a child⁠‌ inside. You should⁠‌ try to be​ more like him!”‌‌

Ryozo⁠ rubbed her forehead,‍ muttering.

“He‌ was the one‍⁠​ who kicked you‍⁠ out… because of⁠ me. Do you​ know what he​⁠‍ said? That you‍‌ left on your‌​​ own. But I knew! I knew‍‌‌ you didn’t abandon⁠‌ me of your​‍ own free will…”‍‌​

“Your⁠​ father was right.‌ I left the‌ Saki family of‍ my own accord.”‌

“What…?”‌‍

Ryozo’s⁠ eyes shook violently.‌​ Her mother’s eyes​ were calm and‌ firm.

“Why?⁠ Why did you‌ leave, Mom? Why‌ did you abandon‍‌‌ me?”

Ryozo‌​‌ stammered. Cynthia smiled‍ sadly.

“I​‌ know you’ll hate‍ me for what⁠​‍ I’m about to‌ say. But—”

Before‌ continuing, she looked‌‍‌ at me and‍ smiled faintly, as‍ if implying something.‌⁠⁠

“Maybe‍​​ now that you’re⁠‍ older, you can​‍ understand a little⁠‍‍ how I felt.”‌‍

“How⁠‌⁠ can you expect‍‌ me to understand⁠‍​ someone who abandoned​‌ her child?”

“Are‍ we already starting​ with blame? I expected it, but‍‌ it still stings‌‌ to hear it⁠‌⁠ so directly.”

Ryozo⁠‌‍ suddenly stood up‍‍‌ from the sofa.⁠

“Honestly,‍‍‌ I thought the​⁠ first thing you’d‍ say would be‌⁠ ‘I’m sorry.’ Even‌‍ if it was⁠‍‍ just an excuse,⁠ I was willing‍​ to forgive you​‌⁠ if you showed‌‍ even a little‌‌ remorse.”

“Excuses⁠⁠ are meaningless. One⁠‍‍ has to be‌‍ honest. That’s the‌​‌ only way words​‍‌ truly reach someone.⁠ Didn’t I tell​⁠‍ you that often‍‌‍ when you were‍‌‌ little?”

“And‍‍‍ now! You just‍ compared me to‌‌​ Kang Geom-Ma! What‍⁠⁠ right do you‌‌ have to lecture​ me?”

“I‍ was correcting you​​ as a conversational‌‌‌ partner, not as​ a mother. You‍ were straying off-topic.”‍

Ryozo‌‍ frowned furiously, while‍‌​ her mother responded‌​‍ calmly. It was​‍ like watching any​​‍ mother-daughter spat.

‘Wow.’⁠⁠‌

I chuckled inwardly. They⁠‌⁠ say no parent​​ can win against⁠‍ their kid, hence⁠ the term “spoiled​⁠ parent.” But these‌​ two broke that‍​ mold completely.

“Mom,⁠​​ you’re always like‌ this. No matter‌ what happens to‌ me, you’re always​​ scolding me!”

“You‌‍‍ can’t convince anyone‌‍ just by whining,‌ Ryozo. And when⁠ children present weak‌ arguments, it’s a parent’s duty to⁠ correct them.”

Despite​‌ her daughter’s reproach,‍‌⁠ Cynthia stood firm‍⁠‌ and logical—countering emotion‍‌‌ with reason.

“Still⁠‍ pretending to be⁠‍ a mom after‍ ten years!”

“Then⁠​‌ shall we talk​​⁠ as complete strangers,​‌ with full formality?⁠ Sa-ki-Ryo-zo-ssi. I think‍‌ I’d prefer that.”​

Ms.⁠⁠‍ Cynthia wasn’t a doting mother. She​ was a sharp‍⁠‌ one.

Stuck⁠‍ between them, I had no idea‍​ what to do.‍ I stayed silent,‍⁠ sipping my tea​⁠‌ with an awkward‍‌ look. If I tried to step‍‍​ in, I’d probably​​ end up getting​​‍ caught in the‍ crossfire. I couldn’t⁠​ very well draw‌‍ my sashimi blade‍‍ and growl at⁠‌ them to calm‍ down. That thing⁠ only bares its​⁠​ teeth at the⁠‍‌ wicked.

‘Still,‍​ she’s amazing too.‌ She hasn’t lost‍‍⁠ a single word​​‌ to Ryozo.’

She‌​ was a remarkable‍‌ speaker. Even the‍⁠‍ top student’s rhetorical​‍⁠ skills wouldn’t surpass​‌ hers. The more⁠​⁠ they argued, the⁠ more cornered Ryozo⁠ became.

Ryozo⁠‌ huffed in frustration‌‌ and finally slumped⁠​⁠ onto the sofa.‍‌ Her mother smiled,‌ popping another yokan​‌‌ in her mouth.⁠​‌ Her smile was​ sweet.

“That’s‌⁠‍ why I said‌​​ we should talk⁠ over a snack.‌‌​ No one knows⁠⁠ my daughter’s temperament‍‍​ better than I do.”

Ryozo​‍ turned toward the⁠ window. Noticing that⁠⁠‍ I was still⁠​ there, she flushed‌​‍ with embarrassment.

“Well​​​ then, now that⁠​‍ you’ve let it‍​⁠ out, may I tell my side?”‌

“Do⁠ whatever you want.”‍​​

Her⁠​ mother shrugged and‍ resumed.

“I‍​ admit it. I was selfish to‍ leave my daughter⁠ behind. There’s no⁠​ excuse for that.‍​‌ I’ll regret it‍‌⁠ for the rest‍‍ of my life,⁠⁠ but I won’t‌​​ ask for forgiveness.‍⁠ I don’t want​‌ to be an​‌​ even more selfish​‍ mother.”

A mother self-reflecting.

“But,⁠‍ you know, Ryozo?‍ I think back⁠‌ then, I was⁠‍​ just too immature​ to be a parent. More than‌ a mother, I saw myself as‌‌ a woman.”

The​​ room grew quiet.‍‍

“This⁠​‍ might embarrass you,​⁠⁠ but I really​ did love your‍‍​ father.”

“……!”‌

Ryozo’s​ eyes went wide.⁠​⁠ Her face screamed‌ disbelief.

“That‍‍‍ Saki Kojima? Are​ you serious? Are‌ you sure you‍ weren’t under a spell?”

Ryozo‍ practically shrieked. She​ looked ready to​‌‍ grab her mother​ by the collar⁠‌ and shake her.⁠​‌

“You‍⁠‍ sure don’t hold‍⁠‍ back, do you?‌⁠ Feelings can’t be‌ explained by logic.​‍‌ That’s why people‌‌‌ get stubborn.”

“Even‌ so. That man’s​ had so many⁠​⁠ wives!”

“That​⁠ doesn’t matter. In‌‍‌ the hero society,‌‍⁠ polygamy is common.”‌‌‍

Wow…​‌ she said it⁠⁠ so casually. Even‍ after two years‌⁠‍ in this world,‌​ I still wasn’t‍⁠​ used to such‌​‍ feudal thinking.

“I‌‌ know your father⁠‌‌ is a control⁠​⁠ freak and pretty⁠ twisted. He doesn’t‌ care about family‍​⁠ either. Other than‌⁠ his first wife,‌ Lady Ironheart, no⁠‍⁠ one really matters‍‍ to him.”

Even‍ Cynthia calmly criticized‌‍​ the man in‌‍‍ a razor-sharp tone.‌​

“But‍‌ what could I do? It was​‍​ love at first‌ sight. Maybe I had a thing‌ for ‘bad boys.’​⁠ And while our​​ marriage was arranged,⁠⁠⁠ Kojima’s ability to‌ juggle wives is‍ almost a talent.‌ Sure, he has‌​ power, but more⁠‌‌ than that—it’s his⁠⁠‌ looks.”

“That‌⁠​ doesn’t justify anything.‌‍ No matter how⁠⁠ handsome he is,​​⁠ that man isn’t‍ a ‘bad boy,’‌​‍ he’s a total—!”‍‍

Ryozo‍ stopped short just‌​‍ before cursing and​ looked at me.‍‍

‘What?⁠​⁠ Why are you⁠ looking at me⁠ right before you​​ call him a bastard?’

Ms.‌⁠​ Cynthia muttered as​‌⁠ she watched us,⁠⁠

“Seems‍ my daughter inherited‍‌​ a little too⁠‍​ much from me.‌⁠‌ Even the bad⁠​ parts.”

***‌

Cynthia’s​⁠​ story continued for‍ nearly two hours.‌

“I‍⁠ truly loved your⁠‌ father, Kojima. Even‌​ knowing it was‍⁠ a hopeless love.”⁠⁠⁠

In‌⁠ her early twenties,​ Cynthia had simply‍‍‌ followed her heart​ as a young⁠‍‍ bride.

But​⁠ Kojima—chaotic in personality—soon⁠⁠⁠ disappointed her. He⁠ wasn’t cruel, but​ he treated her‍‍ with complete indifference.‌ The passion Cynthia‌ felt gradually cooled.⁠ One-sided love has​⁠​ its limits.

Years​‍ passed.

Noticing​​⁠ Ryozo’s exceptional talent,​‍ Kojima began pushing⁠ her away from‍‌⁠ her mother. It​⁠‍ was an unspoken⁠⁠‍ warning stay away‌​​ from Saki Ryozo.‌

“By​​⁠ then, I couldn’t​ take it anymore.”​‍‍

Cynthia‌‌‌ left on her​‍ own. It was​‌ an act of‍ rebellion. She wanted⁠‍ Kojima to regret⁠⁠ it when he‌ saw her walk‍ away.

“Remember​ this, Ryozo. I didn’t leave because‌‌ of Saki Kojima.​‌​ I chose to‌ leave.”

Cynthia‌​ was a woman‌​ of Busan—free-spirited like‍‌‍ the sea.

She⁠‍​ had strong character‍​​ and integrity. Loving​​ Kojima, and then‌​​ leaving him, were‍​ her decisions. And‌ decisions come with‌ consequences. The guilt​‍ of abandoning her‌​ daughter was a debt she’d carry⁠ forever.

And‍ Kojima—did he regret⁠​ it?

Of​⁠ course not. He⁠‍ was Kojima, through​ and through. He‍ didn’t stop her.​​

Though‍ as a gesture‌‍⁠ of “consideration,” he‌ offered her a luxury mansion in‍⁠ central Tokyo worth​‍‍ hundreds of millions.‌

“We‌ weren’t even divorced.⁠ He just saw‌ it as some‍ kind of compensation.”‌

Cynthia​⁠ rejected it all.⁠‌ She returned to​ Korea and started​‌ over.

‘I‌‍‍ knew that guy‍⁠ was unhinged, but​​ this this is​⁠⁠ another level.’

In⁠⁠‍ the end, there‍‍‌ wasn’t an ounce​‍⁠ of depth to​⁠​ him. Kojima was‍​ trash. So thoroughly​⁠‍ trash it almost⁠​ felt honest—in the​ worst way.

‘How⁠ much did he‍ love his first​‌ wife?’

People‍‌​ say circumstances explain‍​ everything. But so⁠‍ what? Everyone has​ their own baggage.​ After dealing with⁠​ thousands of lunatics​​⁠ in my life,‍​​ I can say‍​‌ this with certainty.‌​​

Kojima‍⁠⁠ is just a goddamn madman. Period.​

‘Next⁠‍​ time, I’ll stick‍ the sashimi right​ in his neck.’​⁠

Last​​ time I aimed‍​​ for his thigh​ because of diplomatic​ constraints. But now​⁠ that I know​⁠ the rot inside‍⁠ him, I won’t‍​ hold back. If‌​ I ever see​‌ that piece of⁠ garbage again, I’ll‌‍‍ take care of​‍ it myself—even if‌ I have to‍ fight all of​ Japan.

An‍ invasion with sashimi.‍

“Collapse⁠⁠ of Japan.” Sounds‍‍⁠ like a decent‌ title.

Thus‍‌ ended the story⁠ of Cynthia and⁠‍ Saki Kojima.

I looked to the⁠⁠​ side and saw‍ Ryozo, her expression‍ still confused. She‍⁠‌ was wavering between‍‍ seeing Cynthia as​ a woman and‌⁠ as a mother.⁠ Though her eyes‍​ still held some‌‌⁠ resentment.

‘Of​‌ course. You can’t⁠‍ unravel ten years‍‍‍ of resentment in​ a single conversation.’⁠

That‍⁠⁠ only happens in‍‍ dramas. Reality isn’t​⁠⁠ so poetic. It​ leaves a bitter⁠‍⁠ aftertaste.

“Oh,‍ look at the​ time! I’m so‌‍‍ sorry, Mr. Kang⁠⁠‌ Geom-Ma. I’ve kept​‌ you too long.”‍‍

“Don’t​⁠​ worry. Since I used a spatial‌ gate, it’s no​ trouble returning.”

“Still,⁠ someone as important‍ as you shouldn’t‍‍​ be away from​‍‌ the academy for‍​ so long. Come⁠ on, Ryozo, up‌ you get. Whatever’s‌​ left, we can​ talk about another​⁠‌ day.”

“Ah…‍⁠ yeah.”

We​ left the apartment.​‍‍

Ms.‍ Cynthia walked us⁠⁠⁠ to the entrance‌​⁠ of the building.​‍ Just before we​​​ departed, she said​‌ to me,

“I‍ know I have‍​ no right to​‍ ask, but please‍ take care of‌‌ my daughter. She⁠ worries me because⁠ she’s just like‌ me—moody and all.”​​

She‍⁠⁠ gave a slight‍ bow. I responded⁠ with a soft‍‍ smile.

“Ryozo​ does just fine‌‌ at the academy⁠​ without me. She⁠‌ has plenty of‌⁠​ friends.”

“Friends,​​ you say…?”

She​​ opened her mouth​⁠ a few times,‍ then sighed.

“I​ guess my daughter’s‍ not into bad⁠ boys… but the‍​​ type who doesn’t‍ get a thing.”‍‍

“…Excuse⁠ me?”

I blinked, confused. Ryozo‍‍ quickly cut in.‌​

“W-What‌​ are you saying,‍​ Mom?! Let’s go‍‍⁠ already!”

She​​ grabbed my sleeve‌ and yanked. As‌ I was being‍ dragged off, I waved back at‍⁠⁠ Ms. Cynthia. Despite​​ the cold, she⁠ stayed there for‍​‍ a long while.‍‍‌

Step‍​ by step, we⁠​ left the apartment‌⁠ building and approached⁠​⁠ the coastal highway.​​ The salty smell‌ of the sea⁠⁠⁠ grew stronger. That’s‍ when I said,‍‌‍

“Wait‍‍ a sec. We‌ need to grab⁠⁠​ a taxi to‌⁠​ the gate terminal.”‍‌

“Let’s‌‌⁠ take the express⁠​ bus instead.”

“You⁠⁠‌ know that’ll take‍ over five hours,‍ right? Maybe more⁠ with weekend traffic.”‍​⁠

“I‌⁠​ know. But I still prefer the‍ bus. The gate‍ makes me queasy.”‍⁠​

Even​ though she didn’t‍⁠ show any symptoms⁠⁠ earlier.

“And⁠⁠ using a gate‍‌⁠ for personal stuff…​⁠ feels like abuse⁠​ of power.”

“…Alright,⁠​ let’s take the‍‌ bus.”

“And‌ I want to‍⁠ walk to the‍‌​ terminal. My head’s⁠‌​ overheated. I need‌‍ the sea breeze​ to cool off.”​​

Ryozo⁠ blew her nose​⁠⁠ and spoke softly.‍⁠‍ Seeing her like‌⁠‌ that, I stepped‍‍‍ in front of⁠‌⁠ her and adjusted​ her scarf gently.‍‌

“Don’t‌‌ say stuff like‌‌ that if you’re‍​‍ shivering.”

“……”‍⁠‌

Ryozo‍⁠⁠ looked between my‌ face and hands.‌⁠​ Her face turned‌ so red it‌ seemed ready to​ burst.

“Hey…‌ I…”

Her⁠⁠⁠ lips moved slightly.⁠‍​ And then—

Shff.​

A single white flake‍‍⁠ landed on her​⁠⁠ scarf.

We​⁠​ both looked up⁠ at the same‌ time. The gray​ sky, the greenish-blue​​ sea, and in‍ between—snow falling gently.⁠⁠⁠

Like⁠​ paint dissolving in⁠ water, the scene​⁠ melted into perfect​​ harmony.

“This​ is…”

The‌ first snowfall.

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