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The Academy’s Sashimi Sword Master Chapter 418: The World is Crazy About Him (3)

Chapter 418: The World is Crazy About Him (3)

The‍‍‌ Day of the‍ Event.

“Waaa…!”⁠

Media⁠ looked around, exploring‍​ the festival scene,‍‌ a bag of​​ popcorn in her⁠ hand.

The‌ one accompanying her,​​​ the Sword Master,‍‌‌ muttered with disinterest.​​‌

“Isn’t⁠ this the same‌⁠‍ academy you’ve been​‌ at for decades?​‍‌ What’s so different​ that you’re gaping‌ like that?”

Tsk.‍‍⁠

“Seriously,⁠‌ the insensitivity of‌ old men… Hey!​‍​ The atmosphere is‌ completely different! Can’t⁠ you feel it?​‌‍ Even the decorations!”‍​‌

The‌‍‌ Joaquin Academy, true​‍ to its Western‌⁠ name, had European-style‌⁠‍ architecture as its‌ motif. This was​ only one of⁠‌ the countless lines‌​ of the world,‍ but this one​‌ proclaimed the “Miracle‍‌ Blessing M.” The‍‌ distinction between Eastern‌​⁠ and Western cultures​‌‍ was not that‌ sharp.

Even‍‌ so, the lanterns⁠​ that lit the⁠​‌ night always carried‍‌ a special flavor⁠‌ when they came⁠ from the East.‌‌

“…Well,​ yes. It’s beautiful.”⁠‌

“Sieg,⁠ you’ve always been⁠​ like this. Never⁠‌⁠ admitting anything outright.”‍‌

It⁠​ was the hour​‌ when the sun‌⁠ seemed to graze‌‍‍ the horizon. The‌‌‍ sky glowed with‍‌ the splendor of⁠​‍ sunset.

“It’s​ just… keeping composure.”⁠​

“Composure,‌ you say…? Hey!⁠ Are you going‌⁠‍ to keep stealing⁠‌ my popcorn? You⁠⁠‍ said a while⁠‌⁠ ago it was⁠​⁠ old people’s snacks​ and you didn’t‍‌ want any!”

The‌​​ Sword Master, who‍‍​ was reaching out‍‌ his hand, suddenly‌​⁠ froze, as if‍​⁠ he had been‌ caught red-handed.

“The‍ world is dangerous​​ lately, I had‌​ to check they⁠​ weren’t poisoned.”

“I’m​‍‌ an ancient. Immunity⁠⁠⁠ to poisons is​ passive in me.”​

“That’s‌‌‌ true… seeing you‌ eat that junk‌​ as if it‌ were real food…”‍⁠

Media​‍ furrowed her delicate⁠​ brow.

“Confiscated.”‍

“You!‍​‌ Is it necessary‌‌ to hide it​‌‌ like that? I only have one⁠​ arm! This is‌⁠ abuse!”

“When​⁠ kindness is repeated,‍‌⁠ some people think​ it’s a right.”⁠

“…!”‍​

Their‍​ bickering faded into​ the sounds of​⁠⁠ the surroundings. Students⁠‍‌ and visitors enjoyed‍ the festival without⁠​ paying attention. The​‌⁠ atmosphere was too⁠‌ enchanting.

As‌⁠ the sun fell,⁠ lanterns lit up‌‍​ around the area.‍⁠​ What, in isolation,‍⁠ could seem like‌‍‌ a lonely, sad​‍‌ flame, now resonated‌⁠ across the whole​ space, wrapping the⁠ atmosphere in an‌‌ oriental air full⁠ of melancholy.

“Huuh…”⁠

The‍ Sword Master ran‌​ his hand through⁠​‍ his hair with⁠ his single arm.‍‌⁠ Abandoning the popcorn,​ he cast his⁠‍‌ gaze around.

“The​ academy, which seemed‍ unchanging, shifts quite​ a lot just‌‍‍ with a new​​‌ name for the⁠‍‌ festival.”

“Exactly.”⁠‌‍

In​ Media’s glasses, the⁠​ small flames of‍​ the oil lamps​‌‍ reflected.

“When‍‍‌ I’m at Joaquin‌ Academy, sometimes I feel the illusion⁠ that time stops.‌​‍ And for someone​​​ of my ancient‌ race, that illusion‍‌ comforts me deeply.”‍

The​⁠‍ ancients and humans⁠⁠ were different, starting‌⁠ from the most⁠ basic thing—lifespan.

To‌⁠‌ the ancients, human​‍ life seemed as‍‍ fleeting as a melting candle. Too⁠ short. Sharing life‍‍ was difficult, since​​⁠ the innate limits⁠ of existence were‌‌ different.

Even⁠‌‍ so, Joaquin Academy‌⁠⁠ had gone seven⁠‍​ hundred years without​‍‍ changing much—neither in‌ prestige nor appearance.‌⁠‍

“…”‌⁠​

The‌‌⁠ Sword Master observed‌ Media’s profile. The⁠‍​ lanterns split her​‍ face into light⁠ and shadow. He‌​ couldn’t find words.​‌ Since their student‍⁠‌ days, they had‍⁠‌ been together.

‘She‌‌ may be the‌‍ only person I can call a friend.’

Though⁠⁠‍ heroes lived longer‌‌⁠ than humans…

‘The‍⁠ ancients live nearly‌ a thousand years,‍‌ if they fulfill​‍ their cycle.’

He​⁠ himself, or Changseong,‌‍​ someday would leave‌⁠​ earlier, and Media‍​⁠ would remain alone.​ That feeling of⁠⁠⁠ abandonment.

The‍‌ Sword Master shook‍ his head, casting​‌ away those thoughts.​ Perhaps it was⁠‍‌ the atmosphere of​⁠​ the funerary festival,⁠⁠ but emotions overwhelmed‌ him.

So‌ he said something‍ nonsensical.

“…This​‌ year, a lot​ has changed. Joaquin’s⁠‍​ graduate school, this‌‍⁠ commemorative festival…”

“Yes.”‍

Media⁠​⁠ smiled softly.

“And‌ I like it⁠⁠‌ better this way.”​

“You‌⁠​ don’t seem saddened.”‌

“Saddened?⁠‍​ Are you confusing​ me with yourself?”‌‌‌

“…”⁠‍‍

“In​⁠ the past I wished everything around‌ me would stay‌⁠​ the same, that⁠ no one would​ age. But now…”‌

At​​ that moment, a child accidentally let‌‍‍ go of his⁠⁠⁠ lantern, which floated‌ up into the‍ sky. Far from⁠⁠‌ crying, the boy‌⁠ watched the light​‌ disappear in the​ distance, shining more⁠‍ beautifully for being​⁠​ extinguished before its‌​ time.

Media‌ did not miss⁠‍⁠ it. She handed‌‍‌ the child her‍ own lantern, and​‌ when he bowed​ deeply, she responded‍⁠​ with a smile‌‌⁠ before continuing her‍ walk with the⁠ Sword Master.

They‍ walked aimlessly. Few⁠⁠​ young people recognized⁠‌ them; once, even‌‍‍ in a department‍ store, they caused​‍​ crowds.

But‍​ even the Seven‍⁠ Stars were heroes​ of an era.​​⁠ Every few centuries,‌​‌ new powers arose,⁠ and their titles⁠​ would end up⁠‍ just pages in‌ history, like lanterns​ devoured by the‌‌⁠ night.

Media‍​ spoke again.

“With‌‌⁠ these changes, I feel life is​ fuller.”

“You‌‌ think so?”

“Of‍‍ course, and in⁠ a positive sense.​ Sieg, you know⁠​‍ it too. With‌​​ the nobles we‍ lived everything, the⁠‌‌ best and the‍⁠ vilest. And now…”‍

“The‌‍​ appearance of Kang⁠​​ Geom-Ma changed everything.”‌‍

The‍‌‍ Sword Master smiled‌‍ with pride.

‘My​‌ disciple. My precious‌ son-in-law.’

He‍ would not allow⁠​ anyone to take‍​ him away, not​‌‌ even Balor Joaquin,‌ the founding hero.‍

He⁠⁠ remained silent about⁠⁠⁠ Balor’s identity. Balor⁠‌‌ himself didn’t seem⁠⁠​ to care, but⁠ the Sword Master‌⁠‍ preferred not to‍⁠​ speak, because he⁠ feared the struggle‌‌ for Kang Geom-Ma⁠ would fall into‌‌​ Balor’s hands. That⁠‌ thought alone made​ him desperate.

‘If⁠ Media finds out…’​‍

Insults​ would rain on‍‍ him—petty, selfish, vile.​ He would endure​‍​ it.

‘Geom-Ma.‌​ My precious!’

But‍‌‍ a bad feeling‌⁠ invaded him. He⁠‍ couldn’t see either‍⁠ Kang Geom-Ma or​ the founding hero.​

Were‌ they speaking alone?‌⁠

‘…I‌‍ must find them.’‌‌‌

Unaware‌⁠‌ of his agitation,‌⁠ Media continued.

“Thanks⁠ to Geom-Ma, the​⁠⁠ world moves each‌​ day toward a better tomorrow than​ yesterday.”

“I‌⁠ admit it. In⁠‌⁠ the past, though⁠⁠ we carried the‍​ great title of‌ Seven Stars, we​ never managed to​‌‌ change the world.”‌

“Perhaps⁠ that very title‍ was a shackle⁠ that limited our‌‌⁠ movements.”

“How‌⁠ shameful to think‌‌‌ of it.”

The​‌⁠ Sword Master made​ a bitter gesture.⁠‌‌

“There​‍‍ is no shame.​‍​ Geom-Ma is also⁠ one of us,​‌​ one of the⁠​‍ Seven Stars. We⁠‍ should be proud.”​⁠

“Ah,‌⁠ now that you‍‌​ mention it… I’m‌ thinking of retiring​ from the Seven‍​ Stars soon.”

“Last‌⁠⁠ week Richard told⁠⁠‌ me the same.”‌‌

“That‍⁠‍ guy… well, his‌‌ time to step⁠⁠⁠ down has come⁠ too.”

In‌ truth, neither the​‌⁠ Sword Master nor‌ Changseong were weakening;⁠ on the contrary,​‍‌ they continued to‌​ grow in strength.‍​​ The reason for‌‍ retirement was to​⁠ send a message—the⁠ change of an‌ era. If they‍‌‍ occupied the seats​‍‌ forever, the heroic‌⁠ world would stagnate.‍ And now, with​‌‌ Geom-Ma leading the‌‍ new era, it⁠​​ was the perfect‍​ time to step⁠‌‌ back.

Though​ they hadn’t spoken‌ directly, the Sword‌ Master and Changseong⁠ shared that thought.‌ Rivals or not,‍‌‍ both desired the⁠​ same thing—a healthier⁠‍​ world of heroes.⁠‍

Footsteps‌ resounded among the‌​ crowd. While they‍​​ talked, a huge‍ sphere rose before⁠‌‌ them.

“Uoooooh!”‌​

The‍‌⁠ people applauded and⁠​‍ shouted.

An‍​ instant later, the‌⁠ sphere revealed its‍‍ nature.

A hot air balloon,​ with a massive⁠‍ globe on top.‌‌​

“Were​ hot air balloons‍​ in the program?”‍‌‍ asked the Sword​ Master.

Media‍‍ answered uncertainly.

“I⁠‍ heard that, since⁠‍ today is Joaquin’s​‌​ anniversary, they couldn’t​‌ skip it. Maybe‌‌‌ they’re using it‍‍‌ to enhance the⁠⁠ festival’s mood.”

“Indeed…”‌‌

“Want⁠‍⁠ to see it‍ up close? I know you love⁠ those things.”

“Hmph!”‍​‌

Though‌‍ he grumbled, Media⁠‍‌ pushed forward, making​⁠ way through the‍​‍ crowd. The Sword⁠‌ Master followed reluctantly.‍

“Ugh!”‌⁠​

A panting voice greeted‌⁠⁠ them. It was‌‌ Rachel.

“I’m⁠ going to die!”​

“Just‍‍ a bit more!”​​

“Cheer​⁠ up, Rachel-nim!”

The​⁠ crowd cheered. Rachel,​ exhausted, once again​‌‍ brought her mouth‍ to the balloon’s​‌‌ valve and blew⁠⁠⁠ air inside.

“…?”​

Seriously?⁠ Is she inflating​​⁠ that by lung‌ power?

A revered heroine like​‌⁠ Rachel turned into​‍‌ an air pump…​​⁠ the Sword Master⁠‌​ blinked in disbelief.‌⁠⁠ Rachel was strong,⁠​ no doubt. But‌​ to rely on​ her in these‍⁠⁠ circumstances was another⁠‌ matter.

Swallowing​ hard, the Sword​ Master muttered.

“Media.”‌⁠‌

“If​⁠⁠ it’s to retract​‌ your retirement, I won’t allow it.”​⁠‌

“….”​

Regret​ filled me.

***‌

It⁠‍ was the first‍‌ day of the​​⁠ festival. Some time‌‌ had passed and‌ the sun had⁠​​ already collapsed beyond‍ the horizon. Ryozo,‌‍‍ Abel, and I walked, the grass‌⁠​ crunching beneath our⁠⁠‌ feet.

“It’s‌‍​ really crowded down‍‍ there.”

“That’s‍‌ why I like‍​‌ this side better.”‌

Abel​​ spoke first, and​​‍ Ryozo picked it⁠⁠‍ up.

“If‌‍ the commemorative festival‌​‍ only had a gloomy atmosphere, it⁠⁠ would be heavy.”⁠‌‍

“Exactly.”⁠

I added something too.​

“It’s‍ like when at⁠‌⁠ funerals they sometimes⁠ play cards or‌‍ go-stop. They say‌ that if you‌ only cry, the‍ deceased doesn’t like‍ it.”

“Kang‌​​ Geom-Ma, that comparison…”⁠

The‍ words Abel left​‌‌ hanging, Ryozo immediately‌ caught.

“You​⁠ sound like an⁠⁠‍ old man.”

“….”‌‍

“But⁠‌ really, Kang Geom-Ma,‍‌​ you’ve always been⁠‌⁠ like that. As‍ a cadet, you​‌ seemed like an‍‍ adult-child and at‌​ the same time⁠‌‍ a three-year-old brat.”⁠‍‍

Abel’s⁠⁠ warmth surrounded me​‍‍ from one side.⁠

“Your‌⁠ father told me‌ that as a child you were⁠ even worse. You​ misbehaved so much‍‌​ they first thought​⁠‌ you were mute.”​⁠‌

“That‍‌ man really… Ugh!”‍​‌

Pain⁠⁠ stabbed my other​⁠​ side. Through tears​⁠ I looked, and‍​⁠ saw Ryozo pinching‍​​ me while scolding.‌​‌

“How⁠​ can you speak⁠‍‍ of father like​⁠​ that?”

“No,​​ I… fine, I was wrong.”

“You⁠‍​ must always be⁠ respectful to father.”‍​

“Yes,‌ yes.”

The‍‍‌ boss had Ryozo‌ and Abel’s absolute‍⁠ support. Even I didn’t receive as‍​‌ much. It felt⁠ like the blessing‍ of the hypnosis‍ app wasn’t mine,​​ but his.

“By⁠‍ the way.”

The‌‌ low grass tickled‍ my ankles.

“Why‌​‌ are we going⁠ there?”

We‍​‍ climbed the small⁠ hill behind the‍‍⁠ academy grounds. Anyone​‍​ who knew, already‍‍ knew—we were heading⁠‍⁠ toward the bench​ I often visited,‌​ and where, in‌​ my first days,​⁠⁠ I had met​ Abel for the‌ first time.

“There‌ are too many‌​ people down there.‌⁠‍ Besides, Kang Geom-Ma,‍ you like quiet‍ places.”

“That’s⁠⁠ true… but.”

“Does​⁠ it feel sudden⁠ to you?”

I nodded. Ryozo answered.‍

“I’m‌‍‌ INTP and Abel​⁠⁠ is ESFP. Both⁠​ of us have‍ the P trait,‌⁠‍ improviser. Even if‌ it’s sudden, we‌‌ understand, right?”

…Not‌ exactly the angle​​​ I had in‌‍ mind.

“Ah,​​‍ wait a moment!”⁠‍

Abel⁠ quickly stepped away‍ from me.

“I…‍‍ I. I left⁠⁠⁠ something at home!”⁠⁠⁠

What‌ was with that‌ tone of such​ forced acting?

“What‌ did you leave?”⁠‍

“T-t-that…‍‌‍ my wallet!”

“What​‌ do you need‍ a wallet for,​​ just to go​⁠‍ to a bench?”‍

“…Maybe​⁠ there’s a fee​‌ to use it!”⁠

A fee to use‌​ a bench?

What​‍ a broken academy.⁠

“You‌ two keep walking‌⁠ for now.”

Abel‍‍​ went down the⁠‌‌ hill without looking​‌ back. I was​ left open-mouthed watching​‌⁠ her leave, when​​‍ this time Ryozo⁠‌⁠ spoke.

“I​​ also forgot something.”​​

“What‌‌ did you forget,​ Ryozo…?”

“My‌‌ sweet yokan.”

Well,​ that made more​⁠ sense than Abel’s.​

“I’ll⁠​‌ be back soon.”⁠‍

With​⁠‌ a similar excuse,‍⁠ she too left.‌

‘Obvious‍‌ as day.’

I scratched my chin‍‌⁠ and continued toward‌ the intended place.​ Before long, the​‌⁠ bench appeared. And⁠‍‍ beside it, someone⁠ was occupying it.⁠‌‌

He‌‌‍ only turned his‌ eyes toward me.‌‌

“You’re⁠​‍ here.”

“Boss.”‍​

I squinted at him‌ and sat at⁠‍ his side. Suddenly,‍⁠ I found myself​‌⁠ alone with him.‌

“….”​

“….”‌

Silence​⁠ fell between us.​‍

‘Why⁠⁠ so awkward?’

I spent years with‌⁠‌ this man fighting​‌ in my previous⁠ life. Back then,‌ I just thought​ of him as⁠ some bald old‍ man.

‘But‌​ ever since I came to this​‍ world, my perception‌⁠⁠ changed.’

The​ founding hero.

Balor⁠ Joaquin.

When‌⁠ I discovered the​ boss’s identity, I was pretty shocked.⁠⁠⁠ Maybe that feeling​‍ stuck with me.‌‍ For some reason,‌‌⁠ with him, who⁠‌ had returned here‌⁠‍ without me really‍ understanding why, there‍ was this distant‍​ atmosphere.

Even‍​‌ when I wanted‌‍ to talk, there⁠⁠​ were always too⁠ many obstacles, too‌‍ many interruptions.

‘Excuses,⁠​⁠ nothing more.’

Each⁠ of us had‌ gone through our​​ own things. The⁠ past where we​⁠⁠ had shared so‍‌ much was too‌ far away now.​​ That’s why ordinary​⁠ conversations didn’t come⁠ naturally.

Someone‌⁠ had to muster⁠ the courage.

“What‌⁠‍ is this ridiculousness⁠​ about inventing a Buddha’s birthday?”

And,⁠⁠ as always, that‍‍⁠ someone was the​‍​ boss.

“I​ said they shouldn’t‍ make a festival​​‌ for my birthday,‌ but in the‌ end, the academy’s‍ second director instituted‍ it…”

“Well.”⁠

I laughed.

“I⁠‍ thought you were‍⁠ a historic egomaniac.”⁠

“And‍‌ aren’t you one?”⁠⁠‍

“….”‌

He⁠⁠ shut me up.‌​‍

“I’ve‍‌⁠ returned in time​ so many times‍ that the concept⁠ of birthdays almost‌‌ doesn’t exist for‌ me.”

Speaking‌ like that, the​ boss leaned back‍ against the bench.‌‌ The lanterns began‌‌ to rise at‍⁠⁠ that very moment.‌

“Did⁠⁠ you know? The‌​ day you came⁠ to this world‍‍‌ was exactly today.”‌​⁠

“If‌ even I forgot,⁠⁠‌ how do you‍⁠ know?”

“Because‍ the day of⁠ your disappearance was⁠‍​ today. And I was your legal​ guardian.”

Ah.⁠⁠

The‌​‍ boss moved his‍​⁠ lips.

“How‍‌‌ is it for⁠ you, being in‍​ this world?”

His‍ fingers curled into‍‌‍ a fist.

“Doesn’t​​​ matter if you‍‌⁠ resent me. After⁠‍‍ all, it was‍​‍ like throwing my‍‌ obligation onto you…”⁠‌​

“I’m⁠‍ happy.”

I looked at the‌​ countless lights swaying.⁠ Each one of​⁠ them was a human heart.

The‌⁠ wish to comfort‌‌​ civilians caught in⁠⁠ tragedies.

The‍⁠ wish to honor​ the birth of‍ the founding hero.​

“…I​⁠‍ see.”

Clap.⁠‍

His​‌​ broad hand covered‌⁠ my head.

“Happy‍ birthday.”

All​‌ those emotions seemed‍​ to bless the⁠ soul of a son.

“Happy⁠‌ birthday to you​‌ too, father.”

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