Chapter 78
The seal’s gaze followed the sandwich.
Ilina, what on earth did you make? You’re even enchanting a lake spirit with it.
“Wait, hold on.”
I slowly rose from my seat. The boat swayed a little, but keeping my balance wasn’t too hard. Then I stepped toward Rohan.
“Godfather?”
“Stay still.”
I grabbed Rohan’s shoulder and stretched my body back to feed the seal the sandwich.
The back of the boat was surprisingly cramped, so this was the only way.
If I threw it, the sandwich would probably break apart midair.
But ignoring it feels impossible, it’s too cute.
This was my first time riding a boat, but also the first time seeing a seal. It was so adorable that I couldn’t possibly disregard it.
“G-grand madam, what are you—?”
“Sir Nata, don’t move. What if the boat tips over?”
“With someone like you aboard, no matter how much it moves it won’t capsi—no, that’s not the point!”
As I clung to Rohan’s shoulder and fumbled around, Nata exclaimed in a flustered voice.
“You shouldn’t—! I mean, don’t press your body so close like that! If someone sees—”
“I’m just feeding it, don’t get so upset.”
Since they couldn’t see, there was no good way to explain.
From their perspective it must have looked like I was about to toss a sandwich into the lake, but it couldn’t be helped.
Still clutching Rohan’s stiff-as-a-statue shoulder, I fed the seal the sandwich.
[……Tta!]
Thankfully, it seemed to like it. But… do seals actually cry out tta?
“Do you want more?”
[Ttaaah!]
It nodded vigorously, clearly delighted.
I gathered the box again and placed it in Rohan’s hand, then took out another sandwich to give to the seal.
“Is something there?”
Finally realizing something was behind him, Rohan asked in a gravelly voice.
“There’s a spirit—seems you can’t see it. A big seal. Looks like it wants sandwiches.”
“Then… I will feed it.”
“You can’t see it, so I’ll do it.”
And, well… this is kind of fun.
Watching the seal gobble sandwiches with loud chomps and shake its head happily, I suddenly understood why those flyers insisted people search for lake spirits.
A creature that massive acting cutesy really was quite endearing.
“Yeah, even big things can still be cute.”
“……”
“Pass me the box again? I’ll give it one more. …Unless you want to eat one.”
“No, it’s fine.”
Oddly, his shoulder kept getting stiffer and stiffer. It felt less like a person and more like gripping a rock.
I tried to minimize contact—holding only his shoulder while leaning back—since I thought he might dislike it if our bodies touched. Even then, he didn’t seem pleased.
“Sorry, this’ll be the last one.”
“No, there’s nothing to apologize—”
But Nata, unable to bear seeing food wasted, called to me again.
“Grand madam, spirit or not, please calm down.”
“Calm down?”
Had I lost my temper? I was just about to point out his strange choice of words when the seal, having finished all the sandwiches, let out a big burp.
[Buurp! Delicious!]
“Huh?”
It could talk?
[The song was pleasant, and the bread was tasty. So as thanks, I’ll take you to the king!]
“The king? Wait—why would you—”
What the—does this seal have wings on its back?
Suddenly, the seal unfurled wings and raised its short arms.
“Magic! Grand madam, this way—!”
Nata tried to rush over to me, but the seal’s arm struck the lake faster.
Splaash—!
Even unseen, it still had power. The water touched by its arm surged up into waves that crashed down on us.
“Grand madam!”
Nata lunged toward me, hand outstretched. But the wave swept me away first.
The boat didn’t budge, yet the waves wrapped around me alone, pulling me down into the lake.
Splash!
I fell into the lake and sank straight toward the bottom, as if earth’s gravity applied underwater, dragging me down fast.
In the distance, I saw Rohan and Nata shouting toward me.
“…Wilhelmina!”
Whose voice called my name, I couldn’t tell—it was drowned out by the roar of bubbles.
I caught sight of both men diving into the lake after me, then closed my eyes.
Suddenly, an unbearable drowsiness pressed down on my eyelids.
[It’s fine, you’re just going to sleep for a while. …Teacher.]
A familiar voice soothed me.
Like falling asleep, I sank into the lake.
‘I’m going to succeed.’
The child who used to read novels every day one day began to show a determined side.
They used to chatter endlessly about protagonists and clichés—enough to fill a whole book with their words. But after that point, they went silent.
Only when classmates asked for recommendations would they speak up, and otherwise they buried themselves in studying like a cram-school student preparing for exams.
Of course, it wasn’t that they lost interest in novels.
Whenever I casually dropped, “That series just ended, you know,” they would glare at me with eyes burning with curiosity.
I had a hunch about why they’d changed, but I couldn’t interfere. I was only their after-school tutor, nothing more.
At some point, they stopped carrying a smartphone. Their once overstuffed bag became empty. Their face flushed more often than before.
They began wearing long-sleeved uniforms instead of the regular school attire.
…And they more often declared their ambitions to me.
‘I’ll succeed. I’ll be independent. I’ll earn lots of money and live alone in a big house.’
When I said it was too vague and far-off a dream for a middle schooler, they just snorted.
‘Better than having no dream at all.’
They were right. I, their teacher, had no reply.
One rainy day, the child showed up at the academy without an umbrella.
I was about to turn off the lights for closing time when I noticed them standing in the classroom, drenched.
They were rifling through their desk, though nothing was there.
‘I hate adults.’
But I’m an adult too.
‘Not you, teacher.’
Whether they meant I wasn’t an “adult” or not a “bad person,” the meaning was clear.
I wiped their cheeks, wet to the skin, with a towel. No matter how much I wiped, their cheeks wouldn’t dry.
Looking back now, I should have saved them then.
Instead of contacting the school or their homeroom teacher, I should have reached out directly.
…I should never have reported it.
‘…It hurts.’
Not a metaphorical ache—it truly hurt. Because of the kitchen knife stabbed into my chest.
Each hot gush of blood chilled my body further.
‘No!’
Someone fleeing. The wail of sirens. And the small child clutching me tightly.
Slowly, I rested my hand on their trembling shoulder.
I wanted to say I’m fine.
‘Are you hurt anywhere?’
But my question only made the child cry harder.
‘I’m sorry. It’s all my fault. I… I shouldn’t have called you, teacher…’
Their little body trembled pitifully.
Watching them gasp and shake with ragged sobs, I slowly opened my mouth.
It’s not your fault.
Children are supposed to rely on adults. Crying for help isn’t weakness. I’m sorry I was late.
That’s what I wanted to say. But I couldn’t remember the words.
‘What did I say back then?’
I remembered offering comfort.
But the content of that comfort wouldn’t come back to me.
Too much blood loss blurred my memory. My eyelids grew heavy, my eyes dry.
Beyond the fading focus, I saw the novels the child loved. A tiny, dim bookshelf—and one pink-covered book title stood out vividly.
The title was definitely…
[Wake up! Hey!]
Slaaap—!
Then the world began to collapse like a sandcastle.
[I wanted to give you a sweet dream, but what is this nightmare? If you stay here, your soul will break apart!]
So loud. The booming voice rattled my ears, shook my head, made me frown.
[Stop sleeping! Who’s worrying about who here? That’s just a dream, not reality! And besides…]
The voice sounded familiar.
Yes, sharp, irritable—just like that child…
[Don’t tell me not to cry! Look who’s talking! Wake up, Teacher Kim Hana—!]
Slaaap—!
Again came the mysterious sound, and… I opened my eyes.
