Chills ran down his spine. To think that such a small number of memory fragments could have such a profound impact.
Is this a structure where memories resurface more and more over time?
If that was the case, could he protect the archmage Haran’s identity from Pyo Haram’s memories?
This time, he had merely lost control of his body momentarily — but it didn’t seem like this would be the end of it. What troubled him was that fleeting sensation of his mind going blank.
What would happen if he truly ended up losing his own identity someday? A sudden wave of fear gripped him.
On the surface, his reason for crossing dimensions was to take revenge on those who had betrayed him. But beneath that lay a deeper reason.
“When a human is shaped into a soul stone, the self disappears, and only the abilities they had in life remain.”
He was terrified of losing his sense of self. How could one call it “living” if they didn’t even know who they were?
And yet, even in this place he had fled to, the same threat had followed him. For now, it was something he’d have to wait and watch — but the feeling gnawing at him wasn’t good.
If only I could seal away the body’s memories… No, it would be better if I could summon my original body, or create a new one.
Pyo Haram’s soul had already vanished without a trace, so he felt no particular guilt about wanting to erase the body’s memories. He didn’t know much about the afterlife, but if the guy had been decent enough in life, he’d probably gone somewhere good.
The problem right now wasn’t Pyo Haram, who was already dead and gone — it was himself, with a long life still ahead of him.
Summoning my original body, huh…
It wasn’t entirely impossible. Several spells immediately came to mind, and he felt like studying them as a foundation would yield some kind of solution.
The problem was time and mana. The fact that there was nothing he could do right now was maddening.
“Hah…”
Letting out a heavy sigh, he pulled out the will he had stuffed into his pocket.
Rustle—
He unfolded the half-crumpled paper, and neat handwriting came into view.
Pyo Haram. 26 years old. Unaffiliated freelance E-rank healer. That was the extent of “Pyo Haram’s” information written in the will.
Barely filling two lines at most — but below that, information about his nephew was packed in densely. The face of the young child that had flashed through his mind in that brief moment surfaced in his memory.
Samchon.
The child’s age written in the will was only six. It reminded him of his own dim-witted yet adorable disciples — helpless creatures who couldn’t do anything without an adult’s care.
…For now, I suppose I’ll have to go pick up that Sua kid, or whatever her name is.
He couldn’t quite bring himself to abandon something so small. Even if he were to let her go, he’d have to prepare her to fend for herself first.
Haram cleared his mind of all the stray thoughts crowding in and turned his focus to what needed to be handled immediately.
Kindergarten. Then home.
His goal set, Haram looked around. The hospital was too large, and he had no sense of where the exit was.
Fortunately, a volunteer guide nearby spotted him and approached.
“Is there anything you need… Oh my! There’s blood—”
The volunteer flinched at the sight of the smeared bloodstains on his upper lip and chin. Haram wiped his lower face carelessly with the back of his hand and waved her off.
“Ah. I’m fine. More importantly, I’m trying to go home — where’s the exit?”
The corners of the volunteer’s eyes twitched slightly at the informal speech from a young man who looked to be in his early-to-mid twenties at most. But she quickly took in the IV pole standing beside Haram, the drip bag hanging from it, and his disheveled appearance.
Oh, he must be a patient!
Hadn’t there been a lot of dungeon rescue patients today, after all?
He didn’t seem to be a trauma patient given that there were no bandages on his head, but that didn’t mean this young man was in perfectly fine condition.
The dungeon was apparently unmeasurable in rank — whatever was inside must have been horrific…
The volunteer’s gaze on Haram softened with pity.
“Excuse me. I asked where the exit is. If it’s difficult to guide me there, at least tell me the direction.”
“…You’re saying you want to go home? Um, shouldn’t you see a doctor first?”
“You mean those people in white coats? I’ve already met with them. They said my body is fine and that they’d just monitor my progress.”
“Ah…”
So they need to observe whether the patient’s confusion is improving!
She had been right — this was indeed a patient with something wrong in the head. The volunteer’s manner became a little more gentle.
“Is there no guardian with you?”
“A guardian? The only one who can protect me is myself.”
“Uh, um. I see. In that case, let’s first get your IV removed and ask whether it’s alright for you to be discharged.”
“Ah, right. Let’s do that.”
Having no clue about any of this, Haram docilely followed behind her. He then met with a nurse to have his IV removed, received a general briefing from a doctor, and was able to complete the discharge process.
“Oh dear, please take care on your way home.”
“Thank you.”
And so, a little time later — Haram stepped out of the hospital, seeing off a suspiciously cheerful farewell from the volunteer.
“We’ve arrived.”
Making use of the faint body memories that lingered, Haram had managed to hail what was called a taxi and arrive safely at the kindergarten written in the will.
“That’ll be 18,000 won.”
“Here.”
Just as he had paid at the hospital, he held out the thing called a card to settle the fare. Haram retrieved his card from the driver, stepped out of the taxi, and gazed up at the kindergarten building.
Hmm… So this is an institution that gathers up little runny-nosed brats and educates them.
In the world he had come from, these were called academies. But in this world, they used complicated names like kindergarten, elementary school, and so on.
Even something like this has cultural differences. How interesting.
To Haram, who was a scholar at heart through and through, everything was a novelty. Thinking that he’d take a look around the area after picking up the Sua kid, he hurried into the kindergarten.
“Oh, Sua’s guardian…?”
He crossed paths with a woman who happened to be passing near the entrance. She recognized Haram and began to greet him, but her voice trailed off as she flinched at his appearance.
“I’m here to pick up Sua.”
“…Ah, yes! I’ll go get Sua right away, just a moment.”
Fortunately, there was no particular commotion. It was no secret within the kindergarten that Pyo Haram was an E-rank hunter.
Even before, there had been several occasions where he had pushed himself to enter dungeons and come back injured. Though this was, of course, the first time he had shown up looking quite this much of a mess.
Meanwhile, Haram — none the wiser — found it strange that the woman who had just stepped inside had gone pale in the face. He wondered if the place that was supposed to educate children somehow had a sick person in it.
“Samchon!”
He had been momentarily lost in thought when the inner door swung open, and a small girl came charging out at full speed.
Jet-black hair tied up high in two pigtails, a fair face with chubby cheeks. Long lashes and round eyes with a slight upward tilt at the corners.
Samchon.
It was the child from his memories. Seeing her in person like this, she resembled Pyo Haram in quite a few ways.
“Uh, S-Samchon?”
Just then, the child who had been racing over as if she were about to leap into his arms came to an abrupt halt. Her fair little face crumpled with shock.
“Samchon, why do you look like a bum?”
Ah, right. He belatedly recalled what he must look like. He had washed the blood off his face and hands, but his ragged clothes were a mess, stiffened with dried blood.
If only I had magic, I could wipe something like this away in an instant.
To think that the inability to cast something as simple as a Clean spell had reduced him to showing this kind of state to that little brat. The archmage’s pride took a hit.
As he furrowed his brow, the child politely said goodbye to the woman who had followed her out, then stepped toward Haram.
“Mmmmm…”
It was as though she had never said anything rude like “bum” at all — the child’s demeanor was a little subdued as she looked him over.
“Um, S-Samchon…? Are you… mad?”
Her small fingers fidgeted, clutching at the hem of her pink clothes.
“…I’m not. Let’s just go home.”
Looking at the child’s teary eyes, he felt those damned memories of Pyo Haram threatening to flood back again. In the end, Haram turned away from the child first, as if fleeing, and started walking.
The child watched his retreating figure as he walked away without her, her shoulders tensing — and then she came pattering after him.
“S-Samchon.”
Haram, who had been striding ahead, stopped. Something had tugged at the hem of his clothes.
He looked down to find the tiny little brat, who barely reached his waist, staring up at him hesitantly.
Haram’s gaze settled on the child’s hand gripping his clothes.
“Uh, um… together…”
“Let go.”
“……”
He peeled her hand away from his clothes. The child’s eyes welled up, tears looking ready to spill at any second.
“My clothes are dirty right now, aren’t they. If you want to hold on, hold my hand.”
“……!”
A hand rough with calluses wrapped around the child’s small, soft one. The child’s eyes went wide before they curved into a pretty shape.
“Let’s go. It’ll be dawn at this rate.”
“Hehe. Okay. Samchon.”
Glancing at the child, Haram slowed his limping pace. The child trotted beside him, chattering away about what had happened today.
“So, today we learned numbers, and we did addition too. I even know what 10 plus 10 is now.”
“Oh? And what’s 10 plus 10?”
“Thirty.”
“…You need to study more.”
Even with his expression that said he couldn’t be bothered, Haram didn’t ignore the child’s chatter. Perhaps because of that, the child’s expression stayed bright the whole way.
Hmm…
Haram stole glances at the child’s face, careful not to let her notice. His own personality was certainly different from the original owner’s, and the atmosphere he gave off must have been different too.
He hadn’t hidden the fact that he wasn’t Pyo Haram — so he had assumed this kid would have picked up on it to some degree.
Is she still too young to understand?
Strangely, he felt a sense of relief. Perhaps it was because he was glad he didn’t have to deal with a child crying and wailing about where her real Samchon had gone.
Whatever the reason, he was hoping — at least for a little while — that this little one wouldn’t catch on to the truth, just as she hadn’t yet.
Grumble—
“……?”
A strange sound reached Haram’s ears as he had been lost in thought. He turned his head toward the source of the sound, and there was the child, hands wrapped around her stomach, blinking in embarrassment.
