Chapter 3
As soon as dawn broke, I wrapped the baby tightly in a thick cardigan, leaving only its nose and mouth exposed. Despite the medicine I’d given it, the baby’s fingertips were gradually turning purple. Its breathing was so faint I couldn’t tell if it was alive or dead unless I held my hand beneath its nose.
Of course, I couldn’t hear its breath. I was anxious, unable to tell if it was truly exhaling small, silent breaths, or if I simply couldn’t detect them. No matter how much external energy I provided, it would be useless if the fever didn’t break. I needed a proper fever reducer.
The snowstorm hadn’t stopped, but fortunately, it had weakened compared to yesterday. I secured the baby to my chest with rope and left the house.
I could tell my gait was awkward without needing a mirror. The baby hidden under my thick coat wasn’t very noticeable—and even if it was, it wouldn’t be a problem. Most people would assume I had a pocket or bag under my coat, not that I was hiding an infant.
Still, I was anxious the baby might cry or suffocate, so I was careful with every step. It was frustrating that I wanted to check on it but couldn’t.
“What kind of medicine are you looking to buy so early in the morning?”
“It’s urgent.”
“Even if you’re an engineer, it’s troublesome being this demanding. You know that, right?”
“I’m sorry.”
I’d knocked on the doctor’s door at the crack of dawn. The doctor emerged in his nightclothes, saw my face, and opened the door with obvious reluctance.
Engineers were rare in any village. There was a question of whether I still qualified as one, but in this village, even a half-baked engineer like me commanded some respect.
“I need medicine for a newborn. A fever reducer.”
“A newborn?”
The doctor looked stunned. Already irritated, he wrinkled his face even more and waved his hand dismissively.
“No way. You can’t give medicine carelessly to newborns. I won’t give you anything without examining the baby myself.”
Cold sweat ran down my back at his words. I felt the weight of having given medicine—made without any professional knowledge—to a newborn.
But I couldn’t do nothing just because it was dangerous. We’d made it through last night, but there was no guarantee for today. I absolutely had to get the baby proper medicine.
“If you want medicine, bring the baby.”
“It’s urgent. I don’t have time to go back and get it.”
The doctor glared at me like I was truly impossible, then let out a deep sigh.
“How old is it?”
“I don’t really know…”
As I shook my head, the doctor clicked his tongue. Before he could make up his mind, I spoke hastily.
“But it has teeth. Two small front teeth on the bottom.”
“Then it’s not a newborn? That means it’s at least six months old.”
I just blinked. Judging by its appearance, it looked less than a month old at most. The doctor muttered something about how an unmarried person wouldn’t know these things and began searching through his shelves.
“What are the symptoms?”
“High fever. It doesn’t cry.”
The doctor took a few medicine bottles from the shelf and disappeared into a small room. I wanted to see what he was mixing through the gap in the door, but it closed completely. I’d never been interested in medical alchemy before, but now it seemed like knowledge worth having.
Instead of trying to spy, I lifted my coat slightly. The baby was still silent. I placed my finger under its nose and felt the barest hint of breath. Before I could check further, I quickly lowered my coat at the sound of the door opening.
“By the way, whose baby is it all of a sudden? Don’t you live alone?”
The doctor asked casually as he emerged with a small glass bottle.
I’d been wondering when this question would come. In this small village, everyone knew how everyone else lived. Everyone knew I was unmarried.
“Someone I know left it with me.”
“Someone you know?”
“A friend.”
“You have a friend?”
I kept my mouth shut, having nothing to say to that. As expected given my reputation, I’d never been close to anyone here. The doctor looked at me dubiously but soon handed over the medicine as if it didn’t matter.
“Feed it milk and give one spoonful at a time. If the fever doesn’t break by tomorrow, bring the baby in.”
I nodded silently. It would be a disaster if the fever didn’t break by tomorrow. I couldn’t show anyone this child. In a small village like this, rumors spread like wildfire.
After buying the medicine, I stopped by the general store. Not knowing what to feed the baby, I asked the owner.
“If it has teeth, it can be weaned.”
“Then what should it eat?”
“Feed it vegetables or cheese boiled until soft. Meat is fine too.”
Seeing me hesitate, the owner enthusiastically recommended various items. When I came to my senses, I’d already bought far more than necessary. The owner saw me off with a satisfied smile. I felt somewhat swindled.
By the time I was heading home, the snowstorm had completely stopped. When I reached the house, trudging through snow that had piled even higher than usual, it was still warm inside. I added a few more logs to the stove and unwrapped the baby from my chest.
To give it medicine, I needed to make soup first. I chopped carrots so finely they were nearly unrecognizable even before boiling. Since the baby still couldn’t open its eyes, I dipped my fingers in the soup and fed it the same way as yesterday.
Contrary to my worry that it wouldn’t eat at all, the baby weakly sucked on my finger. I alternated between my index and middle fingers, offering them one after the other.
“Why does it seem even weaker…”
I felt anxious as the fever burned hot even inside its mouth when it latched onto my finger. Those two small front teeth pressing against my skin felt tiny and pitiful.
The baby couldn’t even finish half the soup. Even that much was only because I’d forcibly trickled drops into its mouth. I gave up on the soup and reached for the medicine bottle.
My hands trembled as I scooped the fever reducer onto a small spoon. Come to think of it, I’d walked through the snowstorm twice without sleep or food. Though my stamina had improved since living in this forest, it was more than enough to exhaust anyone.
I barely managed to scoop out the medicine and pour it into the baby’s mouth, but it pushed everything out with its tongue. The fever reducer trickling down its cheek looked almost accusatory.
“Please… you need to take this to survive.”
I used my finger to catch the spilling medicine and push it back into that small mouth. As my finger entered, the baby weakly sucked on the tip. It seemed to have already learned this was how to eat. I gave up on measuring doses and simply dipped my finger in the medicine, ferrying it into its mouth bit by bit.
I wiped the baby’s face, now a mess of soup and medicine, with a soft cloth and settled it in my arms more comfortably than yesterday. Rocking slowly, I tried to calm my racing thoughts.
There was nothing more I could do anyway. Though I didn’t believe in God, I had no choice but to leave everything in His hands now.
“…Don’t die like this.”
I whispered softly into that tiny ear. I hoped it wouldn’t die without any resistance, just as whoever abandoned it in the forest might have wanted. I didn’t know what fate awaited this baby, but not now. Not like this. Dying right after being abandoned at birth would be unbearably cruel.
— Save me. Please save me. Get me out of here, I said.
I knew well that those wailing voices weren’t real. They weren’t actually audible, nor were they hallucinations. Just voices I couldn’t forget, existing only in my head.
— What did I do wrong to deserve this? Who are you to treat me so carelessly?
A dream, I thought—a thought that didn’t match the desperate voice—and I waited. Since it would end on its own after a while, I didn’t try to wake up. I remembered whose voice each sharp scream belonged to.
So my waking wasn’t voluntary. I opened my eyes to a small sound.
It seemed I’d dozed off without realizing it while sitting on the sofa. I felt an unfamiliar yet familiar warmth in my arms. My hand, which had stopped moving in sleep, stirred. I carefully patted the baby’s back at regular intervals.
“Mmm, mm…”
My hand froze. The baby was whimpering softly. I finally realized it was the baby’s sound that had pulled me from my light sleep.
I looked down at the infant in my arms, moving only my eyes. The sleeping baby’s expression looked far more comfortable now. All the tension drained from my body at that tiny whimper. I’d never been so happy to hear a baby cry. It meant the child now had enough energy to make sounds.
“Haah…”
A deeply fractured sigh escaped between my lips. Along with relief that my efforts hadn’t been wasted came an unfamiliar emotion welling up from some corner of my heart. For a long time, I couldn’t bring myself to move, just holding the baby. Afraid it would break if I held too tight, afraid it would slip away if I loosened my grip—I could do neither one thing nor the other.
***
Another battle had passed. The baby was sleeping in the crude cradle I’d hastily cobbled together recently. Though it was annoying how it pouted its lips as if ready to cry at any moment even while sleeping, I kept quiet, terrified it might actually start wailing again.
It was impossibly fussy—bursting into tears the moment I laid it down in the cradle after it had fallen asleep in my arms. As a result, I had to hold and soothe the child for quite a while each time.
Even if it was a monster, a child was still a child. A newly born, helpless monster couldn’t do anything on its own and needed my constant care.
I sighed internally, careful not to wake it. My reflection in the mirror grew more haggard with each passing day. It wasn’t my first time caring for a child, but my body was already worn down. The experience of bottle-feeding a few times years ago was nowhere near adequate preparation for this.
Settling into a chair, I reopened the book I’d set aside.
“How to Raise a Smart Child: The Right Way to Raise Your Baby.”
It was a parenting manual.
