Chapter 169: Chapter 169

The instructor, whom I hadn’t seen in a while, was dressed in a black suit. Given his large frame, it seemed like the suit didn’t fit well, but it didn’t look ridiculous either. With his solemn expression, no one would think it looked out of place.

“Before we go up, let’s talk for a moment. Do you remember the resting place up top? Go ahead, I’ll catch up with you soon.” “Okay, I’ll wait there.”

There weren’t many places that could be called a resting area in this graveyard. The one we often visited was a quiet spot at the foot of the mountain, away from people. There was a nice shade from the trees and a bench.

A cool breeze blew from the shade. As the unique scent of the forest filled the air, the instructor arrived, holding a large box in both hands.

“What’s in that box?” “It’s... a bit hard to call it your parents’ belongings.” “...?” “It’s something they left with me before the accident. It’s not something your parents used, so it’s not technically their belongings, but I thought it was something meaningful, so I kept it carefully.”

My parents passed away several years ago. Why now? The question arose, but I didn’t ask it out loud.

It was the instructor’s decision. Surely there must have been a reason.

Perhaps... it was something I wasn’t supposed to see years ago.

As expected, the instructor didn’t betray my trust.

While I waited, the box was opened.

Inside were a carefully wrapped wooden sword and a gi. Even I could tell they were valuable, luxurious items. The instructor, cautious about damaging the wrapping, handed them to me.

The gi was too large for me now... it had been tailored for the physique I had in the past.

“This was something I received a few hours before the accident. I had planned to inspect it to see if it met the regulations before handing it to you. There wasn’t any problem with the gear... but I never got around to giving it to you.”

I closed my mouth tightly. There was no choice but to.

It was an obvious story.

I wasn’t good at expressing my emotions.

This trait had been inherited from both my mother and father, so when it came to gifts, they always seemed a bit awkward around me.

I probably felt the same now.

They had never shown off their generosity in front of me, but I’m sure they made me call late at night to thank them for something. I would have said, “What is this for? I’m still using the good stuff you gave me.” And even as I said that, I’d have been smiling to myself – if the accident hadn’t happened.

The accident took away the chance to express my thanks. My parents didn’t leave a single scream behind.

I had fallen, broken, and weak, unable to ever hold a sword again. I lost my family, and my dreams were burned to ash.@@novelbin@@

“I didn’t want to stir up any more wounds, so I couldn’t tell you. But seeing you improving... I thought one day you’d get back to it. I thought about it a lot, even the day before the finals. Still, I wanted to give it to you.”

The last time I saw the instructor, he told me that my expression had improved a lot. He must have searched for me since then.

In the Arena finals against Cerberus, I held the sword. But I couldn’t control my collapsing mind, and I made a fool of myself. What did the instructor think when he saw me?

His pupil, holding the sword, struggling.

It was certainly not a sight to be proud of.

“Dah-eun, you still can’t hold a sword?”

“I’m sorry. As your pupil, I keep showing my flaws.”

“Don’t apologize for that. I didn’t call you here to blame you. If you hate the sword, you can hate it. When you think about your life ahead, the sword is not such a great thing.”

The instructor I knew had spent his life with swords. He had a great reputation as a player, and now as a coach, he earned much respect. Naturally, he took great pride in his swordsmanship.

For him to say that the sword wasn’t such a great thing, that it was okay to hate it...

It hurt a little inside. I hated myself for making him say such things.

“Dah-eun, I want you to shake off everything and get back up. The old you would have found it hard, but now I think you can do it. That’s why I called you here.”

Swords had a special meaning in my life. It was the first thing I ever wanted to do. I learned what I was good at and what I wanted to do in the future. The wooden sword was like a landmark pointing the way forward in my life.

That’s why I ran, not knowing how tired I was.

I wanted to get better. I wanted to win. I wanted to defeat the opponent I had already beaten, more perfectly. For those I couldn’t defeat, I wanted to crush them completely and put them in their place.

Once I found the path, the rest seemed like smooth sailing.

While I ran, I was happy. Every moment felt meaningful.

Son, I’m too busy today to have dinner with you.

I’ve left some money for you, so order something nice.

Don’t skip meals! I really wanted to have dinner with you, I’m sorry~

Love, Mom.

Meanwhile, swordsmanship was my way of seeking affection.

Even when my parents were busy, they always did their best for me. Still, I often felt it wasn’t enough.

Even as a child, I knew that complaining to my parents wasn’t right. It would only make things more difficult for them, and I knew that happiness gained in such a way wouldn’t last long.

So it was only sometimes. For example, on days I had important tournaments.

On the days I could prove all the effort and time I had poured into something, it was enough to ask for their affection.

On those tournament days, my parents came. Whether I won or lost, I spent time with them, and they loved me. That was enough. That happy time was everything.

That’s why even now, I occasionally dream about it, and when I wake up, I cry.

To me, swordsmanship was my goal, my means, my dream, proof for my lost friends, and my happiness with my family. Swordsmanship was everything to me.

But now, I couldn’t hold a sword.

I love you, my son.

I love you too, Mom. But every time I think of you, my throat itches. The left side of my neck, where you used to stroke me, it’s so itchy and painful... I wish it hurt so much that it bled.

If my body hurt, maybe my mind would feel at ease.

But I know I shouldn’t do that.

I held back, wanting to be praised. Where are you now?

I know why I’m like this. It’s because of that unfortunate accident – but no matter how much I repeat it, that thought won’t go away.

It’s all my fault.

I should have stopped doing swordsmanship. I should have stopped complaining. If I had lived like everyone else, not chasing that foolish dream, none of this would have happened.

Can I say it was just an unfortunate accident? Is it something that couldn’t be helped?

It’s because of me that they came. Can I really say it wasn’t my fault?

My selfishness and my pursuit of happiness, did it not harm them?

Was my unhappiness truly not a punishment?

I love you, my son.

When I hold the sword, Mom’s voice doesn’t leave me.

Her love hurts too much. I’m hurting more because it’s love I destroyed.

I’ve lost the love I had. It must have been buried so deep inside my heart.

Why didn’t I know how great her love was?

Now that I’ve lost it, a huge hole has opened, and I can’t fill it. My heart is torn apart, aching.

But the worst pain is...

“Instructor, you’re wrong about something.”

“Tell me.”

“I didn’t hate the sword. I don’t hate it.”

I still love the sword. Even after everything that happened – losing my loving parents, my dreams burned away – I still love the sword.

The reason I didn’t cut off my immobile leg earlier was perhaps because of some hope.

Hope I couldn’t let go of, even though my life was a mess.

I still want to win. Every day, I analyze my weaknesses, and my mind is filled with thoughts of overcoming my opponents.

That’s why I was happy when I won the Arena and IKL.

I wanted to overcome the sword and kept logging in, dying repeatedly, but...

Despite losing everything because of my selfishness, I still can’t let go of it.

It’s terrifying, isn’t it?

“I think you knew. That I used swordsmanship as an excuse to complain. You were smart enough to know. I didn’t have what it takes.”

“I vaguely remember saying something like that.”

“Right? That’s why I can’t forgive myself. You knew, and even though you were troubled, you listened to my complaints. But because of me…”

“Enough.”

The instructor’s hand pressed firmly against my neck.

It was a neck massage he used to do often.

But now, it felt a bit painful.

“I didn’t know you were still thinking like this. You were more fragile than I thought. I’m sorry I couldn’t notice.”