Work Text:
I wanted to see a world where a noble person like you is rewarded
- Lemming on Kim Kiryeo, Illusion Hunter, Chapter 586
In the swinging bench of the playground park, two (extra)ordinary five-year-old children sat with secured seatbelts around their waist. The dark-haired chubby boy hummed happily as he swung his feet to and fro. The light-haired boy beside him, meanwhile, contemplated on a question.
What does it mean to be a reward for saving the world?
The plastic bench, padded by cheap cushions and swung by a simple magic spell, gently rocked their small forms.
Kim Kiryeo blinked at the setting sun in the distance, taking in the hodgepodge of pink, orange, and dark blues converging in the skies. The sight somehow made his chest ache.
His emerald eyes drifted to the side.
Beside the playground swing, a man in a maneuverable power wheelchair tapped on his tablet. With the distinctive blue hair covered with a gray beanie and reptilian green eyes shadowed with sunglasses, no one would recognize him as Korea's former third S-rank, Kang Changho.
Changho, feeling the gaze, rolled his slitted eyes towards the child. He tilted his head, a question in his gesture. When Kiryeo remained silent, he merely reached out and patted the boy’s head before resuming his work on the tablet.
There wasn’t anything affectionate in the gesture. Kiryeo knew Changho only did it because that was what the other adults did to children.
Kiryeo brought his gaze back to the sunset, ruminating.
Kim Kiryeo was a five-year-old child. Yet he wasn’t.
He recalled snippets of a life before. Of an orphanage filled with noisy children. Of an elementary school peppered with bullies that destroyed his text books. Of a middle school with a crying girl rescued and more violence upon his body. Of a peaceful high school with a couple of fair-weathered friends. Of a life of poverty, barely making ends meet with a battered body and injured leg. Of dark hair being bleached blonde and sambaegan black eyes staring back at him in the mirror.
The memories were covered with a foggy filter, like they didn’t belong to Kiryeo at all. Like a dream within a dream.
He didn’t remember everything. His dad said he didn’t have to.
When Kiryeo closed his eyes, he remembered the feeling of lying down on a thin mattress on the floor, limbs weak and cold and tears burning his eyes.
He remembered freezing to death in the scorching summer sun.
When Kiryeo once mentioned the memory, his dad attempted to remove it from his mind. Only his tearful and vehement refusal stopped the man.
Kiryeo didn’t dwell on that particular memory much but he knew it was too important to lose. It meant something – that his previous life ended in such a way. That maybe it didn’t have to end in such a way this time.
“Yoonseung,” he called out with a small childish voice.
The dark-haired boy beside him turned to him with a smile. “Hmm?”
“What does it mean to be a reward for saving the world?” Kiryeo asked out loud.
Kiryeo didn’t understand much yet. He didn’t know why he had a past life.
But he knew Yoonseung was the same as him. A child of five yet not. Holding memories of a previous life lived. Yoonseung sometimes called their dad “Hyung-nim”, and then confused himself. It didn’t seem to bother Yoonseung much – the thought of both of them not being normal children.
Their dad let it slip the night before that they were his reward for saving the world. Kiryeo had been thinking about it since.
What value could Kiryeo possibly have to offer? How could he be a reward for doing such a heroic act?
Was he really worth that much?
How should Kiryeo grow up to live up to being a ‘reward’? What should he do to generate an equivalent value for his dad?
Yoonseung cupped his chin, musing on Kiryeo’s question, his legs still swinging in the air. After a second of thought, he said, “It means we make Dad happy.”
The statement, so factual in tone and so simple in delivery, took Kiryeo’s breath away.
“A reward is something that should make you happy, right?” Yoonseung followed up brightly.
“Yeah.” The sunset burned Kiryeo’s eyes, making them water.
“It means our continued existence and happiness makes Dad happy.” Yoonseung grasped Kiryeo’s hand and gave it a comforting squeeze.
Sometimes, Kiryeo thought Yoonseung was more ignorant than him, more like the child their physical bodies depicted them to be. Sometimes, however, Yoonseung really seemed to have lived much longer than Kiryeo.
Kiryeo squeezed his hand back.
The bench swing slowly decelerated, the spell rocking it dissipating. Changho restarted the magic with a small gesture, and then, scrolled through the thick wall of texts on his tablet.
Kiryeo’s eyes turned to him once more.
“Did you also save the world, Changho-ahjussi?” he couldn’t help but ask.
“Yes,” Changho admitted without humility, his slitted eyes still on his device. “That’s how I ended with this.” He tapped the leather armrest of his wheelchair.
Kiryeo observed him – his lazy posture, his focused facade, and the large presence his body exuded even on the wheelchair.
In the few years Kiryeo had stayed in his dad’s care, Changho had always been there. He didn’t neglect their needs, and would step up to feed them if dad was unavailable. Changho provided them with everything; it’s with his money that they got to live in a big mansion, eat extravagantly delicious food, dress in luxuriously comfortable clothes, and travel to aquariums, zoos and beaches.
Kiryeo knew, however, that Changho held no affection for him nor for Yoonseung. He didn’t offer hugs nor spoke to them more than necessary. There was no warmth in his gaze whenever he looked at them.
Kiryeo doubted any of these pleased Changho enough to be considered rewards.
So he asked, “What did you get as a reward then?”
The neon green eyes behind the sunglasses slid to Kiryeo’s direction, unnerving in its intensity. His gaze then snapped towards the dark-haired man sprinting towards them.
Kiryeo’s and Yoonseung’s eyes similarly drifted to the same direction.
The dark-haired man skidded to a stop in front of them, his breaths coming out in puffs.
“That ice cream human was so slow,” he grumbled a complaint before distributing the treats in his arms.
A strawberry-flavored ice cream cone found its way in Kiryeo’s small hand while a scoop of chocolate topped with colorful sprinkles was received by a cheerful Yoonseung. Changho calmly accepted his own cup with two scoops of the coffee-flavored treat, and tucked his tablet away into his body bag.
The dark-haired man, Kiryeo’s dad, slumped down in the remaining spot on the swinging bench, and hurriedly slurped the melting vanilla cone in his hand.
Changho sent him a look of mild disgust before throwing him a pack of wet tissue.
“Thanks,” his dad cheerily replied before using the tissues to clean his sticky hands.
“You should’ve used magic to put them in stasis while waiting.” Changho clicked his tongue.
His dad paused. “Oh. Didn’t think of that.” Then, he used another clean tissue to clean up the chocolate dripping around Yoonseung’s fingers. “It’s because I was trying not to throw up from smelling your glue-scented ice cream.”
Changho took a bite of said treat, unperturbed. “It taste different when it’s in this form. You should try it.”
His dad, with the melting of his vanilla ice cream cone now under control, perked up. “Oh? Give me some.”
Changho lifted the plastic spoon with a small hill of chestnut-colored ice cream. Kiryeo’s dad, ever so gullible, leaned forward and didn’t hesitate to swallow the large bite.
“Dad–” Yoonseung attempted to stop him but it was too late.
“Ugh!” Their dad gagged and spat it out. “Changho, you son of a –!” He hastily ate more of his vanilla-flavored treat to wash down the taste.
Changho smirked and continued eating his ice cream amidst the curses raining down on him.
Yoonseung sighed with a hint of exasperation.
Kiryeo watched the two adults bicker, the taste of artificial strawberry upon his tongue. Kiryeo watched as a spark lit up Changho’s bright green eyes, watched the corners of his mouth curling upwards.
Oh.
Kiryeo turned his gaze to his dad. Kiryeo’s dad, noticing the stare, ceased cursing and focused his attention on his child. “Hm? Is it good?”
The ice cream turned his mouth cold but a ball of heat nuzzled his chest, warming his limbs. Kiryeo nodded. “It’s good.”