“If the wolf guy’s a bad man, just shake your acorn.”
“Nooo!”
Shake shake.
“Guildmastuh buys me candy, an’ comes when Gwuu’s scawed.”
The station master grinned.
“Then he’s doing just fine as a dad. Being a father isn’t anything fancy. If you love a kid enough to buy them treats, hold their hand, and take them somewhere nice, then you’re a dad.”
He turned to Jurim and added slyly,
“I’ve got five kids, and I’ve never done anything fancier than that. Still a dad, though.”
“Because of blood?” Guru asked.
The station master looked back at her and shook his head.
“Nope. We elephant beastfolk raise our young together in the herd. None of those five share my blood. But I’m still their dad. Know why?”
“Umm... ‘Cause you adopted dem?”
“We’re a family bound by something more special than blood.”
Guru blinked with her mouth open.
“Dat can happen too?”
“Sure can! It builds up from all the little, ordinary dad things. Just like the baby squiwwow and the wolf guy.”
Pooooot—
The train whistle echoed.
The station master stood up and nodded toward the assistant conductor signaling through the window.
“Well, it’s departure time.”
He tipped off his hat and bowed.
“Have a wonderful trip.”
Clack-clack. Clack-clack.
The train bound for the gate began to move.
The injured had been loaded into the sleeper cars. Gidan and Nayeon had joined up with Chun Gyuri to assist the Brom Guild.
That left only Jurim and Guru sitting together in the standard passenger seats.
Special bond, huh...
Seated by the window with his chin resting on one hand, Jurim realized why he’d become fixated on something so seemingly small.
In society, we assign names and titles to define our relationships.
Simple names, ranks, honorifics, pet names, nicknames...
Titles define the connection, mark its depth, and affirm that the relationship exists.
Wanting to show bonds and make them tangible and audible was a human instinct.
Jurim was no different.
He hadn’t simply plopped the child down like a potted plant and supplied her with high-quality soil and clean water.
Between them, there had been countless emotional exchanges—and he wanted that to be acknowledged. To prove their bond was real through a name.
“Guildmastuh.”
“Yeah?”
Guru, who’d been sneaking glances the whole time, raised her eyebrows and clenched her fists.
“Gwuu came here ‘cause... um, Gwuu had a tewwibow thing happen and...”
Jurim burst out laughing when she hit the word tewwibow.
“Oh yeah? What were you doing when you got scammed?”
With a clear note of sarcasm, Jurim poked fun at Guru’s painful memory.
Ughhh, how can he...!
Guru’s shoulders trembled.
“Gwuu asked Onion to find Gwuu’s mommy an’ daddy... but dey were bad scammews.”
“Gwuu sowwy for not tewwin’ you.”
Jurim’s face darkened for a moment. He muttered quietly.
“That one’s on me.”
What did he mean, his fault?
Jurim rested his elbows on his knees and laced his fingers together like a steeple.
He met Guru’s gaze gently but firmly.
“Let’s find them together. Your mom and dad.”
Thump.
Guru’s face went pale. She shook her head hard.
“N-No, it’s okay now.”
“Why? You think I’ll get scammed too?”
Guru blinked wide-eyed.
“Not dat. Gwuu think you’d be the one doin’ da scamming.”
“...What?”
When Jurim replied in disbelief, Guru quickly changed the subject.
“An’ anyway! Dat’s not it!”
“Then what?”
“Jus’....”
Guru hesitated, but when Jurim remained silent, waiting patiently, she slowly opened her mouth.
“Gwuu want Guildmastuh to keep weading books. Even if Gwuu says mean stuff sometimes.”
If things could just stay like this. Then she didn’t need to find her parents.
Jurim smiled faintly.
“I’ll keep reading for you.”
“Fowever?”
“Even if you find your parents, even if you grow up and become a granny—I’ll still read to you. Anything else?”
“Awso...”
Guru’s ears fluttered with excitement.
“Awsooo... even if you get mad, still hug me. And even if you dun’ have a cwock, come when Gwuu’s scawed...”
“If you ask me to hug you, I’ll do it, even if I’m furious. And even without a clock, I’ll come find you when you’re scared. Just like today.”
Jurim unwrapped a candy and popped it into her tiny mouth.
“When we get home, I’ll buy the strawberry candy with the really long name.”
The sweet strawberry flavor filled her mouth.
“You just have to call me ‘Dad’ whenever you feel like it.”
Guru’s mouth stopped rolling the candy.
“D-Dad...?”
She blinked slowly.
Her brain felt like it had short-circuited—input and output both stuttering.
Jurim spoke quietly but firmly.
“Your parents are probably good people. And even if we’re not related, we’ll always be something special.”
“Awways?”
“Yeah. Always.”
Always...? Guru unintentionally recalled her past.
Always.
“We’re your mama and papa now. Always!”
Always.
“You’re so sweet and cute, you’ll meet even better parents than us.”
The mom who once said always.
The orphanage she went back to.
The director’s tight grip.
The door she lingered in front of, hoping it might open again.
Suddenly, her mind went blank.
“Always can change. It did before...”
Guru clamped a hand over her mouth.
She couldn’t say it. If she did, he might think she was a returnable child.
Then he might send me back.
It felt like a black hole opened at her feet.
The fear of falling endlessly into it crushed her chest.
Right. That’s why I...
A realization swept through her.
She’d wanted to find her parents because of a deep-rooted fear that never left.
She needed a place that wouldn’t change. For that, she needed something unbreakable—blood.
In the end, she hadn’t become some amazing Hunter Hyeonak Guild needed. The only place she could depend on... was Jurim.
Realizing that terrified her beyond control.
Her whole body shivered like she had a fever.
Why’d I forget?
When you drink gross medicine, you suck on a strawberry candy to get rid of the taste.
While the candy rolls around your tongue, you forget how bitter the medicine was.
She’d forgotten. Because everything had been so sweet, so happy.
“Always,” “Dad,” kindness, affection—
But the fear hiding under the thin layer had burst too easily, and spilled right out of her chest.
“...Guru.”
Guru looked up at him like a broken doll.
Jurim bit his lip and held his breath.
Staring into her terrified face, he lost the words for a long while.
“You don’t have to say anything. It’s okay.”
The child who’d forgotten to breathe gave the tiniest nod.
Jurim took her hands and held them gently on his knee.
“The director told me. So it’s okay if you don’t say it.”
She froze completely.
Her eyes went wide. Her mouth opened slightly.
But this was something that needed to be said.
“You didn’t do anything wrong. I know that, too.”
Guru shook her head hard, pale as a sheet.
“But... but you might tink Gwuu’s da kind you can just send back.”
More than anything, she didn’t want to go back.
“An’ dat... Gwuu, Gwuu hates dat.”
She mumbled, glancing up at him.
She wanted to stay with Unnie, Oppaw, and Guildmastuh.
Now, just imagining being separated from everyone made her chest feel hard and cracked into pieces.
Jurim responded more firmly than ever before.
“I won’t tell you to go back. Not ever.”
Guru’s ears perked up—then drooped again.
A flicker of hope, immediately chased by the fear of disappointment.
“...But Gwuu’s not your weaw daughter.”
The root of her despair was blood.
To Guru, blood meant the failure of her past family and the only way to secure something eternal.
“We’re more special than real,” Jurim said, “just like that elephant guy.”
“...So you won’t send Gwuu away?”
“No. I’ll promise every single day.”
“...Really?”
“As many times as you need, until you believe it.”
Her tightly pressed lips trembled. She lowered her head. Her tiny shoulders began to shake.
Her small hands fidgeted endlessly, trying to expel the fear that refused to leave her.
“No wyin’. You gotta weawwy mean it.”
Otherwise, Guru thought, she might be so sad that her heart would crumble like sand.
Jurim leaned his forehead gently against her bowed head.
He held his breath, trying to calm the tremble inside him.
Breathing out slowly, he gathered himself and spoke warmly.
“What changes isn’t ‘always.’ I’ll show you. You can learn that now.”
What changes isn’t “always.”
Guru repeated the words silently.
A single tear dropped onto the back of their clasped hands.
She nodded.
Nod.
Guru took a deep breath.
Jurim kissed the top of her little head and whispered,
“Now lift your head and gimme a hug, sweetie.”
Nod.
Guru threw her arms around his neck and nuzzled her face against him.
He gently ★ Novelight ★ wiped her falling tears and patted her back with a big hand.
“I’ll hug you every day. That’s our ‘always’—a promise that won’t ever change.”
From now on, their hugs would be the living proof of a bond that would never fade.
Nod.
Carnivores and herbivores, wolves and squirrels—they could be family.
Then they were already a special family, one that shared ordinary days together.
A family more special than blood would teach Guru what it meant to have an “always” that never changed.

Comments

Loading...