BIA Ch. 42

‘That’s too much.’

I couldn’t help but burst out laughing. There were some people who were surprised by the mole in my left iris or asked if it was a scar, but this was the first time someone had put it like that.

‘It’s just pigmentation.’

Lee looked at me with a what-is-that expression.

‘You could say it’s like a freckle on my eye.’

‘Hmm.’

The light in his eyes vanished in an instant. I spoke to him quite sternly as he dropped his unfocused gaze to stare at a bug on the floor.

‘Anyway, don’t just stand around here.’

‘Why?’

‘Because bugs would get into the dorm.’

At my words that he was being a nuisance, Lee raised his head again to look at me. Then, with a rather troubled face, he said,

‘Then what about the bugs… where do I send them…? The bugs on my body…?’

It was only then that I realized that having a serious conversation with this guy was a waste of time. Due to circumstances, I was used to taking care of kids and didn’t particularly dislike it, but I hated wasting time. Only kids who understood and comprehended well were worth teaching.

Besides, I didn’t have time to waste. Tomorrow was the exam, and I had to study. More than anything, it would be a problem if bugs flew in every time pancakes came out.

In the end, I crouched down in front of him. I hunched my body down to lower my eye level to his and said,

‘It came into my eye.’

‘Your eye…?’

‘Yeah, here.’

I pulled down my left lower eyelid so that he could see my pupil better.

‘See? The bug in my eye.’

‘Yeah….’

I see. Lee muttered in a small voice.

‘It was a bug that was on your body.’

‘That’s…?’

‘Yeah. So you don’t have to send it anywhere else now. I’ll take good care of it. You know what I mean, right?’

At my question, Lee just stared at me blankly for a while before belatedly nodding.

‘Yeah….’

Okay. Lee said in a still small voice.

‘You have to take good care of it. Don’t let it out… don’t let it come to me….’

Whether he said that because he really believed me or just said it, I didn’t know, but anyway, after that day, bugs never flew into the dorm again.

And I saw Lee more often than before. Strictly speaking, the frequency of our encounters was probably the same. But maybe because I was paying more attention, he stood out even when he was among other kids.

Surprisingly, the kid seemed to be getting a little better every time I saw him. Actually, maybe it had been like that all along. It’s just that I hadn’t been paying attention.

Anyway, whether it was because his recovery was accelerating, he was getting better and soon started going to school properly. Before, he was absent more often than he was present, and even when he did go, he would have a seizure and be carried back. He had seizures so often that he even slept with the staff, but it seemed that he had moved his things to the middle school dorms not too long ago.

But the person himself didn’t seem too happy. He didn’t even seem to be aware that he was getting better. He was still emotionally isolated and just stared at the floor with an expression that made it impossible to know what he was thinking. He also refused help. I heard the staff member in charge complain that during counseling sessions, he would just keep his mouth shut and only occasionally give negative answers like ‘I don’t like it,’ ‘It’s bad,’ or ‘It’s terrible.’

Of course, it wasn’t just during counseling sessions that he kept his mouth shut. He didn’t answer no matter who called him. If they called him Isaiah, he wouldn’t even look at them, but if they called him Lee, he would sometimes look.

His name was Lee, but strangely, no one called him that. It was a disaster that the public official in charge of handing him over when he first came here had called him by his name before being adopted without thinking. Since this was a Catholic foundation, the name Isaiah from the Bible was much more familiar to the kids here than the unfamiliar name Lee.

As for me, I didn’t care either way. I didn’t have any reason to call his name in the first place. The middle school and high school dorm buildings were different, and as I said, I hated wasting time. So even if I saw him, I didn’t bother to acknowledge him.

But why was it? That day, I wanted to talk to him. The reason, well, there were several. It could have been because his back looked particularly lonely as he was crouching alone in front of our dorm building, or it could have been because I was worried that he was collecting bugs again. Anyway, I called his name.

‘Isaiah.’

I expected him to ignore me, but unexpectedly, he turned his head to look at me. Then, turning his head away again, he said,

‘I don’t like that name.’

‘But everyone calls you Isaiah.’

‘I don’t like it.’

Indeed, his voice was only clear when he said something negative. I approached him, crouched down next to him, and said,

‘That’s a shame. It’s a good name.’

‘That name is everywhere in church, though.’

The church he was talking about was probably the cult.

‘Just because it’s common doesn’t mean it’s a bad name. The little kid who lived next door to me was also named Isaiah.’

‘…….’

‘Do you know what Isaiah means?’

I spoke instead of him, who didn’t answer.

‘Yahweh is salvation.’

No sooner had I finished speaking than a hoarse voice retorted.

‘I know.’

A rough breath was mixed at the end of his voice. His eyes were already bloodshot. He must have heard it many times. From the adoptive parents who gave him that name.

I stared at him quietly. Even though he had gotten better, he was still small and thin. And he was alone. His problem was his heart, not his body. The growth plate of his heart had closed too quickly.

‘Then do you know this too?’

I leaned in a little more to make sure he could hear my voice well and said quietly,

‘Yahweh is Hebrew, but actually that’s not the correct pronunciation. Because the people of that country revered that being so much that they didn’t say its name, no one knows what the real pronunciation is. And since it refers to the existence itself in the first place, whether you believe it’s God, money, or a pig, it’s up to each person’s heart.’

He still didn’t look at me. But I could easily see from the side that tears were slowly welling up in his eyes. His large, swollen black eyes, filled with moisture, were like pebbles submerged in water.

I didn’t want him to show tears in front of me. Rather, I thought he wouldn’t want to.

So, I stood up from my crouched position and said,

‘So, that God that your adoptive parents forced on you isn’t necessarily the right answer.’

I don’t know why I said that. Was it because I was still in my sensitive years? Or was I excited because I was about to leave the facility?

No, that’s not it. Of course, there were those reasons too, but the real reason was different.

Around that time, my salvation was my father. To be exact, my salvation was that my father, whom I had always thought was a mafia, was actually an FBI agent. So, I thought it would be nice if this poor kid had something like that too. Something that could be his salvation, something that wasn’t God, his own Yahweh.

‘Take care.’

Two days later, I left the facility, and after that, I never saw him again. I didn’t even hear any news about him. I only thought of him when I ate pancakes from time to time. The small back crouching under the tree with the light bulb, sprinkling maple syrup on the ground. The little kid who was finally relieved when he saw the bug I had trapped in my eye.

“…….”

That little kid is nowhere to be found now. His small back has grown as big as I was back then, and he’s now holding a rifle with a 26-inch barrel and a 50x scope, without hesitation, blowing the heads off his enemies.

The person who taught Isaiah Cole how to use a gun was his second adoptive father. The adoptive father was a sniper in WD, just like him, and his code name was Jacana, and his real name was Joseph Cole. The reason Joseph’s code name was Jacana was simple. It was because he was African American. Jacana was a bird that lived in the wetlands of Africa and was known for its strong parental love, carrying its chicks in its arms.

Jacana had visited the orphanage with his colleagues under the name of White Dove when it was still a private mercenary company and adopted Isaiah Cole. And like his name, he lived with his son in his arms and taught him how to handle a gun, one by one.

Isaiah Cole became WD’s youngest elite sniper at the young age of seventeen. His code name was Lanius. It was a code name that showed the affection of his seniors. Among the dark adults, the seventeen-year-old rookie must have seemed small and cute. On the other hand, the corpses of the enemies he killed using powerful KTW bullets must have been horrific.

It seems that the salvation that Lee found was probably a gun. Or maybe it was the adoptive father who taught him how to use a gun.