9th Grade Civil Servant In Another World Chapter 100 - White Raven Order ― Daniel (3)

“Daniel! Where the hell are you, bastard!”

It was a night with scattered snowflakes. Another heavy snowfall seemed imminent. Schufaben’s winter was as brutal as Gangwon-do’s.

I kept wiping away the snowflakes that stuck to my face as I searched the nearby alleys.

“Ugh, this is driving me crazy.”

After wandering around the neighborhood in circles for a while, I gave up and came back to find a shadow in the backyard.

“What? You were here all along?”

Since he couldn’t go far even if he ran away, it was just like him.

“Sorry.”

Daniel looked at me and hung his head. I shrugged and went to stand beside him.

Leaning against the wall under the roof eaves, we watched the white snow gradually cover the desolate ground. Colin was excitedly hopping around and rolling in the snow.

“What are you sorry about?”

“Everyone was uncomfortable because of my mother, weren’t they?”

“Well, that’s true enough.”

When I nodded, Daniel let out a hollow laugh.

“I don’t get along well with my mother.”

“I could tell.”

He told me everything.

Four years—no, six years including Lucas’s memories—since we’d had such a conversation.

***

Daniel was born in a tenement at the edge of the red-light district.

His first memory was lying in a cradle, watching his mother drinking with customers.

He could vividly recall his mother’s figure in flowing clothes so thin she was half-naked, smiling prettily and kissing men.

When he learned to walk, he was kicked out of the house every night.

On the first night, he cried and begged to be let back in, only to anger a customer and get severely beaten.

On the second night, following his mother’s orders to absolutely not cry and play by himself, he wandered the area aimlessly, got lost, and nearly collapsed from exhaustion.

So from the third night on, while his mother worked, he sat on the steps at the entrance to the tenement district and watched people.

For several years, Daniel sitting on the steps all night even after he was old enough to run out of the village became a part of the tenement’s daily routine.

At some point, he started picking up newspapers people had discarded.

At first, he collected them because it was too cold and he wanted to use them as blankets, but after learning letters at school, he would frantically read newspapers under the streetlight.

People passed by indifferently as the boy shivered from the cold, blowing on his curled-up hands while reading newspapers.

“So that’s why you decided to become a journalist?”

At my quiet question, Daniel smiled faintly.

“Right. Only while I was reading newspapers could I escape from the reality surrounding me. There wasn’t a single book in our house, so newspapers were all I had to read.”

Days of sneaking back home when the sun rose and his mother fell asleep.

Actually, he hated being home.

The lingering smell of alcohol was nauseating, and more than anything, he was afraid of being beaten.

“My mother hit me. She wouldn’t stop even when I cried and begged. When my injuries became deep enough, she’d go to my father’s house to get money. She called it hospital fees, but I only went to the hospital once.

My mother would use that money to buy alcohol and drink. Then, whenever she felt like it, she’d call me over and torment me. Sprinkling cigarette ash, pulling my hair, or cutting my body with sharp glass shards.”

He rolled up his sweater to show me his forearm. Small scars were faintly scattered across it.

No wonder he only wore long-sleeved shirts even in summer.

“When I got a bit older, I thought I needed to earn money. From around age nine, I started doing various jobs. Collecting bottles to sell, cleaning streets, following journalists around as an assistant. I gave all the money I earned to my mother, but…”

“The frequency of the beatings didn’t decrease at all.”

“Exactly.”

He covered his reddened arm again.

“So when I was young, I liked my father. Even though I rarely saw him, he would scold my mother for hurting me and pat my head. I knew that my school fees and minimal living expenses came from him too.

My father was a revolutionary. Not a famous one, but someone who got lucky and seized an opportunity to benefit. I didn’t know exactly what he did or how he met my mother. Even if I had known, it wouldn’t have mattered much.

Back then, all I wanted was to live with my father. I even dreamed of entering his mansion and being served by kind servants.

No, anyone would have been fine as long as it wasn’t my mother. But I was too scared of my mother… I couldn’t run away. Looking back now, it’s really pathetic.”

I shrugged.

“Anyone would have trouble escaping in that situation. Learned helplessness is terrifying.”

At my less-than-comforting comfort, Daniel continued with slightly vacant eyes.

“Then one day… on my sixteenth birthday, I had this thought. Since I was now treated as almost an adult, maybe my father would take me in.”

So Daniel left home while his mother was sleeping and went to find the mansion.

It was the first time he’d gone alone, and the first time he’d gone during daylight. His mother had always rushed there at night, screaming at the gates.

Under the bright sunlight, the mansion felt utterly shabby. That mysterious and beautiful house somehow looked strangely decayed.

Steeling himself, he pressed the doorbell, and his father came out and asked,

“Are you hurt again?”

Daniel gathered his courage and said,

“I came to see you, Father.”

Then his father looked him up and down, pulled money from his wallet, handed it over, and asked indifferently,

“Just like your mother. It’s money anyway, isn’t it?”

“That’s exactly what he said.”

Daniel slowly repeated,

“It’s money anyway, isn’t it?”

“That’s harsh.”

“Standing in front of the closed door with a bundle of bills, all my emotions went cold.

My longing and love for my father, my hatred and fear of my mother. I just thought they were all pitiful. That they could only see what was right in front of them.

And I realized. I don’t need to stay with these pitiful people. The days ahead are too long to be tied down here.”

Daniel smiled. His smirking lips looked like they might crumble at any moment.

“I left home that day. With the money my father gave me for the last time. I only took the newspapers I had at home and my writings, then came to District 13. I actually wanted to go to District 5 where the newspaper offices were, but the rent was way too expensive.”

“Then you became a journalist and founded the White Raven Order?”

“Right.”

“Good for you. You escaped well. Thank god you got out of that damn household early.”

A brief silence fell. Only the sound of Colin panting and demanding to be petted filled the cold air.

Daniel slowly opened his mouth.

“Sorry. I didn’t know my mother would come looking like this. She probably heard rumors about me and came to get a piece of the action. If I just give her some money…”

“No, that’s not it.”

I shook my head.

As soon as I heard Daniel’s story, I realized the identity of the strange sense of unease I’d been feeling.

That feeling I’d had from the moment I first saw Mrs. Hartmann.

The coquetry and charm inappropriate for her age. Her fluttering gestures and the expression she wore when clinging to Daniel. All of it.

“Daniel, your mother doesn’t need money.”

“Then what does she need? What is she trying to take from me…”

“She wants to be loved.”

Munchausen syndrome.

Beating Daniel and going to her husband, cutting herself while crying pitifully.

She did it all just because she wanted to be loved. Because she needed sanctuary, attention, and sympathy.

She was a prostitute, he’d said. An aging prostitute abandoned by her husband with no customers seeking her anymore.

Maybe she came looking for Daniel, the only person who could love her.

“She came to live with you. To be with you, Daniel.”

Daniel’s expression turned horrifying.

A look of contempt as if seeing the most disgusting thing in the world.

An expression of extreme revulsion, as if spiders were crawling all over his body.

‘Wow, that’s the most repulsive and agonized expression I’ve ever seen. Maybe Daniel’s father made that same expression every time that woman came begging for hospital fees?’

The thought crossed my mind unbidden.

“The one thing I can’t do. Loving my mother.”

He said it painfully.

‘Oh no!’

I was suddenly terrified.

The man before me was the gentlest person in the world. Calm and composed, and though a bit clumsy at times, absolutely good-natured.

A decent man who could even pity his abusive mother and his father who never treated him like a son.

But if such a person became twisted, he’d be more frightening. Maybe even more than the cynical Richard.

Seeing him suffer as if he’d fallen into hell, I made up my mind.

‘If I leave him alone, Daniel will turn dark! He might really become a demon lord. I have to stop it somehow!’

I hurriedly patted his shoulder.

“Should I solve it for you? I’ll separate her from you forever. So you never have to face her again.”

But Daniel smiled painfully.

“No, I can’t ask you to do that. It’s something I have to handle myself. Thank you for listening, Lucas.”

I hesitated, but seeing Daniel’s eyes, I nodded.

Then I left first. It would be better to give him some time.

The house was quiet.

Mrs. Hartmann had gone up to the bedroom and was nowhere to be seen, and Oscar, who had been waiting in the living room, jumped up.

“Hey, did it go well?”

“I don’t know either.”

Oscar sighed deeply. His expression was just as troubled as mine.

“Humans are scary…”

Namir was huddled in a corner muttering.

“Hey, not all humans are like that!”

While Oscar was comforting him, I went up to my room and turned off the lights.

Through the window facing the backyard, I could see Daniel petting Colin. Colin was wagging his tail furiously and licking his face.

Such a peaceful scene.

I opened the desk drawer and found what I expected. The cigarettes I’d bought before. I inhaled nicotine for the first time in ages.

‘Are we all just wounded people? This really sucks.’

Even the cigarette tasted awful. I quickly stubbed it out in the ashtray.

***

Morning came.

After his friends left for work, Daniel slowly went downstairs. Having not slept a wink, his eyes were bloodshot red. The sound of clattering came from the kitchen.

“Mother.”

When he called out in a hoarse voice, Johanna, who had been cutting meat, turned around with a bright smile.

“You’re up? Come eat breakfast.”

Over that image, the sight of her from a few days ago, looking like a madwoman, overlapped.

He hadn’t expected her to be living well, but he hadn’t known she’d fallen that far.

Her worn-out thin clothes, disheveled hair.

He was both shocked and ashamed, so he’d just let himself be dragged along.

On one hand, he’d taken it lightly.

He thought if he accommodated her wishes, gave her shelter from the rain, fed her, and gave her some money, she’d leave on her own.

She’d disappear from his life again.

How naive that thinking had been.

‘I thought she beat me because she needed money.’

But it was to be loved.

A hundred, a thousand times more horrible.

“Mother. This ends now.”

When he spoke with force, Johanna’s face hardened.

“Please. If you have any conscience left, if you still have such a thing… never look for me again. Because if you do, I’ll kill myself.”

“What are you saying!”

Tears welled up in Johanna’s large eyes. She reflexively brought the kitchen knife she was holding to her wrist.

“Daniel! I’m your mother! If you say such things…”

How disgusting.

“Did you really love me?”

“Of course!”

“Do you really love me?”

“Yes. I love you, my son.”

Johanna tried to embrace him while crying. Daniel trembled as he grabbed her hands and took away the knife. Then he pressed the blade to his throat and shouted,

“Don’t come near me!”

“Daniel!”

“I’ll really do it!”

The moment Johanna tried to take a step closer, he applied pressure. A sharp pain, and a trickle of blood flowed down his neck.

“Stop it!”

Johanna shouted like a demon, her face hardening terrifyingly.

Panting breaths filled the kitchen for a moment.

“If I die, there will be no one left to love you.”

At Daniel’s calm words, Johanna’s expression twisted.

“…I understand.”

She strode across the living room and finally went out the door.

“You really are just like your father.”

Before opening the front gate, Johanna glared at Daniel and spat. Her eyes were clear and bright. For the first time that Daniel could remember.

Only after she disappeared beyond the alley did Daniel lower the knife with trembling hands.

He felt no joy at all.

Though Johanna had left, when his friends returned home, they asked nothing. Only Lucas whispered something before going to bed.

“I sent your mother some money. To the address you mentioned where she lives.”

“…Thank you.”

That was the end of it.

They never brought up Johanna again.