Arcadia Chapter 2.1

As soon as it was noon, Van was locked in a struggle with a child who barely came up to his knees.

“I told you earlier. I’m going out and coming right back, you know?”

“Waaah…!”

Dia, who had been clutching Van’s pant leg as if to tear it off, waddled over to the entrance and spread his arms wide in front of the glass wall. Where did he learn how to block someone from leaving? Van let out a sigh mixed with irritation and hunger.

Playing with a non-verbal child in an empty space for a whopping four hours was no easy task. He had planned to grab a meal and bring back some things to play with, but this little guy clearly hadn’t understood a word he’d said earlier.

“I’m hungry. Get out of the way, hurry.”

With one hand on the pad, he waved his other hand. His listless, flapping gesture was steeped in fatigue. Tag, airplane rides, tossing him in the air and catching him… He thought that would be enough to tire him out. Instead, Dia’s stamina was bottomless, to the point that Van—who had made a career and hobby of physical activity his entire life—was the one who was wiped out.

“Please. I’m hungry.”

He no longer had the strength to argue with the child, who stood his ground, refusing to budge an inch. Van briskly lifted Dia, who was like a flimsy iron fortress, placed him in the farthest diagonal corner from the entrance, and quickly returned to open the door.

Wondering if the child would run over again, Van quickly slipped out and looked inside, only to be met with the sight of the child sitting right there in the corner, looking at him. His expression wasn’t clearly visible because of the bright light shining down from above.

“That little…”

He was definitely doing this on purpose. He definitely knew that if he sat there looking so pitiful, Van wouldn’t be able to leave so easily.

“Smart little bastard.”

He whispered so the child couldn’t hear and turned away. For a moment, he even considered bringing him out, since he didn’t seem particularly dangerous. But he couldn’t ignore the possibility that the child might suddenly change if he let his guard down and took him out. He had taken the child out of the glass wall on the first day, but that was because there was no good way to wash off the mucus drenching his whole body. As long as there was no special reason to let the child out, now was the time to be firm.

As soon as he climbed the ladder, Van, clutching his starving stomach, headed for the storage room and returned with a box covered in a thick layer of dust. He never thought Michel’s bad habit of not throwing things away unless there was a reason would come in handy. Tossing the box down in the living room, he began preparing his meal, but the image of Dia left all alone in the spacious basement kept popping into his mind, making his hands move faster.

“Ah, his food…!”

Van, who had been hastily gobbling down a microwave meal, was startled and put down his spoon. Because the kid never fussed about being hungry, he hadn’t thought about his meals at all. Leaving his own bowl not even half-empty, Van grabbed the large box and ran down to the basement.

Tossing the box onto the desk, Van entered the corridor and crawled toward Dia, who had his back turned, hugging the clock. He had just cheered him up this morning, but now his back, small enough to be covered by two palms, looked so sullen that Van naturally felt like a guilty man.

Dia’s gloomy eyes, who was hugging a clock as big as his own torso, slowly rose and then widened. It seemed he hadn’t expected Van to come back. As expected, he didn’t seem to have understood what Van had told him earlier.

“Here. Look.”

He took the clock the child was holding and pointed to the numbers.

“I left at this number earlier, right? So I’ll be back before it gets to 1.”

In case he wouldn’t understand with words alone, he pointed to himself, the door, and the numbers one by one. The way his green eyes darted around, it didn’t seem like he had properly understood.

Figuring he’d get it if he repeated it a few times, Van placed the formula he had hastily prepared in front of him. He drew the moderately cooled formula into a dropper and inserted it between the child’s lips. He held onto Dia, who tried to pull his upper body back, and fed him a little at a time, but Dia only drank a mouthful or two before shaking his head vigorously.

“Why won’t you eat? You’ll be hungry later if you do this. Huh?”

He was getting frustrated because the child showed no intention of eating. He was growing at a frighteningly fast rate, yet he ate next to nothing. Even after begging, tickling him, and pretending to eat it himself, Dia stubbornly kept his mouth shut.

After a final, futile attempt to force his mouth open and feed him, Van had no choice but to pour the cold formula down the lab sink.

“Eating light is good, it’s good… but you’re a bit extreme.”

“Uu-ung.”

“Do you even know what I’m talking about?”

Thinking it would be fine to bring him up to the basement level, Van had carried him out, and Dia rubbed his face against Van’s nape. Van, who had been rummaging through a book spread out on the desk, set the child down next to it and cupped the cheeks of Dia, whose large eyes followed his every move.

Just as he’d seen in the book, he wiped the inside of the small mouth with a soft handkerchief. He didn’t know if he needed to brush his teeth too, but since he knew nothing, he could only follow the book step by step. The only flaw was that Dia didn’t seem to have any intention of cooperating.

Unable to stay still for a second, Dia seemed to be opening his mouth obediently, but then he started to chomp down on the index finger that came in with the handkerchief. For someone so small, his biting strength was quite powerful. Van held the small jaw open with one hand and continued brushing, trying to soothe his empty stomach.

“How did my life end up like this…”

Dia, who had entrusted the inside of his mouth to Van’s clumsy hands, burst out laughing as if to mock Van’s lament.

“Hoo…”

Van, slumped in a chair with a single blanket, rubbed his stiff eyes. He had crawled out of the glass-walled room for what was supposed to be a break, but he just couldn’t bring himself to go to sleep as heartlessly as he had the day before. The main reason was that Dia had abruptly held out the clock while Van was backing away, wary that he might follow.

The child had tapped the hand pointing to midnight and the number 1 next to it with his tiny palm. His eyes, which had been teary just when Van was leaving for dinner, now sparkled as if he finally understood, brimming with pride. That was the story for the daytime; this was nighttime. He wanted to tell him he was completely wrong, but…

‘You’ll come back if I wait just one hour, right?’

It felt like that’s what he was saying, so Van couldn’t bring himself to leave. In the end, Van made his bed in the chair outside the glass, grumbling as he watched Dia, who was lying on the floor, beaming up at him.

“Why isn’t he sleeping either, that kid…”

How could a kid not even take a single nap, no matter how much you played with him physically? Seeing that Van wasn’t leaving the chair, Dia, thinking it was a signal to play, rolled over and pressed himself right up against the glass wall, then shot to his feet. And then, wasn’t he stomping his feet and running around?

His gaze never left Van the entire time he ran to the far side and back again. Van ruffled his hair in frustration, closed his eyes, and forced himself to try to sleep, deliberately ignoring the child whose growth he couldn’t even begin to fathom by the next day.

Van, who had been sleeping crumpled in an uncomfortable position, was jolted from his light sleep by his phone ringing loudly from the desk. He thought he’d be left alone, since the person said they’d call once a week, but to call not even a day later—what a temper. With a face still thick with sleep, he slumped over the desk and put the phone to his ear.

— Did you sleep well?

“…Can you see in here too?”

He glanced inside the glass wall. A camera with a blinking red light moved slowly in response. Wow. Van let out a hollow laugh and straightened his back.

“Hey… You’re not watching all day long, are you?”

— I’d like to.

A chill ran down his spine and he dropped the phone slightly, but his expression softened when he saw Dia on the other side of the glass, holding up the clock that was as big as his torso. The short hand was just about to reach 8. He was watching Dia’s movements, which showed no trace of sleepiness, with puzzlement when the mechanical voice continued.

— Teach him some letters today.

“Letters? Already?”

Teach letters to a kid who just started walking yesterday? It was a suggestion that made no sense.

— He’s probably smarter than you.

The words that came through for a moment made him flare up. Suddenly dragging someone else into it, and on top of that, the tone was so provocative.

“No, what do you know about me…”

— Your high school grades were at the bottom. And you dropped out…

Van’s jaw dropped as he looked up at the camera.

“How do you know that? Did Michel tell you?”

— There are ways of knowing everything.

Dropping out was one thing, but how did this person know his grades?

Van, convinced that Michel must have spilled the beans, stood up from his chair.

“Hey. Who the hell are you? Are you some kind of, lab person?”

— You’ll be meeting me soon. And watch your behavior when you’re working.

He tried to press the person who was slipping away like an eel, but the mechanical voice immediately changed the subject, and the simple-minded Van fell for it hook, line, and sinker. The mechanical voice just happened to pick and poke at all of Van’s weak spots.

“What’s wrong with my behavior?”

— Isn’t it a bit much for him to watch and learn from? You should be careful if you’re going to be a parent.

“Why am I that bastard’s parent…!”

Frustratingly, Van’s rebuttal didn’t land. It was because the mechanical voice, after riling him up thoroughly, had hung up on its own. Hey, hey! Van, who had been shouting, looked back and forth between the phone with its dead black screen and Dia, who was rubbing his face against the glass, before letting out a deep sigh. How is it that he doesn’t like a single one of them.

Today too, after shoving a convenience meal into his mouth, Van crawled through the entrance and caught Dia, who came running with the clock in his arms. Dia buried his face near Van’s neck, so excited he looked like he was about to pass out, deliriously happy, and then started rubbing his lips all over Van’s chin.

“Ba!”

“Yeah, good morning.”

Leaning the cumbersome clock against the wall, Van set the frantic child upright and immediately furrowed his brow.

“You grew again?”

The sweater that had dragged on the floor, hiding his feet yesterday, was now hiked up above his ankles. In a state of disbelief, Van swept a hand over his own cheek and then gently poked the small nose of the child, who was stomping his feet, simply happy.

“I’m not even surprised anymore.”

If his growth couldn’t be stopped, it was better for him to grow up quickly so they could at least communicate.

Dia stared silently at the toys that came pouring out in front of him. Van, sitting across from him, rummaged through the wooden blocks with letters on them. Who knows how many years they’d been shoved in storage; they were teaching aids that were literally like relics. A few wooden blocks were missing, but it wouldn’t be a problem for his education.

“You have to memorize all of these. You can do it.”

He gathered the blocks and lined them up in a row in front of the child. He wasn’t sure how to teach him, but for now, he had no choice but to try whatever he could.

“My name.”

Just as Dia, who had been staring intently at the eight blocks, lifted his head, Van shuffled the teaching aids with one hand. The 56 wooden blocks scattered around the child’s now considerably longer legs.

“Alright. What’s my name?”

Despite the hopeless teaching method, Dia slowly reached out and dragged the blocks over. Eight blocks were placed in a line in front of Van. It was something he’d done just to get the child’s attention without any real expectations, so Van’s eyebrow shot up at the unexpected result. His memory wasn’t bad. In fact, it was so ridiculously good that he looked at the child with suspicion.

“Do you understand what I’m saying right now?”

“Ugh, naah…”

Dia tilted his head, mimicking the end of Van’s sentence. Is he understanding, or is he just guessing? There was no way to tell. With a dubious expression, Van stroked the child’s head.

“You’re smart. Though you got one wrong.”

Van’s index finger pushed the first block all the way out.

“It’s V, not P. Not Pan, Van. Try saying it. Van Clark.”

“Ba… ah.”

Dia stared intently at Van’s mouth, his chubby lips moving slightly. A soft, melodious voice uttered the name vaguely.

“Van.”

“Ba, an.”

“Good job.”

Van gently touched Dia’s hair, which was like fine silk threads, as the child stared intently at the wooden block engraved with a V, his mind racing. Today, he would cram 100 words into this small head and teach him sentence structure too. When it comes to learning, whether it’s writing or anything else, the spartan way is the law. Van grinned as he mixed up the wooden blocks.

“Shall we move on, then?”