#19

In a semi-conscious state, the child lay down as Tennessee guided them.

What kind of medicine was it? A painkiller? An antipyretic?

Various thoughts swirled around. Perhaps because they were so preoccupied with thinking, a whine that wouldn’t normally have come from the child’s mouth escaped.

“I’m cold.”

After confirming that the man tied to the chair had not yet regained consciousness, Tennessee bent one knee. The child was shivering. From a quick glance, there were no severe injuries. Still, if the fever didn’t drop, they would have to go to the emergency room.

“Open your mouth.”

As he held the small jaw with one hand, the child weakly parted their lips. Inserting a finger, Tennessee checked each tooth. Ugh. The child groaned, but no teeth were loose. However, the cheek was already swelling. By tomorrow, it would swell further and a hard bruise would form.

“Spread your arms.”

Though he was attending to the child, he hadn’t kept his eyes on them the whole time. Recalling the window, Tennessee brought his hands together. One by one, he swept the edge of his hand between the child’s neck and shoulder, between the armpits, and between the thighs. It was a method medics used to check for bleeding in soldiers injured by shockwaves or shrapnel during combat.

Nothing came off on his hands. If there had been severe bleeding, they would have collapsed long before arriving here, but he still wanted to check for other hemorrhages.

While keeping the child’s arms spread, Tennessee removed the dirty top. The child rustled weakly, moving as Tennessee directed.

Tennessee clicked his tongue. Looking now, the arm was dislocated. Despite that, the child had remained silent the whole time and had even used this arm to cling to his neck. They must not have felt the pain due to the adrenaline.

“Clench your teeth.”

He forced the struggling child to sit up.

As he grabbed the shoulder and arm, the child showed a faint sign of reluctance.

“It’ll hurt. It won’t take long.”

Before the child could resist, he snapped the arm back into place in one swift motion.

“Hng…”

Unable to even scream, the child bowed their head. Without even thinking to wipe their tears, they sobbed silently. In that moment, Tennessee felt an indescribable emotion.

He looked up at the ceiling for a moment. The memory of that desperate calling, the voice screaming for him while clutching its own head. A feeling akin to defeat—the sense of having abandoned some kind of fate—reared its head. What am I feeling?

As if infected by the child’s helplessness, Tennessee lowered his gaze for the first time with his shoulders slumped. Something touched him lightly. It was the child’s feverish forehead.

Had the child asked to be held tight?

Tennessee reached out both arms. He pulled the heat-radiating child into an embrace. “It hurts,” the fever-flushed child murmured.

“My cheeks, and my arms… Tennessee, it hurts.”

The child rubbed their forehead, which was already damp with cold sweat, against him.

“Please stroke my hair…”

Sitting on the sofa, Tennessee did just that. Leaning against the backrest, Tennessee gazed at the small, white back as if it were the sun.

He didn’t know anymore. Tennessee had seen countless people crumble and perish as their screws came loose one by one. Sometimes it was family, sometimes ambition, money, power, or a lover. The downward spiral begins the moment one becomes obsessed with a single thing and starts making exceptions.

Yet, as he stroked the feverish child’s hair, a thought occurred to him.

What does it matter?

Who cares if the surroundings are bleak; they’ll only be here for a short while anyway. What did it matter if the child made him rust? He hadn’t lived his life so carelessly that he’d be killed by a gang of ignorant children.

And so, Tennessee sat for a long time, stroking the child. Soon, he confirmed that the fever was breaking.

It wasn’t as if he would keep the child for the rest of his life; he could just carry the burden a bit longer, finish the job, and then let them go. There was no need to kill them. Tennessee figured he had simply been too sensitive because he was so preoccupied with regaining his own composure.

Especially since the body held in his arms right now was that of a young child. Tennessee remembered his own past. The children of Afghanistan and Iraq. Having killed so many lives, wouldn’t it be fine to stubbornly save just one?

Tennessee stroked the child’s forehead once more. The fever had subsided. The child had fallen asleep with their forehead pressed against his chest. Tennessee laid the child, who had grown considerably heavier after losing consciousness, onto the sofa. Replacing the dirty top with his own blazer and fastening the buttons made the child’s appearance look much better.

After carefully checking the child, Tennessee turned around.

The man tied to the chair had regained consciousness some time ago and was watching him. He was shouting something, but thanks to the duct tape, nothing could be heard. Having seen Tennessee embrace and soothe the child, the man was now surely convinced that the child was valuable, but it didn’t matter. He wouldn’t be leaving this place alive anyway.

* * *

The child opened their eyes with more difficulty than ever before. Because of the tears shed during the night, the eyelids wouldn’t open easily, and a foolish anxiety gripped them for a moment—the fear that they had lost their sight.

“Wait.”

The eyelids hurt as if they were about to tear, but as the child struggled to open them, a familiar voice stopped them. Soon, a finger moistened with water touched the eyelids. A gentle touch dampened both eyes. After blinking intermittently, the child opened their eyes. They tried to push themselves up, but a surge of intense pain hit them.

“If it hurts, stay lying down.”

Despite the discouragement, the child stubbornly sat up and looked around. The last thing the child remembered was a shabby, gloomy warehouse. They recalled the smell of rusted iron. But looking now, the surroundings had changed. The child turned their head. Instead of an old sofa, white bedsheets crumpled beneath their palm.

“Where am I? How long did I sleep?”

“A day and a half.”

The child had slept for over thirty-six hours straight. They had opened their eyes briefly in between, but had fallen back into a deep slumber within seconds.

When Tennessee checked, the child’s injuries were not severe. He had checked multiple times since the child wouldn’t wake, and aside from significant bruising and swelling, there were no major injuries. Tennessee guessed it was likely a combination of psychological shock and the accumulation of fatigue that had built up unconsciously.

“What about that man?”

Tennessee shrugged. He felt no need to describe such filthy work in detail to the child.

“What happened with the job?”

“I’ll handle it.”

There had been quite a harvest. He had been able to learn the exact relationships between those who were at odds with Alejandro. Most gangs had rival organizations. Tennessee had already planned exactly how to stage Alejandro’s death.

Tennessee did not waste a single minute of the twenty-four hours. He disposed of the body, erased traces to prevent tracking, and dealt with the car without a sound. Now all that was left was to execute the plan, but he had returned to the hotel because he was bothered by the fact that the child was completely unconscious.

Tennessee unpacked the things he had brought. As he took out containers of barbecue, sauce, and coleslaw, an appetizing aroma spread. By the time he took out the packaged hamburger buns, the child had already moved from the bed to the table.

The moment he handed over the disposable fork and knife, the child dove in hungrily. Although they had received an IV injection about twelve hours ago, they were naturally starving.

“I’m going to step out for a bit.”

As if they didn’t even have the mental capacity to deal with the buns, the child was using the fork to scoop up large pieces of barbecue meat into their mouth, biting into the bread one piece at a time. The child, who had been moving quickly, stopped.

“Am I staying here again?”

It was an obvious answer. Their body wasn’t fully recovered, and they had run a slight fever, so they needed to rest comfortably in a nice hotel. However, the voice that had called out to them while they struggled to escape the kidnapper’s grasp would not leave their mind. There was only one real option, but Tennessee wanted to at least pretend to give them a choice.

“You can come if you want, but you might have to be in the trunk instead of the car.”

Anyone in their right mind would obviously choose to stay at the hotel. However, Tennessee had overlooked the fact that this child was slightly different from other children.

“How long will it take?”

“An hour and a half to two hours.”

“I want to go. I’ll stay in the trunk.”

Tennessee resigned himself.

“Fine, just eat.”

After finishing lunch, the child struggled through brushing their teeth. Tennessee told them they could skip it, but the child pressed their lips tight and shook their head. It seemed they had their own set of ironclad rules.

“Even if I don’t have money or a home right now, I’m going to do the basics. If I give up, it’s really the end.”

To avoid living a life that was “really the end,” the child forced open their swollen, immobile jaw to brush their teeth, shower, and change clothes. It felt less like stubbornness and more like will—the very thing Tennessee hadn’t been able to take his eyes off of at first.

With the child sitting there with half-wet hair, Tennessee told them to open their mouth. He had checked before, but the child hadn’t been fully conscious then. Tennessee checked again to see if the teeth were intact. From start to finish, he meticulously pressed the gums and teeth to verify.

The child searched their memories and felt that this was the first time they had experienced such contact. Their scraped lips hurt, and keeping their mouth open for a long time while swollen was painful, but it didn’t feel like a great hardship. Upon reflection, they realized that almost everything they did with Tennessee was a new experience for them.