Chapter 62: The Christmas Gift

At that moment, back on Earth.

As the message was sent, a short notification sound rang from Siyeon’s smartphone, loud enough for Mari to hear.

It seemed Siyeon hadn’t muted her message notifications.

Ignoring the sound as best she could, Mari, still wearing her Santa mask, kept her fingers moving on the top bunk bed.

“Mari!”

Siyeon’s startled voice called out from the bottom bunk.

‘No, why would you say that?’

Startled herself, Mari thought, ‘You shouldn’t have come to tell me about it,’ and typed even faster.

[Don’t tell anyone, but let me know what you’d like for Christmas.]

As soon as she sent the message, Siyeon’s smartphone chimed again.

Holding her breath, Mari waited until Siyeon checked her phone. A little while later, she casually broke the silence.

“Why?”

“…It’s nothing!”

Relieved that Siyeon had dismissed the question, Mari sighed inwardly. Thankfully, Siyeon seemed intent on keeping Santa’s message a secret.

Mari’s own phone, with all sound effects muted, buzzed softly as a new message from Siyeon came through.

[Santa knows everything, right?]

‘Spelling…’

The glaring typo irked her, but Mari decided to make Siyeon do a dictation quiz later. For now, she tapped away at her phone to reply.

To children, Santa Claus was an all-knowing, godlike figure.

If Santa didn’t know what gift you wanted, something was off. So Mari shifted the blame to someone else.

[The elves accidentally forgot about your gift.]

[So, can you tell me again what you’d like?]

The “1” next to the message disappeared almost immediately, proof that Siyeon was paying close attention. Mari sent another follow-up message, trying to coax an answer.

Even if Siyeon wanted to keep the secret from her, surely she wouldn’t hide it from Santa.

What kind of gift could it be, one so secretive that even Mari wasn’t allowed to know?

Feeling a tinge of disappointment, Mari lay on her stomach, swinging her legs up and down as she waited for Siyeon to fill the empty chat box.

The puffed-up blanket rose and fell with her legs, making soft, air-popping sounds.

Finally, a small message appeared on the screen.

[I want a massager.]

‘A massager?’

She had expected Siyeon to ask for a doll, clothes, toys, or maybe a game console.

But the answer was a surprisingly un-childlike gift.

Is she in pain somewhere?

Surely a young, healthy, energetic child didn’t need a massager.

Either way, the gift would need to be ordered well before Christmas to ensure it arrived on time. Mari quickly searched online for massagers.

Something small enough for Siyeon to use—one that adults could handle with one hand but children might need two hands to hold.

After placing the order to be delivered to the building’s security office, Mari switched back to the messaging app.

[Got it. Just remember, don’t tell anyone that you talked to Santa, okay?]

[Okay!]

Right after that, the account prepared to disguise as Santa was deleted.

Later that night, the perfect plan was completed without a single mistake, as the chatroom was exited from Siyeon’s sleeping smartphone.

Does this mean I have to prepare excuses for Santa like this every year while maintaining the innocence of childhood?

“I’m not confident about this.”

Why do magical girls exist, but not Santa Claus?

If only a real Santa existed, leaving presents by my bedside while I slept without me needing to worry about anything like this.

Holding such wistful thoughts inside, I preemptively came up with an excuse Santa could use next year.

As winter break approached, the elementary school was bustling as usual.

Like with summer vacation, students were making plans they wouldn’t follow, plus one more thing:

Saying goodbye to one grade and preparing to greet the next.

“Alright, don’t push, and head to the playground slowly—”

At Teacher Seola’s announcement, chairs screeched as they were pushed back.

Carrying their textbooks in bundles, our class lined up and made their way to the playground.

These were the textbooks meant to be used only for the first grade.

When the vehicle collecting old books stood in the middle of the playground, each class took turns heading there to casually toss in the books they’d used over the past year.

A Korean language textbook whose cover had transformed into “Starving Book.”

A math book practically used as a ledger.

An ethics book with the title altered to “Thief.”

And on the other hand, textbooks with covers so pristine they still looked brand new.

Regardless of their condition, they were all thrown indiscriminately into the pile of books that had already grown into a mountain.

Whether they were recycled or burned, it wasn’t something to care about.

“Make sure to do well in second grade, okay?”

“Yes, ma’am!”

The bright responses of the class, seemingly free from worries or concerns.

Returning home with hearts as light as their emptied backpacks.

And so, my second experience of first grade in elementary school came to an end.

If I returned to school again, it would be the beginning of my second-grade life.

The thought of having even longer classes from now on was dreadful.

Ah, but if you ask whether there’s absolutely nothing good about it, that’s not true either.

If I had to pick just one good thing…

“Waaaaaahhhhhhh—!”

Finally escaping from that little rascal who had developed a taste for persistently teasing others.

Raising a middle finger at the back of the kid’s head as they ran out of the school with a dramatic scream, I leisurely walked to the school gate to wait for Siyeon.

Because our classes were quite far apart, and the time it took to throw away the books varied, Siyeon came out a bit later.

“Did you talk a lot with your friends?”

“Yep!”

To the kind of question a parent might throw out, Siyeon nodded enthusiastically and answered brightly.

To be honest, this winter break wasn’t very long, even though it was a break.

That period when we were forced to stay home because of the pandemic had encroached into the break’s territory.

A break lasting less than a month—maybe that’s why the amount of homework was less than during summer.

Though it wasn’t as thick as the emptied textbooks, several notes about payments for the new school year were already piling up in Siyeon’s backpack.

The end.

In a capitalist world, even breathing costs money.

The thick clothing and mittens worn outside to hold hands—

Somehow, Siyeon seems excited.

It probably has to do with the approaching Christmas, but no matter how much I think about it, I can’t figure out why she needs a massage device.

Regardless of my own intentions, Siyeon grabs my arm and swings it in a semicircular arc like a Viking ride.

And so ended the last walk home of my first-grade year in elementary school, a moment that will never come again.

Reflecting on that sentimental memory, my current mood is…

My arm’s about to fall off.

“Siyeon, aren’t you going to sleep?”

Still, I didn’t find out why Siyeon needed a massage device, and December 24th arrived.

I took the massage device I received from the security office and hastily wrapped it in green and red ribbons to add a touch of Christmas cheer. Then, I waited for Siyeon to fall asleep.

“I’m going to wait for Santa Grandpa!”

But Siyeon firmly declared her intention in response to my question.

Apparently, she believed Santa Claus would come at the stroke of midnight, so she stubbornly stayed awake, wide-eyed, even late into the night.

Unfortunately, dear, Santa doesn’t come while you’re awake.

“Fine, I’ll go to bed first.”

To help Siyeon fall asleep faster, I turned off every light in the house, pretending to sleep, and climbed up to the second-floor bed.

No matter how much kids resist sleep, once the lights are off and they’re tucked into bed, there’s only so much they can do.

With all the lights out, I lay facedown on the soft bed, fiddling with my smartphone to resist my own drowsiness.

Midnight passed, 1 AM came and went.

As 2 AM turned into nearly 3 AM, I peeked over the railing to check the first floor. Finally, Siyeon had succumbed to sleep.

Carefully, I descended the stairs, placing each step as softly as possible, tiptoeing across the living room floor.

Under the computer desk, in a corner.

I cautiously stretched my arms out and pulled out the wrapped present.

Although adults might handle a one-handed massager with ease, it was quite heavy for a small frame.

Even setting it down required bending my knees and waist, gently lowering it to the ground.

I placed it near the first-floor bed without making even the slightest rustling sound, then quietly crept back up to the second-floor bed.

Now I could sleep in peace and wake up to see Siyeon’s reaction. With that, the year’s tasks would be nearly complete.

The small light from my smartphone faded as I put it away and closed my eyes.

Having stayed up until 3 AM, I fell asleep almost instantly.

“Mary! Mary!”

“Ugh, what…?”

“Santa Grandpa brought me a present! What did you get, Mary?!”

“Uh, huh? What?”

Siyeon’s question caught me off guard as I was just waking up.

My present?

It wasn’t until I heard her mention it that I realized—

I’d been so focused on Siyeon’s present that I forgot about mine.

Then again, since it’s my own money, I hadn’t even thought about the idea of giving myself a gift.

“I forgot to ask for it…”

“Uh-oh! What should I do?”

“It’s okay, what did Siyeon ask for?”

I brushed off Siyeon’s flustered concern, pretending to know everything while casually asking what they wanted.

When I tore off the wrapping paper, of course, it was a massager.

I was about to say something, thinking I would finally hear the reason why Siyeon wanted a massager.

“Here!”

Suddenly, Siyeon held out their Christmas gift to me.

Caught off guard, I widened my eyes and looked back and forth between Siyeon and the massager.

“Huh?”

“It’s for Mari. She’s always massaging her shoulders.”

A flood of emotions surged inside me, as if water was suddenly rising.

Unexpected emotion comes suddenly, doesn’t it?

End of Chapter

The 65th chapter is expected to reveal the fourth grader’s sprint.

See the next chapter.