This Clueless Hero

I knew for a fact that teleporting through objects was definitely possible. After all, I had done it before, but the only caveat was the fact it wasn't really me doing it. However, taking advantage of the fact that teleporting could let me pass through walls would surely come in handy.

It probably wasn't the smartest idea to start learning it this way. I could've just experimented in safer situations but...

I was too impatient.

My eyes locked onto the wall as though they wanted to burn a hole through them. A bead of sweat fell down my forehead.

...This wouldn't backfire, right?

I imagined if the shopkeeper saw me suddenly appear in the shop, he might get freaked out. However, it seemed like he was always looking down at his paper. Last time, he didn't even notice when I directly walked in.

That was what gave me confidence that no freak outs would happen.

Though that was under the assumption I completed it properly in the first place.

Incorrectly teleporting makes me lose part of my body, but still makes me feel that pain. It was as though that part of my body never left, continuing to scream out in agony.

I hesitated even more. Only after a needlessly long time passed, did I stop.

My fist clenched tightly.

Whatever I was in the past, there was no hesitation. Perhaps that version was simply too reckless, but at least it wasn't as pathetic as me.

I decided to suppress that side of myself, so it was only right I properly pushed forward to justify that.

And so, my eyes widened, while my pupils constricted.

In a flash, I found myself inside the writer's shop, next to the door. I rapidly blinked a few times, feeling a strange combination of fear and achievement. Then, my head turned to the shopkeeper.

As expected, the man was still writing something down on a piece of parchment. It really made me wonder what made him feel so obligated to do whatever he was doing.

I walked up and when I reached the counter, I waved my hand.

"Hey."

"AH!"

The man recoiled, lifting his feather up and pointing it at me like it was a sword.

I scratched the back of my head, trying not to laugh.

"Sorry, I just wanted to buy some paper again."

The man's eyebrow twitched. He sighed and lowered the feather in his hand.

"Why have you come to decide to..."

The man adjusted his glasses and pressed his eyelids together tightly.

"...surprise me, all the time?"

I coughed awkwardly.

"It's not intentional!"

The man clicked his tongue.

"Then make some noise when you open the door!"

I raised my hands as though surrendering.

"Ok, ok! But anyways, can I get a parchment?"

The man sighed.

"Of course."

As he pulled out the parchment, I took out the coppers and set them down on the desk. Then, I grabbed the parchment, while the man swept up the coins without even bothering to count.

The man sighed while I tucked away the parchment.

"It is quite ironic..."

I looked up at him.

"Something is ironic?"

The man smiled bitterly.

"I was a man that prided myself on having loyal patrons to my shop. Yet, none of them had shown up in the last two days."

My eyebrow twitched.

Though that wasn't exactly the situation, I also probably shouldn't tell him I was breaking the law to buy some paper.

I pressed my lips together.

"Um... I'm sure they will come back sooner or later."

The man laughed.

"...Hopefully."

He shrugged his shoulders helplessly.

"Somehow or another, my loyal patrons abandoned me, but the person I had no faith in has returned once more."

A soft chuckle escaped me.

"So... is it a good thing or a bad thing that I showed up?"

The man rolled his eyes.

"Practically yes, spiritually, no."

I scratched the back of my head.

"Then why don't you try to branch out to something new? Surely whatever you are writing on that paper isn't that important."

The man became a little despondent.

"...Perhaps."

I blinked a few times.

"It doesn't sound like you will."

The man laughed.

"Yes, because the most likely situation is that I avoid it."

It took me a moment to form the words.

"But... why?"

The man pressed his lips together and proceeded to adjust his glasses.

"This is the only thing I know how to do and I've worked my entire life on it."

He lifted up the piece of paper and showed it to me. There were dense lines of refined cursive calligraphy. Each letter was beautifully done while the lines were perfectly straight, as though he had used a ruler.

However, there wasn't a single one of those in the shop.

I gasped.

"What is that?"

The man smiled bitterly.

"Poetry."

I scratched the back of my head.

"That doesn't sound like it would sell well."

The man laughed.

"It doesn't."

I furrowed my brows.

"Then why..."

The man took a deep breath.

"I will say it once more. It is the only thing I know how to do."

I scratched my cheek with my index finger.

"But it wouldn't be too hard to spend a little time doing something else, right?"

The man shook his head.

"It wouldn't, but I am not going to."

Feeling the solemn air, it took me a moment to gather the words.

"Even if you die because of it?"

The man smiled.

"If I die, then so be it."

I tilted my head to the side.

"...What makes you so adamant about this?"

The man stared off into the distance, as though he saw a vast sky within this tiny shop.

"I made a promise as a naive child."

After a few moments of silence, I spoke up.

"A promise?"

The man nodded.

"A promise to my father."

He set the paper down on the counter, so I could see, then slowly continued writing his poem.

"In his time, writers had declined greatly, as did their demand. My father was naturally upset since this was his entire business."

The corner of the man's lip turned up.

"For his entire life, my father did as I am right now, making ink, parchment, and poems."

He stopped writing the poem, keeping the tip of the feather on the page.

"However, the financial situation wasn't the best. According to my father, this kind of business had once been extremely popular, with countless similar shops within the kingdom."

The man had a forlorn look in his eyes.

"My father seemed really sad about it, so when I was still a wee little boy, I made a promise."

He chuckled, as though he could not believe what he was saying.

"I will bring back those prosperous days, just wait for it!"

The man shook his head.

"It was a stupid promise, but I intend on working towards it."

I opened my mouth, then paused. After a few moments of hesitation, I forced out the words.

"But you can still do something else while fulfilling the promise, right? The extra money you may get can actually make it even easier to fulfill it!"

The man took a deep breath and set the feather down.

"Yes, you're right."

I smiled.

"Then-"

"But..."

The man cut me off. He had a bitter smile on his face.

"...I simply don't wish to change."

He took off his glasses.

"Now that I ponder over it, I suppose it was a lie that I told to myself."

I scratched the back of my head.

"But things always change. Isn't it normal to change with them?"

The man nodded.

"Change is good, yes."

He looked at me dead in the eyes that sparkled with a touch of loneliness.

"But I don't wish to change."

The man proceeded to pick up the poem, looking at the words intently.

Silence descended.

After a bit of hesitation, I spoke up.

"Why are you afraid to change?"

The man closed his eyes.

"...To me, changing means losing my last connection to my father."

It took me a few seconds to understand what he meant. Once it clicked, I nodded slowly.

"I see."

The man smiled slightly, then handed me the paper he was holding onto.

"Why don't you have this poem?"

I chuckled.

"Won't it be worth so much once you make writing prosperous once more?"

The man laughed.

"If that is the case, then you owe me a favor."

I took the poem from him.

"Alright, fair enough."

I slowly walked towards the door while reading the paper.

'I am alone, floating high in the sky.

Far above the world I have known, safe between the clouds.

Time flew past, but brought countless new opportunities.

With just a touch, I could find them.

But I was still so stuck on what we used to be.

I watched the present go by, losing my sense of time.

I'll wait as long as needed.

For you to come and take me home.'