By the time Lee Yong-Su hit two months old, he had achieved what few babies dared to dream:
Crawling.
But not just ordinary crawling. No, this was mission-ready, stealth-certified, dad-would-never-approve crawling. He had studied the servants' routes, the creaky floorboards, even how long Fen took to sneeze.
This was tactical infant locomotion.
The First Operation: Codename Ashrat
Objective: reach the charcoal storage closet.Secondary objective: not poop during the mission.
It began at 2:13 a.m. A moonlit room. A sleeping household. A baby ninja slithering like a chubby worm with dreams of explosive glory.
Yong-Su belly-shuffled off his pillow throne, used a discarded sock as a rope, and rolled under the table like a tiny, determined dumpling of war.
Unfortunately, halfway through the mission, he ran into his first great obstacle:
The Goose.
The Goose
Yes, for reasons that can only be attributed to ancient cultivation feng shui, the household kept a spirit-touched goose named Tao-Tao in the hallway to chase off evil spirits and/or mailmen.
Tao-Tao was large. Angry. And 40% beak.
He did not like babies sneaking around at 2 a.m.
Their eyes met in the pale moonlight. A stare-off of epic proportions.
I am not your enemy, thought Yong-Su.
You are everything that is wrong with the universe, honked Tao-Tao.
The goose flapped once. Feathers ruffled. Destiny held its breath.
But before things escalated, Tao-Tao was distracted by a passing moth. A soft honk. A flap. And the guardian beast wandered off into the garden to harass vegetables.
Yong-Su exhaled.
Go in peace, demon duck.
The Closet of Promise
Finally, he reached the charcoal closet.
Now, was it locked?
Of course.
But the latch was a basic sliding bolt, and with the power of desperation, small hands, and a piece of dropped cracker used as a wedge—he popped it open.
Inside: black gold.Charcoal. Ash. Dust. And a suspicious bag labeled "Do Not Eat – Not Food."
He giggled.
He licked it.
Immediately regretted it.
Note to self: test chemically, not orally.
He grabbed a pinch and stuffed it in his tiny cloth diaper pocket. One step closer to fireworks. One step closer to baby artillery supremacy.
Fen's Breakdown: The Sequel
Morning came.
Fen entered the nursery with her usual dead-eyed stare, only to find the baby wide awake, diaper slightly bulging with suspicious black powder, smiling like a kid who just discovered napalm.
"He's been out. I KNOW he's been out. Look at him! That is the smile of someone who committed a crime!"
Madam didn't even look up from her embroidery.
"He's two months old."
"Exactly. Too young to lie, which means that's his real smile. That's even worse!"
Fen turned on her heel and stormed out to speak to the local exorcist.
Yong-Su watched her go, then scribbled invisible notes in the air.
"Phase Two: Field testing."
Baby Wisdoms™ of the Day
"Crawling is just walking with more floor contact."
"All closets are treasure chests if you're stupid enough."
"A goose can smell fear... and raisins."
"The world sleeps while I rise."
That Evening...
A faint thump echoed through the manor.
BOOF.
A soot-streaked squirrel shot across the courtyard. Something in the bamboo thicket smoked slightly.
Yong-Su was already in bed by the time anyone arrived, gurgling innocently, covered in "ink" (totally not black powder residue), chewing on a brush, looking like the reincarnation of artistic genius.
Madam sighed.
"He's definitely gifted."
Fen screamed into a pillow.