Why Did I Sign Up For This Again?

An Nam Il

Nam Il was scrambling to the meeting place, mentally going over everything he had done that day and whether or not he had forgotten anything along the way. The wishlist he had received from his partner was either blessedly short or annoyingly vague. Weapons? Sarcastic books? His first language was Korean, so he doubted that sort of language would be carried over correctly. Sarcasm did not translate well.

Despite that, he had picked up a few items that he thought seemed reasonably sarcastic enough, in the old fashioned sense. So he had a copy of Voltaire's Candide and Jonathan Swift's A Modest Proposal. The first was a satiric low fantasy. The second could be summarized as "that one paper that told the English to just solve the famine in Ireland by making them eat their babies."

But in case his partner didn't like books at all, Nam Il had also picked up a collection of four perfectly functional daggers from a local shopkeeper, as well as some brass knuckles that he had found lying around. He had made sure to polish them well, though. Very well. They positively sparkled in the light now. All of the gifts were packed into a meticulously wrapped box. The paper was a silvery white, the ribbon was gold.

Nam Il was practically falling over himself in nervousness as he arrived.

"Um hello?" He said to the person who was there. "I'm Nam Il. Are you the person I'm supposed to give this to?"