YCHW Ch 38

“If it weren’t for you, we wouldn’t have found our Hyungseo. How can we ever repay this kindness?”

“It’s nothing. I just happened to visit the shrine and met Hyungseo by chance, so it was good luck.”

Yoonso comforted the tearful Eunkang, pouring wine into her cup. Nearby, Kyungae let out a deep sigh and gave a hollow laugh.

“I searched so hard, and he was at the shrine. They say it’s darkest under the lamp, and truly. Was I being punished for not stepping foot in a shrine?”

“Did you ever think you’d go to the Hwasichung in your lifetime? Life is unpredictable.”

“I was so desperate I knelt before a Yongrin. The ones who ruined us also saved us. Isn’t that absurd?”

Kyungae swallowed her wine with a bitter expression, as if it were harsh liquor. Reading the regret that crossed the three women’s faces like a rough sandstorm, Yoonso cautiously asked.

“Do all of you here… have ties with Yongrin?”

While touring the village earlier, Yoonso noticed something striking. There were more women than men, and many elderly people. The bond among them seemed to surpass mere neighborly camaraderie. He wasn’t sure how it connected to Yongrin, though.

“You might have guessed, but this village wasn’t naturally formed by passersby settling here. It’s a haven built together by those seeking comrades.”

“Comrades?”

“The lovers and families abandoned by those grand Yongrin lords.”

Kyungae’s cold retort left Yoonso frozen, unsure how to respond. How could Yongrin act against propriety? He didn’t doubt Kyungae, but he couldn’t comprehend it.

As if understanding, Hyunsong gave a wry smile and placed a piece of meat in Yoonso’s bowl. Her gesture to eat prompted him to put it in his mouth, but he couldn’t taste it.

“When I married at sixteen and lived with my husband for over six years, I was sad and scared but also proud when he awakened late as a Yongrin. Why wouldn’t I be? My husband was to become a hero saving the nation, doing noble and dignified work.”

The eldest of the three, Hyunsong, caressed her wine cup as if smoothing worn clothing. Her face showed no lingering attachment to the past, but it was easy to see her composure stemmed from resignation.

“After a year, his letters stopped. After two, the money and rice he sent ceased, so I didn’t know if he was dead or alive. I asked everywhere and barely heard he’d been dispatched to a Hwasichung. Clinging to that news like a lifeline, I went to find him… and there was a Yeongchunhwa by his side, treated as if even a pebble might hurt her…”

Hyunsong didn’t elaborate on what followed, but Yoonso could guess. She must have turned away, unable to acknowledge it, or been rejected.

Eunkang wiped her tears and tightly held Hyunsong’s hand. Hyunsong smiled at her, signaling she was alright.

The unfamiliar story sent tingles through Yoonso’s fingertips. He gulped down his wine, pursed his lips, and furrowed his brow deeply.

“So everyone living here…”

“Yes. Long ago, those in similar situations gathered to live together, and over time, this village with its deep history was formed. The teahouse was built for the same reason—to bring in comrades who need help.”

Now Yoonso understood Kyungae’s earlier remark that Suhyang was just one of their places. They’d set up locations everywhere to support and comfort those in similar plights.

“I wouldn’t even lie down facing a Hwasichung, but if not for this, I’d never have seen their faces.”

“I never knew. How could they abandon their families… I can’t understand.”

“Why else? Because of Yeongchunhwa.”

The blunt reply startled Yoonso, a Yeongchunhwa himself. He curled his fingers and cautiously waited for Kyungae to continue.

“They say Yongrin die without Yeongchunhwa, so they cling to them. Swayed by that great power, they act like dogs who don’t care about their master as long as they’re fed—though even dogs have more loyalty.”

“…”

“Someone who can’t protect their family is supposed to protect the nation? Hah, sure. Thanks to them, we’re living so well, aren’t we?”

Yoonso wet his parched throat with sweet fruit wine.

It was a known truth that without a Yeongchunhwa’s protective energy, Yongrin would suffer greatly, and if untreated, could die, unable to withstand their own power. Yoonso had been taught this and learned the history proving Yeongchunhwa’s importance to both Yongrin and the nation.

But he’d never known this shadow lurked behind it. How could anyone abandon their family? It was like betraying a lifesaving physician.

“Yongrin are the same. They’re no different from dogs kissing the feet and begging of the only one feeding them.”

Hwi’s earlier metaphor echoed in his mind.

He’d heard repeatedly that a Yeongchunhwa’s protective energy was a lifeline for Yongrin, but it had felt like ancient wisdom, never truly resonating. Hearing their stories now, his mind grew heavy and tangled.

How desperate must that energy be?

But even so.

The two thoughts clashed, but as a Yeongchunhwa who fled his duty, Yoonso couldn’t judge freely.

In a world where some abandon their families to save the nation, and others are forsaken under that same pretext, what was he doing?

He tried to coldly judge the system driving people to this as unjust, but the guilt he thought he’d left behind when he fled home shattered like broken pottery, leaving scratches.

Perhaps Hwi spoke that way because he knew someone like Kyungae. Maybe someone close to him was a Yongrin. With a heavy heart, Yoonso drank deeply.

“But I understand.”

After a few cups, Eunkang’s flushed face smiled tearfully as she shook her head.

“How hard must it have been for them? They say Yeongchunhwa are water to Yongrin. If you walked a desert all day, would you see anything but water? Hell isn’t called hell for nothing… How hellish must their hearts be?”

“You’re too kind, unnie. What’s the use of a world that forgives abandoning children to survive? One thing’s clear—there are also those who’d risk their lives to save others.”

Someone who sacrifices their life for others. Worthy of respect, but not everyone could do it. Yoonso, fleeing to save himself, could never be such a person.

Empathizing easily with their pain felt deceitful, yet he couldn’t freely curse Yongrin either, so he just kept drinking.

“Enough. Are we going to talk gloomily on this good day? Good days call for good stories.”

Hyunsong lifted the mood and changed the topic.

As they drank and talked endlessly, the intoxication grew. Laughter erupted often, and the lively chatter never stopped, but oddly, Hwi’s absence became sharper as time passed.

What urgent matter made him leave so suddenly? Should he have asked? Knowing wouldn’t change anything, but…

“Oh, you’re drunk, drunk!”

“A man collapsing after just that?”

As Yoonso’s head hit the table, laughter-filled voices surrounded him. The flush of intoxication stirred a vague sadness. Blinking heavily, Yoonso let out a silly chuckle.

𓇢𓆸

Time crawled, and as he wondered what to do, he remembered the pouch he’d bought for Hwi. He’d forgotten to give it to him amid that day’s events.

What’s the point of idling? He decided to embroider and borrowed a needle and thread from Eunkang.

He agonized over what to embroider. Thinking of it as a token for Hwi made it hard to decide. Then he thought, a token? To him, it’s just a trifling pouch. So he resolved to attach no meaning to it.

His greatest wish was Hwi’s safety. Thus, he chose to embroider a turtle, symbolizing longevity, to pray for his well-being.

Focusing on embroidery cleared his stray thoughts. His skill wasn’t great, so a moment’s distraction ruined the shape, forcing him to stay focused. But as the promised third day arrived, his mind grew restless, and he frequently pricked his fingertips.

Seeing a bead of blood, Yoonso set the pouch down and sighed.

Outside, the sun was setting. The reddening sky was like a painting, but he had no leisure to admire it, so how could he finish the embroidery? He wanted to complete it before Hwi returned, but it seemed unlikely.