YCHW Ch 40

𓇢𓆸

“Hyung-nim! Hyung-nim, you’re going to stay with us forever now, right?”

At Hyungseo’s bright question, Yoonso’s steps faltered. Yoonso looked down at Hyungseo for a moment before swinging their clasped hands back and forth energetically. This made Hyungseo burst into laughter. Even though he had grown quite a bit, seeing such a pure, childlike boy brought a gentle smile to Yoonso’s lips.

“What should I do? I have to leave soon.”

“Really? Where are you going?”

“Far away. Very far away.”

Hyungseo’s expression quickly turned sullen. His lips puffed out, unable to hide his emotions at all, and seeing this, Yoonso felt an urge to hug him tightly. He slipped his hands under Hyungseo’s armpits, lifted him high, and then set him back down.

“Oh my… you’re quite heavy.”

Half-jokingly, half-seriously, Yoonso rubbed his arms as if in pain, and Hyungseo immediately giggled again. Listening to that laughter, Yoonso felt as though the crumpled, wrinkled fabric of his mind was being smoothed out just a little.

“Even though I’m leaving, I won’t forget you, Hyungseo.”

“For real?”

“Of course. Our names are similar, so it’s like we’re brothers.”

“What? Deokyoon and Hyungseo aren’t similar at all!”

“Oh…”

Realizing his mistake, Yoonso bit his tongue and gave a calm smile.

“I mean, you feel so much like my little brother that our names seem similar.”

“I feel the same way!”

“I never had a younger brother. I always wished I had one… and that’s probably why I met you like this.”

Hyungseo turned around and suddenly hugged Yoonso tightly. For a child, his strength was considerable, and Yoonso let out a small surprised sound. Soon, Hyungseo loosened his grip and looked up at Yoonso with a smiling face.

“Hyung-nim, you’re such a good person.”

“Thank you.”

“You said there’s someone you’re waiting for, right?”

It seemed he had overheard a conversation or Eungang had told him. Yoonso steadied his wavering expression and nodded.

“Yes.”

“Noona says waiting is pointless, but I think differently. Actually, when I was at the shrine, I waited and waited for Noona. And then you showed up and brought me to her, didn’t you? So, Hyung-nim, you’ll definitely meet the person you’re waiting for.”

The boy’s bold and composed words pierced through the tangled mess of emotions in Yoonso’s heart. Feeling tears well up as if they might burst through the gap, Yoonso smiled brightly and pulled Hyungseo into a tight embrace.

“Yes. Thank you. Thank you.”

Hyungseo’s hand patted Yoonso’s waist gently. Yoonso held the boy for a long time before resuming their walk, taking him to Eungang’s house.

After sending off the chatty Hyungseo, the silence surrounding Yoonso felt even heavier. Returning to the east wing, Yoonso sat on a wooden platform in the yard, holding an almost-finished pouch and basking in the ripe autumn sunlight, like fully matured rice.

It was the fifth day. Hwi hadn’t returned, nor had any news arrived.

Even firm trust and earnest hopes had shattered into tiny pieces and vanished, leaving only resignation to grow and consume Yoonso. A sense of helplessness made even lifting a finger feel exhausting. Only the mysterious embroidery—neither turtle nor anything else—remained, mocking Yoonso about what he had truly desired.

Like a forsaken stone statue, Yoonso sat motionless, feeling the passage of time with agonizing clarity. What tormented him most wasn’t Hwi’s absence or even the fact that he hadn’t come on the promised day.

It was the realization that he could no longer believe in the short but uniquely special time they had shared, nor in the Hwi he had known within it.

Unable to sleep properly, Yoonso’s bloodshot eyes closed briefly before opening again, letting out a hollow sigh.

The sunset, burning red, stained the watery sky as if spilling blood. Yoonso pressed the pouch to his forehead, repeating over and over.

“You’ll come, right? You promised. You said you’d come.”

But his weakened voice reached nowhere, breaking into fragments. He wanted to believe it was just an unavoidable delay, but after five days, such faith felt futile.

If he truly cared for me, he would have sent at least a letter. He could have sent that man from the meeting hall who rushed so swiftly.

If it were anyone else, Yoonso might have worried for their safety, but was there anyone who could even touch a single hair on Hwi’s head? He was so flawless, so unshakable, that even futile rationalizations were impossible.

Perhaps the ending was set from the moment Hwi kissed him and then acted as if it never happened. Kissing a lowly servant with nothing to his name might have made the future feel daunting.

If that’s the case, he shouldn’t have looked at me with such tender eyes. He shouldn’t have let me harbor false hopes. He shouldn’t have reached out so hesitantly.

As complete darkness covered the sky and salt-like stars dotted the night, tears finally broke free. Too old now to cry like a child, Yoonso swallowed his sobs, choking down his sorrow.

The night, with the one he waited for not arriving, was cruelly long, and his tear-soaked cheeks glistened in the moonlight.

Yet, from afar, this was merely a painting, and time, showing no pity for Yoonso, slipped through his desperate grasp and raced on without stopping.

𓇢𓆸

“If you need help, come back anytime.”

“Yes. Thank you for your words alone.”

Kyungae left the village first, saying she couldn’t leave her teahouse for too long. Feeling empty, Yoonso lingered outside for a while before returning to the east wing. Inside, the belongings he had packed before dawn were waiting for him.

Yoonso had decided to leave today. Having waited twice the promised three days, he felt he had done enough, but when the time came, leaving wasn’t easy.

The vain hope that Hwi might be on his way, that leaving now might mean missing him, held Yoonso back. Unable to shake off this lingering attachment, he ended up leaving a letter.

He wrote that he could no longer delay and would leave first, that he was grateful, and that he hoped for a day to repay the kindness. The words, tinged with emotion, required rereading multiple times. But finding nothing to remove, he folded the paper and placed it on the table.

Stepping outside, the clear sky and warm sunlight greeted him. The day was so beautiful that his steps wouldn’t come easily. Deciding to sit on the platform for a moment, Yoonso gazed blankly at the sky.

I need to go, I need to go, he repeated, but he couldn’t stand. The premonition—or rather, foolish hope—that Hwi might arrive just as he left, missing him entirely, clung stubbornly.

Like an old man blaming his immobile body, Yoonso pounded his knees with his fists, muttering, “Let’s go now, let’s go,” to no avail.

The afternoon sunlight ripened. The rays filtering through the lush leaves of the pavilion tree began to fade. With no breeze, the still air seemed to choke him. Yoonso let out a hollow laugh, brushed off his seat, and stood.

He glanced back at the east wing, where he had stayed for six days, and began walking.

Thinking it best to say goodbye to Eungang, Hyunsong, and Hyungseo, he headed slowly toward their house.

“Yoon-ah.”

The voice he could never forget, rough like dry sand, brushed against his ear. Yoonso’s steps halted as if caught on something.

He didn’t turn around immediately, clenching his jaw tightly.

He had thought he’d be overjoyed when the man he waited for returned, that he’d greet him with a bright smile and ask if he was okay. But now, faced with the moment, a flood of emotions made it impossible to meet his gaze. Tears threatened to spill, so Yoonso forced strength into his eyes and took a deep breath.

“You’re very angry, aren’t you?”

The familiar voice grated on his frayed nerves. Afraid he might say something harsh and unwarranted, Yoonso struggled to calm the surging emotions.

“I’m too late, aren’t I?”

The gentle tone was like the touch of Hwi’s hand stroking his hair. Even if he hadn’t kept his promise, Yoonso couldn’t blame him. The man’s soothing presence melted away the sharp resentment built up from waiting.

“…I thought you weren’t coming.”

His trembling voice slipped out like a child’s complaint. Not wanting to act childish, Yoonso wiped his eyes, sniffled, and composed his face.

“Didn’t I say I’d come?”

Yes, he was a man who didn’t break his word. Regret flashed through Yoonso for not waiting joyfully and instead letting himself be consumed by anxiety.

Hwi handed out cards and calmly explained the rules and methods of the game. Though the number of holes in the cards varied, making it seem complex, it was simple enough to understand after one explanation.