YCHW Ch 62

When he reached the empty lot near the Yeongwiwon, he saw targets and training scarecrows lined up on one side. As he stood in a position facing the target, Jeongju brought him a bow and arrows.

“This bow should be suitable for your hand for practice.”

“Thank you.”

Yoonso nocked an arrow on the string and aimed at the target. It had been a long time since he held a bow, and the target was farther than when he had practiced at his private residence, so it seemed he would need some time to adjust. When he released the string from his hand, the arrow flew and stuck into the edge of the target.

Yoonso picked up a new arrow and glanced at Jeongju.

“Where is Huije?”

“He is keeping his position.”

“Why do you two take turns guarding from a distance?”

“Firstly, it is to keep watch in all directions, and secondly, it is to prevent the Yongrin from conspiring and committing acts of treason.”

The arrow that shot from his fingertips this time flew past the head of the beast drawn on the target. Yoonso’s brow furrowed as he stared at the mark.

“Has the latter case actually happened?”

“Originally, Yongrin do not wish to share the Yeongchunhwa, so rather than uniting and splitting the Guardian Star in half, they would choose to possess it whole even if it means skipping a day, or they would sooner kill their counterpart.”

“…I see.”

“But one can never know. Just as there are all sorts of people in the world, the same must be true for Yongrin.”

Jeongju’s indifferent tone made it sound as if he were an observer, not a fellow Yongrin. Yoonso nocked another arrow on the string and asked before shooting.

“That time, did the Emperor order you to remain silent?”

“The Emperor never gave such an order. I kept my mouth shut under the judgment that I could not dare to exchange words with Your Majesty before you entered the palace, and the Emperor simply played along with my pretense.”

The arrow flew and lodged inside the face of the beast. Feeling like he was slowly getting the hang of it, Yoonso clenched and unclenched his hand and picked up a new arrow. He nocked the arrow, drew the string, and held his breath.

He could feel the texture of the passing wind on his skin. Twang, the arrow shot out and soon hit the bullseye, and a thin breath spread from between Yoonso’s lips.

“Is the reason the Emperor cannot fall asleep because of that poison?”

“Yes, Your Majesty. That is so.”

“If one harbors a poison of that degree… how much pain must there be?”

There had only been two people into whom Yoonso’s Guardian Star had flowed. The Yongrin he had encountered when he fled his family home, and Hwi. It was difficult to make a clear comparison with just these two, but he could be sure that the poison Hwi possessed was far beyond ordinary.

“The Emperor does not easily show his suffering, so no one knows. However, if I were to venture a guess based on my own experience… I believe he has not been able to rest comfortably for even a single day since he was enthroned.”

Suddenly, his fingers felt tingly. Yoonso idly brushed his fingertips over the arrows in his quiver as if choosing one, recalling Hwi’s body, which had been like a ball of fire when he returned after six days. The scent of tobacco he had smelled then must have been to erase the pain.

‘Shall we run away.’

The strength that held him as if to crush him, the hot touch, the shard of desperation that seemed to have burst out after piling up and piling up, with no chance to even catch it. If even that was an act, then Hwi would be the greatest artist in this world.

Yoonso shook his head as if shuddering. He bit his lip hard and took out an arrow, but he did not nock it on the string and paused.

“When one receives the Guardian Star… does one truly become perfectly fine? What does that feel like?”

“When the poison subsides because of the Guardian Star, it feels as if this place is paradise itself. And so…”

“…”

“It also feels as if one has set foot in hell.”

Yoonso’s gaze turned to Jeongju, who, unlike at the guild hall, had lost his smile.

How could the Guardian Star, which was said to be the only salvation for a Yongrin, bring both paradise and hell at the same time? Could it be a feeling that stemmed from the powerlessness of being unable to stand on one’s own? The feelings of a dog that must wait for its master to give it food?

It felt like he both understood and did not, as if he were in front of an object that was just within and just out of reach. As Yoonso mulled over Jeongju’s words again, he lifted his eyes. A faint smile appeared on Jeongju’s lips, creating a shallow dimple on one cheek, and he became the amiable man he had met at the guild hall.

“Your Majesty.”

“…”

“If I may be so bold as to say, the Yongrin’s poison is not the Yeongchunhwa’s debt.”

A light that could be read as affection lingered in his dark brown eyes. Yoonso looked back at Jeongju with a slightly quizzical heart.

The more he replayed Jeongju’s words, deconstructing them one by one, the more they came across as a message not to bear any guilt or sense of debt for their poison. It was a grateful piece of advice, but it was not necessarily advice worth giving, especially to the Empress.

Suddenly, a sense of déjà vu washed over Yoonso. The gaze Jeongju had sent him at the guild hall, after he had asked what Hwi liked.

“What were you trying to tell me back then?”

Jeongju seemed to remember that day precisely, as he showed no sign of questioning Yoonso’s question. His gaze, which had been meeting Yoonso’s with an unchanging expression, briefly returned to the target.

“I have a younger brother, and that child resembles Your Majesty.”

It felt like a completely irrelevant answer, yet it was not entirely disconnected either. Was he trying to treat him well because he was reminded of his younger brother? If so, was he about to confess the truth that day?

Jeongju bowed his head and stepped back, scattering any room for conversation. He could have kept him there and questioned him further, but he did not particularly want to.

It seemed he was on good terms with his younger brother. Indeed, after becoming a Yongrin and entering the palace, he probably had not even been able to properly see his family’s faces. Thinking of it that way, he could understand Jeongju’s attitude.

Somehow feeling even more unsettled, Yoonso bit back a sigh and nocked an arrow on the string. He straightened his back, stared directly at the target, and then released the string without hesitation. The arrow flew swiftly and once again struck the very center.

At the same time, from behind him, clap, clap, clap, a heavy clapping sound was heard. When he turned his head, he saw Hwi approaching, and as it was unexpected to meet him here, Yoonso’s face wavered between a look of pleasure and one of displeasure.

“I did not realize your archery was so outstanding. I have learned something new.”

“…I am only as good as anyone else. It is lacking compared to Your Majesty’s skill.”

“If you hold it up against a great mountain, it will naturally be small.”

To compare himself to a great mountain—it was not an incorrect expression, but it was disconcerting. Hwi looked at Yoonso and chuckled, then came to stand right beside him.

“Do you enjoy archery.”

“I liked it more than doing embroidery or playing the zither.”

“I see. Your preferences are revealed through your skill.”

Which meant that his skills in embroidery and zither-playing were lacking. Yoonso only glared at Hwi inwardly and, feeling needlessly sad, just fidgeted with the bow.

“Since you have hit the bullseye, what is the next target.”

“Is there something after the bullseye?”

“You could shoot two arrows at once.”

“…An ordinary person cannot perform such a feat.”

“Not without a little help.”

Hwi positioned himself behind Yoonso and supported his left arm, which held the bow. Then he took out two arrows and placed them in Yoonso’s hand. Distracted by Hwi’s sudden closeness and the posture that was like an embrace, Yoonso could not bring himself to refuse.

As Hwi took hold of Yoonso’s right hand as well, Yoonso ended up completely enveloped in his arms. His embrace, which he remembered all too clearly, brought on a sense of nostalgia. Yoonso’s gaze fell on Hwi’s hand, where blue veins stood out.

When Hwi easily drew and released the string, the two arrows flew in a cool arc and hit the beast’s faceplate precisely.

“A direct hit.”

As the whisper reached his ear, tickling his skin, Yoonso shoved the bow at Hwi and broke free from his embrace. He suppressed the urge to say something to him for handling him as he pleased, lowering his head and seething. In the midst of this, his eyes caught sight of fingers flicking the bowstring, thrum, thrum.

Thrum, thrum, thrum…

Thump, thump, thump…

Yoonso’s eyes shot open and he jerked his head up.

“Are you having fun?”

“With what?”

Hwi’s gaze, which had asked back nonchalantly, belatedly dropped down and then came back up. He placed his finger on the bowstring, stopping its movement, and blinked his eyes slowly.

“Stealing a listen to another’s… pulse and making a mockery of it—even a child would know that is not the act of a gentleman.”

The shame that came from the realization that he could not hide his heart in front of Hwi colored Yoonso’s face red. Neither love nor hate, not a single thing was under his control, and now he could not even conceal it. It truly felt as if he were tumbling this way and that in the palm of Hwi’s hand, and his tightly bitten lips trembled.

Hwi stared at Yoonso for a moment, then reached out his hand. Yoonso did not want to touch him in the slightest and took a step back. At that, Hwi curled his fingers in mid-air and then set the bow he was holding on the ground as if tossing it.

“To correct you, you are not ‘another.’”

He did not want to hear it. Especially not from a man who spoke so smoothly but never said what was truly necessary. Yoonso expressed his refusal by turning his gaze elsewhere, but he could do no more than that.

“It is not that I listened because I wanted to.”

“…”

“Sometimes, my ears grow terribly weary… but when you are by my side, that is not the case.”

The calm and gentle voice caught Yoonso and pulled him in. Yoonso looked into the eyes that held a constant light, regardless of his own aversion, and recalled the common knowledge that a Yongrin’s five senses were sensitive.

What kind of world was the noisy world that this man, as cold and tranquil as the moonlight, had to live in? The fact that he could not directly experience his pain due to the difference in their inherent natures stung his fingertips, and Yoonso curled his fingers.