TBML 31

Yiyeon, who had been tensing his body to the limit against the touch of this stranger, felt himself gradually relax as time passed. Surprised by his own reaction, he wrapped one arm around Hyunhak’s neck. Yet he still struggled desperately not to let his guard down completely.

If anyone with their wits about them had seen them, they would have asked Hyunhak where he was going with a corpse on his back. Fortunately, he was too dazed to notice his own appearance; had Yiyeon been able to see himself, he would have been horrified by his disheveled state, which made him look as if he were about to die.

Unaware of his own pitiful state, Yiyeon leaned on Hyunhak and strained to commit every minor detail to memory – from the passing scenery to the rhythmic sway of Hyunhak’s gait. Contrary to Yiyeon’s expectation that Hyunhak would grow tired and set him down shortly after picking him up, Hyunhak silently covered a long and rugged distance.

Just as he had thought last time – judging by his delicate hands, he’d assumed Hyunhak was a scholar unaccustomed to hardship – Hyunhak proved to have far more stamina than Yiyeon had anticipated. Yiyeon began to see Hyunhak in a different light.

Hyunhak moved effortlessly, carrying Yiyeon on his back along a path that would have left him breathless had he walked it alone. Though he’d expected it to be in Byeoksan, Hyunhak’s home was situated on a mountain slope even steeper than he’d imagined. Even after walking downhill for quite some time, the forest still stretched endlessly before them.

It would be difficult even on flat ground, yet despite it being early winter, Hyunhak carried Yiyeon down that long distance without breaking a sweat or gasping for breath.

His broad shoulders, sturdy back, and unwavering movements made Yiyeon lean on him time and again, even when he tried not to. By now, it seemed that no matter how long or arduous the path might be, Hyunhak would continue walking as he was, upright and unwavering.

Overcome by that strange sense of trust, Yiyeon completely relaxed his body, but as his mind began to drift, he quickly regained his composure.

“My Lord, please set me down now. I can walk on my own.”

“……”

“My Lord.”

Yiyeon was startled by how easily he had leaned on Hyunhak and let his guard down. He had never once completely surrendered himself and relied on anyone like this, not even the parents who had taken him in.

Let alone Hyunhak, a nobleman of a completely different social class whom he had met only twice. To fall asleep so peacefully on his back meant he had lost his mind. Even if Hyunhak were to get angry and throw him to the ground, he would have no grounds to complain.

But despite Yiyeon’s earnest pleas, Hyunhak acted as if he hadn’t heard a thing. He didn’t even turn back as he continued walking in silence.

‘Kim Hyunhak.’

Just as he had been in the rain last time, he was a mysterious scholar. Could this really be the same person? The Hyunhak of now was as different from the one in Yiyeon’s memory as a weed that had sprung up overnight.

While boys in their growth spurt do go through such phases, it felt as though he had grown far too much in just those few short weeks.

It was a question he’d had even when they first met: why had Hyunhak been in that state, out there in the mountains visit our site that day? Judging by the fact that there was a house and items bearing traces of his touch inside, it was clear that the house where Yiyeon had woken up was indeed his home. If so, why was Hyunhak living alone in those mountains? Yiyeon wondered to himself why this scholar was living all alone in that isolated house.

Had he committed some grave crime in Hanyang and fled or been exiled? It didn’t add up for him to be that kind of person. If he were truly a criminal, he wouldn’t have gone out of his way to help Yiyeon or carried him on his back.

Yiyeon lifted his head and stared at the back of Hyunhak’s head. Why was this man living in that crumbling house deep in the mountains?

Judging by his hair, which shone as if it were coated in sesame oil, he didn’t seem to be going hungry, at least.

‘In any case, the good deed I did back then has come back to me like this.’

Yiyeon wasn’t usually one for many words, but to keep his wits about him, to break the uncomfortable awkwardness, and out of curiosity about Hyunhak, he slowly began to speak.

“Isn’t it hard? I must be heavy…?”

“…….”

“Isn’t it uncomfortable living all alone out here in the mountains?”

“…….”

Is this how Dusoe feels when he talks to me? He’d rather just talk to himself while staring at a wall. He reacted to what Yiyeon said, made eye contact, and seemed like he wanted to say something, but in the end, he didn’t open his mouth.

He knew he shouldn’t, but his benefactor’s frustrating behavior was driving him up the wall. There was something he wanted to say, but seeing him pretend not to notice and just blurt out other things, Dusoe’s feelings might have been exactly like this.

He didn’t have a hobby of talking to himself, nor did he like to ramble on, so after being ignored a few times, Yiyeon shut his mouth. It felt as though the last question he had just asked was echoing around the mountain and coming back to him from behind his own back.

The real reason Yiyeon had gone out of his way to bombard Hyunhak with questions was something else entirely. It was because he felt that if he didn’t even do this much, he would be overwhelmed with anxiety. The moment he fell silent, his anxiety and worry came rushing toward him, just like an echo from behind.

Though he hadn’t asked Hyunhak, Yiyeon was a man of common sense. After falling into the unfinished trap, he had lost consciousness, and his sense of time had grown hazy ever since.

When he opened his eyes, the sun was up, so he had vaguely assumed that only a day had passed, but Yiyeon knew that wasn’t the reality. He just didn’t want to admit it. Even if he tried to deny it, his physical condition wouldn’t allow it.

Considering the thirst, hunger, and other sensations he felt as an ordinary person, at least a day or two must have passed since he fell into the pit.

And then there was the time that had elapsed since Hyunhak rescued him. His body was too stiff to have regained consciousness immediately after climbing out of the pit. So, even if he estimated conservatively, it had been three days. And even that was only because Yiyeon was so resilient; if he had been the type to exaggerate his suffering, he would already be in the grave.

Four days had already passed by the time he first climbed the mountain, came up empty-handed, and resolved to catch the black tiger, and at least three days. Ultimately, even by the most conservative estimate, it had been seven days since he left home.

Yiyeon pictured his mother’s face, the face he had seen just before leaving home, when his mother was barely breathing. Could his mother, in that condition, have held on for seven days without proper care?

No matter how attentively Dusoe had looked after her. Even if he said he’d gone to see Sooni the very next morning after y left – no, right away – and found she’d already departed, there was nothing he could say to that.

As ominous thoughts swirled around his head, Yiyeon exhaled and rested his forehead against Hyunhak’s broad shoulders. His forehead collided with Hyunhak’s firm, broad shoulder blades, causing pain, but neither Yiyeon nor Hyunhak made a sound.

Just as Yiyeon was gradually being consumed by melancholy, a fierce wind blew in from the front. The wind was so strong that Yiyeon hid behind Hyunhak’s back.

“Hey.”

Startled by the sudden unfamiliar voice, Yiyeon craned his neck and looked around. The fierce wind he had been sheltering from behind Hyunhak now lashed his cheek, making his head spin. The early winter mountain wind was biting. Yiyeon looked around at the unexpected voice of a stranger, but the only people there were Hyunhak and himself.

If it wasn’t Yiyeon’s own voice, and if it wasn’t the crow that kept catching his eye speaking in a human voice, then the voice must have belonged to Hyunhak. When he had saved him last time, the only thing he had heard was a fleeting “Be careful,” so he hadn’t realized it then, but Hyunhak’s voice was a deep, low bass, as if it were drawn up from the depths of a cave.

Hyunhak’s low voice pierced his ears clearly even through the fierce wind. It carried a resonance that made his body tremble. It was like the roar of a tiger. Yiyeon, who hadn’t expected to hear Hyunhak’s voice, stared at him with a stunned expression.

“My Lord…?”

“Over there.”

When Yiyeon called out to him, Hyunhak pointed to somewhere with his chin. Look at this, he clearly knew how to speak, so why hadn’t he answered until now?

Yiyeon turned his head in the direction Hyunhak was pointing. Stung by the fierce wind, he shed a few tears and blinked a few times. It had been a natural physiological reaction but when Yiyeon looked in the direction Hyunhak was pointing, the tears he shed this time were not physiological.

Had the mountain terrain here always been this steep and deep? Where was he now, carried on this man’s back? Yiyeon had climbed the mountains in this area countless times, but he had never seen such a breathtaking view in his life.

The cliff beneath his feet was so high it seemed to vanish into the distance, yet Hyunhak stood at its very edge, seemingly without a trace of fear. To the left, a path led downhill; it seemed he had wanted to show Yiyeon this breathtaking view before taking that path down.

Carried on Hyunhak’s back, Yiyeon’s vantage point was elevated, allowing him to see the boundary where the mountains met the plains. Though the trees had become bare for winter, countless intertwined branches formed a dense, brown thicket. When he looked further into the distance, the trees gradually thinned out, and the sight of a village – looking as if someone had gathered coarse grains of sand on the plain – came into view. Was the village really that small?

He had always called it a backwater, a small town, but seeing it like this, the mountains were vast while the village was no bigger than a handful. So that’s where he’d been struggling to survive, in that tiny place. Overwhelmed by the unfamiliar scenery, Yiyeon was at a loss for words and could only blink back tears.

“It really is small.”

It was a scene that would have been [unauthorized copy]even more beautiful in the lushness of summer. Or perhaps in the colorful hues of autumn.

But now it was early winter, when the trees were bare. The landscape before him was vast and overwhelming, yet the desolation unique to winter mountains could not be erased. While some might find the view unremarkable, Yiyeon felt as though he had glimpsed a whole new world.

It felt like a mole, who had spent his entire life burrowing underground, had suddenly grown wings and taken to the sky. Even though he had roamed mountains several times larger than the village, he had acted as if leaving that tiny village meant certain death. And now, he was making such a fuss just to return to that small life.

The question “Is going back the right thing to do?” crossed his mind for a moment, but after gazing at the vast landscape for a long while, Yiyeon rested his forehead on Hyunhak’s shoulder in resignation.

Whatever outcome awaited him in that village, Yiyeon had to see it with his own eyes.