TBML 54

These weren’t just words blurted out on a whim. They weren’t just empty talk spouted by a penniless pauper who, in a moment of crisis, was trying to save face by clinging to his pride.

He was no longer someone who could hold his head high with pride, and he had let go of any pretense of dignity. Yiyeon was in no way at fault. Although he was the sole victim, as he always had, Yiyeon blamed himself, and as a result, it was as if a stigma invisible to anyone else but visible only to him had been branded upon him.

If Hyunhak didn’t take him in here, Yiyeon had nowhere else to go. Given his physical condition, he couldn’t go far anyway, but more importantly, he couldn’t even go near the village. Or even near the mountain trails where villagers might pass by. He would have to live his life avoiding any place where people went.

What if he ran into someone who recognized him? Just the thought of it made Yiyeon feel as if his hair were turning white overnight. It was horrifying.

He couldn’t gauge how much time had passed, but by now, he was surely the talk of the village. A heat-crazed dog who’d had sex countless times and seduced every man in sight.

Even Yiyeon himself was trampling on his own self by imagining that moment, which he couldn’t even remember, hundreds of times.

He couldn’t even begin to imagine how others, with their love of gossip, would portray him as someone who had been defiled. Such looks had always followed Yiyeon. Whether the rumors circulating were true or false didn’t matter.

When Yiyeon glared at them, those who sent him looks that suggested anyone could have him, they would all blame others and claim that it was just what people say.

If that was the case even for things that never happened, now that [stolen content]it had actually happened, they were sure to revel in it to their hearts’ content. They would revel in it time and time again until the “Yiyeon” in their minds was so distorted that he could no longer be called Yiyeon.

So he could no longer set foot in the village, or even anywhere near where people lived, lest he run into someone who might remember Yiyeon.

Living up to this point had been hard enough; Yiyeon had no confidence he could continue living like that. When Dusoe had told him to forget everything, run away, and live well on his own, he’d scoffed, “I can’t do that.” But his words had come true.

“Please, My Lord. I don’t mind a dirt floor, or even an outhouse. Just let me stay here. I won’t be a bother. I won’t even breathe a sound.”

Yiyeon clung to Hyunhak as if he were the last hope this world had given him. If Hyunhak refused, he would leave this house and crawl deeper into the mountains, into mountains where no one would ever find him…….

He didn’t know. Yiyeon shook his head. He was the same Yiyeon who had clung to his dying mother – fearing death and the loneliness of being left behind – just to hold on.

“I’ll do anything. Didn’t I say I’d repay your kindness? I… I will! I’ll do anything. Please, even if it’s just as a servant… please.”

No matter where he went, Yiyeon would have to suffer. As long as he remained Yiyeon, this would be his fate.

Since he couldn’t bring himself to take his own life, if Hyunhak ultimately cast him out, he would hide away in the deep mountains and survive however he could, as long as he still had a breath left. But the problem was that this prospect was far too dreadful and agonizing. If he was going to suffer no matter where he went, this place was actually better. At least Hyunhak didn’t look at Yiyeon with that kind of disdain.

If you asked how well he knew him to make such a judgment, he’d tell you that even right now, Hyunhak was looking at him, Yiyeon, with the same unwavering gaze he had on the day they parted. When Yiyeon met Hyunhak’s dark eyes, he felt as though all the labels and negativity surrounding him were rendered meaningless.

Even if he hadn’t lived his life with such resilience. Even if he’d been a street thug like Byeon. It felt like Hyunhak would still look at him with the same eyes. Even without knowing him for long, even without speaking, there was something about Hyunhak that felt detached and unbound by this world.

As he looked at Hyunhak’s handsome face, which showed a hint of embarrassment as he held him close, Yiyeon was reminded of the scenery he had gazed upon that day while riding on his back. Just like that quiet yet majestic landscape, whenever he stood before Hyunhak, all the noise of the world felt small and distant. So Yiyeon pleaded with Hyunhak.

“I’ll live as your servant… as your slave, My Lord. I beg you, please.”

It was his destiny. One might wonder how a free-born person could willingly choose to become a lowly servant, but he could simply think of it this way: rather than acting haughty as a poor vagrant, he was destined to be a lowly servant from the very beginning. Ever since he was abandoned as a newborn in the depths of winter. He hadn’t been abandoned by his parents; he had been abandoned by the world.

Meanwhile, Hyunhak didn’t understand even half of what Yiyeon was saying. Slaves and servants. Just as Yiyeon felt, to Hyunhak, these were simply stories from a world far away.

One thing, however – regardless of the specific reasons, whether he was pledging his life as collateral to stay in this shabby house or whatever else – was made crystal clear to Hyunhak: Yiyeon had no desire to return to the village. So clear it made his heart ache.

Hyunhak wore a look of bewilderment. Misinterpreting this expression as a sign that Hyunhak was struggling, Yiyeon turned even paler with fear. Terrified, it seemed not a single drop of blood was flowing through his body, Yiyeon grabbed Hyunhak and kept trying to kneel.

Every time he did so, Hyunhak, his expression growing even more flustered, stopped Yiyeon from bending down. The struggle between the one trying to kneel and the one trying to stop him continued. Hyunhak suddenly found himself desperately missing Zao.

If Zao – who at least understood that there were differences in social status among humans – had been there, Yiyeon’s misunderstanding wouldn’t have run [unauthorized copy]so deep, nor would Hyunhak have been so flustered. The situation could have been resolved relatively smoothly, but the crow’s absence was simply too great.

Hyunhak had no intention of sending Yiyeon back to the village if he didn’t want to go. However, when he sensed something in his earnest and desperate tone, he understood that Yiyeon was willing to do anything. And that being a personal attendant or a slave wasn’t exactly a desirable fate.

Moreover, seeing Yiyeon tremble all over and turn pale at the mere mention of “village,” he simply could not bring himself to reply that he would not send him away just to please himself.

As Hyunhak continued to dissuade him without finally giving his consent, Yiyeon pleaded with such desperation – as if he would give up his very liver and gallbladder if Hyunhak asked – and wept pitifully.

He clung to Hyunhak’s hem and said he would lick him like a dog if he asked, run naked if he told him to, take a beating if he threatened to hit him, and that he wouldn’t shy away from anything worse. Since he would end up in that sort of situation anyway once he returned to the village, he had nothing left to lose.

As if he intended to use up a lifetime’s worth of “please” in a single day, Yiyeon begged Hyunhak ceaselessly. By the end, his words were so muddled by his sobs that it was impossible to make out what he was saying.

Yiyeon, who had been crying so hard he could barely stand, suddenly wiped away his tears as if nothing had happened. The sight of him trying to hold back the uncontrollable torrent of tears did not look right.

Yiyeon was now desperate to hold onto Hyunhak…or rather, to be held onto by him.

Although he had said with his own mouth that he would become a slave, he suddenly realized that crying and clinging to his master might actually be more of a nuisance than anything else. He struggled to suppress the sobs that threatened to escape his lips. Then Yiyeon pretended to be calm as he held Hyunhak tightly.

“My Lord, I can serve you well. I’ve been taking care of my sick parents since I was a child, stolen content so I can really handle anything. I won’t be a burden.”

“…….”

He had been crying as if he were about to collapse, but now he was unnaturally calm. There was no way Yiyeon looked normal in that state. Hyunhak couldn’t find the words to reply and simply stared at him.

“Please…… My Lord.”

Yiyeon’s voice cracked just like his heart. The situation was so unbearable that Hyunhak wanted to run out. Heat rose to the top of his head, and he felt as if his whiskers, ears, and tail might suddenly appear at any moment.

He had to swallow his saliva several times to control the heat.

After delivering a long, uninterrupted speech, Yiyeon (perhaps now too exhausted to speak further) took a deep breath and, in a voice that had grown as faint as a mosquito’s buzz, repeated only “Please.” In the end, Hyunhak, unable to resist the sight of Yiyeon like that, reluctantly agreed.

“I won’t send you back to the village.”

He felt that this was a matter that should be settled after calmly discussing it with Zao in a three-way meeting, but who knows? It seemed that not answering Yiyeon right then would be even more torturous for him.

Whether he was a slave or a servant, what did it matter if he didn’t know what that was? If only he could see him smile as brightly as before, what was there that he wouldn’t do as the Mountain Lord of Yeongsan? In the mountains, Hyunhak could be anything and do anything. Of course, humans ​visit our site​were a separate matter. Hyunhak found himself unwittingly agreeing to the offer, moved by the sight of Yiyeon that kept making his heart ache.

Although Hyunhak had given the answer he’d been hoping for, unfortunately, Yiyeon couldn’t hear the man’s voice clearly. His hearing, which hadn’t yet fully recovered, couldn’t capture Hyunhak’s low voice, which was unnecessarily filled with tenderness. Although Hyunhak had replied, Yiyeon – unable to make out either his lip movements or the sound of his voice – couldn’t hide his anxiety and simply kept looking up at Hyunhak.

When he realized from Yiyeon’s behavior and reaction to the sound that he couldn’t fully hear soft voices yet, Hyunhak nodded vigorously with childlike innocence. Only then did a slight flush of color begin to return to Yiyeon’s pale, ashen face.

Ever since Yiyeon had opened his eyes, he’d had so much he wanted to say to Hyunhak, but when the moment came, the words wouldn’t come out as he’d imagined.

Since even giving Hyunhak the one answer he was hoping for was this difficult, Hyunhak thought it was somewhat fortunate that Yiyeon couldn’t properly hear his own awkwardly trembling voice.

“Thank you, My Lord. I’m truly grateful… and I’m sorry.”

Yiyeon trembled with shame at having made unreasonable demands of his benefactor, despite having promised to come and repay his kindness. While his gratitude and relief were greater, he could not bring himself to lift his head due to the guilt and shame he felt over the situation in which Hyunhak had been forced to take him in.

Hyunhak urged him to lift his head, but Yiyeon’s bowed back refused to straighten.

Even after that, Yiyeon continued to express his gratitude to Hyunhak for quite some time, until finally, along with an apology, the tears he had been holding back burst forth. As he sobbed loudly, Yiyeon thought, just as Hyunhak had done earlier, that it was fortunate his hearing was only half-deaf. That way, he only had to hear half of his own unpleasant groans.