Chapter 1: Attempting to Steal a Flower, I Ended Up Stealing a Scholar’s Lips

It was, by chance, spring. On the mountainside that had just welcomed early spring, the pale green shoots glittered like jewels.

The girl was fifteen. Yukho, an older man who cherished her like a daughter, often said that fifteen was the perfect age to be enchanted by spring. Indeed, the girl wandered through the mountains without a trace of fear.

Her basket was filled to the brim with wild greens, and her hands held bouquets of freshly picked flowers, yet her steps never slowed.

“Wow… it’s beautiful.”

A single white flower jutted out from the edge of a sheer cliff.

Cautiously, the girl approached it. A pure fragrance, reminiscent of orchids, brushed against her nose.

“I’ve never seen a flower like this… it’s truly lovely.”

A gentle breeze made the stem sway. It seemed as if the flower bud whispered softly, “Come closer… show me your beautiful face too.”

The girl stepped to the cliff’s edge and reached out carefully. Her fingertips just brushed the petals. Impatient, she took another step forward.

“Ah!”

Her foot slipped. The basket in her hand toppled, sending the greens and flowers flying into the air.

It was spring, and she was at that age when one could be easily bewitched by it. That was how this happened.

“Help! Somebody, please!”

Her pitiful cries echoed through the mountains.

“Is anyone there? Please help! Save me!”

Night had deepened. The girl clung precariously to the edge of the cliff.

She was lucky. A small ledge jutted out below, and she had grabbed onto a rock, saving her life—but the situation was still hopeless. She couldn’t climb up or down on her own.

“All this trouble… just for a flower…”

She glared resentfully at the white blossom swaying near her face. Tears welled up suddenly.

She had always loved flowers. Her late father often worried that she would lose herself entirely at the sight of one, caught up in its fluttering beauty.

“Father… please save me. I won’t wander so late again. Please… please…”

Her voice had weakened to a faint whisper.

“Is someone there?”

The question came abruptly. A man’s voice reached her from directly above.

“Please save me! Scholar, I beg you. Help me!”

Relief overwhelmed her, and she shouted immediately.

“I’m here! Down here! I’m hanging from the cliff’s edge!”

“Hmm…”

From the darkness covering the mountains, a sound of contemplation emerged.

“What are you doing there?”

“Uh? I-I… I was trying to pick a flower, but then—”

A sudden tsk tsk came, the click of a tongue. The man appeared from the darkness.

“Scholar! You’re not just going to leave me here, are you?”

Fearful that he might pass by without helping, she raised her voice.

In that instant, something descended. Before she could even cry out, the scholar had grasped her arm and lifted her onto solid ground.

“Ah…”

She had survived.

Her labored breaths finally escaped. The world spun around her, drained of energy.

Yet the scholar did not ask if she was alright; he only looked toward the cliff. Rustling sounds came from the darkness.

“Th-thank… thank…?” she stammered.

“Don’t bother thanking me.”

Something fell at her feet. She looked down at the pale object, catching her breath.

A faint, sweet fragrance brushed her nose—it was the white flower she had so desperately tried to pick.

“What could a flower possibly be worth risking your life for?”

That was all he said. No sooner had his words ended than his footsteps retreated into the night.

The girl, sitting stunned in the dark, scrambled to her feet.

“Sch-scholar!”

She called out, and his footsteps stopped. Silence fell over the surroundings once more.

“It’s so dark… I wouldn’t have made it to the village on my own…”

A dismissive tsk came from him.

“Follow me. I’ll walk slowly.”

“Y-yes, thank you.”

Relieved, the girl followed, cutting through the darkness.

Surrounded by towering trees that blocked even the moon, the forest path was pitch-black. All she could see was the scholar’s light-blue robe, a lone guide through the night.

He never looked back. Whenever her footsteps lagged, he paused patiently, then continued—a silent gesture to wait for her.

After some time, familiar village scenery appeared before her eyes. Exiting the mountains, the night’s darkness felt less oppressive.

“Ha…”

Perhaps from the tension, her legs suddenly gave way. She imagined herself tumbling down the cliff, becoming prey to the mountain beasts.

‘I’m alive. Truly alive.’

Repetition of that thought finally made her lose consciousness.

A soft touch brushed her cheek.

“Mmm…”

She muttered and opened her eyes. For a moment, she wondered why she was lying on the dirt.

“Awake?”

A voice in the darkness.

Only then did she remember clinging to the cliff. The scholar had saved her from near death.

“Scholar… thank you… gasp!”

She had forgotten how late it had become. She had left home earlier, promising to return before sundown.

Now, the people at Ihwawon must be searching for her frantically. She had to hurry back.

In her panic, she leapt to her feet—unaware that the scholar was looking down at her face.

In that instant, her rushing face collided with his. Surprised, he flinched, but it all happened so fast.

A soft, moist sound—then their lips met.

The girl had risen; the scholar had stepped back. Both froze. One of them drew a sharp breath.

“My goodness!”

She jumped back with a scream, as if burned. What had touched her lips was soft, moist… impossible to imagine otherwise.

“I’m sorry!”

Forget it!

She bolted. From the foothills to Ihwawon was quite a distance, but she ran without stopping.

She had no idea how to explain returning empty-handed, the basket of greens lost, or who exactly the scholar who had saved her was.

Pushing all those thoughts aside, she ran as fast as she could.

“Ha… ha…”

Only when she reached the grand gate of Ihwawon did she stop.

She finally looked at her hand. Clutched tightly in her palm was a single white flower, still fragrant.

“I should have asked your name…”

A wildflower in her hand, with no name or age, and a scholar she could not identify.

“Trying to steal a flower… and I ended up stealing the scholar’s lips.”

“Oh? Dano, is that you?”

The Ihwawon gate opened, revealing a middle-aged man.

“Dano, what kept you out so late? Your stepmother was worried sick. I was about to take my torch and come look for you.”

Dano—that was the girl’s name.

She lowered her head.

“Ah… Uncle Yukho… I had a little accident in the mountains.”

“An accident? Are you hurt?”

“No, no. I’m not hurt. I just slipped. I lost all the greens I picked today, that’s all…”

“Good that you’re unharmed. Go inside and rest. You know how quickly night falls in the mountains, don’t you?”

“I keep forgetting… I’ll be more careful, Uncle.”

She stepped over the threshold. As the gate closed behind her, she glanced back. Any trace of the scholar had vanished; the path before Ihwawon was empty.

A warm breeze swept past.

She vowed never to be so enchanted by spring again. Following that thought, Dano returned to her room, the faint fragrance of the nameless flower trailing her pink skirt into the courtyard.

The scholar left behind brushed his lower lip lightly. Though the encounter had been brief, the sensation of the girl’s lips lingered.

The image of her running figure was vivid—the pink ribbons on her braided hair bouncing in haste.

“Windflower…”

He muttered.

Even in her unconscious state, she had held tightly to the wildflower—the windflower.

It was rare near Hanyang, and not even an early bloomer.

“Just like… a windflower.”

The girl had stolen his lips and run like the wind. Lost in thought, he watched the pink skirt vanish around a distant corner.

With resolve, he followed her footprints, tracing the spring-night fragrance that flew before him, step by step.