Chapter 51
“Oh my! Is our little miss planning to have grilled loach for dinner?”
Leisurely teasing her, Yeonggwi spread a thick veil of watery energy over Pilhwan’s sleeping body. Startled by the flames flaring up from her own head, Onju made a teary face and tugged hard at Yeonggwi’s sleeve.
“Is he dead? Did I kill him?”
“Regrettably for you, he’s very much alive and kicking. He’s not the sort you can kill that easily, miss.”
Yeonggwi reassured her with a playful tone and pointed at Pilhwan. The fire that had burst from Onju tried to pierce through Yeonggwi’s water energy, only to be beaten back with a loud sssss, turning into pale steam.
Thinking she might truly have harmed Pilhwan, Onju’s heart dropped. Only then did she let out the breath she’d been holding, coughing hard.
So much heat had built up inside her that every cough sent puffs of white smoke billowing from her mouth and nose.
After patting her back for a long while to draw the heat out, Yeonggwi sighed and soothed her.
“Let’s stop for today. I did push you, but handling divine power in a single day is nonsense to begin with.”
“I don’t want to. I’m going to do it!”
Onju shook her head stubbornly.
“Oh dear. If that fellow knew about this mess, he’d try to eat this old man alive.”
“Then we just don’t tell him!”
“Heh heh.”
“If you and I keep our mouths shut, how would he ever know? Just one more try.”
Still displeased by the wisps of smoke leaking from her nose and ears, Onju reset her stance.
“Miss, if you push yourself too hard, you’ll just collapse.”
“I really can do it. I seriously got the hang of it just now.”
Yeonggwi studied Onju’s lips, pale with strain, then let out a deep sigh. She clearly wasn’t going to listen.
Slowly. Very slowly.
Feeling Yeonggwi’s worried gaze, Onju once again began gathering heat from the start.
Once when it reached her chest. Once more when it reached her throat. And then, at her brow, she poured in her intent.
Biting her lip hard enough to make it creak, Onju focused every nerve on the space between her brows.
You lot, listen properly this time!
She barked at the roiling heat filling her head.
If you act up, I’ll mash you to bits!
It was the best threat she could muster, but as if mocking their owner, the gathered heat only began to spin faster.
Stubborn now, Onju imagined a hand as large as Pilhwan’s inside her head and pressed down on the fireball as though kneading dough.
Fine. Let’s see who wins.
The fire energy bucked violently under the imagined grip. Onju flinched for a moment, but when she pressed down mercilessly, ready to crush it, the heat slowly stopped resisting, as if cowed.
“O-oh! That’s it! Just like that!”
Sensing the change, Yeonggwi sprang up from where he’d been watching anxiously.
Onju calmly opened her eyes and slowly extended her hand forward.
Not too hot. Just right. Only enough to warm a stone.
The heat that had been pinned immobile at her brow fled along her outstretched arm to her fingertips—then screeched to a halt at her command.
“Ah. Another failure, I suppose.”
Seeing nothing emerge from the child’s fingertips, Yeonggwi let out a chuckling sigh.
But only for a moment. Just as he was about to coax her into resting, his eyes flew wide and he straightened up. From Onju’s fingertips, a gentle warmth shimmered, like heat haze at noon.
The formless warmth, just enough to make the air waver, wrapped around a small stone. The pebble floating in midair neither glowed red, nor burned, nor burst.
That’s… better than I expected.
Carried by Yeonggwi’s admiration, the stone settled neatly atop his turtle-like head. It held a perfectly pleasant warmth.
“How was it! That one was pretty good, right!”
Still holding her arm out, sweat-soaked, Onju waited for Yeonggwi’s verdict. He glanced up at the warm stone on his head, then gave her two enthusiastic thumbs up.
Only then did Onju grin and mimic him, raising both thumbs herself—before promptly flopping backward.
“Miss!”
Yeonggwi caught her with a face pale with alarm. Completely spent, Onju could barely speak and just smiled vacantly for a while.
“I’m fine. Just a little dizzy.”
At last she spoke, flashing a crooked grin through her sweat.
“At this rate, I can use it not just for drying talismans, but when it’s cold, or even for drying laundry. Right?”
Yeonggwi placed a cool fin against her forehead, frowning.
“My goodness, such carefree words. If that madman had been awake, he’d have chopped this old fellow into pieces for tormenting you until you couldn’t even stand!”
“Then let’s keep it a secret, just between you and me.”
Laughing mischievously, Onju squeezed out her last bit of strength and sent warmth toward the talisman buried in the sand. Once again, not fierce flames but a soft heat flowed out, gently wrapping the stone.
The talisman, which had been thrashing the sand almost violently, gradually calmed as Onju’s warmth seeped in, until it stopped moving altogether. Contrary to her fears, it seemed to like the temperature just fine.
Eyes heavy with exhaustion, Onju watched tensely for a moment—then finally relaxed her shoulders and closed her eyes beside Pilhwan.
“That one was really perfect. Right?”
Yeonggwi nodded in satisfaction, agreeing. Lying there, Onju wiggled her fingers in giddy triumph and let out a long yawn.
Strange… The book said that divine beasts nearly five hundred years old don’t need to eat or sleep.
The sudden wave of fatigue, and the sand—its daytime heat cooling into the perfect temperature for sleep—pulled Onju into slumber.
“This won’t do. We’ll have to make the garden after cracking open the loach together.”
“Yes, yes. This old man’s heart nearly gave out from all the worrying and surprises. I need some sleep too.”
“Yeah. Gyoa said people who don’t sleep when others do and live too diligently age faster.”
Her words slurred as sleep claimed her. The warm sand, squishing softly with a scritch-scratch whenever she moved, was astonishingly cozy.
Yeonggwi lay there, eyes wide, watching in case something went wrong. Only after confirming the satisfied smile at the child’s lips did he finally let out a long sigh of relief and lie down himself.
No matter how she tried to resist, Onju’s eyelids kept falling. Through the narrowing gap, she gazed up at the desert sky where night was just beginning.
The desert sky as even the sunset faded. It was surely the same sky she’d seen yesterday, yet tonight it seemed more beautiful than ever.
She let the darkening sky be her blanket and completely relaxed her body, congratulating herself on this first truly self-chosen sleep.
Taking the loach request was the right choice.
The days spent staring blankly through the dust-clouded door of the repair shop, watching time crawl by helplessly, felt like a dream.
Every day was tense, a little scary, unfamiliar—full of failures, exhausting enough to make her want to give up—yet somehow always ending with her achieving what she wanted.
It’s fun.
It really was. Back when she’d been holed up in the workshop, she’d never imagined she’d one day push herself to the point of utter exhaustion like this.
A gentle smile spread across Onju’s lips. Compared to days when she didn’t need to sleep, eat, or face danger, she liked this life far more—collapsing into sleep from fatigue, eating strange plants, living each moment on the edge.
Though the bow was pretty terrifying.
Her body was spent, but her heart felt endlessly light. Imagining how surprised Pilhwan would be when he woke up tomorrow already made her excited for the morning—and for the desert garden they would create together.
With her thoughts trailing one after another, Onju drifted into a deep sleep.
