Chapter 19
Dancho bowed her head slightly to him, who had not touched his spoon at all, and left the room.
Leaving that one room had felt like such a struggle. After closing the door and stepping onto the porch to put on her shoes, she heard the faint clink of the spoon being set down.
She fixed her now-angry gaze on the door. She was upset, yes, but more than anything, she felt disappointed.
“Such a stubborn master. I went to all that trouble, and he still won’t eat.”
She glared in frustration, then glared again, but eventually the corners of her eyes softened with the sting of disappointment.
Returning to the kitchen, she sat at the hearth and heaped rice and side dishes into her bowl, pushing them down firmly with her spoon as she ate.
⋆★⋆
Yeonwon, having pushed the dining table aside, exhaled a long sigh. His eyes crinkled and smoothed repeatedly as a mixture of irritation and exasperation washed over him.
Could one even live without being annoyed by such things?
Since that day, he had tried to keep his distance, because his own feelings had begun to feel strange. He couldn’t just leave it be. He had to hold back here, keep a boundary.
In these times, when one could hardly be sure of surviving the day, it was absurd to be holed up in the mountains, playing a leisurely game with such an innocent woman.
Yet, when he actually faced her, he found he couldn’t. Things he hadn’t noticed before suddenly became visible, thoughts he hadn’t had started creeping in.
Looking at the table, he wondered why she had piled it so heavily; watching her carry water, he questioned why she filled it so tightly; seeing her come in from outside with red nose and hands, he worried about her in the cold.
He wanted to help her reach things on high shelves. He wished she could eat somewhere warm. He wished she would be—just a little—less indifferent toward him.
“Ha… what foolishness is this?”
He couldn’t shake the image of her helping him, trembling yet persistent, even as she wiped away blood without a single glance away—so much like the way she had acted when facing the corpse, crying in fear but still assisting.
That trembling hand, that stubborn resolve, somehow reminded him of his own childhood self.
It stirred a sense of pity and curiosity about the story she must carry in her heart…
“All for just a hundred nyang.”
Why put in so much effort for something so trivial?
It was that night. That night had been the problem.
That fleeting spark in his heart, the simple stirrings of a man’s momentary feeling, had caught on to the charcoal deep in the hearth that he hadn’t even noticed.
From then on, Dancho developed a strange, almost exclusive compassion for others.
A peculiar feeling where the body moved before the mind could catch up. Silly hopes. Trivial disappointments. Endless self-reproach. Repeated resolutions. Even if extinguished, the smoke would rise again.
“Haa…”
Yeonwon brushed his hand across his face, letting out a dissatisfied sigh.
In his life, he had never failed to control his own heart. Once he made a decision, lingering feelings fell away in an instant.
And yet here he was, unable to control even this immature, tender feeling—an almost laughable failure.
“It’s just a passing sentiment. A momentary feeling of a man.”
But he knew better. It was not only from that brief spark. Drinking the medicine she handed him, letting her take his forehead to check his temperature, arguing over her blunt expression, eating at the same time, seeing the same moon in the night sky…
Like the crescent moon waxing to full and waning again, these small moments seeped in, carrying that initial spark on their current.
Romance was both so simple and so ridiculous. It did not scale walls by force; it seeped through the cracks.
“Ridiculous…”
Being deep in the mountains, without officials, concubines, heirs, greed, pretense, or schemes—he could afford to forget his position for a while.
Perhaps it was the first time he had felt such peace, and without realizing it, he let his guard down.
Life had softened, and he had left a visible gap in himself.
“Hmm…”
Leaning back, he closed his eyes, then opened them. His troubled gaze landed on the meal Dancho had brought. Conflicted resolve gathered in his low-set eyes.
It was a feeling he shouldn’t have allowed. A feeling that had no place to begin. Before letting it grow further, he had to extinguish it.
I will leave this place soon.
Yes, that is right.
Why disturb the life of someone who labors so diligently just to survive, blistered hands and all?
“Eat it all without leaving any behind.”
Yet still, the words sounded faintly hurtful, and the deliberate way she set the table without touching a single spoon—how was this different from a child sulking at unheeding parents?
“Stubborn.”
Was it she who was stubborn, or was it this own stubbornness within himself? He could not tell.
Either way, it was stubborn. Painful and suffocating.
⋆★⋆
The newly risen moon was surrounded by long, drifting clouds.
The sun, which had been burning the sky moments before, had now fallen behind the mountains.
Dancho glanced once at the hazy moon, gathered the medicine box, and headed to Yeonwon’s room.
“I’ll do it.”
Again with the same words. The day before, yesterday, today…
“I said I’ll do it.”
He spoke again without giving her a chance to hesitate.
Dancho’s patience had already worn thin under Yeonwon’s urgency. Did he not even want her hands to touch it?
She inhaled lightly and set the medicine box down. Her fingertips lingered on the bowl as if reluctant, then finally withdrew.
“This is for your shoulder…”
Before she could explain, Yeonwon picked up the medicine. Dancho closed her mouth. He seemed unusually stern today. Her eyes quietly followed the box.
In his large hand, it seemed almost like a different medicine box. The motion of applying it to his shoulder was practiced and swift. The now-small wound seemed to close, much like his own guarded heart.
She averted her gaze, unable to watch for long. Only mysterious sighs escaped her.
He wrapped the cloth around his shoulder without hesitation. By the time the treatment was done, the decoction drunk, the bowl put down, it was as if time had raced ahead, and it was over.
It felt like he was telling her to leave quickly, as if her presence were inconvenient.
Then so be it. She would do as she must.
She picked up the medicine box and the empty decoction bowl. Like time, she moved briskly, exiting the room and closing the door without a moment’s hesitation.
⋆★⋆
It had been an unusually long day.
Sitting on the porch folding laundry, Dancho suddenly glanced over the pile of clothes. She sifted through them with her hands, checking the folded garments, then let her shoulders slump.
“Ah… how pathetic…”
She had left the socks and her quilted slippers at the laundry area. The clothes she had washed together were left there to dry, likely frozen stiff by now.
She hurried to put on her shoes and stepped out. The sun was already setting, and she had to go before it got darker.
The socks were precious to her, and the slippers essential. She had only two pairs of slippers, so she had to alternate—one drying while wearing the other.
How could she have left such important things behind?
Lately, she felt herself utterly useless. Living day by day, constantly patched together. Her mind felt leaky, as though a hole had been punctured somewhere, and thoughts poured out.
The door of the servant’s quarters was, in truth, just a fence. Before stepping out, she glanced back at his room, gripping the fence.
“Should I say I’m going out…?”
She hesitated for a moment, then simply walked on.
He probably wouldn’t care. She would return soon anyway.
Her measured walk quickly turned into a run.
⋆★⋆
Barefoot, she approached the scattered clothes. Her eyes landed on the pile of partially folded laundry.
Yeonwon, quietly scanning the area, lifted his gaze to look inside the house. There was no sign of anyone—he must have gone out.
He was not the type to stop mid-task; he must have had urgent business.
“Are you in the outhouse!”
His voice echoed through the mountains. Silence followed, leaving a strangely empty feeling.
“…If you’re too embarrassed, just knock twice on the door.”
She called again toward the outhouse. Only his echo returned. The snowy mountains remained stubbornly silent.
She stood behind the fence, watching. Earlier, Dancho had spun away briskly—she had come to check, but it had been for nothing.
Originally, she hadn’t intended to be so stern.
He simply needed to listen.
“I’ll do it.”
“I said I’ll do it.”
Once she thought she might have been too harsh, any sound outside the room made her perk up. She needed to concentrate.
These people, in this land, were masters at stirring others.
As she returned to her room, her foot brushed against the pile of laundry.
She glanced briefly.
“Well, I might as well, since I’m bored.”
Confident in her decision, she sat down next to it.
She worried that upon returning, she would rush about again, never resting, irritating her. Folding a few clothes now might allow her some peace. Left too long, the clothes would wrinkle, forcing more work later. She hoped this small act might ease her heart. Her temper seemed solidly bruised; she couldn’t leave things be.
Helping a little wasn’t so troublesome—it was actually a relief.
