PABO Ch 12

Yicha Hyeok was a Muhwa who enjoyed the Emperor’s favor, so naturally, he would have his Flowering sickness eased by staying close to the Emperor. According to the additional explanations Chorong had given him, Yicha Hyeok was tall and well built, with a beautiful face.

Many attendants harbored unrequited crushes on him, and even some Muhwa were said to express serious feelings toward him. There was even an unsavory rumor going around that if a scandal ever broke out among the Muhwa, he would undoubtedly be the protagonist. He was, in short, Munjeong Palace’s idol. To feel some strange sense of kinship with someone like that and then go boasting about eye drops he had received from a doctor, Haryeon Sol felt embarrassed all over again.

“Anyway… yeah. I mean, it’s good if we both get healthier, right?”

What he was trying to convey by dressing it up like that was that he did not need the Emperor. He had already seen some effect from the eye drops, and he wanted to make it clear that he was more than satisfied with just that. He wanted to step away from the competition among the Muhwa.

Contrary to Haryeon Sol’s expectations, Yicha Hyeok showed no reaction at all. He did not even respond. In the pitch-dark silence, Haryeon Sol felt his throat go dry.

After staring at the small bottle in his hand for a long while, Yicha Hyeok finally spoke, “Keep this a secret from the other Muhwas.”

“Huh… why?”

“It would cause chaos. If people found out there’s a Muhwa who gets better with medicine. Wouldn’t everyone get insanely jealous? Asking why it doesn’t work for them.”

“Ah…!”

At the unexpected remark, a chill ran down Haryeon Sol’s spine. He had shown the eye drops to avoid being swept into the exhausting emotional battles where Muhwa shoved each other aside to win the Emperor’s affection. Yet to think it might instead provoke hostility was unsettling. The more he thought about it, the more reasonable it sounded—and that only made it all the more frightening.

Haryeon Sol slapped his forehead with a dull thud. Then, scrunching up his face, he lamented, “You’re right, you’re right… I didn’t think of that at all. I almost got myself into serious trouble.”

Yicha Hyeok watched him for a moment. Trying to suppress a smile, he cleared his throat.

“Yes, hyung. So keep this medicine a secret. And…”

Suddenly, Yicha Hyeok grabbed Haryeon Sol’s hand. Haryeon Sol let the unfamiliar hand pull his own about and knead it roughly without resistance. Yicha Hyeok placed a small medicine bottle on his palm, then folded each of his five fingers one by one, closing them into a fist.

Enclosing Haryeon Sol’s fist in his own large hand, Yicha Hyeok whispered, “The more important something is, the less you should just hand it over to other people.”

The earnest advice went in through Haryeon Sol’s right ear and slipped straight out his left. Instead, his mind wandered. Even though he was an unexpected visitor, it felt nice to have someone hold his hand so gently, and he found it strange that Yicha Hyeok’s hand was warmer than his own, which had just woken from sleep.

“Your hands are really soft.”

“Are they?”

“Yeah. Haha…”

Haryeon Sol let out only an awkward, bashful laugh, while Yicha Hyeok stayed busy. He picked up a paper bag he had set down on the ground by the window and hooked the handle over Haryeon Sol’s wrist. Feeling the sudden weight, Haryeon Sol blinked rapidly. He carefully felt around, trying to gauge the bag’s shape.

“What’s this?”

As he tried to inspect the inside of the bag, he had to crane his head down, since he could not make anything out unless it were very close. At the foolish sight of him practically sticking his head into the paper bag, Yicha Hyeok laughed.

“I sent an attendant on an errand and had them buy some snacks. They’re for you, hyung. Enjoy them.”

“They’re not expensive, are they? They smell like fancy snacks…”

“They are expensive. So don’t give them to anyone else.”

“…”
Hesitant though he was, Haryeon Sol did not return what he had been given. The scent of milk cream tickling his nose was too appealing. When he carefully slipped a hand inside and fumbled around, he felt a solid glass bottle and found himself wondering whether it held a drink or pudding.

In the end, Haryeon Sol bowed his head slightly. Refusing kindness offered first—especially food—was simply not in his nature.

‘No wonder the Emperor dotes on him. He’s incredibly nice!’

Once he framed it that way, the thanks came easily.

“Thank you. I’ll enjoy it.”

Then a strange sensation gently shook Haryeon Sol. A hand suddenly reached out and touched the crown of his head, then slipped its fingers through his hair and stroked it left and right. Pat, pat… After a few seconds of that contact, Yicha Hyeok turned away.

Listening to the receding footsteps and the silhouette disappearing from his sight, Haryeon Sol blinked. The sudden visit, the gift of food, and the hand that had patted his head left behind a small seed of doubt.

‘He doesn’t actually think I’m a dog just because I live in a loophole, does he?’

Hugging the snack bag to his chest and frowning briefly, Haryeon Sol shrugged it off. Barking noisily in his heart, he slipped back into the room.

---

The moment Chorong arrived at work in a good mood, she let out a piercing scream. Her carefree, peaceful, shameless Muhwa was sprawled out on the daecheong, his hands and feet tinged blue. His earlobes and lips were so pale that one might easily mistake him for having been poisoned overnight.

Absurdly enough, the reason Haryeon Sol had fallen ill was simply that he hadn’t gotten enough morning sleep. That was all. He had woken up early after stirring awake at dawn, and after exposing himself to the cold air, he ended up with chills. As his attendant, Chorong always made sure to secure every door and window before leaving for the day, yet the sickly Muhwa had gone out of his way to stick his face into the outside air anyway—it was truly lamentable.

After struggling to carry the listless Muhwa back into his bedroom, Chorong noticed his hands trembling. Massaging his snow-white fingers until some color returned, she sighed deeply. Despite it being summer weather, before even autumn had arrived, she turned on the ondol heating. Only then did Haryeon Sol fall asleep.

Chorong studied the sleeping Muhwa’s complexion for a long time. As she wiped the sweat from his forehead and cheeks, the worry weighing on her heart turned into a sigh. Haryeon Sol already had little presence as it was, and he showed no will to change that, so he would likely never receive the Emperor’s favor. In other words, it meant he would be sick like this for the rest of his life.

‘He’s already sensitive to the cold in this weather… how will he get through winter?’

Gazing quietly at the plain, unremarkable Muhwa with no standout charm, Chorong finally rose to her feet. She went to the medical center to get fever medicine and vitamin candies, then stopped by the laundry hall on her way back.

The laundry hall, decorated in red and blue dancheong patterns, was, simply put, a laundromat. Between handsome pillars stood stacks of domestically made brand-name drum washers and dryers. Chorong took a winter quilt and put it into a dryer, setting the machine so that all the old dust would be shaken out and the quilt warmed thoroughly. On the small display, the remaining drying time read “30 minutes.”

‘Why does this take so long?’

Adjusting the bag of candies in her arms, Chorong sighed. She worried that Haryeon Sol might wake up while she was away.

‘He’ll be upset if he wakes up alone while sick…’

Come to think of it, Haryeon Sol was a remarkably undemanding Muhwa. He did not bemoan his circumstances, did not compare himself to other Muhwa, and did not covet whatever imperial favor was denied to him. During the first week, Chorong had liked him for that reason—she had thought him childish and easy to manage. But now it was different.

His untroubled, indifferent acceptance of life, being content with his fate as an outlying nobody, did not sit well with her. He was a gentle, pure person. Chorong believed that a Muhwa who could see the good in all things deserved good things sooner, and more of them.

‘Hurry up and finish, hurry…’

Staring anxiously at the quilt tumbling inside the dryer, Chorong fretted.

At that very moment, however, her Muhwa was not alone. By the side of his bed in the small building known as a loophole sat a guest. When Haryeon Sol opened his eyes amid the dull ache of body pains, the burning heat, and a headache that felt like it was splitting his skull apart, he was met with the faint shape of a man looking down at him.

“…”

Unable to be sure who it was, he remained silent. Raising a tingling hand to press against his eyelids and trying to sit up, a labored breath escaped him. Only after steadying his breathing for some time was he able to lean back against the bamboo headboard.

Only then did the unidentified visitor speak, “Feeling a bit more alive?”

Moistening his dry throat with saliva, Haryeon Sol gave a small, crooked smile.

The voice was terrifyingly low, resonant like a beast speaking from within a cave. Narrowing his eyes and glaring with what strength he had, he could make out some details of the large, dark figure’s attire. A white shirt on top, black trousers below, and over them a long outer garment that looked like a durumagi.

From the shoulders down to the upper arms, mottled patches of light were visible—probably elaborate embroidery. He was so tall that his head nearly brushed the ceiling, making the tailored garment look as long as a full-sized quilt. It was Nachalsa.

“Yes… thanks to you, I’m much better. Thank you so much for even sending the doctor.” Haryeon Sol replied in a hoarse voice.

At that, Nachalsa’s eyebrows twitched. He had spoken with a hint of mockery, seeing how wilted Haryeon Sol looked—like a plant that had never seen sunlight—yet Haryeon Sol merely smiled back, which left him taken aback. And when he even bowed his head slightly afterwards, it was clear it was not an insolent retort meant to bristle at him.