PABO Ch 9

He hid his cheerful expression behind a handkerchief as a horrified Chorong came hopping from far away, chasing after him.

“Sol-nim, this…! What on earth is going on?”

Feeling Chorong’s light weight clinging to his arm, Haryeon Sol closed his eyes. With his eyes shut, trudging toward the annex, he spoke, “That’s a relief. You haven’t clocked out yet. Turn on an audiobook for me before you go.”

At that, Chorong jumped even higher.

“Is an audiobook really what matters right now? Why are you acting like this all of a sudden?”

“I’ve got a cough, so they say I can’t go in.”

“A cough…? What kind of cough? Even so, you should have gone in and at least greeted His Majesty…!”

With Chorong thumping her chest in frustration, clinging to his side, Haryeon Sol shuffled back to his room. The late-summer night air was muggy, and the inside of his neat hanbok was already soaked with sweat. Chorong, who treated Muhwa as though handling objects, briskly stripped off his clothes. One after another, she practically tossed soft, fluffy sleepwear into his arms as if throwing it at him.

“Chorong-ah, are you mad?”

“I am mad, but not at you, Sol-nim….”

Turning his head toward the grumbling Chorong, Haryeon Sol changed into the comfortable pajamas. With his neatly groomed hair flipped about and his top worn inside out so the tag showed, he said, “Turn on the audiobook for me.”

“Ah, seriously!”

Thumping her chest once more, Chorong let out a sigh. At the servant’s fervent noise, Haryeon Sol laughed aloud.

---

“At this rate you’ll grow mold, Sol-nim! This won’t do. At least get some sunlight today!”

With Chorong’s forceful shout, Haryeon Sol was shoved out into the small courtyard in front of his room. Calming Haryeon Sol as he tried to protest, grumbling about whether she thought he was a wet blanket, took nothing more than pressing a single bundle-wrapped cloth full into his arms.

“There are yakgwa inside. Take your time eating them and get some fresh air. At least while I’m cleaning.”

“Okay. Thank you.”

Led by the hands of Chorong, who was four years younger than him, Haryeon Sol trudged across the warm courtyard. He hugged the bundle tight to his chest with his left hand, while his right reached into the air to find the swing’s rope. Sliding his hand down the neatly arranged rope, he grasped the firm, flat wooden seat. Carefully, Haryeon Sol sat down. Then he fussed with the plump bundle the maid had given him and opened it.

Haryeon Sol hadn’t liked traditional sweets before, but from the first day he took up residence in Munjeong Palace, he learned that everything he thought he knew about his tastes had been wrong. Every dish produced by the royal kitchen was astonishingly delicious. Especially the yakgwa—it was a flavor he had never tasted in his life.

The flower-shaped yumilgwa^[1] brushed with glossy honey, was sweet and soft, with the pleasure of nibbling it away in a circle along the petals. The square-cut Gaeseong yakgwa was bite-sized and richly flavored; when he tucked it into his cheek and chewed, it even felt as though the inside of his mouth melted together with the sweet.

“Delicious….”

Munching on the sweets, Haryeon Sol settled more comfortably into the swing. Resting his temple against the sturdy rope and gently moving his feet to sway back and forth, it felt like a paradise unto itself. Pine branches seemed to spread thickly above the swing. He could not properly look up, but he could feel the shade covering his skin. Thanks to that, his skin was pleasantly warm while the breeze remained cool, and the sensation felt wonderfully nice.

Humming softly—so Chorong, absorbed in cleaning, wouldn’t hear—Haryeon Sol didn’t forget to pick up another yakgwa and take a bite whenever his mouth was empty. Today, he intended to enjoy his snack until his fingers grew wrinkled from the honey melting into them.

However, right in front of him, a black-clad man leaned in and lingered.

“Hm, hmm….”

Unaware of the presence standing close at his feet, Haryeon Sol gave a light kick. As the swing carrying him drifted backwards, the distance between him and the man opened, only to close again on the return swing until their noses nearly touched.

With his eyes wide open, the soundless man slowly tilted his head to the side. Raising one arm, he held his palm up in front of Haryeon Sol’s face, then waved it left and right. When the small gust from his hand sent the shaggy hair fluttering, Haryeon Sol’s eyes twitched. Still, he merely shook his head lightly to brush aside the bangs poking at his eyelashes and did not stop humming.

Again, a square piece of Gaeseong yakgwa went into Haryeon Sol’s mouth. From between honey-glossed lips, a red tongue tip appeared briefly, stealing the sweetness before hiding away.

Standing there in a black durumagi, the dark-clad man leaned in and looked at him from very close. His gaze brushed over Haryeon Sol’s tousled chestnut-colored hair, traced the curve of his round forehead and the gentle-looking brows, passed over the vacant, unfocused eyes that were staring at nothing, and lingered for a long moment on the finely sculpted tip of his nose, like that of a costly doll.

“Hmm, hmm….”

The small hum deepened into a throat-vibrating murmur. Lowering his head, the man swept his eyes over Haryeon Sol’s entire body, shrouded in his shadow. At the ends of the short sleeves of his white T-shirt was a logo symbolizing Muhwa, and his beige hanbok trousers hung loose around the cuffs, improperly secured without proper leg bindings. Tilting his head further to look closely, flushed ankles came into view. Haryeon Sol’s ankles were very slender, his insteps pale white. Even the feet tucked into light slippers looked thin and bony.

Just as Haryeon Sol picked up another yakgwa and brought it to his lips,

“Who are you?”

“Ah!”

However, it was not Haryeon Sol’s body that roughly swept away the grains of dirt. It was merely the sole of a large leather shoe scraping across the ground, leaving a long mark. Haryeon Sol’s body was caught in someone else’s arms, dangling in midair. The swing slid beneath his hips to brace his thighs, and his pitching body was all but scooped up by the unfamiliar man.

“Huff, huff….”

Startled, Haryeon Sol could not even open his eyes properly. His face twisted into every kind of grimace as he gasped for breath. The man looked on quietly at the male Muhwa, curled in on himself—half hanging from the swing, half abruptly lifted into the arms of a stranger.

“W-who… who are you?”

Stammering, Haryeon Sol asked as he reached out a trembling hand into the air. His face flushed a vivid red in an instant, filled with agitation, and his unsteady hand came to rest on the man’s shoulder. Over the spot embroidered with raised golden thread, Haryeon Sol left deep creases from his grip.

“Who….”

Even when he let the hesitant voice trail out again, the other did not return an answer. Instead, he held Haryeon Sol firmly, so tightly that the swing’s rope bent in midair. When both feet were lifted completely off the ground, and his waist arched backwards, Haryeon Sol let out a very small, moan-like cry.

He was so startled that his body ached. Swallowing hard, he brought his tightly clenched fist, fingers curled inward, up against his chest.

Cough. A small cough slipped out of his constricted throat.

“Who are you?” The unfamiliar man holding him asked again.

“Huh?”

With his heart pounding wildly in his chest as he heard such a question, Haryeon Sol felt as though he might go mad. He pounded his fists hard against the forearm of the unfamiliar man holding him. Never before had being unable to see felt so suffocating. Just what kind of man he was—what he looked like, what he even was—who would suddenly come looking for a room-bound Muhwa eating yakgwa and scoop him up like this.

“I-I live here, you know?” Forcing his racing heart to calm, Haryeon Sol replied.

“Do people live in this loophole too?”

The low, nasal voice sounded oddly amused. A shiver ran through him, and Haryeon Sol hunched his shoulders tight, then muttered, “If I’m not a person, then what am I? Do I look like a gumiho to you?”

“Hm….”

“I’m really a human… who lives here, you know? An unemployed nobody with no dreams of rising in the world—no, of making a name for myself at all. So who are you? Just who do you think you are, barging into someone else’s courtyard like this?”

At that, the man loosened the arm holding him. Slip—Haryeon Sol’s upper body slid down within the large man’s embrace. All that supported his thin body was one arm under his thighs and a palm pressed firmly to his back.

Afraid he might be thrown aside, terrified of that overwhelming strength, Haryeon Sol went pale.

“‘Someone else’s courtyard’?”

The man echoed. Even without seeing, there was something you could read in the air. Haryeon Sol felt an immense presence and pressure from him.

“Sir, I’m very sorry for speaking so rudely. Please, could you put me down?”

Haryeon Sol spoke in an abruptly polite tone. The man let out a small scoff, a quiet laugh. Just as Haryeon Sol wondered whether he should clasp his hands and beg, his body was lowered very slowly. As before, the man set him back onto the swing.

The moment the solid seat touched his hips and his feet met the ground, Haryeon Sol changed his tune.

“Now, please leave.”

“…”

TL’s Note:

This is yumilgwa.

This is yakgwa. One type of yumilgwa that is deep-fried.

This is Gaeseong yakgwa