RPPL C8

“So when should I come to pick them up?”

At Bipa’s question, the owner, taking out his measuring tools, moved slowly with a changed attitude. He even let out a huge yawn.

“Look at the kid’s state. He needs clothes quickly.”

As Bipa, who was anxious for the child, urged him on, the owner glanced at Muyun with a sharp eye, then tilted his head and asked in a deeply lowered voice.

“It’s not… that, is it?”

“That?”

“Ah, you know. They say kids have been disappearing lately. Someone is loading children onto a boat and vanishing. Are you involved in that?”

“What kind of absurd suspicion is that!”

Bipa jumped. He shook his head back and forth, insisting it was nonsense.

“Huh, why is this man so surprised?”

He had been half-joking from the start, but seeing the face turn paler with panic, the owner suddenly felt a wicked urge. He licked his lips with his tongue, wanting to tease him more.

Just then, Muyun stepped forward. He stood in front of Bipa, shielding him, and stared straight ahead. Seeing him stand guard like that, it was obvious their relationship wasn’t what he had suspected. The owner thought, I misunderstood, and shook his head lightly.

Relieved, Bipa felt grateful to Muyun for stepping in at the right time and resolving the misunderstanding about the pouches and the current situation, so he unconsciously placed a hand on the boy’s round head. The hair tangled wildly in his fingers. It really felt like stroking a stray animal….

Startled by the light touch on his head, Muyun lifted his head abruptly. Bipa quickly pulled his hand away.

“Sorry. You must not have liked that.”

And when Muyun rubbed his head vigorously, Bipa thought his touch must have been unpleasant and quickly apologized.

At those words, Muyun’s expression became awkward. It wasn’t that he disliked it…. Besides, it was also strange for Bipa to apologize to him. Until now, no adult had ever apologized to him.

As he ran his fingers through his hair like a fine-toothed comb, he felt a strange heat. Unaware that it was rising from his own scalp, Muyun just looked up at the blameless sky.

The sun was relentless again today. For whatever reason it was so jealous, it was driving needles full of heat into the crown of every head on the ground. So Muyun didn’t think much of it either, figuring it was probably because of the scorching sun.

In the meantime, Bipa finished his conversation with the owner, asking him to make the clothes as fast as possible, even if it was just one day sooner. Soon, he would be able to dress him in clothes that fit. His gaze towards Muyun was triumphant. But that was momentary; as his eyes fell to the child’s feet, Bipa’s expression instantly turned serious.

“For clothes, we can say you’re a beggar or a little ruffian, but shoes are a different matter. If there’s a pair that fits, let’s buy them even if they have holes.”

Bipa strode forward.

❀࿐

With shoes on, at least he didn’t look like a mad child. Bipa observed Muyun and estimated that while his deathly pale complexion was another matter, if his cheeks could at least regain a childlike plumpness, he wouldn’t look so unsightly. Most importantly, the light of life in his eyes was the best part.

“Your younger brother?”

The man weaving straw sandals asked.

“Do we look alike?”

“Nah, not really. Different parents?”

“I picked him up.”

Bipa replied nonchalantly. His words weren’t particularly strange, as for the past few years, pirates had been rampant, and there were more than a few orphaned children. There were orphans here and there.

The man laughed heartily, then his expression suddenly hardened as he looked at the child with a dark face and parched lips. He hadn’t noticed because of the dark complexion, but the sweat on the child’s face was unusual.

“But that child, isn’t he sick?”

“Sick?”

“He’s sweating so much.”

The man stood up and placed a hand on Muyun’s forehead. The rough hand, which never had a chance to heal from weaving straw ropes, abruptly covered his forehead. Muyun’s face was so small that the hand almost covered his eyes as well.

“Hey. His body is hot like this too.”

However, Bipa’s reaction was far from the appropriate one the man had expected. Bipa’s eyes darted left and right, and he hesitated before asking.

“Isn’t it just because it’s hot?”

“What?”

“Then what should I do when a child is sick…? Should I just… do the same as I would for an adult?”

“Hah. My goodness. They say you’ve learned a lot, but what on earth did you learn?”

The man was at a loss for words, dumbfounded. He moved aside the bamboo blind he had put up to block the sun and went inside. Then he called his wife to face Bipa.

Wiping her hands on the cloth tied around her skirt, the man’s wife clicked her tongue.

“He has a high fever. Kids can die from this, you know?”

At those words, Bipa flinched.

“Die…? Then what should I do….”

“You have to cool him down. Give him something cold to drink, cool his sweat. When the fever drops a little, it’s good to see a physician. My goodness. Is this the first time you’re taking care of a sick person?”

“…….”

Bipa didn’t answer. Instead, he avoided her gaze with a cold, hardened face.

All the while, Muyun’s fever was steadily rising. But he didn’t feel distressed; rather, he felt like he was floating in the world as if wandering through a dream.

When he tugged on Bipa’s sleeve, Bipa lowered his head towards him. Muyun looked up at Bipa with eyes that seemed to be misted over with humidity.

It looked like a stubborn insistence that he was okay, which flustered Bipa. Because even to his ignorant eyes, the boy’s condition looked serious.

“Why are you being so stubborn….”

Bipa muttered blankly.

❀࿐

On the way back, Bipa got some cold sikhye. They had to drink it right away because of the hot weather. Actually, it wasn’t completely free; it was more like he was finally receiving payment for the advice he had given this household’s husband when he set off for the neighboring village a while back. A cheaply bought warding off of misfortune.

Bipa held the gourd of sikhye to Muyun’s lips. To do so, he willingly knelt on the ground, lowering his body.

Muyun’s fever was so high that his dark skin now looked flushed red. The sikhye, said to have been hidden at the very bottom of a well, was cold and sweet but paradoxically made him even thirstier. Muyun smacked his lips with a sticky tongue.

“Is it good?”

Bipa asked. Muyun, unable to even taste it, nodded his head. Lying wasn’t a bad thing. The bad thing was himself, for being sick.

To Muyun, Bipa was the only remaining tie to this world. If he let go of this, he felt he would be dragged back into that crock immediately. Even recalling just a part of that memory fanned the flames of Muyun’s resolve to use any means necessary to hold onto Bipa.

He had to look okay. He had to show that he wasn’t a burden, that he wasn’t difficult to have around, that he wasn’t a nuisance. Bipa had already said he disliked children. Muyun clenched his small hands.

At Muyun’s reaction, Bipa sighed in relief, saying that was a good thing. But his anxious expression did not fade. After feeding him sikhye a few more times, he hesitated and offered an awkward apology.

“Sorry. I didn’t know you were sick.”

A cautious, yet distant attitude. Muyun knew. Bipa was still treating him like an object he had been incidentally saddled with.

“You should have said something if you were sick.”

“…….”

“Ah, you couldn’t speak….”

At Bipa’s pointless mumbling, Muyun shook his head as if he wasn’t sick at all. He was very mature for his age. It was likely that the experiences he had been forced to endure had made him who he was now. Bipa didn’t ask any more questions and stood up, saying they should go.

Usually, the way back feels shorter than the way there, but not this time. Muyun was walking fine one moment, and the next, his knees gave out and he collapsed. It was in front of the village entrance. In front of the Jangseung, as if the Female General of the Underworld had tripped him, he fell, and Bipa caught him.

Bipa was not strong. It was partly because he disliked carrying heavy things, and partly because Haesol had always spoiled him. The young body couldn’t hold on for long in his precariously outstretched arms and soon slumped to the ground.

Bipa hesitated, then crouched in front of Muyun. Muyun tried to get up on his own. But his efforts were in vain; his knees kept buckling as if they were made of jelly, and the ground he stepped on felt not like earth but like mud.

Watching this, Bipa let out a deep sigh. At that sound, Muyun’s misunderstanding grew, and he struggled even more desperately. To pretend he was fine.

“Get on my back.”

“…….”

“I don’t like repeating myself. And if I drag you along like this, how much of a bastard would I look like?”

At Bipa’s threat-laced persuasion, the stubborn Muyun finally let out a sigh. Then, he collapsed onto Bipa’s back.

The sun is so long. The still-hot sunlight beat down like knitting needles on Muyun’s back and Bipa’s head. Muyun, sweating profusely, wondered how Bipa didn’t shed a single drop of sweat.

The way back, cutting through the overgrown grass, felt unreal, like a dream. Once, Muyun had been carried on his father’s back like this, his eyes fixed on his mother’s back, as he was sold to a shaman.

There were three other children there who were also considered candidates for Saetani. Among them, Muyun was the oldest. It was different from his village, where Muyun had been the youngest.

‘As you can see, this one is the youngest here. So give me a little more.’

The hand pushing his back and the tired, dry voice washed over Muyun like a present reality.

Bipa felt his back becoming soaked with Muyun’s cold sweat. Can a person sweat this much? It felt like all the sikhye he fed him was coming out.

He was flustered because he hadn’t expected the child to be sick. And to think he could even die from this. If he died, what was he supposed to do with him? Without Haesol, could he dig the ground and build a burial mound? Could he do a good job on his own?

This is why he hadn’t wanted to bring him.

“Don’t be sick.”

Bipa mumbled haltingly.

“I don’t want to see a child who is miserable because they’re sick….”

The words spoken to himself scattered into the empty air.