TBML 15

“Just a little farther down, and we’ll reach the path. Just hold on a bit longer, sir.”

Despite his words, Yeon bit down on regret, chewing it over in his mind. He’d gone and made trouble for himself again. All because Hyeon-hak had been sprawled near the tiger snare, and because his face looked younger than expected. Blood may not have tied them, but like father like son—whenever Yeon saw a cast-off child, his sleeves rolled up on their own.

Even if the scholar had lost his wits, maybe he’d get a reward if he brought him to the local office. Yeon soothed himself with that thought as he urged Hyeon-hak, who had shoved his feet into an ill-fitting pair of straw shoes.

His own toes ached from the cold mud. The shoes were barely enough to cover his feet, but they were still better than nothing, and Hyeon-hak followed sturdily behind. In truth, Yeon had slowed his pace—thanks to his stockinged feet—so it was easier for Hyeon-hak to keep up. But too preoccupied with looking after someone clearly not used to mountain paths, he didn’t even realize his own steps had slowed.

He hoped to reach the magistrate office before the sun fully set. If he lingered around this area too late, he might run into Seo magistrate’s second son. Though he’d backed off a bit after the encounter with the black tiger, he still made Yeon’s life difficult in more ways than one. Yeon didn’t want to show his face anywhere connected to that man or his family.

That anxious thought—and maybe the fact that he’d gone out in socks like he was rushing to greet a husband—led Yeon to step onto a wet slope. His foot slipped, the dirt crumbled beneath him, and his body tilted sideways. “Ah—!” The stupid sound escaped him as he lost his balance. It must’ve been a cursed day.

He braced himself for the fall, ready to accept the muddy disgrace like a pig wallowing in filth. But then, a strong arm caught him.

“Careful.”

Startled by the unexpected help, Yeon blinked.

“Uh… uh… huh?”

All he could do was stammer “uh?” like a fool. The young noble, who looked too delicate to have ever lifted a finger, had surprisingly firm and strong arms. Yeon hadn’t imagined someone so spaced out would catch him. Most of all, the calm, deep voice flowing so naturally from Hyeon-hak’s mouth was completely unexpected.

“Thank you… sir.”

He could speak after all? Despite the thought, Yeon, seasoned in handling noble whims, bowed his head and gave thanks as politely as possible. Hyeon-hak said nothing more, as if he’d never spoken in the first place. Now it was Yeon who felt uneasy.

Had he really lost his wits? Did I say something wrong? He retraced their conversation, wondering if he’d made any misstep. He had touched the noble’s coat, yes, but that was part of assisting him—it shouldn’t be too grave.

Whether it was Yeon slowing down or Hyeon-hak speeding up, before he knew it, the two were close enough for their breaths to mingle as they descended.

Yeon, used to hiking alone, felt the strange tension of having someone right behind him. He glanced back at Hyeon-hak—and for a fleeting moment, his black eyes gleamed yellow.

Am I seeing things? He blinked hard, rolled his eyes wide once, and looked again. As before, Hyeon-hak’s delicate black eyes, like polished obsidian, were right where they belonged.

“Um… sir. Should I take you to the magistrate office?”

“……”

Now that he knew Hyeon-hak was in his right mind, Yeon asked again for confirmation. But the man sealed his lips tight again, like a clam. The silence gnawed at Yeon, but he couldn’t very well press a noble to answer. He’ll say something once we reach the village, he thought, pushing down the uneasy feeling.

The rain had grown heavier. What began as a drizzle had become a downpour. Once the storm passed and the sun came out again, it would truly feel like the season had changed.

Still, the pouring rain and Hyeon-hak together made the journey home twice as hard and twice as slow. Only when the sun was about to vanish did Yeon finally reach the path that led to the village. Maybe because the walk had been so difficult, or maybe because he couldn’t tell what Hyeon-hak was thinking, the sight of the familiar village stirred a strange sense of relief.

“We’re here. Do you see it? That’s the village.”

Just as Yeon pointed and spoke, a thunderous rumble— filled the air, and water came pouring from the sky like a waterfall. The downpour was so fierce it made him stumble. The raindrops slammed into the ground, rebounding with such force that the cluster of low thatched-roof houses beyond looked blurred, as if cloaked in sea fog.

The rain soaked Yeon in an instant. He looked like a drowned rat. The downpour was so strong he couldn’t keep his eyes open. Rubbing his face with both hands, he quickly pulled his matchlock into his arms to protect it.

The gun was wrapped in thick, oil-soaked fabric—thicker than even his winter coat—but at this rate, the water would seep through. Should’ve switched to an oiled leather cover, he cursed himself. To keep the gun as dry as possible, he awkwardly stuffed it under his outer robe and turned to Hyeon-hak again.

“Sir?”

But the man who had been standing behind him only moments ago was gone.

He couldn’t have been swept away by the rain. That sturdy figure couldn’t have sunk into the ground or flown into the sky… Yet Hyeon-hak had vanished without a trace.

Yeon stared blankly at the spot for a moment, then belatedly looked around. It was a single narrow path to the village, no longer a thick mountain trail but an open space on all sides. Even with the downpour blurring his sight, there was no reason he wouldn’t see someone who had been standing right behind him just moments ago.

It couldn’t have been a ghost. The arm that had caught him, the warmth he had felt—those had been real. Right where Hyeon-hak had stood, footprints were pressed into the wet earth.

And that made it even stranger. If Hyeon-hak had walked away while Yeon wasn’t looking, there should’ve been traces of movement. But the footprints stopped right there.

Yeon was a hunter, well-practiced in following trails. No matter how he turned the strange situation over in his mind, it made no sense. Hoping against hope, he called out, “Sir!” looking around as he did, but his voice was swallowed by the pounding rain.

The oil-soaked wrapping around the matchlock he held in his arms was growing heavier and damper by the second. With no other choice, Yeon entered the village alone.

***

The next day, as soon as the rain cleared and the blue sky greeted him, Yeon went to the local office. Casually, he asked if a bedraggled scholar had come seeking shelter. But all he got in return was a harsh tongue-lashing.

Still clinging to the hope, he asked a few men in the village—including Du-soe—if they had seen a stranger come through. Every one of them shook their heads.

If it were someone else, he might have dismissed it as nothing. But for some reason, the image of Hyeon-hak refused to leave Yeon’s mind. So he even asked a traveling peddler he was familiar with if he’d heard of a nobleman named Kim Hyeon-hak in the area, or any scholar who had been attacked by a tiger. But all he got was the same answer—no one knew anything.

Time passed, and just like the softened, rain-drenched earth hardening again and sprouts growing thick in the mountains, the strange memory of that scholar named Hyeon-hak slowly began to fade from Yeon’s mind.

Summer had long been left behind, and the mountain was now filled with the scent of fall. The sweet smell of dry leaves, ripe fruits that had fallen after the harvest, the chill of winter already lacing the wind, and the faint traces of the summer sun still lingering.

Yeon savored the crisp sound of leaves crunching underfoot. His pale cheeks, like the autumn leaves dressed in red, were tinged with color. His face looked a little thinner—one cheek was slightly swollen and red.

It was from the day before, when a loafer who ran with the magistrate’s second son had slapped him hard. The man had acted like he was doing Yeon a favor, saying he’d let him off easy for Seo’s sake. But the brute, large as an ox, had struck him two or three times with full force. The world had tilted, and Yeon had rolled to the ground. There hadn’t even been a reason. He had simply stood in the wrong place at the wrong time.

It wasn’t anything new. When Seo lost interest in catching the black tiger, he went back to tormenting Yeon. As always, he didn’t get his own hands dirty—he had others do it for him, slowly cornering Yeon.

It was a kind of driven hunt—pushing the prey into a corner, only for him to appear at the end, waving a rotten carrot like he was some sort of savior. But what did it matter if he offered a carrot? Whether it was the one holding the stick or the one offering the carrot, it was all the same person.

Because of that, Yeon had started staying away from home more and more. Before dawn, he’d check the fire in the kitchen, prepare medicine and food for his ailing mother, and head out. Only after the sun had fully set and the marketplace emptied would he return home through the butcher village.

One would think he might begin his hikes later, since he returned so late. But Yeon woke even earlier, setting off at the break of day. The reason? That was when those idle bastards were still sprawled out asleep.

That was all Yeon could do—avoid the magistrate’s wild son and his pack, whether in the village or on the road.

Because of it, he had to ask Du-soe for help more times than he’d like. But Du-soe understood well enough. He’d seen Yeon get beaten with his own eyes and grumbled, “Why doesn’t the magistrate do something about those thugs?” It was laughable. The one tormenting him was the magistrate’s second son. Would he arrest his own child?

Despite the weight tugging at one corner of his heart, the early morning mountain trail, devoid of people, wasn’t frightening—it was peaceful. The mountain, ever-changing and fearsome with its thousand faces, sometimes felt cozier than home to Yeon.

The faint sky just before sunrise and the red-tinged ridges seemed to reflect the storm brewing in Yeon’s heart. The rustling of small woodland creatures and birdsong from nameless birds quieted the noise within him.