TBML 4

Yeon glanced at the closed door, worried that the sick mother in the side room might have overheard what had burst out of Du-soe’s mouth. Even though he knew she was hard of hearing and likely hadn’t caught a word, guilt pricked at his conscience. It was a small gesture to ease that guilt. And though Du-soe could clearly see what was going through Yeon’s mind, he didn’t bother to rein in his tongue.

“Let’s be honest—she’s not even your real mother. You’ve done more than enough. Even if she were their own birth mother, most people in your shoes would’ve abandoned her and run off long ago.

“…”

“Just leave a few coins under her blanket and go. If she passes, I’ll bury her up the back hill—not the sunniest spot, but it’s better than nothing.”

Even without Du-soe’s suggestion, Yeon had already hidden a few coins in the corner of the room with nothing valuable in it, just in case he went up the mountain and never returned. It was a final contingency plan.

There were times when he did feel the urge to run, just like Du-soe said. He was a child born to unknown parents and cast out by the river in the dead of winter to freeze to death. People said one shouldn’t take in a black-haired beast, and yet, the couple who raised him had done just that—treated him like a gift from the heavens, raising him with what little strength and care they had.

Though they were poor, constantly sick, and slow-witted, Yeon had never once voiced a complaint or resentment. Abandoned as a newborn on a day so cold even the river had frozen, if not for that sickly couple taking him in, he would have died that very day.

Yeon, who resembled neither of them in the slightest, had made a vow upon learning he was adopted: he would serve them with all his heart until the day they crossed into the afterlife.

“Du-soe, want some rabbit meat?”

“That puny thing? What am I supposed to do with that? You eat it.”

Simple-minded as he was, Du-soe was easily distracted when Yeon shifted the conversation. He was simple but honest and good-hearted. Though he had no reason to, he always looked out for the troublesome neighbors next door. Sometimes he even chopped extra firewood for Yeon’s household, and when ruffians barged in like today, he’d step up as if it were his own home, even taking a beating in Yeon’s place. He’d stop by to check on the bedridden mother when Yeon was in the mountains, making sure she ate.

“Is now the time to be talking about rabbits?”

Just when it seemed the topic had drifted off, Du-soe’s blunt words pulled Yeon right back into his crumbling home.

“Well, it’s all about survival, isn’t it? What else is there to talk about but food?”

“I swear, you’re going to end up killing someone from frustration one of these days.”

Du-soe shook his head and let out a deep sigh, thumping his chest with his fist.

Watching Du-soe pound his chest over someone else’s misfortune, Yeon let out a faint snort of laughter. He began to untie the bundle strapped beside his frame pack as Du-soe kept on nagging. Whether he’d grown deaf to it or just used to it, Yeon didn’t seem to mind the chatter. He laid the matchlock out on the yard, still wrapped in stiff cloth, and began cleaning it.

That worn-out matchlock was both his livelihood and his lifeline. It had belonged to the hunter who was like a master to him. Time had made it rough, but it was still a weapon that had come from across the sea. As Du-soe’s nagging became background noise, Yeon gently swabbed the barrel with the cleaning rod, loosening the powder and ash that had settled inside.

“As long as you’ve got that gun, you’ll never starve. And if it weren’t for your mother, you’d have bought a house in Hanyang by now.”

“What good is living in Hanyang alone?”

“What do you mean? You’d be living in comfort!”

While Du-soe stomped his feet in frustration, Yeon remained unhurried and calm as he cleaned his matchlock. Almost as if he meant to provoke him further, he’d let out a quiet chuckle whenever Du-soe clutched his chest in exasperation.

“If you’re born a man, you should live like one.”

“And you already have! More than enough! Ugh, you’re hopeless.”

Du-soe, unable to contain his frustration at Yeon still talking about duty and filial piety, started stomping the dirt yard like a tantrum-throwing toddler. Dust flew up around his large feet.

“Do what you want. What’s the point of talking to you? You don’t listen anyway. Every time you head up that mountain, I get anxious.”

“So there’s someone who worries about me after all.”

Yeon nodded, as if speaking of someone else, and looked at Du-soe. His hands never stopped wiping the matchlock.

“You think that’s something to say out loud? A lot of people worry about you.”

“Is that so?”

“Of course! Even Byun’s bastards are worried you won’t pay back your debt. And that second young master from Magistrate Seo’s household who came by earlier—he’s worried too. And it’s not just them.”

Yeon had been smiling faintly, but his brows drew together at those names. Neither of them were people who needed to be concerned about him.

“I swear, if you disappear for days and don’t come home, I won’t even be surprised. Don’t bother coming back!”

Du-soe knew full well that talking to Yeon was like pouring water into a sieve, but still, whenever he saw him like this, the helplessness boiled over, and he couldn’t help but say the same things over and over again. And as always, he was the one who got fed up first and stormed off.

When his face, shining like a pearl carefully polished, looked up, Du-soe kicked the broken bamboo door aside and stormed out..As the broken gate flapped pitifully, he pointed at Yeon and said he’d come back tomorrow to fix it.

Once Du-soe was gone and the matchlock was cleaned, steam began to rise gently from Yeon’s house as well. Knowing the thugs would keep up their petty harassment for a few more days, Yeon tidied up the scattered household items half-heartedly, neither thorough nor rushed.

While chatting with Du-soe, the sun had dipped low in the sky. Yeon wasn’t blind to Du-soe’s affections. Though he didn’t say anything about it—used to hardship as he was—he wasn’t slow to pick up on such things. But that was all it was. Du-soe himself knew he wasn’t someone who could truly take on Yeon, and so he only hovered at the edges of his life.

Yeon stirred the flames in the kitchen hearth and looked up at the sky. The sun hadn’t yet set, but the wind had turned sharply cold—it was going to be a bitter day tomorrow. The sky looked heavy, like snow was coming.

Yeon’s prediction was right. The snow that began that night continued the next day, and the day after that, trapping him indoors for several days. The only blessing was that perhaps because of the heavy snowfall, or the sheer cold, the thugs didn’t come around.

Yeon sat on the chilly wooden floor by the open corridor and looked out at the snow-covered village. From his house at the edge of the village, nestled near the base of the back mountain, the scene was oddly charming. The thatched roofs were piled high with snow, forming rounded mounds like little snowy hills.

The cold was so severe the snow didn’t melt at all—instead, it froze solid. More snow kept falling on top of the old, making it difficult even for experienced mountain men to traverse the terrain.

Still, Yeon decided today he would have to move. The rabbits he’d caught had already been boiled into broth and eaten. The dried fish had been stewed down to scraps. Today, even that was gone. All he had left for his mother was some thin rice porridge.

Meat couldn’t disappear from a patient’s table—not when she grew weaker by the day. It was fortunate, he thought, that at least she still had an appetite. Rubbing his wind-chapped cheeks with a palm, Yeon let out a breath.

He dressed more warmly than usual. Normally, with his quick and nimble body, he wore light clothes to move freely, but today’s wind was harsh, and heavier clothing seemed wise.

Because of the deep snow, he resolved not to be greedy—just catch what he needed and come back. He packed lighter than usual. On his pack frame he strapped only his net, bow, and spear, leaving his matchlock—which he usually treated like a precious limb—leaned carefully in a corner of the house.

The winter mountain was barren. With animals moving less, hunting became even more difficult. Remembering the pheasant he’d missed the other day, Yeon turned toward the direction of Bu-ni’s house.

At the narrow path leading to the mountain’s edge, Yeon paused to adjust his straw shoes. That was when he noticed it—footsteps following behind him. On the snow-covered path, each step let out a crisp crunch, and the sound echoed two or three times.

At first, he thought it was his imagination. But the sound kept coming. He became certain—someone was following him. Realizing it sent a chill through his bones. In a place like this, the most dangerous thing wasn’t beasts, but people. He hadn’t gone far enough into the mountains for some jumpy animal to be trailing him.

Yeon stopped walking and subtly looked around. Seeing nothing suspicious, he let out a breath in relief. At that moment, a roe deer burst out of the snow-covered bushes. It dashed like lightning, its eyes wide with panic. Letting out a shrill cry, it leapt into the brush on the opposite side.

So it was a deer? For it to come this far down…

Relieved, Yeon exhaled and smoothed the bridge of his nose in embarrassment. Villagers claimed he enough guts to hunt tigers alone, but in truth, Yeon was a coward.

He had never been physically gifted. And fear was something he’d always lived with. It just didn’t show. He was so afraid of being left alone in the world that he couldn’t let go of his ailing mother.

Even when he was learning to be a hunter, it was the same. When groups went out to hunt tigers, there were gunners who shot from afar, decoys who lured the beast, and spearmen who stabbed it up close.

Yeon feared tigers. He could never bear to face one at close range. So his best choice was to shoot it dead from as far away as possible. Ironically, that fear had sharpened his aim to something close to mastery.

His fearful nature was what life kept pushing to the cliff’s edge. Like a rat cornered into baring its teeth, Yeon was always forced to fight back.

He’d grown used to hiking the mountains alone, but to say he no longer felt fear—that would’ve been a bold-faced lie. If any man from the village had seen him flailing like that just now, they would’ve burst out laughing. He’d hunted tigers, yet here he was startled by a deer. Amused at himself, Yeon rubbed the bridge of his nose again.

Just as he was about to step forward again, a giggling sound came from behind him.

Startled, he spun around—and there stood some roughnecks he’d seen around the village a few times.