BW C3

Chapter 3

 

“……”

On any other day, Hoeun would have run straight into his mother’s arms, but today he stood rooted to the spot as if nailed to the ground. Everything before his eyes looked wrong.

A father who lied without batting an eye, hands clasped behind his back.

A mother whose lovely face was filled entirely with worry for him.

Deokwoo, hauling armfuls of herbs as if he’d emptied the entire apothecary.

His body burning with fever, yet his head cold.

And the shadows of the spear-tipped wall bars cast over all their heads.

Hoeun took a step back. After glancing around, he circled halfway around the car and locked eyes with the plum blossom fixed to its hood.

This car—this plum blossom—had been bestowed upon his father in recognition of distributing grain to the starving, as an example to the nobility.

An example.

Hoeun pondered the notion of “example” for a moment, then shook his head. No—this was no example.

He seized the iron plum-blossom emblem and began to wrench at it. But unlike a real flower, it was anything but delicate; no matter how hard he pulled, it would not budge. His already pale hands turned whiter, trembling. The rounded petals pressed bluntly into his palm.

It hurt far more than it should. It felt as if his palm were being split and each joint torn, yet Hoeun, eyes wide and blazing, kept trying to rip the emblem free. Eventually, he even braced one foot against the car and shoved. Dirt smeared the glossy surface.

“Hoeun, what are you doing?”

His mother asked, bewildered. At her words, his father whipped his head toward him; seeing the grotesque act, he leapt in place.

“What do you think you’re doing! How dare you lay hands on a gift from His Majesty!”

“Our family! Has no right to display such a thing!”

Hoeun shouted, continuing his struggle with the plum blossom. His father’s eyes tightened as he advanced on Hoeun, threatening.

“Stop that this instant!”

Sensing something was very wrong, his mother stepped in front of his father.

“‘Right’? Why would our Euni say such a thing, sir?”

“……”

His father couldn’t answer; his lower lip trembled—so unlike the man’s usual upright resolve. Seeing this, his mother’s eyes thinned.

“Ah!”

Hoeun cried out. His hand slipped on the emblem, and his own force sent him toppling backward.

Thud.

His voluminous silk overcoat flapped and rustled noisily. Instinctively, he caught himself on the ground; his wrist twisted, and his palm scraped along the coarse earth.

“Ugh…”

A sharp pain made him groan.

“Hoeun!”

His mother flew to him. Her fine hem spread across the dirt, but she didn’t care; with trembling hands she took his palm to inspect it.

“You scraped it. It almost bled. Why would you do that? Does it hurt? Oh dear, what are we to do… Sir, our Hoeun’s hand is bright red.”

Still crouched, she looked back at his father. He stood stock-still. One foot had edged forward, but no one noticed.

His father looked down at Hoeun with a face gone cold, as if in scorn. A father scorning his son—perhaps in some families, but never in this house.

“Does it hurt? You hurt over something so trifling, and yet you throw a fit about going to war?”

“……”

“What do you think you can do? What could you possibly do!”

Hoeun clenched his teeth. A fit? Was his desperate struggle nothing but petulance in his father’s eyes? He grabbed a fistful of dirt that barely held together.

Baffled by their exchange, his mother looked at his father, exasperated.

“War? What are you even talking about?”

“……”

His father shut his mouth.

“……”

So did Hoeun. Weak as he was, he was still a man; he couldn’t cling to his mother and complain. And besides, his mother…

“Will someone please explain!”

His mother shouted. Because she so rarely raised her voice, even the servants—and his father—flinched. After pacing a couple of steps, his father finally dropped the lightning bolt brought home from the hospital into the yard.

“Hoeun has become a guide. That’s why he’s ill.”

“…What?”

“A guide.”

“A g-guide?”

As expected, his mother looked as if struck by lightning.

“You mean the guide I’m thinking of?”

“Yes, madam. Hoeun has become that guide.”

“……”

His mother looked down. Then, as if deciding something, she swallowed and gently let go of Hoeun’s hand.

“Hoeun. Whatever the case, your father is right. Do as he says.”

She spoke in a calm voice and, as if nothing had happened, brushed the dirt from her skirt with a blank face. A nearby servant rushed to hold her hem, but she smiled gently and said she would do it herself.

At his mother—and his father—Hoeun felt all the blood in his body drain away. He looked at the car’s plum blossom, now closer with him seated on the ground.

Staring at it, he spoke in a dry voice.

“Do you not think of Eldest Brother?”

It was a short sentence, but it robbed everyone of words. No one blinked or breathed.

Then—pat, pat, pat—small footsteps sounded from a corner of the yard. It was Nureong, the yellow dog they kept. After wandering all day, it seemed to have come home for its meal.

Hoeun watched, eyes unreadable, as Nureong wagged its tail and wove through the people.

Silence stretched on—long enough for the dog to head to the backyard in search of its food. Then his mother spoke first.

“…What? Hoeun, what did you just…?”

She muttered, disbelieving.

Hoeun staggered to his feet and said flatly,

“Brother. Eldest brother. The one who died ten years ago.”

At that name spoken again, his father’s face flushed dark. Letting out a harsh, broken sound—ik, ee, ik—he raised his hand and advanced on Hoeun.

“You wretch!”

The roar, like that of an enraged tiger, shook the grandest house in Hanyang.

“……”

Hoeun watched his father approach without moving. He’d never been struck before, but he wasn’t afraid—he had spoken knowing what he was doing. He knew how irreverent and lawless his words were.

As his father drew near, Hoeun shut his eyes tight. Just then, Deokwoo burst through the servants and threw himself down in front of Hoeun.

“Sir! Please don’t! Strike me instead. Not the young master!”

Spurred by him, other servants restrained their master. “Sir, calm yourself. Please steady yourself, sir. Sir, sir!” But his father could not easily contain his fury. His raised hand trembled; his glare burned like fire.

“How could you—how could you bring up your brother here—how dare you, before me, before us…”

His father faltered, staggering, and Deokwoo hurried to support him. Hoeun, meanwhile, stared back with eyes burned black.

“You know why Eldest Brother ended up that way.”

“Young master, please stop.”

Deokwoo interceded, but Hoeun did not back down. He even stepped closer to his father.

“If Eldest Brother had only found a guide—if he’d found his partner—he would not have died like that.”

Hoeun had three older brothers. Now only two remained.

The one he called Eldest Brother was the firstborn of the Choi family and a Military God—a very powerful one.

News of how many monsters he felled, how many people he saved, how many towns he rescued, came into the capital almost daily.

Each time, his parents would wear an odd smile, one hand stroking their aching hearts.

But his fame did not last. He never found a guide, his partner.

Here, “partner” meant the guide most effective at helping a Military God upon reaching his limit—often called a fated bond, destiny.

In fact, even without an ideal partner, a guide could still help, but his eldest brother was so strong that no guide’s aid worked.

His parents searched not only the capital but the entire country for his guide, but they never found one. As time passed, his eldest brother spent more days bedridden than at the front.

Then one day, he died, bleeding from every opening in his body. So much blood pooled between the floorboards, viscous and in such quantity, that even after the whole household staff scrubbed day and night for ten days, it kept seeping up.

Hoeun had been exactly ten years old.

He scarcely remembered his parents’ expressions as they stood before that grave. Perhaps that was why he could speak such impious words now.

Footnotes:

• Plum blossom emblem: In the Korean Empire era, a plum blossom motif (Ihwa) was used as an imperial symbol associated with the House of Yi; it adorned official items and could appear as an emblem denoting imperial favor. This aligns with the story’s “plum blossom” on the car, a sign of imperial bestowal.
• Royal symbols context: Joseon and the Korean Empire used various regalia and symbols to denote royal authority and imperial gifts; seeing such emblems on property signaled status and favor.