OGHOU C30

Chapter 30

Sehwa leaned half his body against the window frame, gazing outside.

The snow piled atop the mountain never seemed to melt, leaving footprints wherever one went. Following those footprints across the yard always led to the same person.

My first and my last.

“Sirang.”

Even when called in the faintest whisper, he was the kind man who immediately turned to look.

“Why have you opened the window again?”

“I’m bored.”

“It’s cold.”

As he approached the window, fresh footprints formed upon the snow. Sehwa stared absentmindedly at them, falling into thought.

‘At that depth…’

“What is it?”

At Sirang’s question, Sehwa suddenly raised his head and broke into a sheepish grin.

“I was just thinking even your footprints look handsome.”

“……”

“I mean it. Even your shadow is good-looking.”

Sehwa cupped his face in both hands and drew it close. His handsome face leaned forward obediently, blinking.

“What are you doing?”

“I want to see more clearly. Anything good is best seen up close.”

From so near he felt his breath, Sehwa traced his gaze slowly from his forehead down to his chin. Black pupils contrasting with that chiseled white face, a smooth straight bridge of the nose, and lips elegant in shape.

“Seeing it larger, it’s even better. How do you feel?”

“……”

Sirang’s eyes, meanwhile, lingered only on Sehwa’s lips. Instead of answering, he drew closer. Sehwa lightly pushed those lips back with a finger.

“I haven’t finished looking yet. Wait.”

His eyes brimmed with frustration at being pushed back again. Sehwa teased him, brushing his lips idly with his finger, smiling.

“Your features are the same as when you were young. Only your height seems to have grown.”

Sirang, unwilling to surrender, tried once more for a kiss. This time Sehwa blocked him with his palm.

“Wait, I said. You’ve grown taller, but your impatience hasn’t changed either. Back when we first met, you were almost my height…”

The rest of the words were swallowed as Sirang closed the distance. The hands that had been pushing him away were now seized, pinned in place, and a hand pressed firmly at his nape.

‘What a man with no endurance.’

Swallowing a laugh, Sehwa gently shut his eyes, receiving him with parted lips. The pressure on his captured hands made them tingle, clenching and unclenching into fists.

Not their first kiss—yet each time it made his whole body tremble as if it were.

Before long, Sehwa broke away. Seeing the dissatisfaction plain upon Sirang’s face, he pecked him several times more, noisily smacking kisses against him.

The cold tips of their noses brushed; sharp eyes softened; Sehwa could not help but adore this moment.

“Couldn’t wait, could you?”

“It was too short.”

“No, it wasn’t.”

“Once more.”

“Depends on how you behave.”

Laughing, Sehwa wriggled free from the arms wrapped around him and sat on the window ledge. Sirang’s natural gesture of draping his outer robe over him filled even his heart with warmth.

“Sirang… Do you remember our first kiss?”

“No.”

“Of course, you wouldn’t want to. You forced it on me and ran away.”

“That was—”

“You were awful. How could you do that to naïve little me?”

“Naïve, you?”

“You were utterly shameless. I was so angry and miserable that I couldn’t sleep that night!”

“……”

Sehwa chuckled, leaning against Sirang’s shoulder. The shoulder that had always supported him. He could spend a lifetime just like this.

After a quiet pause, his voice grew softer.

“The next day, I went to catch you.”

“Yes.”

“I went ready to scold and confront you—yet the moment I realized it, we were kissing again.”

“You allowed it.”

“Yes, I know. Maybe I was out of my mind.”

“……”

“I wish we could go back.”

Back to when, even while constantly bickering and quarreling, they clung like twins. Back to those nights when a single kiss set his heart aflutter and sleep became impossible.

How great it would be if they could return.

“Looks like it’s going to snow.”

At Sirang’s words, Sehwa lifted his head. The cloudy sky was thick with clouds, concealing anything beyond.

“Yes. It will snow.”

“Then I’ll have to go to the market another day.”

“What?”

Sehwa rested his chin on Sirang’s shoulder, pulling the most pitiful expression as he gazed up at him.

“We’re all out of flour at home.”

“Eat something else for now.”

“No way. I really want to make noodles for you today.”

“But we eat noodles every day.”

“But today’s noodles have today’s flavor!”

“What does that even mean…”

“Don’t complain. Go quickly, before the storm hits.”

Sehwa even pushed his back to hurry him, nagging: Was he not quick-footed, could he not trouble himself at least this much for his frail lover? Unable to resist, he readied himself to descend the mountain.

“And buy some wine while you’re at it.”

“You shouldn’t drink.”

“You’re so strict.”

“Don’t go wandering about. Stay warm in your room until I return.”

“All right, don’t worry.”

Despite his insistence, Sehwa saw him off all the way to the yard. Today, of all days, he wanted to watch him a little longer.

“Go safely.”

“Get back inside.”

“Careful on the snow. Don’t get hurt.”

He knew, of course, that a little snow was hardly danger to him.

Still, smiling, he waved as he watched his figure recede until the white robes, fluttering in the wind, disappeared from sight.

Like nailed in place, he imprinted the last glimpse into his heart.

Sirang.

Do you remember what we said when we were children?

That if you saved the world, I said I would in turn save you. A boast, I claimed.

But the truth was, I meant it.

Back then, you shone brighter than anyone. I first learned that a person could radiate like light.

Perhaps dreams are just that. A spark that makes a person walk forward.

I only wanted to remain at your side, keeping that spark alive. Growing old together, as friends, naturally.

But it feels like I extinguished it with my own hands.

Now, I cannot even protect my frail body, much less save you.

Beside me, you remained—and I felt so mortally sorry, yet still could not let go of your hand. I told myself it wasn’t so bad, living this way together. I endured by giving myself that false comfort.

And yet you, next to me, dimmed steadily, losing your shine. I knew, but pretended not to see.

How much sorrow has my selfishness caused you?

I know, each night, after I drifted to sleep, you rose from the bed, walked outside, and stared at the valley below in silence. And I only watched your back.

I would wonder just how hollow and dark your insides had become.

Sirang.

The back I once looked up to has now made me feel small.

I still love you. But being together no longer brings joy.

So I think it’s best to end it here.

You have somewhere to return to. And I have somewhere to run.

I am sorry to be leaving you in such a way. Even if you curse me your whole life, I will accept it.

I could never say it to your face. Because I know you wouldn’t let me go. So I leave these words in a letter.

May you shine again, far from me.

From the one who was your friend, your brother, and your lover—

Sehwa.

Beneath the heavy snowflakes falling thick, Sehwa took his bundle in his arms and began walking. He knew it risked his health, but he had no choice. He needed to be down within two shichen’s time.^1

Each time he imagined Sirang finding the empty house and this letter, his insides burned, his steps slowed. Again and again he paused, turned back, walked a little further, then paused again.

‘Will he be all right…’

Of course not. It would hurt him for as long as they had been together—and perhaps longer still.

But this was the right path. He must not be his burden any longer.

Resolving himself, Sehwa cast one last glance behind.

My first, and my last.

Goodbye, at last.

Snow steadily swallowed the hollows of his footprints, erasing every trace of the one who left.

By the time he reached the mountainside, he was on the verge of collapse.

His hands and feet had long since lost sensation. In his throat lingered the taste of blood. Holding on through sheer will, his body was wrecked.

Sometimes he thought fainting would be easier, but he clung on for one reason.

Somewhere nearby—she must be.

“Sehwa?”

The voice he had longed for.

Where the voice sounded, a woman stood. Clad in brilliant colors, she rushed from a carriage toward him.

“Sehwa!”

“Ah…”

“My heavens, what is this? Are you all right? Do you know how I trembled when I received your letter? I thought you were well…”

“……”

“Your body’s cold as ice. Come, into the carriage. We’ll talk there, all right?”

Struggling, Sehwa let her guide him into the carriage, where she wrapped him in thick, layered quilts. Through heavy lids he looked upon the dear face, and rasped with a voice all worn and broken,

“…sister.”^2

“Are you thirsty? Shall I bring water?”

Sehwa only stared at the flask she offered. He had thought he was thirsty, but now no sensation reached him. Instead, as the numbness melted from his face, he felt cool drops sliding down his cheeks.

“Sehwa.”

Tears kept flooding, blurring his sight until even her worried face vanished, only her voice remaining. His own tremulous voice sought her.

“Sister… How am I supposed to live now?”

Footnotes:

1. Shichen (시진 / 時辰): A traditional East Asian unit of time, equal to two modern hours. Here, Sehwa must descend within roughly four hours.

2. Sister (누님 / nunim): A deeply respectful and affectionate way for a man to address his elder sister. Conveys closeness, warmth, and filial respect.