OGHOU C31

Chapter 31

“How am I supposed to live now?”

“Sehwa, I know someone in Sichuan…”

Cheongyeon lifted his damp eyelashes. The woman’s face disappeared, and the familiar ceiling of his room came into view.

The instant he opened his eyes, his head throbbed so fiercely that he had to shut them again. Before he could even recall the contents of the dream, the storm of emotions rising within him tormented his heart, leaving no space for other thoughts. Though he reminded himself it was only the memories lingering in this body, the waves of longing that surged up again and again left his heart aching as if it were breaking apart.

“Sirang…”

Cheongyeon whispered his name aloud. The voice that had been frail within the dream returned to normal, but his spirit was still wandering through snowy mountains.

Just how deeply had Sehwa loved him? In reality, Cheongyeon had seen him only a few times within dreams, and did not know the man at all—so what point was there in yearning like this?

Each night, as the dreams stacked upon one another and memories uncoiled, he felt more and more as though he was being assimilated into Sehwa. This body and mind were being steadily swayed by memories that were not his own. At this rate, if he recovered all of the past, would he truly end up living as Sehwa’s very self? The thought alone filled him with dread.

Though he had chanced to possess this body, he had not intended to steal another man’s life. All the more reason why he tried to act differently from the Cheongyeon of the original story.

Rubbing his eyes with a palm, he remembered the face of the woman he saw just before he awoke.

“She even had an older sister…?”

In the original, it had clearly said Sehwa had no family, no friends—utterly alone. Of course, by now, he had long since stopped trusting the “original” as any guide.

If each dream brought him such pain, perhaps it would be better to know nothing at all. How much easier it would be if the past could simply remain buried.

Now that he thought of it, hadn’t he collapsed upon arriving at the inn? Struggling to emerge from the dream, Cheongyeon remembered—just before fainting, he had suffered a nosebleed. He reached toward his nose, but found no blood now.

“Ah… Jeha must have been frightened again.”

He recalled the boy’s round eyes, running panic-stricken to him. Cheongyeon worried for the child and slowly looked around. The room was empty, but the blood-stained cloth upon the table showed that someone had tended him before stepping out.

As he was rubbing his swollen eyes, a voice came from outside the door.

“I am coming in.”

And so it was Somyeong who entered. He must have sensed from outside that Cheongyeon was already awake.

Approaching the bed, he pressed gently against his shoulder, pushing him back when Cheongyeon tried to sit up.

“…I’ve seen this before, haven’t I?”

Indeed—when else but the last time he collapsed, just the same. This frail body never ceased to cause trouble.

“You must have been overexerting yourself. There seems to be no severe damage to your health, but you should refrain for a time from going out.”

“Yes… Forgive and thank you, great master.”

“It is of no consequence.”

After a moment’s hesitation, Cheongyeon asked,

“May I… shamelessly make one request?”

“Yes.”

“Is there some prescription that could induce deep dreamless sleep? Something to keep me from dreaming…”

“There are such ingredients, but they would clash dangerously with what you are already taking. It is best you refrain.”

“Ah…”

“While I am here, I will treat you with acupuncture.”

After considering, Cheongyeon politely declined. No—he could not trouble him further. He had already traveled all this way just for him.

But then where was Jeha?

“And the child?”

“……”

“Did I frighten him terribly?”

“…Not exactly that.”

Somyeong trailed off, turned away, and opened the window. Immediately, the racket of children’s voices drifted in.

“What in the world…?”

With great effort, Cheongyeon rose from bed. As he faltered, Somyeong swiftly moved to support him by the arm. Together, they looked toward the rear courtyard of the inn.

“…What is this?”

Cheongyeon spoke agape, while beside him Somyeong let out a low groan.

Bathed in the fading orange of sunset, two boys were rolling furiously upon the ground, grappling and thrashing—an enraged Jeha and Dokyeong.

“Why are the children… fighting like that?”

“After you lost consciousness, the boy became noisy and disgruntled. He had already been seething at that young lord since yesterday, so I suggested they settle it in a bout. This is the result.”

A bout? No—this was nothing but a street brawl.

The branches that must have been substitutes for swords had long since been flung aside. The two boys, nearly the same build, wrestled wildly to gain the upper hand, rolling all over the ground. With a sigh, Somyeong rubbed at his temple.

“It seems my teaching has been inadequate.”

“Shouldn’t we stop them?”

“Children grow through such things…”

Yet his voice lacked any true confidence. Clearly, Jeha would face stern reprimand from his master before the night was through. Cheongyeon scratched at his neck, staring down at them.

There would be no clear winner, it seemed. After some time, both were spent, lying strewn upon the ground, their harsh breathing filling the courtyard. Gasping, Dokyeong sat upright and brushed the dirt from his fine silken clothes.

“…Is it over?”

But contrary to Cheongyeon’s hope, Dokyeong gestured toward Jeha, still lying opposite, and said,

“Once more.”

What? No! Stop already.

But before anyone could interfere, Jeha sprang up, nodding firmly—eyes blazing with determination, desperate to prevail over this young lord.

Anxiously fearing they’d hurt each other, Cheongyeon could not yet realize—it was the first time these two had found worthy opponents, and in truth, they were enjoying the fight.

That evening, feeling somewhat recovered, Cheongyeon visited Dokyeong’s room.

Seated at the desk, brush in hand mid-drawing, the boy raised his head. His split lips and bruised cheek made for a pitiable sight. From his sleeve, Cheongyeon produced a poultice and placed it before him.

“Apply this. You seem to need it.”

“……”

In silence, Dokyeong took the medicine, gaze fixed on him. Without his usual smile, the boy appeared unsettlingly somber, but Cheongyeon no longer wished to meddle further in his affairs.

‘No point bringing up the poison—he would only deny it. Bringing this medicine was enough meddling as it is.’

He was just about to take his leave when Dokyeong looked up and asked,

“Would you sit awhile?”

“…Pardon?”

“Just a short while.”

Perhaps he had something to say. Curious, Cheongyeon sat beside him. His eyes naturally fell to the paper upon the table: flower petals drawn in delicate strokes, so exquisite they could have been mistaken for a painting by a master artist.

Dokyeong carefully set the drawing aside, then rummaged through his belongings until he drew something forth. Returning, he spread it before Cheongyeon.

A fan. Upon it, the bare branches of a tree had been painted.

“This is something I never finished. It is time now.”

Speaking quietly, he lifted his brush once more, and with swift, graceful strokes, crimson petals bloomed across the branches. After adding several blossoms, he lifted his gaze.

“Take it. Leave it to dry overnight, and it is yours.”

“You would give this to me?”

“Payment for the medicine.”

Did the children here always insist on balancing accounts? Could nothing be accepted as simple kindness?

Suddenly remembering Muho, who once claimed beating an unruly guest was “payment for the meal,” Cheongyeon gave a wry smile.

“There was no need.”

“I broke your fan—I should grant you a new one.”

“…So at last, you admit it?”

Glancing sideways at him, Dokyeong gave a small smile.

“By now everything is already exposed. I have even been beaten into the dirt by a younger child. What have I left to hide?”

“……”

Unsure how to reply, Cheongyeon only gazed at the blossoms painted upon the fan. There was something about the boy’s brushwork that calmed the mind, soothing his heart wearied with dreams.

For a time, silence reigned. At last, Cheongyeon’s eyes drifted to the bruise on his cheek.

“With your face injured, what now? Did your brothers scold you?”

“My brothers have no concern for me.”

“Ah…”

“Not my brothers, nor the elders of the household. From the day I was born, I have had no one’s concern.”

Clearly, Dokyeong had decided upon honesty—he began to speak of his origins, of his reasons for harboring ill will against his siblings, of all that had led him here. The more he confessed, the more bewildered Cheongyeon became.

‘What? Why all this, suddenly? He wasn’t supposed to be this kind of character. Why has he changed?’

Catching the confusion on his face, Dokyeong chuckled.

“Because today, I realized much.”

“…Realized?”

“Watching that younger child hurl himself at me so relentlessly, I truly saw… how foolishly I have been living. Always excusing myself by saying I lacked talent for martial arts—when in fact, I had simply given up too easily.”

With clear voice, Dokyeong declared,

“So I have made my decision. I will go and beg that child’s master to take me as his disciple.”

What—?

At this audacious declaration from the boy fated to be the future secondary male lead, Cheongyeon was utterly aghast.