I'm Going to the Pond
I'm going. I'm going to the pond. We headed back home. Kim Jin-sa and Hong ssi Bu-in insisted we stay at their place until the wounds healed, but I refused outright—staying there would've given me a fit of rage.
……But why did Hong ssi Bu-in want us to stay? Kim Jin-sa had his reasons—I'm his son, after all—but his principal wife being nice to her husband's illegitimate child? Anyone would think I was her own kid or grandkid.
Anyway, when we returned home in the daylight, the Hwacheok Village folks had cleaned everything spotless. It was so tidy, it was hard to believe that nightmare had gone down just last night.
“Ah!”
But the evidence was undeniable. Clear as the fresh scar etched across my forehead.
“S-sorry, son. Does it hurt a lot?”
Mom, who was disinfecting my wound, heard my groan and looked apologetic. I flashed her a bright smile instead and shook my head.
“No, it's fine. This is supposed to sting. Just… go easy, okay?”
“A-alright.”
Mom picked up a cotton ball soaked in red antiseptic with chopsticks and dabbed it gently over the wound, stitched not with medical thread but with strands of hair.
“Son, how is it? Still hurt?”
“J-just… a little.”
“Oh dear. Close your eyes, honey. The antiseptic might sting.”
“No way. Then I can't see your pretty face.”
“Hee hee hee.”
Mom's face lit up with a pleased smile at the compliment. I memorized that smile before closing my eyes. As she resumed disinfecting, she spoke up.
“Son, you'll listen to Mom from now on, right?”
“Of course. I'm a filial son, after all.”
“Hee hee. What kind of filial son calls himself one?”
“If there aren't any, I'll make one.”
“Good boy. Next time something like that happens, just run away.”
“Actually, I'm a total unfilial jerk.”
“Son.”
“Nope. Why should I? You'd help me no matter what, if the roles were reversed.”
“But—”
“No buts. Not changing my mind. Give it up already—aaack! Mom?!”
She wasn't just disinfecting anymore—she was pressing down with the cotton. I jolted in shock. When I opened my eyes, there was Mom glaring at me, clearly unimpressed.
“Son, you gonna keep messing around? I'm being serious.”
“I'm serious too.”
“……”
“……”
We stared at each other in silence. I was the first to back down.
“Fine, I get it.”
It was a stupid move. Charging at guys who outnumbered me and had swords to boot. Getting off with just stitches was damn lucky.
“Don't regret it later. Leaving Mom behind to run.”
“Hee hee hee. How could I be disappointed? My son's choosing to live.”
Mom smiled genuinely happy and finished up the disinfecting.
“Are you in?”
It was about time to wrap up. Eori's mother's voice came from beyond the closed paper door.
“Hold on a sec.”
Mom set down the chopsticks and cotton on a plate, stood, and went out to greet her.
“You? What brings you here?”
“Good day, ma'am. How's your health? Is the young master alright?”
“The doctor said it'll scar a bit, but nothing major. Thanks to you all.”
“Oh, no need for that. Ah, we brought a chicken for you and ma'am to enjoy.”
“You didn't have to come empty-handed…!”
She sounded thrilled, though.
While Mom chatted with Eori's mother, I idly scanned the room and spotted something in the corner. Dragging my aching body over, I grabbed the forgotten item: the prayer bead that self-proclaimed monk had given me, saying it'd save my life soon.
Suddenly, I remembered that beggar bastard whose arm I broke. If he hadn't stepped on something and yelled when he snuck into my room, I might've slept right through without knowing.
Nah, no way.
Still, I pocketed the bead—just in case. One pant leg bulging, I crawled back to my spot and sat.
By then, Mom was outside gossiping with Eori's mom, and Eori herself slipped into my room.
“Young master?”
“Uh, y-yeah. Eori.”
I hurriedly covered my forehead when she entered. I knew exactly how the stitched wound looked, thanks to modern knowledge.
“Young master, are you okay?”
Her face was all puffy as she knelt across from me. Like she'd been bawling her eyes out moments ago.
“What about you? Why's your face so swollen? Did someone hit you?”
“No! Of course not!”
“Sorry. You just make me wanna tease.”
“Young master, you're so mean.”
Bad boys are popular. Not me, though.
“……Young master.”
Eori, pouting with her lips pursed, called me again. Her swollen eyes welled up as she asked,
“Does it hurt a lot?”
“Huh? Oh, this? Not really.”
“Let me see.”
“Pervert. Asking to see it like that.”
“It's not like that. Please show me.”
What's with her? She grabbed my hand, pulling it down to peek at the wound. Seeing the caterpillar-like stitches, her lip quivered.
“Eeeeng…! Did it, hurt a lot?”
“Nah, not too bad. Why are you crying?”
“I don't know. Just… seeing you hurt…”
“I'm fine, I said. I took the sword hit—why're you crying?”
“Euuuung…!”
“It's okay. Stop, cut it out.”
I reached out and wiped her tear-streaked cheeks. She finally settled after I dabbed a few times. Then, eyes sparkling determinedly like Mom's, she declared,
“Young master, is this how you disinfect?”
“Yeah, but it's almost done—”
“I'll do it for you. Come here.”
“No, really, it's basically finished. Wait, okay. Here.”
Eori was already set on it. She picked up cotton with chopsticks and dabbed my forehead. Not content, she blew gently on the wound like she was chasing away dust.
“Fuuu. How's that? Still hurt?”
“A-a little?”
“Fuuu. Won't hurt now.”
“Nah, it does.”
“Fuuu, fuuu, fuuu…!”
Like she's eating something hot. She kept blowing, even spitting a bit, but it didn't bother me. I just closed my eyes and let her. Strangely, the usual sting felt milder.
“Hee hee. All done.”
My forehead was soaked enough to skip tonight's round. Eori finally set down the chopsticks, beaming proudly.
“Hm? Young master, shouldn't we do this one too?”
Hooked on disinfecting now, she aimed the soaked cotton at my nail-less finger.
“Uh, should we?”
The antiseptic didn't hurt as much anymore, and in Joseon where a minor infection could kill, better safe. Plus, I had an itch to scratch. I stuck out my finger.
“Ack?!”
“Young master!”
Pain like sanding raw flesh surged up. So intense I couldn't even scream—I crumpled, clutching it.
“Eeeek…!”
“Young master! Are you okay?!”
Eori called out worriedly as I groaned, gripping the freshly disinfected finger. Gasping dramatically, I whispered my prepared line.
“I, I, I'm…!”
“Yes! Young master! What is it?!”
“I-I'm going. I'm going to the pond.”
“Waaah! Young maaaaster!”
Thinking I'd lost my mind for real, she collapsed onto my chest, sobbing. Satisfied, I pushed her off and sat up.
“Eori, hold on. Lemme get up.”
“Young master?”
“Move a sec. Hiss, that stings…!”
“Young master! That's too much!”
Truly worried, she punched my chest. But the bigger the reaction, the more fun for me.
“Sorry, sorry. Wanted to try that line.”
“Too much! For real!”
“Sorry. But got any water? This hurts more than I thought.”
Not mind-melting like the wound antiseptic, but the finger throbbed like sandpaper.
“Hiss, ow, wait. Gonna wash my hands. Hiss…!”
Clutching the finger, I stood. Eori jumped up too, supporting me under the arms like my leg was hurt.
“Young master, I'll help.”
“I'm good. Legs are fine.”
“No, come this way.”
“I said I'm fine.”
Talking big, but I let her help me out of the room. Mom and Eori's mother, sitting side-by-side on the porch chatting, spotted us.
“Son, go easy on teasing Eori. She might collapse.”
“No, ma'am, it's fine. Young master, tell me right away if Eori acts up. Got it?”
“Mooom, when have I ever…!”
Finally felt like things were getting back to normal. With Eori's support, I headed to the yard, to the jar of household water, and rinsed the antiseptic off my finger. Mom called out,
“Son, wash up nice. Eori's mom brought a chicken.”
Chicken? I turned to the basket by Eori's mother. Not boiled whole chicken, but golden fried ones.
Yeah, well, chicken beats soup anyway.