The Finest Spot in the Courtyard

The reply arrived at midday the next day.

I had been staring ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠at the sky since morning—long enough that the nymphs asked if I had lost something up there.

A sound like the heavens splitting open, and Hermes dropped into the field. The nymphs leveled their spears, then lowered them again once they saw who it was.

"A letter! I came the instant I got it—fastest I could!"

A small pouch came with the letter. Black silk. The moment I took it, a coolness touched my fingertips.

Even the pouch carried Ahjussi's presence. The nymphs beside me flinched and stepped back. I was probably the only one here who found that ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠chill welcome.

Soil. He really sent it.

I hugged the pouch to my chest and opened the letter first.

I counted. It really was five lines. I had never in my life seen a letter that bragged about stretching from three lines to five and then told me to count them myself.

And the book. Whether it was dull or not was something we could decide together by reading it—yet he meant to finish it alone and hand down a verdict. Which only meant it would take twice as long.

I was so frustrated I laid the letter face-down on my knee, then picked it right back up. It was also his way of saying he refused to give me anything unworthy.

And then there was the fourth line.

The Underworld is not ground for the living to tread. That answer will not change, no matter how many times you ask.

Exactly the refusal I had expected. Not a single character showed any sign of yielding.

And yet, nestled among that refusal, was the phrase about the finest spot in the courtyard.

Half and half. He was always like this.

I read the fourth line once more.

Not ground for the living to tread.

Strange. Eunomia had crossed those rivers countless ages while still alive, and Hermes still raced those corridors as a living god. So it was not a matter of the ground itself—it was a matter of permission. Ahjussi's permission.

If I only had that, I could go to the Underworld too. To his side.

I read those five lines about ten times right where I stood. By the tenth, the letters were speaking in his voice. At the part that said count the lines, I almost saw his face.

I put the letter in the top compartment of the box—the one for replies only. There were only two so far, but I had made the compartment already. It would fill up.

Even after finishing his errand, Hermes stayed planted on the field bank. Lately he was half-afraid of our fields, yet every time he delivered something he always lingered like this before leaving. Probably because of the honey water the nymphs poured for him. Today that suited me fine. I had questions stacking up.

"By the way, Noonim. I rode a boat yesterday."

The boy who had been draining his honey water opened his mouth all on his own, bright with excitement.

"A boat?"

"They opened a new waterway on the Cocytus and launched the first boat. That was yesterday, and of course that was when I got your letter. 'Deliver it as fast as you can,' right? So I chased him all the way onto the boat."

"…Onto the boat."

"The river was a festival. Lanterns strung in two rows, nymphs lined up along the banks. The boat was newly built, too. They had set two seats side by side at the prow and even laid out furs."

Two. Side by side.

"Who sat in those two seats?"

"Uncle and that nymph. You know—the one I mentioned before, who manages the Cocytus. She sat next to him to explain the waterway. But here's the funny part. When I dropped in, that nymph was standing at the prow mid-speech. 'Your Majesty, from this day forth this river—' and right there, I landed. Perfect timing, right?"

Perfect timing indeed.

"Did she finish what she was saying?"

"Nope. Uncle told her to go on, and she said she had nothing more to say. Looked like she definitely did, though. Oh—and when they disembarked she offered him that fur. Said it was just equipment. Who offers equipment that respectfully?"

"That nymph. What does she look like?"

"Mint-colored bob, completely expressionless. But they say she's incredible at her work. All the riverside nymphs follow her."

"Will that boat launch often from now on?"

"Dunno. Didn't hear anything like that. Why?"

"No reason. You just seemed so thrilled about it."

"…Well, good that she's capable. River work has to be done well."

The problem was that she did it well. If she had been incompetent, she never would have caught Ahjussi's eye in the first place.

The flower stalk I had been turning in my fingers swayed in my grip.

It did not break. I counted one breath and uncurled my fingers one by one. The flower was fine. Not a single leaf tip damaged.

See? I can do it now.

I had learned, in ten days, how not to kill the things I wanted to kill. If anything else died in my fields, the lockdown would only stretch longer—and this power had to be saved for the place that truly needed it.

"Noonim? Your face looks a little…"

"Thank you, Hermes."

"Huh?"

"For flying faster than anyone in the world. Because of you I learned something very useful. From now on my letters are always first priority, understood?"

"W-well, of course. That's my job."

He set down the honey-water cup, bowed more politely than usual, and flew off.

Alone, I pictured yesterday's boat in my mind.

A river hung with two rows of lanterns. A newly built boat. Two seats set side by side. And a sentence begun at the prow.

Your Majesty. From this day forth this river—

I did not need to hear the rest. She had been offering him the river. Choosing the finest thing she possessed, timed to the loveliest hour. However many lanterns there were, the light had fallen on only one seat beside him.

Ahjussi alone would not have known. The guide at the oars, the nymphs on the bank, everyone on that boat would have known. And now I knew too.

It had finally shown its hand.

Come to think of it, a river that had flowed quietly for ages had chosen this exact moment to dig a new channel. Too much effort for coincidence.

Strangely, I was not angry. My vision did not go white the way it had last time, and no flowers died. Instead my head went cold. Once you saw what the other side had put forward, it was your turn to choose what to put forward next.

What she had offered was a river. Something that belonged to the Underworld. Something in a place I could not go.

So what would I offer?

The answer came at the evening table.

"Mother. Have you thanked Ahjussi?"

Mother looked at me mid-spoonful of porridge.

"Thanked him?"

"He sends two attendants every night. It's been more than ten days already. The Underworld must keep him busy, yet he is pulling hands away just to guard our fields."

Mother's spoon stopped in midair. Her face said she had only just realized.

"…You're right. I was so distracted I never properly thanked him."

"Wouldn't a letter alone look a little thin? He is your brother, after all."

"True. We ought to treat him to a meal at least."

"A dinner invitation sounds perfect. We can show him the wheat fields while we're at it."

"I'll set the table myself."

"I'll help. I know Ahjussi's tastes. We've prepared first-birthday spreads together for hundreds of years."

Mother laughed. The first laugh I had seen from her in days.

"Yes. We have our Kore, don't we."

We did. I was the one who had been preparing this table longer than anyone in the world.

Even after the evening dishes were cleared, Mother was already muttering through what foods to serve. That was how the work began.

On the way to my room I counted on my fingers. One day for the invitation to arrive. One day for the reply. A few days to settle the date. Generously, within ten days.

I moved the soil that night.

The hour when Mother slept and the guard shift left a gap. I could find that gap now with my eyes closed.

I crouched before the seedbed and opened the pouch. Cool air rose in a rush. Even the scent was different. If you took the rain-wet smell of earth and stripped away only the moisture, it might smell like this. I scooped a handful and held it to my nose.

So this was the smell of his courtyard. The land where, they said, the sun never rose and flowers never bloomed for ages on end. And yet, strangely, I was not afraid at all. Far from afraid—I only wanted to keep breathing it in.

I poured soil before Number One. I dug around the roots, mixed half in, covered the rest on top, and pressed it firm with my palm.

"Number One. This is the soil from his house."

The pomegranate leaves swayed gently in the night wind.

"You're the first among us to set foot in his soil. Aren't you jealous? I am."

I shared half a handful with Number Two as well. Still, the largest share went to Number One. The place it would go was the deepest of all.

Even after watering, I did not wash my hands. I left the black soil under my nails as it ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠was. He had said it was from the finest spot in the courtyard. Meaning the place Ahjussi himself had chosen.

I returned to my room and sat by the window.

The invitation would go in Mother's name. Ahjussi could not refuse his sister's thanks. That was the kind of man he was. A man who had never once, in all those ages, skipped a first-birthday invitation.

If that river had lanterns and a new boat and furs, this field had me. It did not matter if the other side had prepared for ages. I had been prepared since before I was born.

If you cannot go to the mountain, call the mountain to you. The pretext for calling him had been born at tonight's table, and as for the skill of setting a feast—all of Olympus already knew.

On the day of the invitation, talk of that river might come up. If it did, I would listen with a smile. A new waterway—how impressive.

I looked for a long time at the black soil still under my nails. Once I ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠washed it would be gone, so I would not wash for a few days. In truth, even if it washed away, it would not matter.

Before long, everything beneath my feet would be this soil.