What Happened in the Persimmon Tree
Do you know the feeling of opening your eyes to a ceiling you've never seen before? When that feeling dragged on for days on end, it could only grow stranger still.
At this rate, it's going to become a familiar ceiling.
"You're up early today."
I was blankly learning the pattern overhead when a maid, sensing someone stir, opened the door and came in.
"Good morning, young master."
A maid so beautiful she hardly seemed real stepped inside and washed my face with her own hands. In any ordinary situation I would have refused out of embarrassment alone, but none of this felt real enough for that. I simply offered my face and asked the same question I asked every day.
"What did you say my name was again?"
Ask something like that, and most people would think, Aigoo, our young master has finally lost it. She answered as if she were long used to it.
"You are Young Master Seo Hoon. Repeat after me. Seo. Hoon."
"Seo Hoon..."
She explained it as patiently as if she were teaching a small child, one piece at a time, and as I watched her, something faint tried to surface.
Seo Hoon.
If I remembered one thing that defined Seo Hoon...
Seo Hoon was the foolish older brother character.
Not a fool-type character. A foolish older brother character.
"So... why was I hurt again?"
I asked, rubbing the crown of my head. It still throbbed.
Her expression stiffened, just slightly, as if the question put her on the spot. Then she put on a customer-service smile and answered.
"You fell headfirst out of a persimmon tree."
So that was why my head hurt.