Chapter 177
Chapter 177
Honestly, I'm not much of a countryside person.
I'd lived my whole life in cities, so I liked being able to pick up daily necessities at any hour, having a large supermarket a short trip away, and getting around comfortably by public transit without needing a car.
Places surrounded by nothing but rice paddies, fields, or mountains don't appeal to me. On top of that, I did my military service in Gangwon-do, which left me with a deeply ingrained negative association with mountains. I'd had my fill—done my lifetime's worth of climbing there.
Maybe that's why I never bothered hiking even when I lived in Seoul.
Or, wait. Maybe not. Now that I think about it, that might've just been me being lazy.
None of that meant we were actually out climbing a mountain right now, of course.
It was more that Yang Hye-in's grandmother's house simply happened to be on a mountain.
Not that it was inaccessible by car or completely isolated without a single neighbor. But the village wasn't exactly sprawling either. From here, you could take in almost all of it at a glance.
There were what looked like a few orchards, and the rest was pure mountain.
The way the view closed in so abruptly felt a little stifling.
What's wrong with it? I like it.
As I sat out on the wooden porch thinking that, Sara spoke to me.
It's quiet here. Nobody's watching you, either.
If someone really set their mind to it, I'm pretty sure they could watch all they wanted.
Well, of course; there are mountains in front and behind. Whether you hide among people downtown or among trees on a mountain, the result is the same: you can't be seen. From my time in the service, camouflage patterns are more effective than you'd think.
...You really know how to kill the mood.
Sara grumbled. I could practically see her pouting, and I ended up smiling a little.
Well, it's not as if I didn't understand at all.
The air here was certainly clean, and the stars would probably be stunning at night. I'd once climbed up to a mountain outpost and looked up at the sky in genuine awe. The problem was, that kind of beauty only lasts a day or two.
Seriously, why does every thought circle back to your army days...?
Sara grumbled again, as if the very spirit had drained out of her.
"......."
Following Sara's suggestion, I tried focusing a little more on the scenery.
Or rather, maybe I should say I stopped trying to focus.
I let the tension leave my eyes and stared blankly into the distance.
The feel of the old, dry, crumbly wood grain against my fingertips where I rested my hand on the porch.
The distant sound of cars passing on the road from time to time.
The chirping of birds far off. And the oddly-timed cooing unique to oriental turtle doves.
When a breeze swept through, a whoosh followed as the trees all swayed their branches in one direction, and the soft, natural wind slipped right through the gaps in the old countryside porch.
Hm. Taking it in like this, maybe it wasn't so bad. At least it was a nice place to sit out in weather like this. The gray stone walls weren't much, but inside, a flower bed full of blooms that Grandmother had tended was far prettier than I'd expected.
See? I'd want a little house in a place like this someday, just growing flowers.
Though I'm sure I'd change my tune once midsummer or midwinter hit.
...Are you really going to keep this up to the very end?
While I was bickering with Sara in my head like that, I heard someone plop down beside me.
It was So-hee.
So-hee was holding a tray piled high with traditional sweets and fruit; I had no idea where they'd all come from.
She even had a yakgwa (honey cookie) in her mouth.
"Wan shum?"
"No, I'm fine."
......I really was. My stomach was completely full now.
Yang Hye-in's grandmother always wore a stern expression, but otherwise she fit the archetype of a doting grandmother perfectly. The kind who takes deep satisfaction in feeding her grandchildren, and the adorable kids who tagged along with her granddaughter, with everything she has. The very image that comes to mind at the word "grandmother."
Which personally made it a little more uncomfortable.
Not that I disliked the grandmother. Quite the opposite—that's precisely why some things were harder to ignore.
The fact that when Yang Hye-in talked about her hometown she never mentioned a house where her parents lived likely meant her parents were no longer around.
Put another way, the only person left for Grandmother to look forward to seeing was her granddaughter, Yang Hye-in.
And that was why it felt uncomfortable.
"It's good, though."
Hearing my refusal, So-hee murmured that with a slightly disappointed look.
"What about Ha-neul and Su-a?"
"Still in the room. Listening to Grandmother talk."
"Talk?"
At my question, So-hee nodded.
"Stories about Hye-in when she was little. She brought out photo frames, too."
"Ah......."
I wondered if those two would actually enjoy hearing those stories.
Even I, the person who should be closest to Yang Hye-in, felt like I'd be incredibly uncomfortable listening to tales of her childhood in that kind of setting.
Actually, aside from that, it was a little strange that Ha-neul and Su-a, not So-hee, who at least had some minimal connection to Yang Hye-in, were the ones listening in.
"Well, I am your maid. You know that, right? That I'm still on duty? Since Yang Hye-in is on leave, I have to act as your personal maid."
And then So-hee suddenly thrust a yakgwa at me, and before I knew it, I'd opened my mouth and taken it.
"......."
Seeing that, So-hee flashed a triumphant smile.
...Was this some kind of learned response?
*
Eventually, the excuse that I "couldn't eat any more and needed some fresh air" was wearing thin, so I quietly followed So-hee back inside.
"Ah, Sara, come look at this."
The moment I stepped into the room, my eyes met Ha-neul's.
Ha-neul and Su-a were sitting beside Grandmother, listening intently.
"Here, this is Hye-in... from when she was in elementary school."
Wow.
Big Sister Hye-in.
The most awkward two-word combination in the world.
Yang Hye-in sat a little apart from the three of them, kneeling in place with an unreadable, expressionless face.
She looked almost like a life-sized figurine.
Ha-neul's eyes as she looked at me seemed desperate for help, so I reluctantly moved closer to the open album.
It wasn't a photo saved on a smartphone or displayed on a computer screen—it looked like a print from film photography.
In the photo, which had a slightly yellower tint than reality, a young child stood beaming brightly.
Her hair wasn't short.
And on either side of the child stood two adults who resembled her closely. One was a woman, the other a man.
The child in the center was probably Yang Hye-in in her younger days, and the adults on either side were likely Yang Hye-in's parents.
"Ah...... she's pretty."
I just said something innocuous.
And it wasn't exactly a lie. Yang Hye-in really had been a pretty child. The current Yang Hye-in was beautiful, too, so it didn't take much imagination to believe she'd had a lovely face in her younger years.
"Right? Our Hye-in was pretty ever since she was little."
The problem was that Grandmother responded to my comment with that, looking absolutely delighted.
And over in the corner, Yang Hye-in remained stock-still, still expressionless.
I was confident that no matter how Yang Hye-in reacted here, I'd feel intensely awkward. If she blushed and acted pleased, it would be weird; if she openly hated it, that would also be uncomfortable. Honestly, this non-reaction was the least uncomfortable option.
Not that it wasn't uncomfortable.
What on earth had I been thinking when I agreed to come all the way out here? I mulled it over once again.
"This one, uh, so......."
I opened my mouth to dodge the awkwardness somehow, only to realize I didn't actually have anything to say.
"......Is this what she looked like in elementary school?"
I fell back on that safe, innocuous question.
"Of course, elementary school. From middle school on, she lived in Seoul."
Grandmother said that with the same beaming expression.
"......."
Hm.
How should I put this.
I got the feeling that if I dug any deeper here, a truly monumentally uncomfortable story was about to come out.
"When Hye-in was little—"
"Grandmother."
Fortunately, before Grandmother could continue, Yang Hye-in cut her off first.
"How's the field doing?"
"The field?"
Grandmother turned her head toward Yang Hye-in as she asked.
"Yeah. The field. You had one on the hill out back."
Out of all the times I'd heard Yang Hye-in speak, this was the voice and tone that sounded most like she was actually talking to family.
But it also felt oddly like she was acting.
"Of course, I'm still tending it. It'll be a while before the sweet potatoes are ready, though......."
"I want to go see."
"Now? It's still far too early to harvest, you know?"
"You can still see how much they've grown without digging them up. I want to go see."
"Really?"
Grandmother thought for a moment, then—
"Well, if my granddaughter wants to see them, then we'll go see them. Let's go together."
—slowly rose to her feet.
"Would you young ladies like to come along? Would you like to see the sweet potatoes growing?"
"No need for that. They're tired from the trip here. Tell them to rest."
"Hm? Ah, should we......?"
Grandmother murmured that with an oddly regretful look.
......I knew perfectly well that Yang Hye-in's words were suddenly forced, just pulled out of thin air.
But still, thanks to that, we dodged a crisis, and I was grateful for it.