Homecoming
The round, bright sun hung high in the sky. Amid the bustling crowd, the irregular clip-clop of hooves echoed through the outskirts of the city, where the air was thick with the pungent stench of manure—so strong it threatened to bring up everything I’d eaten earlier.
“…Hah.”
The foul odor was so potent it made me hold my breath instinctively. As the dizzying smell threatened to overwhelm me, I forced myself to breathe through my mouth instead, drawing in quick, shallow gasps. My eyes scanned the wrinkled faces around me, searching for a familiar one. Not here. Not there either. My feet kept moving until I finally reached the edge of the fence, where I spotted the face I’d known since the capital.
The old coachman was perched on the fence. I waved and called out, “I’m here.”
“Oh? I was starting to wonder when you’d show up… Well, hop on. Let’s go right away.”
He greeted me warmly at first, then immediately stood and gestured toward the carriage. I answered with a hint of surprise, “Right now?”
“Aye, this ain’t a regular run, so we can leave whenever.”
With his peculiar dialect, he brushed off my hesitation as if it were nothing. Since it wasn’t an official route, apparently this was fine. A strangely luxurious homecoming with only one passenger—me.
The carriage left the soft dirt road and rattled onto gravel, its wheels bouncing and jostling my seat as usual. On a normal coach, passengers might chat to pass the time, but here there was only silence between the single passenger and the driver. After all, we’d already said everything worth saying during the few days from the capital to Windren.
“What was it you said you were going to Pardin for? Or did you not mention it?”
The question came suddenly from the front just as I was thinking that. With no one else aboard, I sprawled across the long seat, using my luggage as a pillow, and answered without worrying about prying eyes.
“Ah, it’s my hometown.”
Now that I thought about it, we’d only talked about where Pardin was, how no one traveled there this season, and when I was going—never why.
As I shifted to get comfortable, the coachman’s voice drifted down from above my head. “Oh, so that’s your hometown? Then you’ve been living in the capital since you were that young? My, you’re going to grow up to be someone important.”
“Hmm, not necessarily…”
I trailed off, unable to accept the praise for my age-inappropriate range of activity. Before I could become anyone important, I’d probably struggle just to survive today. A chilling premonition of death crept down my spine, but I forced a faint smile, as if turning away from that miserable future.
Now that the village was drawing near, memories I’d forgotten while obsessing over growth and farming came flooding back. Are they all doing well?
After imagining my parents’ rightful anger, my thoughts turned to the promise I’d made to Rein. She’d been so startled by my short trip, begging me to come back. Neither she nor anyone else in the village could have known that “a short trip” would stretch into two whole years. Come to think of it, I’d be seeing Mir and Lyla again after two years too. They must have grown so much. Rein would be taller than before as well.
Carrying a heart half full of worry and fear, half full of anticipation, I let the carriage’s jolts carry me forward. The smoother the wheel tracks became, the closer we drew to the village—yet somehow, time seemed to slow the nearer we got. I’d thought my resolve was firm, but now that reality was right in front of me, my head spun.
Should I just turn back now? No, it’s already been two years…
Still, if I hadn’t even sent a single letter, the least I could do was come in person. My parents were my parents, but why did they have to live in such a remote village? If they’d lived near even a small city, I could have at least written.
I steadied my wavering resolve and pressed my palms firmly against both cheeks, eyes squeezed shut. The rough leather of my gloves’ palms tickled my skin. Cause and effect. Retribution. Since I was the one who’d declared I wouldn’t return until I could stand on my own, it was only right that I face the consequences now.
“Haa…”
Even so, a sigh escaped my lips. I was finally going home, yet I looked like a complete wreck. From above—well, from the front of the carriage—the coachman’s leisurely voice drifted down, unaware of my inner turmoil.
“Why the heavy sigh? You should be excited to go home.”
“It’s… a bit complicated.”
We’d only known each other a week at most, but whether it was the comfort of lying down, the gentle rocking, or the calm wisdom in his older voice, I found myself spilling everything far too easily. The short, impulsive journey that began as a dream in a small rural village. The enjoyable days with the traveling merchant. The sudden parting after an unpleasant incident, and the revenge I bought with money. New connections, growth… and now.
After hearing the whole story, the coachman just chuckled. “So your parents don’t even know if you’re alive or dead?”
“Probably not.”
I scratched my cheek awkwardly at the obvious truth. Right—two years had passed. They might have already given up on me. My father was the type to brush most things aside, so he might have even cleared out my room by now. My mother must have worried a lot. News of a carriage attack in the capital would never reach a tiny village like this.
What should I say the moment I stepped inside? I’d only been thinking about getting scolded, but it wasn’t that simple. My thoughts grew as dark as storm clouds. After a long silence, the coachman’s voice came again, as if he’d read the trouble on my face.
“Just say, ‘I’m home. I’m sorry for making you worry.’ That should do it. That’s what family’s for, isn’t it?”
“…Yes.”
I gave a short reply to the weathered voice as the sunset painted the horizon. The village appeared ahead—unchanged, neither big nor small. The place I’d endured for thirteen years, now so longed for after only two years apart. One corner of my mouth twitched upward without my permission. Worries aside, some part of me had instinctively wanted to come home.
The carriage rolled smoothly into the village without anyone stopping it. Unlike the city, there were no strict checkpoints or designated stopping areas here. The coachman parked wherever he liked to let the horses rest. It was late winter, near dusk, and few people were out.
“I’ll take care of things here, so you go on ahead.”
“…Thank you for your hard work.”
After bowing my head in thanks, I walked the familiar dirt path by the light of the setting sun. The soft crunch of soil beneath my feet sounded especially clear today. Houses and fields unchanged after two years, fences that had been replaced. I knew exactly where my feet should go, yet each step grew heavier. My legs felt shackled as I finally stood before the door I’d passed through countless times.
I reached for the handle, then lowered my arm again. Instead of turning it, I raised my hand and knocked gently with a curled finger, like a guest visiting someone else’s home. Tap, tap. The hollow sound filled the air. Footsteps approached. With every step, my heart pounded wildly.
“Who is it?”
I thought I’d prepared myself, but when the door flew open with that low voice, I flinched. Slowly, I lifted my bowed head. Our eyes met, and I instinctively looked down again. The heavy footsteps turned and walked back inside without a word. My father had simply opened the door and returned indoors. The door stayed open.
My mother, puzzled by the strange behavior, came to close it—only to find me standing there. “Dear, wasn’t someone here? Why did you leave the door—”
Her eyes met mine. In front of my father, my mouth had refused to move, but before my mother, words finally came, painfully. “I’m… home.”
Her face filled with shock, just as I’d expected. In this house, I was already a dead person. Guilt I’d buried surged up and stabbed at my heart. My shamelessly raised head dropped back to the ground. My mother’s lips trembled as she pressed them together, then her hands—surprisingly strong—struck my back over and over. It didn’t hurt as much as it would have from my father, but… this was probably the first time she had ever hit me in earnest.