A Listener in the Ruins

"My mother's name was Yeop Do-hong, and she came from a village at the foot of the mountain outside the city walls. She was a schoolmaster's daughter, and she had six siblings. Just like your family."

Banya explained that his mother had been running an errand to a relative's house when she happened to pass by Chunyangru. Despite her modest attire, the natural allure of her figure could not be hidden. At that very moment, a lecher entering Chunyangru on his way to the Annex set his eyes on her, and thus, Yeop Do-hong's fate was sealed.

"Unlike the courtesans, the slaves of the Annex use their real names. Courtesans have a chance to catch the eye of some wealthy man and buy their freedom, but the Annex slaves do not. Since they would never leave that place alive, they had no need for stage names."

Not long after Yeop Do-hong became a slave in the Annex, she caught the eye of Hwa Jak.

"Even when my mother told him she was pregnant, that bastard of a biological father refused to take her out of the Annex. Without the help of a physician or a midwife, my mother gave birth to me here all by herself, and we lived like that for four years."

Banya let out a dry chuckle.

"Then, his temper soured by an argument with his primary wife, Hwa Jak brought my mother and me into the inner quarters of Jeokhwa Palace, almost as a spiteful retaliation."

Tragically, Banya's mother possessed nothing but her natural beauty; her temperament was entirely foreign to coquetry or scheming. Already weakened after childbirth, Yeop Do-hong grew increasingly ill under the strain of the power struggles within the inner quarters. Banya said that even now, whenever he thought of his mother, he could still hear her coughing.

"She needed medicine. But until the day she died, she couldn't get a single dose. Isn't it strange? We had clearly left the Annex... left that living hell and come to Jeokhwa Palace, a place rotting with wealth, yet we couldn't even get medicine. Why couldn't we have the common cough medicine that even the servants of Jeokhwa Palace took...?"

Yet, it wasn't as if he wished to return to the Annex. Banya muttered that he would rather have been beaten to death by Hwa Mujin and his gang, who tormented him at every turn, than ever set foot in the Annex again.

"Because I have already experienced hell here, I know exactly what kind of place a man like me will fall into when he dies."

Banya's dark eyes, their depths unfathomable, turned toward Yeongso.

"Have you ever chewed on the flesh of a living, struggling person, Wife? Have you ever swallowed it? This is the kind of place that forces you to do such things. They would hold cold blades to the throats of both parties, force them to do it, and then, when you actually did it out of fear of death, they would mock you, telling everyone to look at those disgusting creatures."

The words spilling from his mouth were horrors that should never have appeared even in a child's worst nightmare. When a child is born only to find the world surrounding them is such a place, what thoughts must cross their mind? How had Banya managed to survive here?

Yeongso pictured the basement where the Annex slaves were said to live. A damp, freezing room without a single ray of light. She imagined a two-year-old Banya huddled there, helpless. She thought of Banya, still trapped there even at four years old. It felt as if her heart were being dragged down into the dark earth.

Surprisingly, we did have something in common...

Yeongso met Banya's bleak gaze.

That you, too, were once someone who feared death.

Banya slowly reached out. With a hand stained with blood and dust, he gently caressed Yeongso's peach-blossom cheek.

"If you had been born here, would you still be so pure that even Seowangmo would covet you?"

Yeongso could not easily find the words to answer her husband's question.

Upon returning to Cheonsaryeon, Banya submerged himself in a bath from head to toe. He did not want to leave ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠even a single speck of dust from the Chunyangru Annex on his body.

When he stepped out after his bath, he saw a jar of salve for his wounds and clean cotton cloths laid out on the table. The only person in Cheonsaryeon who would show him such consideration was his wife, Yeongso. Since he had said he didn't want to see anyone today, she must have quietly left the items while he was washing.

"You really are strange."

Even though a minor wound like this would heal on its own if left alone for a few days.

"Did you start to pity me after hearing what happened at the Annex?"

If so, it was even stranger. Just what was going on inside Baekri Yeongso's head?

"I told you, I killed you."

And seventeen times, at that. Yet, despite being horrified by this truth, Yeongso had willingly helped him with his good deeds. Today, she had even run to the ruins where he stood and met his gaze. Was it because she had no memory of dying seventeen times at her husband's hands? Was that why she could act this way?

Banya recalled the times he had repeated his regressions. In those moments when his eyes rolled back in blind rage and he took his wife's life, Yeongso had somehow remained serene even in the face of death. Her clear, calm face, looking resigned yet infinitely resolute. For some reason, that had infuriated him.

No matter how much he demanded, Yeongso never opened her mouth. So, in the next life, he inflicted pain upon her until that detestable face of hers contorted in agony. Though Yeongso was the one undergoing the torture, in the end, it was always Banya who ended up begging like a desperate suppliant.

Only after everything had ended in failure did Banya finally realize: opening Baekri Yeongso's mouth was far more difficult than bringing the entire world to its knees. He, who had prided himself on being able to achieve anything he set his mind to, had never once managed to elicit a proper answer from his wife. And so, he had arrived at today.

Banya had told his wife stories of his past amidst the ruins of the Chunyangru Annex—the very place that had contributed so heavily to making him the notoriously infamous man he was today. In hindsight, it felt a little ridiculous.

"I did everything I could to make you speak, but in the end... I was the one talking again."

Yet, strangely, he did not regret it. Normally, he would have clicked his tongue, vexed at having done something so useless, but today was different. If anything, he felt glad that she was the one listening.

Ma Ryun would have guessed where his master had gone, let him vent his feelings, and given him space until he returned. But his wife had come to him directly. She had crossed over the high walls and entered the ruins, even going so far as to use the martial arts she so desperately wished to hide in broad daylight. Because of that, Banya did not have to speak his unspoken words to the empty air.

Was this what it felt like to have someone who truly, deeply listened?

"I didn't know. My mother was someone who could barely support her own body..."

She had lacked the strength to tend to her young son's wounds. After being miserably cast out of Jeokhwa Palace, Banya had lived solely for revenge. Even when the master he had struggled to find treated him with brutal harshness, it was revenge and hostility that kept Banya on his feet. I will become stronger than those who insulted me and repay them a hundredfold. He could not tolerate showing pain or saying he could not go on. No one will help me. Such things do not happen in this world. If I cannot kill my enemy, I am the one who dies.

Banya had grown increasingly merciless toward himself. He had used his memories of the Chunyangru Annex and the inner quarters of Jeokhwa Palace as fuel for his rage without hesitation. Now that the horrific Chunyangru itself was being dismantled by the authorities, shouldn't he just feel relieved and leave it at that? For a moment, even Banya had thought so. But in truth, that had not been enough. He must have wanted to tell someone.

"To think that person would be Baekri Yeongso."

The moment he had caressed his wife's lovely cheek with his ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠dirty hand came back to him. Why did that woman, who resembled a white magnolia, seem to grow even purer the more he tried to stain her? If someone like you had been by my side during my childhood, would I be different now?

"I must be exceptionally sentimental today. To think of such things..."

He let out a self-deprecating chuckle. Banya briefly considered ignoring the medicine his wife had left behind, but then he sat down on a chair. When he opened the lid of the small jar, the fresh scent of wild herbs wafted out.