Chapter 176
Chapter 176
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Translator: Vine
Chapter: 177
Chapter Title: Ung and Narani's First Love
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Yeonwoo played with the baby Bankhar, who reacted to music and the fairies, for quite a while before climbing onto the horse.
With a face full of reluctance, he looked at the baby Bankhar and waved.
“Bye, be good.”
He shook the reins and commanded the horse to move forward, just as he’d been taught.
Woof! Woof!
The baby Bankhar barked and chased after Yeonwoo.
Of course, with those short legs, how far could it really keep up...
“Ah...”
Yeonwoo couldn’t easily tear his gaze away from the Bankhar chasing after him.
The young man, who had been watching quietly, said something to Narani.
“Take it and raise it, he says.”
“Me?”
Yeonwoo looked at the Bankhar.
It gazed up at him with sparkling eyes, as if it understood.
Yeonwoo nearly blurted out that he’d take it right away, but he hesitated.
His heart was screaming to bring this friend home immediately, but his head was asking if he could really raise a dog.
When it grows up, it’ll be as big as a mountain—could he take responsibility?
But this was the only animal besides him that could see the fairies?
As these two thoughts clashed,
Yeonwoo couldn’t turn his back on a fellow kind(?).
“Let’s go together.”
The fairy made a motion as if relaying Yeonwoo’s words to the baby Bankhar.
As if it truly understood, the Bankhar barked woof woof and ran toward Yeonwoo.
Worried the Bankhar might get trampled by the horse, Yeonwoo quickly dismounted and picked it up.
Then he said to the young man,
“I’ll take responsibility and raise this kid.”
The young man said something in response, and Narani translated.
“He says it looks like a seed of anxiety to us, but it could be your happiness. So he’s giving it to you.”
Born in winter when it shouldn’t have been, defying the natural order of Mongolia, the Bankhar seemed like a symbol of misfortune to the Mongolians, whose beliefs were tinged with faith—but to Yeonwoo, it was a very special being.
Yeonwoo nodded at the young man’s resonant words and hugged the Bankhar tightly.
* * *
“So, it’s okay if I raise it?”
Having committed first and thought later, Yeonwoo called his dad on video chat to ask.
On the other end, Jihoon saw Yeonwoo clutching the Bankhar tightly and put on a stern face.
-Can you feed the puppy on time, clean up its poop, and handle walks all by yourself?
“Yeah, I’ll do my best.”
-Do your best, huh.
“I can’t guarantee it. What if I get sick or something sudden comes up and I can’t?”
-...Yeah, fair enough.
Jihoon chuckled at his son’s utterly Type-T response.
-Fine, if you want to raise it, what can I do? It’s your house anyway. But like you said, you have to do your absolute best. Taking responsibility for a life isn’t something to take lightly.
“Yeah.”
Yeonwoo nodded solemnly and held out the baby Bankhar.
-Hmm... Pretty big for a pup. Well, anyway... It’s cute.
“Yeah. So, what should we name it?”
-That’s up to you, isn’t it? The moment you name it, you start feeling that sense of responsibility.
“Did you feel that way, Dad?”
Jihoon nodded at Yeonwoo’s question.
-I think I did.
“Got it. I’ll think about it then.”
With that, Yeonwoo ended the video call with Jihoon.
He looked at the baby Bankhar, who was now rolling around with the fairies.
“Wolf?”
He recalled mistaking the full-grown Bankhar for a wolf at first sight and considered naming it Wolf.
No, up close like this, it doesn’t look like a wolf at all. A lion, maybe.
While Yeonwoo pondered, Olivia Snow, fresh from washing up, asked him,
“What’s up, why the long face?”
“I was thinking of a name for the puppy.”
“Hmm... Max? Buddy?”
“Too common.”
“What about Khan?”
Yeonwoo looked at the Bankhar.
“Khan means king in Mongolia—wouldn’t that offend people there?”
“Who cares? It’s gonna live in Korea.”
Yeonwoo shook his head, thinking it might be disrespectful to name it Khan, especially since many K-pop fans in Mongolia might learn about it.
Then, he suddenly remembered thinking it looked like a lion.
“Leo?”
“Leo? Lion?”
“Yeah, doesn’t its fluffy fur kinda look like a lion’s?”
“Don’t lions come in black? Looks more like a bear to me.”
“Bear...”
Now that she mentioned it, it did look like a bear.
“Then let’s call it Ung.”
“Ung? What does that mean?”
“It’s the Hanja for bear. When you read that Hanja in Korean, it’s Ung.”
“Sounds good? Ung?”
“Yeah! Ung! From now on, your name is Ung! Shin Ung!”
Woof!
Yeonwoo beamed as he scooped it up and it barked reflexively.
The next day after adopting his pet dog this way, Yeonwoo met Narani.
Narani looked at him with a tense face.
“Why so nervous?”
“B-Because from now on, you’re my teacher.”
“Hmm... I guess so.”
Yeonwoo nodded and said to Narani,
“First, sing something.”
“Sing? Hoomi?”
“No, you gonna become a singer with hoomi?”
“No, I’m different from Dad. I’m gonna be a K-pop idol.”
“Then sing some K-pop. Got a song you know well? Try it.”
At Yeonwoo’s words, Narani thought for a moment, then closed her eyes, clasped her hands in front of her chest, and began to sing.
It wasn’t a song Yeonwoo made.
It was a hit from a famous six-member girl group.
‘Nice voice.’
He had to consider puberty, but the voice itself was good.
Her vocalization wasn’t bad either.
Of course, a kid who could do hoomi probably had basics like this down.
Her volume was impressive for her age.
But considering her age, it was quite low. Probably even lower after puberty.
A high-tone song from such a voice didn’t match at all.
“Hold on, stop.”
“Why? W-Was it bad?”
“No, this song doesn’t suit your voice.”
“...Is there a song that does suit me?”
“Your voice is on the lower side, so singing high-tone songs strains your vocal cords. That’s why it doesn’t fit, and your vocalization shakes as it goes higher.”
Narani tilted her head at that.
“Too hard.”
Yeonwoo wondered how to explain simply, then changed his approach.
“Do you know Teacher Chae Hayeon’s song?”
Come to think of it, Chae Hayeon had a pretty low voice too. It’d suit this kid better than the idol song she just sang.
“Yeah, I know ‘There Must Be a Reason to Keep Living Anyway.’”
“Great, sing that one.”
It was a song originally meant for someone else but taken by Chae Hayeon—and her most commercially successful one.
Narani closed her eyes and sang ‘There Must Be a Reason to Keep Living Anyway.’
It definitely fit.
Yeonwoo waited until she finished.
“H-How was it?”
As Narani looked at him with flushed cheeks after finishing, Yeonwoo said,
“It was good. You felt it too, right? Easier to sing and sounded better?”
“Yeah. I didn’t know everyone has songs that suit them!”
“Yeah. But one thing that’s a bit lacking...”
“Lacking?”
Narani’s brightened face tensed again. Yeonwoo smiled at her and said,
“It lacks emotion.”
“Emotion?”
“Yeah, it’s important to read and express the emotions in the song. This is a sad song, so you need to convey that. But not overdo it—express it with restraint.”
“Ugh, hard.”
“I’m not saying grasp it overnight. You’re still young, Narani.”
“We’re the same age?”
“True. But still...”
As Yeonwoo pondered how to explain, Narani cut him off.
“Well, you’re a genius. You just get it and express it naturally, right?”
“Huh? Yeah... Let’s say that.”
Yeonwoo figured explaining would be long and complicated, so he let it slide and said to Narani,
“For now, this is perfect. Finding songs that match your voice. Listen a lot, and your ear will open up—you’ll know what suits you and what doesn’t.”
“No practice or anything?”
Yeonwoo nodded.
“Nothing more to do right now. In fact, you shouldn’t.”
“What?”
“Stuff like hoomi. Avoid things that strain your voice.”
“Why?”
“We haven’t hit puberty yet. Don’t stress your throat until it passes.”
Narani let out an “Ah!” and asked Yeonwoo,
“That’s why you don’t sing yourself either?”
“Well... Yeah, something like that.”
“Just once... Can’t you sing for me?”
Yeonwoo shook his head firmly.
“No.”
“Why? Come on, just once!”
“I’m not finished yet.”
“You too?”
“Yeah, I don’t want to show unfinished work to others. It’s a pride thing.”
“Korean guys have huge pride, huh?”
“Probably all guys worldwide.”
Yeonwoo said that and stood up.
“What? You said you’d teach me singing, and that’s it?”
“Nothing more to teach right now. You need to grow more first.”
“...Liar!!”
As Narani shouted, Yeonwoo smiled and said,
“But when you’re much older, past puberty, if you still want to be a singer, I’ll teach you properly then.”
“Really?”
“Really, promise.”
“Then make it a contract.”
“...Contract?”
As Yeonwoo stared in disbelief, Narani said firmly,
“Dad says verbal promises are the lightest. Put every promise on paper and settle with law.”
Even descendants of warriors who roamed the steppes no longer resolved talks with swords and arrows.
Yeonwoo felt some illusion shatter, but let it go.
“When we get back to the ger later, I’ll write it up formally.”
With that, Yeonwoo looked up at the sky.
Anyway...
“I have to head back now.”
“What? Already?”
“Got work to do.”
“...Right. You’re busy...”
As Narani said with a sullen face, Yeonwoo told her,
“Where there’s parting, there’s meeting.”
“...You talk like an old man sometimes.”
“Probably from hanging with older folks.”
Come to think of it...
“You’re my only friend my age.”
Kindergarten friends, elementary school kids from his brief time there—no one kept in touch now. Narani was Yeonwoo’s only peer friend.
“Really? Just me?”
Narani’s face lit up as if the sullenness never happened, and Yeonwoo nodded.
“Yeah. So we won’t meet often, but let’s keep in touch a lot.”
“For real? You won’t ignore me or pretend not to know me, right? Won’t ghost my messages?”
Yeonwoo shook his head firmly.
“No way. You’re my only friend.”
Yeonwoo spoke as if he’d gained a precious friend, but Narani’s face flushed deep red, and her heart pounded wildly.
It was Narani’s first love.