Greed
The living room was an absolute shambles.
The table, warped and split like a stick of taffy, still stood there in all its ugliness—the wreckage of my rage. Faint footprints marked the floor where Kim Minseok and his people had scrambled back, and I could almost smell the cold sweat they had left behind. Hairline cracks spidered through the wallpaper from the force of my killing intent; a picture frame trembled uneasily on the wall. Everything proved that what had just happened had been no mere threat.
I turned slowly.
Mother still had both hands clamped over her mouth, tears streaming down her face without a sound. What kind of shock must it have been for her—to watch the son who had finally come home after ten years radiate blood and murderous intent while he threatened people? Guilt kept my head bowed.
Father’s lips were pressed into a hard line. His eyes on me were complicated—not so much fear as a mixture of relief, pity for his son, and a resigned acceptance of a reality he could not change. A man who had spent his whole life farming had just been forced to witness the rough, violent side of his child right in front of him.
And then… Yoon Seoa.
She was still standing right beside me, exactly where she had been a moment earlier. Her face was deathly pale, yet those light-brown eyes fixed on me without the slightest tremor. In them I saw no fear—only a deep sorrow… and understanding. As if, through the loneliness and anxiety she had endured alone for ten years, she had already grown familiar with this kind of emotion. As if she could read the wounds and exhaustion that had forced me to react so sharply.
“…I’ll clean it up.”
I muttered the words low and stepped toward the shattered table. Clearing this hideous wreckage from sight felt like the only atonement I could offer right now.
I was about to grab a twisted piece of wood with my bare hands when she stopped me.
“I’ll do it.”
Seoa’s voice was small but firm as she blocked my hand. Instead of mine, she carefully took hold of the sharp, broken fragments of the table.
“Mother, Father—you must have been so startled. Let me make you some warm tea…”
She tried to soothe my parents with a carefully composed voice, yet the faint tremor in her fingertips betrayed the shock she had just endured. Mother seemed even more overwhelmed by the sight of her; her shoulders shook as she began to sob again.
“Oh, Seoa… what sin have you ever committed…”
I could not stay there any longer. More than the ruined table, more than my frightened parents, the sight of Seoa forcing down her own sorrow just to look after me was unbearable. Without a word I left the living room and walked out into the yard, hoping the cold night air would cool the heat still raging in my head.
After Kim Minseok and his people left, the air inside the house settled into a heavy silence. We forced ourselves through dinner as if nothing were wrong, yet no one could easily speak. The broken table had been cleared away for the time being, but the empty space in the middle of the living room kept replaying the memory of what had just happened. I could not bring myself to look straight at Seoa’s back as she washed the dishes, or at the exhausted faces of my parents as they retreated to their room to rest. Because I could not face them, I fled outside to the yard.
I sat on the wooden platform and stared up at the night sky for no particular reason. Countless stars hung as if they might spill down at any moment, yet none of that beauty reached me. All that rose in my mind were the skies I had seen inside the gates for ten years—skies dyed in grotesque, ominous colors. I felt pathetic for no longer being able to appreciate even an ordinary night sky.
In the end, was my very existence what invited danger?
The words I had thrown at Kim Minseok circled through my head. Just as he had, there would be many others who would come after me. It had been a self-mocking remark, yet I could not deny it was true. Now that I had returned, this place was no longer a peaceful country village. Whether it was the Administration Bureau or some other threat I did not yet know, people who wanted me would keep coming here. And in the process… those around me would inevitably be exposed to danger. Especially Yoon Seoa, whose status as my former fiancée was already known.
“….”
Seoa’s profile came into view as she sat on the edge of the porch, quietly looking up at the night sky; she must have finished cleaning. Moonlight made her face glow white—calm and elegant, yet somehow fragile. Over the image of the young girl I had unilaterally broken off the engagement with ten years ago, the maturity of a twenty-year-old woman and a shadow deepened by those years now overlapped.
I rose and walked slowly toward her. My steps felt heavy. The knowledge that I would once again have to say something that would wound her was painful, yet this time I could not put it off. What had happened today must never be allowed to happen again.
“Seoa.”
My voice came out lower and rougher than I expected. She turned her head and looked at me. Beneath the moonlight her light-brown eyes shone deep and clear. I carefully sat down beside her. Silence stretched for a moment. I hesitated over where to begin; my mouth felt dry.
“You saw what happened today.”
In the end I had no choice but to start with the most direct words.
“As long as I’m here… people like that will keep coming. Maybe even worse ones.”
I lifted my gaze back to the night sky. I did not have the courage to say this while looking straight into her face. Ten years ago, had the younger you blamed me, or yourself?
“It isn’t your fault. All of it… is because of me. I’m the problem.”
The words felt as if they were being spoken more to the past version of her than to the one beside me now; a hollow laugh slipped out of me.
“I wanted to hole up somewhere quiet like this and live in peace, but it seems I was wrong. My very existence… only brings trouble to everyone around me.”
I paused and drew a deep breath. Now came the most important part.
“I’ll… find you somewhere safe. I’ll make sure you can go wherever you want. Don’t worry about money. I’ll help you live without lacking for anything for the rest of your life.”
“….”
“So… please… do this one thing for me.”
My voice trembled faintly. It was a different kind of desperation from the day I had broken off the engagement ten years ago. Back then it had been to keep her alive; now… it might have been for myself. Watching her fall into danger at my side felt more terrible than walking back into that hellish gate myself.
Seoa looked at me for a long time without speaking. Her eyes did not waver in the slightest. Rather, in that unreadable silence I felt something like a hard resolve.
“Taejun.”
At last she opened her mouth. Her voice, too, was low and serious.
“Have you forgotten why I waited ten years?”
Her question left me momentarily speechless. The debt of gratitude I owed my parents—I could never have forgotten that. But…
“Back then… you didn’t know I would return…”
The duty that began the moment I came back was different, wasn’t it?
“No.”
Seoa cut me off firmly.
“I believed you would come back. No—you had to come back. A world without you held no meaning for me.”
“…Seoa.”
“I know it’s dangerous.”
She continued without looking away from my eyes. There was not a trace of hesitation in that gaze.
“I think I understand a little of how angry you were today… and how hard it is for you. But even so… I can’t leave you to live alone under threats like that.”
Her voice was calm, yet the will inside it was as hard as steel.
“I’m not a ten-year-old child anymore, Taejun. This is my life. I’ll choose, and I’ll take responsibility.”
“….”
“So I’m… staying by your side.”
In that moment Seoa found the courage to lay her hand over mine. The warmth of her palm against the back of my cold, rough hand felt like an ember seeping into a frozen heart. Startled, I looked at her; she smiled faintly and went on. The shadow of sorrow still lingered at the corners of her eyes, yet a stronger light shone through it.
“I… can’t become a strong force for you the way you are. I don’t know the first thing about fighting.”
She gave a small, self-mocking laugh.
“But… at least I can be someone you can lean on when you’re tired. Don’t try to carry everything alone. I’ll be right here. So… please don’t push me away.”
The warmth of her hand. The unwavering eyes. And within them, a deep trust and unchanging heart that had crossed ten years of time.
I could no longer say anything. She was no longer a fragile being I had to protect. She might instead be the one who gave me strength—the only presence that let me breathe in this wretched reality. Ten years ago I had left for her sake; now she was saying she would stay to support me.
I did not pull my hand away from hers. Rather, as if I did not want to lose that warmth, I simply felt it. For the first time I decided to accept her choice completely. I would respect Seoa’s will and try to trust her heart.
After a long silence I finally spoke. My voice was still blunt, yet it carried a different weight than before.
“…All right.”
I said it while looking into Seoa’s eyes instead of the night sky. The moment I accepted her will, my gaze fell on the warmth that still rested on the back of my hand. With my answer, the heavy silence that had settled beneath the night’s curtain shifted into a different texture. It remained quiet, yet something like an unbreakable promise had seeped into it.
The warmth from Seoa’s small hand laid over mine was no longer mere warmth. It was the ember that had burned without going out through ten years of time—the only heat that could melt my frozen heart. I did not move a muscle, as if I refused to let that warmth slip away.