Again Descended
It took a full day until darkness fell again before the two finally reached the old man's secluded home.
It was an ordinary house nestled in a quiet forest, the mere sight of which soothed the heart.
The boy hadn't uttered a single word the entire way there.
Despite the considerable distance they'd traveled, he showed no signs of fatigue.
He seemed like a hollow shell, his soul utterly drained.
The old man didn't speak to him either.
Whatever story lay behind the boy's silence could be uncovered in time.
Once home, the old man bathed the boy first.
Even though his own body was caked in bloodstains everywhere, he prioritized the child.
The stench was overpowering—he hadn't bathed in who knew how long—and the grime filled a full bowl.
They washed his greasy hair over and over, changing the water repeatedly.
As he scrubbed, the old man noticed the scars and bruises covering the boy's body but pretended not to see, saying nothing.
From all appearances, it was clear the child hadn't lived like a human should.
With no suitable clothes for him, the old man dressed him in his own, which draped over the naked boy like a blanket.
Only after cleaning the boy did the old man quickly wash himself and prepare a late meal.
"Come dawn, I should head out and buy some clothes first thing."
The boy sat blankly, offering no response to the old man's words.
Glancing at him, the old man posed a question.
"What's your name?"
"……."
Still, the boy remained silent.
"Do you have no name? Or are you just refusing to speak?"
This wasn't a question for the boy.
It was a lament, murmured as he contemplated the unimaginable hardships the child must have endured.
"What does it matter? You've met me now, and your life will be different from before. I ought to give you a proper name. What would suit you?"
As he swiftly prepared a simple meal, the old man pondered a name for the boy.
"Yes... Woo-gang. Again descended. A rebirth."
After much thought, the old man named the boy Woo-gang and quickly set the table.
"Here, eat."
It wasn't a lavish feast, but the table held food that looked appetizing.
Woo-gang had never eaten proper food before.
For the first time in his life, real sustenance lay before him—something to rejoice over—yet his expression didn't change in the slightest.
The old man watched him quietly.
He waited patiently as Woo-gang left his chopsticks untouched.
At last, Woo-gang picked them up.
A faint smile crossed the old man's face, only for it to harden in an instant. His hand, resting beneath the table, flashed out like lightning.
Snap!
The old man seized Woo-gang's wrist.
Woo-gang hadn't reached for the chopsticks to eat.
The tips were aimed at his own throat.
He'd tried to kill himself.
The old man swiftly pried the chopsticks from his hand.
He cleared the remaining one from the table as well.
"No chopsticks for a while, I suppose."
Releasing Woo-gang's wrist, the old man picked up the spoon in front of him.
Then, with his fingertips, he lightly rubbed the handle.
Astonishingly, the spoon's tip blackened and blunted as if scorched.
"I'd better put away all the blades in the house too."
The old man scanned the interior, noting what needed securing.
"Eat. No one will take this food from you. They won't scold you for eating a lot, or beat you for it."
The old man spoke to Woo-gang with gentle warmth.
But in the end, Woo-gang didn't touch the meal.
The next day.
Returning from his outing, the old man carried a bundle of goods in each hand.
With a new family member, there were that many more needs to fulfill.
By far the largest portion was clothes for Woo-gang.
Having bought them by eye, he'd need to try them on the boy.
But Woo-gang was gone from the house.
Though he'd vanished suddenly, the old man showed no panic. He set the bundles on the veranda and sat for a moment.
The boy was shrouded in thoughts of death—he should hurry to find him—yet the old man did no such thing.
He even seemed leisurely.
"Looks like we'll be playing hide-and-seek often from now on."
Murmuring to himself as he rested, the old man rose.
Then he set off in a certain direction.
"Huff! Huff! Huff!"
Naked, Woo-gang ran and ran through the dense forest path.
But with no proper trails, he couldn't tell one place from another.
He tripped over roots and rocks, scraping his body all over, but each time he scrambled up and kept fleeing.
"Where are you off to, naked like that?"
Then, the old man appeared before him.
Woo-gang halted, stared at him a moment, then bolted in the opposite direction.
Chuckling at the sight, the old man vanished from the spot once more.
"Trying to escape?"
Like a ghost, the old man reappeared ahead and asked.
But Woo-gang didn't answer, just turned and ran again.
"Hoo…."
The old man let out a soft sigh.
As Woo-gang rapidly distanced himself, the old man spoke.
"Should I let him run a bit more?"
With that, he stopped pursuing and headed off in another direction.
Back home, the old man sat on the veranda, brewing and sipping tea.
Beside him lay the clothes he'd bought for Woo-gang, spread out neatly.
He seemed to be mulling over which to dress him in while drinking.
Then.
Rustle.
A sound came from the nearby woods.
But the old man didn't even glance that way, his eyes fixed on the clothes.
It was surely Woo-gang, yet the old man paid it no mind.
"This one might suit him better."
As he muttered, the presence nearby faded into the distance again.
"Yes, run some more and come back."
The old man murmured.
Woo-gang didn't reappear for quite some time.
His body was covered in cuts and scrapes.
"All run out?"
Still seated on the veranda, the old man gazed at him softly.
But Woo-gang edged backward at the sight of him.
"That's enough for today. Come here. Whether you run or go off to die, save it for tomorrow."
At the old man's words, Woo-gang stood still, staring intently.
After a long hesitation, he slowly approached.
"First, let's wash up. You've gone right back to yesterday's state."
The old man took Woo-gang's hand and led him away.
Dressing the freshly bathed boy in new clothes, the old man beamed with satisfaction.
"New clothes make your face come alive. Who on earth could have treated such a cute child so cruelly?"
Woo-gang showed no emotional response.
"Isn't it strange?"
Folding the remaining clothes neatly, the old man asked Woo-gang.
Not expecting an answer, he continued.
"You wouldn't know, but there's a formation around the house. No matter how much you run, you can't escape, nor will you find a cliff steep enough to leap from. Run long enough, and the house will appear before you again."
That was why he'd stayed so calm when Woo-gang vanished.
"Don't believe me?"
The old man glanced at him slyly.
"If you don't, try running tomorrow, and the day after. You'll see."
Woo-gang's eyes flickered briefly at the words.
A sign of emotional stirring.
But the old man didn't notice.
Had he, it would have warmed his heart.
"I don't know what you've been through. But for a child your age to contemplate suicide means you've endured unimaginable pain. I won't pry and dredge up those memories. From now on, forget it all and be reborn. Just like your name. You'll want to live again."
The old man spoke with conviction, but Woo-gang's lips remained firmly shut.
Time passed.
Even now, over two months later, Woo-gang slipped out before dawn each day to flee.
But the outcome was always the same.
One might think he'd give up after a month, but Woo-gang was stubbornly persistent.
In truth, he knew he couldn't leave this place.
Yet he kept running anyway.
And each time he returned, the old man welcomed him without displeasure, bathing him and feeding him.
The old man admired that tenacity in Woo-gang.
Still, he wished the boy would stop running now.
All the dashing about tore his clothes constantly, forcing the old man to spend time mending them—sewing he hadn't bargained for.
"Only in my old age do I understand how hard women have it."
Sitting on the veranda, needle in hand, the old man sighed deeply.
Then Woo-gang returned home.
Seeing his clothes torn in places, the old man frowned slightly before glancing at the sky.
"You're back early today."
Woo-gang sat on the veranda, well away from the old man.
He stared straight ahead in silence for a long while before finally speaking.
"Everyone dies."
"Hm?"
Hearing Woo-gang's voice for the first time, the old man set down his sewing kit and looked at him.
"They say I bring bad luck. That's why my parents abandoned me. After I came to the village, bad things kept happening. People died, got hurt, fought. That day too, someone in the village died. From the plague. So they say I have to die. Only if I die will those things stop."
Woo-gang's voice trembled with tears.
The old man's heart ached at the sight.
How could any adult say such cruel things to a mere child?
"People fight sometimes when they live together. That's human relations. Bad things happen not because of you, but because that's how the world works. It can't always be good. Look at me."
At his words, Woo-gang slowly turned his head.
The old man lifted his shirt to reveal his side.
A long scar ran there.
"This is from a sword, before you were even born. But in the two months we've lived together, nothing's happened. So how can you bring ill fortune?"
Woo-gang turned away again.
After watching him a moment, the old man spoke.
"Is that why you run? Not to kill yourself, but so nothing bad happens to me?"
Woo-gang gave no answer.
But the old man felt he'd heard it all the same.
If he'd truly wanted to end it, he could have anytime.
Even without blades, stones littered the ground nearby.
Wasn't this the boy who'd tried stabbing his throat with chopsticks?
Had death been his intent, he could've bashed his head with a rock.
Late, Woo-gang nodded.
As expected.
Woo-gang had been fleeing to protect the old man who'd shown him kindness.
The old man's nose tingled.
Woo-gang was such a good-hearted child; his thoughtfulness was admirable yet heartbreaking.
The old man rose and approached him.
Then he pulled Woo-gang into a tight embrace.
"My name is Yeom Si-woo. And yours is Yeom Woo-gang. I'm your grandfather, and you're my grandson. Forget the past now. Live happily with me. That's all you need to think about."
Yeom Si-woo stroked the boy in his arms and spoke warmly.
And so.
Woo-gang began to sob softly, then wailed outright.
"Waaah! Uwaaaah! UwAAAAAAAA!"
All the pent-up fear and sorrow exploded at once.
Woo-gang cried and cried, soaking Yeom Si-woo's robes through.