Chapter 26
Sima Yeomhwa slowly opened her eyes on the bed, staring blankly at the unfamiliar ceiling. Her head felt fuzzy. She must have dozed off for a moment. Rubbing her temples, she pushed her heavy body upright and checked outside. Fortunately, the sun hadn't set yet. She prepared the brazier for afternoon prayers. Flicking her finger at the small indoor brazier ignited a flame.
Tak—crackle—tak—crackle—taaa— She gazed vacantly at the pretty-colored flames flickering in all directions. She flicked her finger again. The fire died down and went out. Another flick. The fading embers surged back to life, blazing fiercely. On and off with a single finger—such a fickle flame.
...Come to think of it, she'd gotten scolded by Mother long ago for playing around like this. "Don't play with fire." The cult elders had praised her, saying, "As expected~ she's a creation that mocks the Creator's works and will bring the world's end. Different from the sprout." She'd been thrilled as a clueless kid, but now she realized those old fogeys were totally insane.
Lost in reminiscence while staring at the flame, she recalled the sacred fire burning eternally deep in the cult. The embers of the first flame created by Ahura Mazda. The holy brazier that must never be extinguished. And Yeomhwa's mother had been the Zoroastrian saintess, the Fire Keeper.
A woman with snow-white skin, beautiful black hair, kind yet somehow seductive. A gentle mother. ...Though she was also a fool who denied the reality of Sima Bu's lack of love, spewed vitriol at him, then collapsed into self-loathing tears until she passed out from exhaustion. Still, she was precious. Yeomhwa loved her. Pitied her. A saintess who would burn the world, a vital sacrifice for the Shaoshant devotion.
Yeomhwa had grown up as the cult's treasure, in a grand cage surrounded by beautiful silks and rare treasures. In a spacious, well-adorned prison, showered with her mother Hordad's love and rage, and the maids' awe and fear, utterly pampered.
Father... Who knows what Sima Bu was like, but Mother loved him. She stroked her beautifully maintained, silk-like black hair. Mother would brush it gently on the bed, whispering sweetly in her ear like a song about the day she first met Sima Bu.
"Thick eyebrows, sharp jawline, straight nose, fierce amber eyes. Guts that wouldn't flinch even with a blade to the throat. A confident stride."
Raised solely in the cult palace, Mother had fallen at first sight for the exotic man from afar, with his dangerous aura.
"His eyes seemed cold at a glance, but up close, they burned and blazed like fire."
There were many reasons she fell in love, but looking back, it was love at first sight, she'd say with a laugh.
"He was a wolf in human form. A huge, dangerous, greedy wolf."
Mother's soft touch, her cheerful humming. Little Yeomhwa loved hearing stories of the father she'd never seen.
"He held my hand, embraced me tenderly, and taught me so many things I never knew."
Sima Bu was a clever, hypocritical man. To maintain good relations with the Zoroastrian cult, he'd cherished Mother and whispered sweet nothings, regardless of his true feelings. But it was all an act. It could never become real.
Wolves are proverbially fickle, but they actually mate for life with one partner. Sima Bu was wolf-like, for better or worse. His heart already belonged to another woman. There'd never been room for Mother. He'd merely permitted her body for the gold to revive his clan. Love was never part of it from the start.
A filthy illegitimate child born without love. They say children born without parental love are mere products of desire, devoid of heart. The heart is a creation of the Creator, Ahura Mazda. Then what am I, without a heart? A creation of Angra Mainyu? Maybe so.
The Fire Cult's saintess, born to burn the world. A monster doomed to be slain by a hero's sword. That's why I was born.
...Her head throbbed. It pounded fiercely. After finishing prayers, she staggered to her feet, but the sun had already set. The other 'family' members would be gathered in the dining hall. She had to go before it was too late. Time to play the perfect daughter, perfect little sister. Hide her emotions. Smile.
Step—step—she moved forward. Her body burned hot. Ragged breaths escaped.
"Haa... haa..."
As she staggered along, Mancheon popped into her mind for some reason. In Zoroastrianism, all good things touch Ahura Mazda's hand; all bad, Angra Mainyu's.
...Am I like him? Born lame, untouched by the Creator's grace, just like me? The looks like Sima Bu, eyes that seem to pierce through people, that annoyingly confident face—full of flaws, but maybe... just maybe, the same as me...
Heading toward the dining hall, cheerful voices rang out. Not just one or two people. Peeking around the wall, she saw the entire Sima family—minus herself—gathered. They were all smiling. Sima Bu gazed at Mancheon with a tender smile he'd never shown her. Mancheon responded to the family's laughter with an embarrassed grin.
...That dazzling scene, bright enough to make her want to burn it all, made Yeomhwa turn away. With heavy steps, she returned to her dark room. Her vision blurred.
I skipped lunch, crashed in my room, and woke up to evening. Starving. Clutching my growling stomach, I hurried to the dining hall at top speed.
Arriving, I saw the family gathered—minus Yeomhwa.
"Where's Yeomhwa? She said she's not eating?"
Sitting down after saying that, Father praised me with a pleased expression.
"It's only been a day since you became family, and you're already looking after your little sister? Commendable."
Starting with Father, Mother and big brother and his wife showered me with praise for yesterday's hardships. Thanks, but... getting hyped over something so minor felt a bit deflating.
'Woooah~ Suuuge! You can even host guests, huh?! Amazing!!'
...Something like that? Honestly, our family overpraises everything. Hell, if I finally took a shit after constipation, they'd clap and cheer, "Good job pooping!" Lucky my face is thick-skinned, or I'd have burst from embarrassment.
"Yeomhwa's resting in her room, I guess. No amount of faking cheer erases the grief of losing parents."
Father paused, then spoke warmly, seeking agreement from the family about worrying for Yeomhwa.
"...For now, it's best to give her time alone to sort her feelings."
The others nodded in agreement, but something felt off to me~ really off~ so I rubbed the back of my neck. Father might be right. Time heals most wounds. But brooding alone doesn't always solve problems. You need a sound mind for that, and to think straight, you gotta eat first. Humans are fragile. An empty stomach clouds the brain.
"Still, she should eat. I'll go fetch her. You guys start without me."
Standing, I headed to call Yeomhwa. I could send a servant, but family should handle this personally, right? Might be meddling, but hey, family. No such thing as pointless meddling between family. Except marriage, jobs, money issues, etc.
...Wait, thinking about it, there's tons of stuff even family shouldn't meddle in. Screw it, I'm hungry—maybe head back for food? Lost in such thoughts en route to Yeomhwa's room, I spotted something collapsed in the hallway.
'What the?'
Approaching, I saw Yeomhwa sprawled, breathing raggedly. Touching her forehead—cliché as it sounds, it was scorching like a fireball. Not a doctor, so I couldn't diagnose, but she looked seriously ill.
I'd love to princess-carry her comfortably, but with my lame leg, no dice. So, army-style: fireman's carry over the shoulder. Hoisting her up.
...Ended up looking a bit like bundling her, but emergency trumps propriety.
‧ ‧ ‧
Laid Yeomhwa on the bed, ordered maids for medicine and porridge. With the fever, wet cloths too. Figured my presence would just hinder nursing—a grown man like me—so I started to leave when something tugged my hem.
"...Don't go."
Turning, Yeomhwa's slender, pretty fingers clutched my clothes desperately. She seemed unconscious. Instinct?
Tugging lightly to free myself, her faint mumble reached me like a tiny wish.
"...Don't... leave me alone."
Who was she longing for, clinging to my clothes? Someone she could never see again?
...No helping it. Careful not to dislodge her grip, I dragged a chair bedside, sat, placed a wet cloth on her burning forehead, and nursed her.
I couldn't know her pains or torments, but staying by her side? Easy enough.
By her side, I kept changing the cloth to cool her fever. Repeating this, the water turned lukewarm. Normally I'd fetch more, but with her gripping my hem, I took drastic measures.
"Jang Sambung! Bring water in a basin!! And wall barley rice too!!"
Sima clan's servant-cum-bodyguard-cum-assassin, Jang Sambung. Heading to late dinner after work, got hit with overtime from young master's nosiness—ended up eating cold noodles that night.