The Pain of Parting from Loved Ones (3)
My last day at the Sichuan Tang Clan had arrived.
Even though I had been granted a reunion with Hwarin, and even though the years ahead might shrink depending on my fame or the strength of her efforts, the day of parting — the one parting that could never be avoided — had come all the same.
I had arrived with nothing to my name, so a single horse would have been enough for the journey home. The Sichuan Tang Clan, however, clearly had no intention of letting matters end so simply.
They carried on like a grandmother on a holiday, desperate to press at least one more gift into a visiting grandchild's arms, and decided to ready a carriage and pack it to the brim with presents. I refused out of hand, citing my delicate standing within the clan, but the moment they invoked my false bloodline and Hwarin, I found myself nodding along and pretending to be swayed whether I liked it or not.
Of course, it didn't hurt that the gift sets were far too fine for me to snap, You think trinkets like these will buy me off, sir?!
Eui-gak-ju came to my room once my packing was finished.
"The carriage is ready. Come, quickly... But what is the First Elder of the Council of Elders doing here of all places?"
I received Eui-gak-ju alongside the First Elder — the very man who had opposed me so passionately at the Council of Elders.
"Ahem. There was some business I needed to attend to."
Business, was it. Very pressing business, I'm sure.
He evidently hadn't expected to cross paths with Eui-gak-ju during his little visit, for he averted his gaze with an awkward cough.
"I've finished the signatures on volumes one and two of Dang Family Storm."
I handed the books back to the First Elder with a perfectly blank expression. When he had knocked on my door on the very day of my departure, I had genuinely wondered whether I was about to be assassinated. To think he had come all this way because he wanted an autograph.
"Much obliged."
"...First Elder?"
Eui-gak-ju stared at the old man, equally at a loss.
"What? Have you some complaint?! My son wanted Hopil's signature on his Dang Family Storm, and no matter how he begged he couldn't get so much as a meeting, so I took pity and came myself — that is all!"
"You weren't working quite so zealously at the Council of Elders, as I recall."
"That is precisely what I was about to say."
Eui-gak-ju fixed the First Elder with a look that seemed to ask whether the man's face, too, had been tempered in poison until it could no longer feel shame.
"Must you embarrass an old man so! Politics has never known permanent friends or enemies — neither mine nor yours. The Young Clan Leader is awake now, and the matter of succession has been resolved. What reason could I possibly still have to bear ill will toward the author Hopil?"
Calling me "the author" instead of by name as he came crawling for a signature — was that his way of saying I no longer posed any threat to the clan?
"Shall I sign one for your grandson as well?"
"Do that on this fresh copy. I had my people procure a new book for the purpose."
The First Elder held out a crisp, uncracked volume of Dang Family Storm.
A New Year's gift for the grandson, then. An autographed Dang Family Storm set — the one present guaranteed to outshine even a deluxe ham gift box. My chest swelled with grandeur at the mere thought.
"First Elder."
"I know perfectly well that my hide is thick. Don't you take that tone with me! I will find some way to repay the great author Hopil properly next time!"
"That isn't what this is about. Isn't your grandson only just learning to walk?"
"...I—I really must be going!"
Clutching the freshly signed Dang Family Storm to his chest, the First Elder bolted from the room as though fleeing for his life. So the lightness arts of the Sichuan Tang Clan truly are swift. I watched him vanish in the space of a breath — gone so completely that even from the window there was no sign of him — and then turned to Eui-gak-ju.
"Thanks to this, I dare say I'll be spared any grief once I'm back at Daseogak."
"So that is why you signed for him."
"In Joseon we have a proverb: give an extra rice cake even to the man you can't stand."
Buying great goodwill with one small gesture — that is the mark of a man who knows how to live among people. It is easy enough to go on sneering at a spiteful old goat, but live long enough in this world, and one day you may find that man's hand gripping the hilt above you.
"So Joseon does have maxims worth learning after all. Your luggage is loaded outside, and an escort will see you all the way to Yichang. Go say your farewells to that child Hwarin, then come out."
Well, well. For once he concedes that our words hold worth, instead of dismissing them as barbarian talk.
"One might almost think the Sichuan Tang Clan was eager to be rid of me."
I said it lightly, with a smile.
"..."
"A joke. Only a joke. But when you pull a face so unlike yourself — so sodden with guilt you hardly know where to put yourself — it leaves me at a loss for what I'm supposed to say."
"The Young Clan Leader has awakened. See Hwarin, then take your leave before eyes gather on you again."
The Young Clan Leader's awakening had sent joy rippling through the entire clan.
The Clan Head's illegitimate son, Tang Geohu, the Poison Human, the Demonic Cult, the Young Clan Leader, the purge within their own walls — one thread after another was being wound up, and yet nothing was truly finished. The whole compound still simmered with unease.
It would be wisest to slip out of the clan before every gaze turned my way once more.
"So that's why you're hustling me out today, is it? Though there is something I've been meaning to ask you."
"What is it?"
"Hwarin. Did you know in advance that she would end up the way she has?"
Even before her treatment, there had always been something faintly inscrutable in Eui-gak-ju's manner. He must have known what she would become. Or else he had deliberately made certain that the Forbidden Garden — and its occupant — never set foot beyond the clan's walls.
I studied him through narrowed eyes.
"...It was the venom of the Human-Faced Spider and the Thousand-Year Centipede. The likeliest ending was her death — and I believed that even if I spent every ounce of effort in me, the outcome would not be the one either of you wanted."
Perhaps because what had come to pass was a thing he could have predicted yet never dared voice, Eui-gak-ju could only return my gaze with apology written across his face.
"You did your utmost. That's all I needed to know."
And here I'd half hoped otherwise. Apparently not, then. That settles it.
Remorseful he may have been, but the outcome was the best one we could have asked for. Hwarin had not died, and she had not been condemned to a perfectly ordinary life forever, either.
Ten years. And if my fame stat climbed high enough, even that span could shrink. All that remained was to wait out the term — and then we could be together.
When I nodded along so readily and absolved him without a shred of resentment, Eui-gak-ju could only blink at me in astonishment, as though he had braced himself for my fury and found nothing there waiting for him.
"You mean to leave without an audience with the Clan Head?"
"The legitimate heir has awakened — no sense drawing eyes to myself for nothing. An illegitimate child's duty is to withdraw quietly."
"Then go. That child Hwarin is waiting. Off with you."
"It's been an ordeal — and I'm grateful. For everything."
"And I am the one who owes the apology. You have endured a great deal."
Unlike that first meeting of ours, which had ended in a bristling standoff, the two of us parted with a farewell that was clean and unburdened.
How, exactly, was one supposed to say goodbye?
I stood before Hwarin's door and agonized over the question. The moment the door opened, our unfamiliarity with parting would take over. We would begin with some stilted greeting, each of us straining to hide a grieving face. A sorrowful silence would follow. Should I lighten the mood with a little joke, or should we drown our parting in tears?
Having weighed these grave matters with all the deliberation they deserved, I opened the door.
"Hwarin! What are you wearing?!"
Every one of those careful deliberations shattered the instant the door swung open — on account of the utterly scandalous outfit before my eyes.
"D-does it look strange?"
A gown of sumptuous purple, its skirt cut at miniskirt length, and over her shoulder ran the line of fine black undergarments — leaving me to sincerely wonder whether a strap of that thickness could possibly bear a weight so defiant of gravity.
Hwarin asked her question with cheeks aflame, looking equal parts mortified and hopeful.
To be fair, the outfit itself was nothing out of the ordinary. On any other woman, it would have been merely a little revealing. But clothes, it turns out, can inspire outright awe depending on the woman wearing them.
She's lost her mind. The lady of the house has completely lost her mind.
My eyes were locked on that overwhelming midsection of hers. That is not cleavage. What other women have might pass for cleavage — what she had was a canyon. A proper rift. A valley deep and wide enough to stage an entire five-on-five battle, and in any mid-lane skirmish fought across it, she would claim an absolutely crushing victory no matter who dared to invade.
"Isn't that a little too bold?"
I managed the words only after wrestling my composure back into place. Who told you to dress like that? Should I say something? That canyon was supposed to be mine alone to steal glances at, on the sly, once the day's routine with Hwarin was done — and the thought of anyone else laying eyes on it left a strange, sour feeling in my chest.
"Heh heh. I wore it for you. I'd never put on something like this in front of anyone else."
Hwarin had evidently caught me gawking like a fool and then sulking on top of it, because she answered with a laugh. Well, if that's why she wore it, then by all means — I welcome it.
"Then we have no problem."
"Come here."
I crossed to the bed where Hwarin sat and settled into the place beside her. My hand came to rest, quite naturally, at her waist, and we simply looked at one another.
There was nothing left to say. We had already said it all.
All that remained was the goodbye itself — and the moment we said it, we would have to part.
When a man and a woman with no words left between them, neither one willing to let go, find themselves gazing into each other's eyes and see themselves reflected there, only one thing remains to be done.
"You... how are you this good at kissing?"
Scarlet to the ears, Hwarin glared at me — a little resentful, and more than a little suspicious.
"Don't you like it?"
For the record, I had practice — with two others, no less. Not that I could ever say so, so all I could do was flash her a roguish grin.
"Ugh... honestly. Do you really have to ask?"
Her face drew close again.
"I'll write you often."
Clicking my tongue in mock regret, I said it in the gentlest voice I had.
"Mm. And I'll train hard."
"Because if you slack off, I am absolutely going to cheat on you. So you had better take that training very seriously."
I delivered it with a mischievous grin, pitched exactly like a joke.
"..."
Hwarin didn't answer. The color drained out of her face.
"It's a joke. A joke, I swear."
Hwarin. After every assurance I've given you, don't let one throwaway joke rattle you like this.
"Yunho."
"Right. I misspoke."
"No — that's not it. There's something I want to apologize to you for. Before we part."
"Hm? What could that be?"
What could Hwarin possibly have to apologize for?
Sneaking off to stuff sweets in the print shop over the lunch hour while I wasn't looking? Promising to wake me at dawn, then sleeping straight through it? I'd declared I would write Dang Family Storm's steamy scenes myself, and she'd gone and offered her two coppers' worth of unsolicited advice anyway?
I was the one with sins on my ledger. For her to have one — I couldn't imagine it.
For a long moment Hwarin simply gazed at me, sorrow pooled in her eyes. Then, as though at last forcing a confession up and out, she spoke.
"Your closest friend. I mean the Clan Head's illegitimate son."
I could only stand there, thrown utterly off balance by the last topic in the world I had expected.