The Apricot Blossoms That Should Not Bloom
The moment she stepped past the main gate, a gray stone bridge came into view. Beyond it stretched a meticulously arranged corridor.
The long, unbroken path seemed to warn her that this place was no small estate.
Yeo-won hesitated for a moment, then made up her mind and cautiously moved forward.
Giant pine trees grew thickly along the corridor-like path. As she walked, following the elegant landscaping, another grand old house appeared.
The two buildings faced each other in a strangely symmetrical arrangement.
Even when she drew closer and peered around, there was no sign of life—not even a single insect.
Can I just open it?
She climbed onto the wooden veranda and placed her hand on the door latch. The door opened without resistance. Startled, she jerked backward, and through the gap she caught a glimpse of the interior.
Inside were lacquered wooden cabinets and thick bedding, all neatly arranged.
The floorboards were even warm. It wouldn’t have been strange if someone had been there just moments ago.
Yet the room held no trace of human warmth. When people lived in a space, they inevitably left tiny marks behind, but here there were none.
She ran her index finger across the top of a cabinet. As expected, not a speck of dust came away.
On the surface it looked perfectly maintained, yet it felt as though it had gone unused for a very long time.
It was almost like…
“A well-made model,” Yeo-won murmured softly. That was exactly what it was.
It resembled an exquisitely crafted dollhouse. And she felt like the doll placed inside it.
Almost in a trance, she crossed to the opposite house and opened its door.
The interior was identical to the previous room, down to the smallest detail. The furniture and bedding were so precisely the same that it sent a chill down her spine.
As she stared, a strange sense of déjà vu washed over her.
Yeo-won mentally retraced the layout of her own room. It had seemed more ornate with scrolls and decorations, but the basic structure was similar.
Why would there be multiple buildings with the exact same layout? The answer came quickly.
This place had not been built for people to live in. It had been created to imitate human life.
And the lavish furniture and bedding clearly reflected one person’s taste.
It must be connected to the child from my dreams. Her name was Mun-a, wasn’t it?
The sudden appearance of a comb and a pouch of five-colored beans in her room now made sense if they were remnants of that girl’s stay.
Then perhaps these houses were failed attempts at recreating her room.
Or maybe they were spares, prepared in case something went wrong with the one currently in use. After all, if the layouts were identical, she could adapt quickly even if the room changed.
Having reached that conclusion, Yeo-won shook her head to clear her thoughts.
Stop. That’s not what matters right now.
Getting caught up in pointless speculation was one of her worst habits.
She left the house and continued down the path. Before long she reached a fork. Standing before it, she made her decision.
I should head back.
She was certain that continuing would only leave her with sore legs and nothing gained.
Besides, Cheong-sil must have noticed by now.
If Cheong-sil knew, then Shin-wol would know as well. With luck, she might even run into him on the way back.
With that thought, Yeo-won turned around and began retracing her steps.
She was heading back to her room, recalling the route she had taken, when she sensed something wrong. The house that appeared before her was completely different from the ones she had seen earlier.
It was a massive tiled mansion whose grandeur and presence stood out even from a distance.
Since she hadn’t seen it on her way in, that could only mean one thing: she was lost.
Strictly speaking, Yeo-won was not directionally challenged. On the contrary, she rarely forgot a path once she had walked it. The problem was that this place itself was unnatural—her ordinary sense of direction simply didn’t work here.
The winding, snake-like paths had numbed her senses, and the repetitive scenery made it impossible to pinpoint her location.
Too exhausted to be startled anymore, Yeo-won let out a sigh.
She looked around. The only path seemed to lead toward that house.
The red lanterns lining the path flickered invitingly, as if openly tempting her.
“I never should have left…”
Just then, a breeze stirred. It wasn’t strong, but it felt as though it were pushing her forward. Reluctantly, Yeo-won began to walk.
*
Yeo-won stood before the gate, examining the interior.
It was a palace-style residence with a central main hall and two wings attached on either side.
Its atmosphere was markedly different from the buildings she had seen so far, yet it was equally devoid of any sign of life.
She cautiously stepped inside. Despite its ornate exterior, the courtyard was bleak and empty.
Yeo-won walked across the flat stone pavement, carefully scanning her surroundings.
Unlike the outside, there were no decorative plants. The area felt unusually desolate and lifeless.
It feels colder here.
It wasn’t just her imagination—the cold was real. The air against her skin was bitterly, painfully icy.
Yeo-won wrapped her arms around herself. Her body began to tremble violently, as if shocked by the sudden change.
There’s not a single normal place in this entire estate.
After walking through the maze-like paths and passing the twin buildings, winter itself seemed to have arrived.
With neither common sense nor logic applying, frustration welled up inside her. She rubbed her arms to preserve body heat, but it was useless.
Deciding she couldn’t stay any longer, she turned to leave—when something fluttered before her eyes.
It was so small that she might have missed it under normal circumstances, yet in this colorless space it stood out like a single dot.
Her gaze was instantly captured. Instinctively, she reached out. What settled onto her palm without resistance was a pale pink petal.
There were no such flowers nearby, so it must have drifted in from somewhere.
As she examined the petal closely, a faint pink afterimage flickered beyond her focus.
When she lifted her head, dozens of petals were dancing in the air right in front of her.
Bathed in faint moonlight, the petals floated proudly before her eyes, then gently sank to the ground.
Yeo-won’s gaze naturally followed the direction the petals had come from.
They were drifting from the right side of the building.
As if enchanted, she followed the source of the petals.
The moment she rounded the corner, the bleak landscape vanished, replaced by a garden bursting with vibrant color.
Her eyes traced the soft grass carpeting the ground until they reached a pond enclosed by a stone wall at the center.
Near the pond, fireflies glowed with a soft light as they flitted about. Moonlight shimmered on the water’s surface, adding to the mystical atmosphere.
Beside the pond stood a massive tree. Its crown was so densely covered in blossoms that it looked as though a cloud had settled upon it.
As she drew closer, a sweet, gentle fragrance wafted toward her.
Just then, a breeze carrying flower petals swirled past. Watching the whirlwind of blossoms, Yeo-won felt a strange ache in her chest.
If the fabled paradise her grandfather had described to her as a child existed, wouldn’t it look like this?
She could think of no other words to describe the scene.
Overwhelmed by its breathtaking beauty, Yeo-won unconsciously reached out and touched the tree. The rough texture beneath her fingers felt entirely real. This was no dream or illusion.
A gentle breeze sent a single flower spiraling down in a graceful wave.
When she looked at the fallen blossom, its calyx was bent backward.
It was indeed an apricot blossom.
There were many pale pink flowers, but the moment she saw the tree, Yeo-won had been almost certain it was an apricot.
She wasn’t particularly knowledgeable about plants, but she had seen apricot trees so often in Inwol that she could recognize them at a glance.
Gazing at the fully bloomed flowers, Yeo-won let out a hollow laugh.
“It’s not even the season for apricot blossoms.”
Apricot flowers bloomed in April, when warm breezes blew. In this cold weather, they shouldn’t be able to open at all. The fact that they were in full bloom meant some kind of sorcery was at work.
Pushing aside her fading grip on reality, she turned to look beside her—and froze completely.
There, lying on the wooden veranda, was Shin-wol.
“……”
Yeo-won instinctively clapped a hand over her mouth to stifle the gasp that nearly escaped. Her breath stopped along with it.
His long, silk-smooth hair spilled carelessly across the floor. The robe he wore was disheveled, its front fallen open.
He was simply lying there, yet he radiated a dizzying sensuality powerful enough to cloud one’s reason.
So beautiful that the paradise-like garden she had just seen was instantly forgotten.
His neat lashes, his straight nose. Below them, his thin lips were pressed firmly together. His skin was so flawless it looked like porcelain. An impulsive desire to touch it rose unbidden.
Only after she had been staring in open admiration did Yeo-won snap back to herself in alarm.
Why is he sleeping here?
She steadied her pounding heart and approached Shin-wol on silent feet.
Even when she stood right in front of him, he didn’t stir at all.
Is he actually asleep?
There was no sound of breathing, and his chest showed no rise or fall. She couldn’t tell whether he had collapsed or was simply sleeping.
Yeo-won studied him from every angle, her expression troubled.
Should I shake him awake?
After a moment’s hesitation, she carefully leaned forward and reached out.
She had only wanted to check if he was breathing. At that exact moment, Shin-wol’s eyes opened.
“Ah.”
A startled sound escaped her as her hand froze in midair. In that instant, Shin-wol reached out and seized her wrist.
Startled by his iron grip, Yeo-won instinctively tried to pull away. As if mocking her effort, his hand tightened even more. With a light tug, he pulled her toward him.
As her body tilted, she reflexively squeezed her eyes shut.
Thud.
“Ugh!”
The impact sent a stinging pain shooting up her back. He had practically thrown her down.
Enduring the pain, she opened her eyes. Before she knew it, Shin-wol was on top of her. His massive frame completely pinned her down, leaving her utterly unable to move.
When she lifted her head and met his gaze, it felt as though even her heart had frozen solid.
[…In the end, you have come once more to harm me.]
A wind blew, moving the clouds and hiding the moonlight. In the darkened space, only his glowing eyes burned with fierce intensity.
[Have you come to betray me again?]
The vertically slit pupils held nothing but clear, murderous intent.