What Is This Supposed to Mean?
What is this supposed to mean?
Yeo-won was furious that he had dragged her here on a whim and then abandoned her, yet she had never once entertained anything so brutal as the idea of killing him.
Did he mistake me for someone else?
The child from her dream flickered through Yeo-won’s chaotic thoughts.
Harm? That this spiritual being was injured by that child?
It was impossible to picture the boy who had beamed with such pure joy over a single candy ever harming Shin-wol.
Besides, she doubted whether a spiritual entity who had lived for hundreds of years could even be wounded by a human hand.
Countless questions churned in her mind, but they were severed the moment Shin-wol’s grip tightened further.
The pain was so crushing she could not hold back a whimper.
“Ah, it hurts!”
At Yeo-won’s anguished cry, Shin-wol flinched. He gazed down at her in silence, then murmured in a voice that sounded strangely hollow.
“...No. That cannot be.”
The instant the manacle-like pressure eased, Yeo-won wrenched her hand free with every ounce of strength she possessed.
A vivid red mark circled her wrist. She clutched the burning skin and looked up to find Shin-wol staring vacantly into empty air.
“Yes, of course it could not be.”
The words carried a self-mocking edge. His expression was dreamy, as though still half-lost in sleep, yet it held an unmistakable desolation.
“It must not be so.”
A crooked smile unfurled across his exquisite face.
Without thinking, Yeo-won followed the direction of his gaze. A towering apricot tree stood resolute at the end of that line of sight.
Yet she sensed he was not truly seeing the tree.
Perhaps he looked a little farther away, or into a past so remote it might as well have been another lifetime.
Petals scattered across the night sky like stars drifted around Shin-wol, only to fall to the ground before they could touch him.
The broad stone-walled pond, the moon floating upon its surface, the apricot tree that had forgotten the turning of the seasons.
For some reason the place and Shin-wol himself seemed alike: both so breathtakingly beautiful that they blinded the eye, yet both carried a faint, indefinable sense of alienation.
“How many days have passed?”
His question shattered her reverie. Startled, Yeo-won looked at him; Shin-wol regarded her with perfect composure, as though the previous moment had never occurred.
“...Roughly three days.”
“Then not so very long at all.”
Three entire days, not even one, yet he spoke as if barely an hour had slipped by.
Yeo-won wanted to demand an explanation for being left alone so long, but the strangely exhausted cast of his face made her swallow the words.
She sat at the edge of the wooden veranda, absently rubbing her throbbing wrist.
Staring at the arm that would surely bloom with bruises, she arranged the questions she meant to ask him.
“Does it pain you?”
At the soft voice Yeo-won lifted her head. Shin-wol’s eyes were half-lidded in languid repose as he extended a hand toward her.
“Come here.”
Yeo-won flinched at the sight of those long, elegant fingers.
She knew too well how merciless those beautiful hands could be. She covered the reddened wrist as though to shield it.
“I’m fine.”
“I shall not harm you.”
She stared at him with open mistrust.
Causing injury and then offering the cure was hardly reassuring.
Truthfully, she did not want to be touched at all. The memory of that bone-crushing pain still pulsed in her wrist.
Yet refusing again risked returning them to the beginning, and that frightened her more.
She could not claim to understand his temperament, but his earlier relentless questioning about whether she feared him suggested it was not especially forgiving.
It would be wiser, she decided, not to resist here but to steer the conversation in whatever direction pleased him.
Having reached that conclusion in the space of a breath, Yeo-won stepped closer and offered her wrist.
What had been merely red before was now swollen as well.
How little control does he have over his own strength?
She grumbled inwardly and stole a glance at him.
His hand closed around her wrist. It was so large it engulfed the joint and still had room to spare.
The broad palm stroked gently down the injured flesh, then withdrew without a sound.
“This should suffice.”
When she looked down, her wrist appeared completely untouched.
She turned it in every direction; no pain answered. The realization that it was not merely disguised but truly healed left her astonished.
“Wow.”
Shin-wol watched her marvel. Their eyes met; Yeo-won cleared her throat in embarrassment and scooted back.
Though “back” still left only the distance of two bodies between them.
She wondered briefly if she ought to thank him, then decided it would be absurd to thank the very person who had caused the injury.
She was about to broach the real subject when a wind rose. The chill, sharp as midwinter, made her shoulders tremble.
Now that her tension had eased, the cold she had been ignoring seemed to crash over her all at once. Still, Yeo-won clenched her jaw and spoke.
“I… I have something I want to ask you.”
He sat upon the threshold, leaning lazily against the wall while he studied her.
The moment her gaze locked with those golden-glass eyes, her mind went blank. Was it because they revealed no emotion? Or because the vertical pupils seemed capable of piercing straight through her?
Yeo-won hastily looked away and mumbled.
“About the marble you mentioned before…”
“I cannot hear you clearly.”
“Pardon?”
“Your voice does not reach me.”
Not reach him? His voice had answered her only moments ago.
Even as she thought it, she could not voice the contradiction.
He must know how inconsistent his words sounded, yet she could not fathom why he would say such a thing now.
When Yeo-won simply stopped, Shin-wol closed his eyes altogether.
“If you have words for me, come closer and speak them.”
She checked the distance between them once more.
He spoke perfectly well from farther away earlier. What is the problem now?
While his eyes remained shut, Yeo-won openly twisted her face into a scowl.
It was already difficult enough enduring the cold; his incomprehensible demands made irritation flare hot and sudden.
She considered muttering curses as if she had lost her mind, but refrained. She had no desire to provoke a fight.
Yeo-won glared at him in silence, then released a small sigh.
Nothing would be solved by remaining like this.
The fastest path was to discuss the marble, reach some resolution, and return home.
She could not stay here forever. She had work to do, and she needed to check on her grandmother’s health.
Yeo-won rose from the veranda and moved toward Shin-wol. To prevent him from repeating the same command, she approached until she was close enough to touch if she simply fell forward, then sat down heavily.
“This should be audible now, yes?”
The irritation bled plainly through her voice. Shin-wol slowly lifted his eyelids.
Yeo-won glared at him with narrowed eyes and a sullen pout.
She looked remarkably like an angry kitten. Shin-wol gave a low chuckle and tilted his head.
“Perhaps.”
A hollow laugh finally broke from Yeo-won’s lips.
Any closer and she would be whispering directly into his ear.
Why is he behaving like this?
The moment she opened her mouth to protest, Shin-wol’s hand darted out and yanked her forward.
“Wait, just a moment—!”
Her face pressed into the hard plane of his chest, cutting off the rest. She tried to push away at once, but her body refused to move. His arm had already coiled around her waist, locking her in place.
“Now my voice should reach you clearly.”
The languid, beautiful timbre drifted down from above. Yeo-won struggled for a moment longer, then surrendered with a deep sigh.
“You told me to come closer if I had something to say.”
“Then speak.”
“Like this?”
“Is there anything preventing you?”
Nothing prevented it, yet… the problem was her own embarrassment.
She had realized it before: this spiritual being held no reservations whatsoever about physical contact.
No matter how hard she tried to ignore it, the moment their bodies touched, memories from Mount Inwol flooded back and tormented her.
The press of lips, the insistent slide of his powerful tongue, the humiliating image of herself clinging desperately to receive more of him—each recollection brought a wave of shame so intense she could hardly bear it.
Before her thoughts could stray any further, something settled over her shoulders. It was the outer robe Shin-wol had been wearing.
Tailored to his far larger frame, the garment swallowed her completely.
He drew her deeper into his arms and rubbed his face against the nape of her neck.
“How warm you are.”
The voice against her ear was unbearably sensual.
It was a mercy she could not see his face.
Even his voice alone raised gooseflesh across her skin; facing him as well would have left her utterly unable to finish the conversation.
With that realization, the awkward position began to feel almost tolerable.
Yeo-won drew a slow breath within the circle of his arms, gathered her courage, and spoke.
“You asked me to give you the marble.”
“Indeed.”
“I want to understand exactly what that means.”
She had heard a rough outline from Cheong-sil, but she needed certainty. Unlikely as it was, Shin-wol might have lied.
Yet as though he had seen straight through her shallow ploy, a razor-edged laugh sounded from behind her. Even without looking, she knew the expression on his lips was pure mockery.
“There is no chance Cheong-sil failed to tell you.”
The icy tone made her heart plummet. It was truly fortunate they were not facing each other. Had they been, she would have looked away at once.
“……”
“You possess no talent for deception.”
Yeo-won squeezed her eyes shut. Her careful scheming had been pierced in an instant.
Her lips twitched, ready with some excuse, but she realized its futility and pressed them closed again.
After several seconds of silence she tried once more.
“I wasn’t trying to deceive you. I simply needed to be certain.”
No reply came. Yeo-won steadied her breathing and continued.
“I only know that a marble rests inside my body and that it is in my eyes.”
She had heard many other details, but there was no reason to mention them now.
Revealing that her ancestor had stolen the marble would bring her no advantage in this conversation.
What mattered was not the past, but the present.
After listening to Cheong-sil, Yeo-won had spent the time since turning over the reason Shin-wol had brought her here.
“You demanded that I return the marble to you.”
There was no need for lengthy consideration. To become a Cheon-sin or whatever title he sought, he still required the marble.
Her small white hand tightened on the fabric of his robe. The grip was faint, yet it trembled with unmistakable desperation.
“If I give you the marble… will I stop seeing ghosts?”