The Weight of a Promise
Shin-wol’s icy reply left Yeo-won opening and closing her mouth as if to argue, only to let her shoulders slump in defeat.
“……I’m sorry for that. But you didn’t tell me any other way to do it.”
Yeo-won chewed anxiously at her lower lip. The faint color of her mouth split open where it was already cracked, and tiny beads of blood welled up.
When she darted her tongue out to lick the blood away, Shin-wol’s golden eyes narrowed into thin slits.
“Unfortunately, I do not have enough spiritual energy left to share with a human.”
His thumb swept across her lip, and the sting vanished at once.
The unconscious gesture made the corner of Shin-wol’s eye twitch faintly, but Yeo-won was too busy answering to notice.
“Then what about taking my jeong-gi? You said earlier that you used mine to prolong your life.”
“Are you telling me to pour the spiritual energy stored in the marble into your blood relative?”
Yeo-won gave a small shake of her head.
“I’m not that shameless. If you can give jeong-gi, that means you can also take it, right?”
Behind her determined expression, the faint image of Mun-a flickered for a moment.
“You said you have none left, didn’t you? I’ll return every bit of spiritual energy stored in the marble. In exchange, please give my jeong-gi to Grandmother.”
Please give my jeong-gi to Mother, Nari. I beg you.
The sudden fragment of the past made Shin-wol’s brow crease.
A scorching whirlpool churned inside him—an emotion he had not felt in a very long time. Disgust.
“Do you even understand what it means to give someone your jeong-gi?”
His index finger slid down the line of her throat. It stopped just below her collarbone, pressing into the hollow between her breasts, yet for some strange reason she could not pull away. The atmosphere made it feel as though she must not.
“To a human, jeong-gi is no different from life itself. If both the energy stored in the marble and the innate jeong-gi you possess disappear, you will surely die. Does that still sound acceptable?”
Strangely, though the words were little more than a threat, they did not feel frightening. Perhaps it was because she was captivated by the twisted expression on his face.
She wanted to ask why he wore such a look, but it seemed like a box that should never be opened, so Yeo-won swallowed her curiosity and spoke.
“May I ask you for just one thing?”
A faint, bittersweet smile curved her lips—weak and tired.
“Even if my jeong-gi runs out and I die, please look after Grandmother a little longer. Make sure she doesn’t die before me. That’s the only promise I ask of you.”
At her words, Shin-wol’s expression hardened. Something flickered and then died behind those chillingly cold irises. He turned his gaze away from her and looked once more toward the garden.
“Foolish and stupid. What could a blood relative you will never see for even a hundred years possibly mean to you?”
The softly murmured words sounded as if they were directed at someone else.
Yeo-won inwardly agreed.
That’s right. What am I even doing this for?
Even she could not define this feeling.
Long ago, when she was very small, she had once fallen asleep on the wooden veranda while waiting for her grandfather to return from the market.
It had been spring, yet the lingering cold made the air sharp, and a chill wind blew from every direction.
Asleep, Yeo-won had curled into a tight ball, shivering pitifully all over.
Looking back now, she could not understand it, but at the time she had wanted to be the first to greet him, even if it meant enduring the cold.
Then a single blanket had fallen over her foolish little body with a soft thud.
Even half-asleep, she had instinctively clutched the blanket tight, and the frozen tension in her limbs melted away.
The blanket must have been warmed by the brazier; inside it was unusually warm and comforting.
When she rubbed her face against it like a kitten and smiled sleepily, she felt a hand gently stroking her messy hair.
She thought she had heard the soft click of a tongue now and then.
The touch was rough, yet somehow tender, so Yeo-won had vaguely assumed it was her grandfather.
Later, when she fell into a deeper sleep, her grandfather returned from the market, woke her, and scolded her angrily for sleeping outside.
Even while being scolded, Yeo-won had blankly fingered the blanket covering her.
If it had not been her grandfather, the only other person who could have covered her was her grandmother.
But she had not dared ask. She was afraid it would only provoke more anger.
Still, deep down she had been happy.
The thought that her grandmother did not truly hate her had kept Yeo-won smiling for days on end.
She could not forget that single moment. That was why she could never let go of the selfish desire to keep her family.
Even after hearing herself called a demon, even after learning that her grandmother despised her, Grandmother remained Yeo-won’s one and only family.
It was too grand to call love, too desperate to call affection.
How could she possibly explain such a heart to him?
“Because humans are foolish and stupid, that’s why.”
The answer was less for Shin-wol than for herself.
People were all foolish and stupid by nature. She was no exception.
He slowly closed his eyes and opened them again. When he snapped his fingers, the scenery changed in the blink of an eye.
It was dark and dim, but the faint moonlight slipping through the lattice window told her this was a bedroom.
The only thing clearly visible in the darkness was the glowing pair of his eyes.
“I do not make covenants with humans. You creatures betray at the slightest opportunity.”
“Not all of us are like that.”
“Every human I have met has been exactly like that.”
“Your ancestor was no different.”
The look in Shin-wol’s eyes as he spoke was brutally dark. He almost seemed weary.
With that final confirmation, she truly had nothing left to say.
Before she could wonder why he was suddenly saying such things, he lifted a hand and scratched lightly at her throat. The sting made Yeo-won flinch.
“Say that you will not betray me.”
“Pardon?”
“Say it.”
His voice made it clear refusal would not be tolerated, so Yeo-won answered quietly.
“……I won’t betray you.”
The moment the words left her, the skin where his hand had touched grew hot. But as soon as he withdrew, the heat vanished as if it had never been there.
Yeo-won touched the spot and asked, “What did you just do?”
“I placed a simple mark on you.”
“A mark?”
“Yes. A simple spell that says you will die if you betray me.”
What did he just say?
The unexpected answer left Yeo-won’s mouth hanging open.
“If you cannot believe it, you are welcome to test it.”
The added remark that he did not think her stupid enough to try it made irritation surge through her.
Even in the darkness, she was certain he was smiling.
“What the hell is—”
She had been about to demand what kind of nonsense he had pulled when she froze.
Placing such a mark on her could only mean he intended to accept her request.
The realization made Yeo-won’s face twist violently.
Wait, am I really supposed to accept it like this? Didn’t I just get some weird curse with nothing in return?
She swallowed the words she could not voice and glared at him. Shin-wol laughed softly and leaned back against the wall.
“Do not worry. Unlike you humans, I do not break a promise once made.”
There it was again. An answer that sounded as if he had read her mind.
“I’m not sure if I should ask this, but… can you read other people’s thoughts too?”
“Why would I waste my strength reading something so plainly written on your face?”
In other words, if he used his arts, he could read thoughts as well.
Yeo-won decided she would have to be more careful and kept touching the spot on her throat. By then her eyes had adjusted to the darkness and the room slowly came into view.
Looking down, she saw a silk quilt similar to the one in her own room. The only other objects were an antique wooden chest and a large baduk board.
It was a plain room with neither scrolls nor ceramics, yet an undeniable splendor lingered in it. A room that suited him perfectly. After looking around once, her eyes met Shin-wol’s again. He was still leaning against the wall, quietly watching her.
“Have you finished looking around?”
“If I was rude, I’m sorry.”
“Not particularly.”
He leaned at an angle, looking down at her. Only moments ago she had been trembling like a frightened animal; now she was staring at his room with curious eyes.
Watching Yeo-won inside his own chamber, Shin-wol lowered his gaze.
How long had it been since he allowed a human into this room?
Since Mun-a, perhaps this was the first time.
Even now, if he closed his eyes he could still hear that voice. The young yet calm child’s voice, those bright and kind eyes—they had constantly rummaged through his mind.
His mind kept blurring. It seemed the power he had used on Mu-ho had not yet returned. On top of that, he had just placed a spell on this child. No matter how powerful Shin-wol was, it was only natural he would feel drained.
At that moment, Yeo-won asked in a small voice, “Um… are you tired?”
“Tired?”
“Yes. You were sleeping earlier, and right now you look a little tired…”
“Tired, hmm.”
He repeated the unfamiliar word as if tasting something strange.
If he admitted he was tired, Yeo-won planned to ask him to send her home for now. So much had already happened; she could ask about giving him her jeong-gi another time. But contrary to her expectations, he narrowed his dreamy eyes in a seductive curve and reached out to her.
“It seems I am indeed a little weary after using my power for the first time in so long.”
“Then you should rest a little—”
“So I thought I might receive some jeong-gi.”
The exact opposite of what she had expected left Yeo-won frozen like a broken toy.
“Did you not make a promise? In exchange for helping your grandmother, you would give me the jeong-gi stored in the marble.”
He was right. But so suddenly, without any preparation—though perhaps no preparation was truly needed.
Her mind spun.
She considered changing the subject, but she knew such a shallow tactic would never work on him.
After a brief struggle, she quickly resigned herself. With a small sigh, Yeo-won straightened her posture neatly.
“How should I give it to you?”
“You already know the method, do you not?”
Her ominous premonition had been correct, as always. She had wanted to prepare herself mentally, but—
Yeo-won squeezed her eyes shut. The events on Mount Inwol flashed through her mind.
When she hesitated, he withdrew his outstretched arm and closed his eyes once more.
“I will not force you. I have plenty of time.”
There was an implication in his words. As if to say that while he could afford to wait, her grandmother could not.
“If I give you my jeong-gi, you can heal Grandmother right away, can’t you?”
“That depends on how well you do it.”
After a moment of thought, Yeo-won made up her mind. She rose unsteadily and slowly approached him.
Yes. This was simply an act to give him her jeong-gi.
Yeo-won repeated to herself over and over that it meant nothing, hypnotizing herself.
Her heart was pounding wildly. It felt similar to the nervous excitement she had felt as a child sneaking snacks her grandfather had hidden. The same stomach-churning tension that came from doing something forbidden.
Looking at his face—so beautiful it seemed to have stepped out of a painting—she felt endless hesitation. Was she really allowed to do this?
Finally gathering her courage, Yeo-won carefully pressed her lips to his snow-white cheek and slowly pulled away.