The Apricot Tree That Would Never Bloom Again
As expected, the rain came down in a torrent. Raindrops clinging to the eaves pattered heavily onto the ground below.
It was a sight she hadn't seen in a long time. The scent of wet earth and fresh greenery filled the air in every direction.
When she was little, her grandfather would always head to the supermarket in town on rainy days. He would return with an armful of snacks—the kind he rarely bought for her.
All those treats had been hers alone.
After stuffing herself with cookies and ice cream, drowsiness would hit her instantly, and her grandfather would stay by her side until the rain stopped.
He never once said that the things became easier to see when it rained…
Thinking back on it now, it must have been his own quiet way of showing consideration.
That was probably why, while other people associated rain with makgeolli or kimchi pancakes, the first thing that came to Yeo-won's mind was something sweet.
She was lost in those old memories when she heard Grandmother Yoon's voice from the direction of the gate.
Grandmother Yoon entered the yard carrying an umbrella in one hand and a bright yellow bundle in the other.
“Why are you standing out here in the cold? How’s your grandmother doing?”
“Ah, hello. She was awake all night and only fell asleep about an hour or two ago.”
“Goodness. Seeing her sleep at this hour… she really must be ill.”
When Yeo-won rose hesitantly to her feet, Grandmother Yoon waved a hand, motioning for her to sit back down.
“I brought some chicken porridge. When she wakes up, make sure she eats it, you hear?”
Inside the yellow bundle was a large enamel pot.
“Oh… thank you so much. I should be the one doing these things. I’m so sorry for always relying on your help.”
Yeo-won kept bowing her head in genuine apology. At the sight, Grandmother Yoon let out a hearty laugh and gave Yeo-won’s back a loud, resounding slap.
“Aigoo, there’s nothing to be sorry about! You haven’t eaten yet, have you? Come on, let’s go eat.”
“Ah, no, I’m fine. I’m not really…”
She had no appetite to speak of, and she never ate breakfast anyway.
Feeling guilty for making the old woman worry about her too, Yeo-won tried to refuse with a polite excuse, but Grandmother Yoon’s brow furrowed sharply.
“Tsk. You don’t turn down food like this. It’s already set out. You look skinnier than your own grandmother—pale as a ghost.”
Grandmother Yoon looked her up and down, clicking her tongue in disapproval.
Yeo-won brushed a hand over her haggard face and gave an awkward smile. Maybe she should have washed up after all.
“Come on now. After you eat, my husband said he’d drive you both to the hospital.”
Without waiting for an answer, Grandmother Yoon turned and walked out the gate.
Though her tone was gruff, the kindness behind it made Yeo-won smile faintly as she followed after her.
Grandmother Yoon was the only person in the village Yeo-won truly trusted.
She had been the one who rescued her from the mountain all those years ago, and the first to search for her when she disappeared from the funeral hall.
Unlike the other adults, she treated Yeo-won like an ordinary girl. But more than that, there was always a faint, lantern-like glow hovering behind Grandmother Yoon.
Unlike the pitch-black things Yeo-won usually saw, it felt strangely warm and comforting, which made her trust the woman even more.
She had later learned from her grandfather that Grandmother Yoon used to be a shaman. As if to prove it, her storage shed was filled with all sorts of strange objects.
Perhaps because of that profession, when she first arrived in Inwol, the villagers had been wary of her and subtly ostracized her.
But Grandmother Yoon, with her indifferent nature, paid no attention to such things.
Her dry, emotionless demeanor gradually wore down the childish exclusion, though some people still kept their distance.
The villagers would sometimes whisper that Yeo-won and Grandmother Yoon were cut from the same cloth.
Yeo-won never minded those words. If the reason Grandmother Yoon was kind to her was because they shared similar circumstances, she couldn’t ask for anything better.
At least it meant there was one other person like her in the world.
Just thinking that somehow brought her an odd sense of relief.
As soon as they entered the house, Grandmother Yoon heated up the soup and piled rice high into a bowl for her.
I won’t be able to finish all this…
“Eat up.”
“…Thank you.”
Yeo-won lifted her spoon with grim determination.
After the meal, when she returned home, her grandmother was awake.
The window was wide open—perhaps she had opened it herself. Rainwater had splashed onto the sill and pooled on the floor.
Her grandmother sat in the exact same posture and with the same expression as the day before, staring out the window.
Without a word, Yeo-won wiped the floor dry and closed the window.
Her grandmother’s face tightened subtly, but Yeo-won paid it no mind. She warmed the chicken porridge and set it before her.
“Grandmother Yoon brought this. Do you think you could eat some?”
“……”
Her grandmother didn’t even glance at the porridge Yeo-won had brought.
“The grandfather next door said he’d drive us to the hospital. Even if you have no appetite, please try at least one spoonful.”
Yeo-won opened the wardrobe in the room and took out a pair of pants and a top.
It was raining and chilly outside; something a little thicker would be better.
“I’ll just pick out whatever clothes look warm. As for washing up, we can do that after we get back from the hospital if you’re feeling up to it…”
“…I’m not going.”
“Pardon?”
When Yeo-won turned to look at her, their eyes met. Her grandmother was clutching the blanket so tightly it bunched up, glaring at Yeo-won with venomous eyes.
The icy expression made Yeo-won flinch.
It was better than no reaction at all, but this wasn’t the kind of response she had hoped for…
Yeo-won hesitated for a moment, then let out a small sigh.
“Grandmother. If you don’t go, it could be dangerous. If you don’t want to go with me, then maybe with Grandmother Yoon…”
Crash!
The sharp sound cut Yeo-won’s words short.
Her grandmother had hurled the bowl of chicken porridge right at her.
It didn’t hit her, but the bowl shattered, sending shards flying everywhere. Sticky porridge splattered across the wardrobe and dripped down in thick rivulets.
Startled, Yeo-won froze in place.
“I’m not going! I said I’m not going!”
Her grandmother shouted, breathing harshly.
It wasn’t just the porridge. She grabbed anything within reach and threw it, screaming at the top of her lungs.
“Get out! Get out of here! Disappear from my sight!”
Yeo-won couldn’t understand how such strength could come from a body as frail as a withered branch.
She reached out, trying to calm her grandmother first.
“You evil spirit! Because of you—because of you, my son! My husband!”
She was too out of breath to finish, but the meaning was crystal clear.
Evil spirit.
Yeo-won’s hand stopped dead in midair.
For a moment, the words left her stunned, and she couldn’t dodge the silver tray that came flying at her.
It struck her shoulder with a heavy thud before clattering to the floor.
Her shoulder throbbed. But compared to the pain that was tearing her chest apart, it was nothing.
“Grandmother…”
Her hollow voice scattered helplessly, never reaching the old woman.
“Aaaagh!”
Her grandmother let out a scream filled with bitter resentment. The near-wail was so piercing that Yeo-won couldn’t look away.
It was like watching a horror movie. The kind where terror reaches its peak, yet you still can’t turn your eyes away.
Her grandmother’s razor-sharp gaze stole the breath from her lungs. It felt like a noose tightening around her throat.
The old woman groped around again, searching for something else to throw. Just then, Grandmother Yoon burst through the door.
“Good heavens, what on earth is going on here!”
Grandmother Yoon grabbed the arm of the dazed Yeo-won and pulled her out of the room.
“Go inside for now. I’ll look after your grandmother.”
She left Yeo-won in the main hall and went back into the room. The screams gradually turned into sobs.
The sound of her grandmother’s weeping was so fragile it made the earlier scene feel like a lie.
She could hear Grandmother Yoon comforting her, asking what could possibly be so heartbreaking.
Yeo-won stood alone in front of the door.
An evil spirit…
So that’s what I am to her.
She felt no anger. Only a strange, belated shock.
Yeo-won clenched her teeth and tightened her fists until her knuckles turned white.
She must have been hit badly on the shoulder; squeezing her fist sent a sharp jolt of pain through her arm.
It would have been better if her arm had broken.
Then maybe this pain that felt like her heart was being ripped to shreds would have been buried beneath it.
She stood in front of the door like that for a long time before quietly retreating to her own room.
Yeo-won collapsed onto the neatly folded blanket and buried her face in it.
“Hngh.”
She bit down hard on her lip to hold back the sob that threatened to burst out.
So that no one would hear her crying.
She pressed her face even deeper into the blanket, so deep that she might as well suffocate.
Holding her breath inside the folds, she made a decision.
Once her grandmother’s condition improved, she would leave Inwol.
And she would never come back again.
“Is Yeo-won there?”
How much time had passed? The sun had already set when Grandmother Yoon finally called for her.
When Yeo-won opened the door and stepped out, Grandmother Yoon was sitting in the main hall, looking somewhat exhausted.
“Your grandmother just fell asleep. I cleaned up inside roughly, but you should wipe the wardrobe again later.”
“I’m sorry. Because of me…”
“It’s not because of you. Who could blame anyone for an old woman being sick?”
Grandmother Yoon spoke firmly, but Yeo-won’s expression remained dark.
The area beneath her eyes was red and swollen from holding back tears. Grandmother Yoon let out a deep sigh, her heart aching with pity.
“I saw everything was smashed to pieces in there. Are you hurt anywhere?”
At the question, Yeo-won paused for a moment before offering an awkward smile.
“…No. I’m fine. More importantly, Grandmother seems to be in really bad shape. Could we call a doctor?”
“Let me see. I’ll talk to the old man who runs the small clinic in the next village.”
“Thank you. I’ll look into it too.”
Grandmother Yoon gave a light nod and stood up.
Yeo-won slipped on her shoes and followed her.
“Ah, I’ll walk you to the gate.”
“No need. It’s right there. You’ve had a shock—go get some rest.”
Without another word, Grandmother Yoon strode briskly across the yard. Yeo-won couldn’t bring herself to follow and simply watched her receding figure.
Then Grandmother Yoon suddenly stopped and turned around.
“…Are you really okay?”
Yeo-won understood that the question wasn’t just about physical injuries.
She didn’t know how long the old woman had been standing outside, but it was clear she had overheard most of what was said.
The gentle concern in that simple question nearly overwhelmed Yeo-won with the urge to spill everything.
No. I’m not okay, Grandmother.
I’m never coming back to Inwol again.
Yeo-won bit down hard on her lip to keep those bitter words from escaping.
If she said she was going to abandon her only remaining family and never look back, what would Grandmother Yoon think?
Would she pity her? Or would she see her as a heartless, ungrateful wretch?
Grandmother Yoon had been kind, but she was only a neighbor—not family.
Reminding herself of that fact, Yeo-won forced the most natural smile she could manage.
“…Yes. I’m fine. Thank you so much for helping today.”
The corners of her mouth trembled faintly as she lifted them. She hoped the darkness would hide it.
“I see… Go inside and rest.”
Fortunately, Grandmother Yoon said nothing more and walked out the gate.
A breeze stirred. The branches of the apricot tree in the yard swayed gently in the wind.
In spring it would bloom with pink flowers, and in summer it would bear yellow fruit.
Her grandfather used to pick the ripe apricots for her every summer.
Yeo-won stared at the bare branches—for which even leaves had yet to sprout—for a long time, trying to commit the tree she would never see again to memory.