An Unexpected Invitation
My head suddenly went blank.
“Uh...”
The long sigh carried an unmistakable trace of bewilderment she couldn’t conceal.
Flustered, Yeo-won pulled the phone from her ear and checked the number again. No matter how many times she read it, it was unmistakably the home number she remembered.
It had been eight years since she moved to Seoul. Had Grandmother ever once mentioned the memorial date before then?
Yeo-won pressed hard against her temples, sifting through hazy memories.
After all, the memorial day had never been any different from an ordinary one. She would simply go to the columbarium in town to greet Grandfather, and even then she had never once gone together with Grandmother.
It was an unspoken rule between them; neither ever suggested they go together. On the day itself, when Yeo-won returned from school, changed her clothes, and headed to the columbarium, only the traces of Grandmother—who had already come and gone—remained.
Looking at the two chrysanthemums placed neatly before Grandfather’s photograph, Yeo-won would swallow her disappointment.
The day before the memorial she would buy flowers in advance, summon her courage to speak, then see Grandmother’s cold profile and close her mouth again. It happened time and again.
I’m sorry, Grandfather. I couldn’t ask her to go with me this year either.
It wasn’t only this year. She knew it would likely be the same next year and the year after that. Her relationship with Grandmother grew worse with every passing day.
Ever since Grandfather died, the distance between Grandmother and Yeo-won had spiraled beyond control.
She didn’t know the reason. Perhaps there had never been one to begin with.
Yeo-won had no idea what effort might bridge the gap. She only felt afraid.
When Grandfather was alive he had tried so hard to mend things between them, yet in the end all his labor had come to nothing.
Guilt stung her eyes. Yeo-won squeezed them shut, fighting back the tears.
She did not want to cry on the one day a year she could meet Grandfather.
She would linger around the columbarium until sunset, then return home, skip dinner, and fall asleep. She spent her parents’ memorial days in much the same way.
Even after moving to Seoul, nothing had changed. On memorial days she visited the columbarium but often returned without stopping at the house in Inwol. She believed she could not endure the awkwardness.
The wound had already festered beyond healing; the only thing left was to keep it covered.
So why now, after all this time?
......
A heavy silence stretched between them.
If you’re coming, arrive before nine o’clock the day after tomorrow. Buy some injeolmi on your way through town. I’ll give you the money.
......
“I’m hanging up.”
Click.
The call ended. Yeo-won stared at the darkened screen and blinked slowly.
She hadn’t even been given time to answer.
Buy rice cakes on the way? The words practically assumed she was coming.
“Ha.”
A laugh slipped out before she could stop it.
“What is this?”
Yeo-won’s shoulders shook as she laughed. She herself didn’t know what was so funny—whether it was sheer absurdity or utter emptiness.
“All this time… because of something like this…”
The reason she had struggled so long suddenly felt unclear.
What would Grandfather have said if he saw this?
He probably would have been pleased. He would have grinned wide, teeth flashing.
Yet Yeo-won could not feel purely happy about the situation.
What if something had happened again—like before?
At the thought her expression darkened for a moment, but she quickly shook it off.
“…I hope it’s nothing more than a passing whim.”
Despite her earlier resolve, as if in a trance Yeo-won turned on the computer and booked the earliest train ticket down to Inwol.
Whether this was a good thing or not, she would only know once she arrived.
*
That night Yeo-won went to bed relatively early.
After the call with Grandmother she had started working to sort through her tangled thoughts, but for some reason she focused unusually well and finished sooner than expected.
She lay down, yet sleep refused to come. She tossed and turned for hours.
Recently, whenever she was with Shin-wol she had fallen asleep like a baby, so she had forgotten: without medicine, Yeo-won was someone who simply could not sleep.
It wasn’t so much falling asleep as fainting or collapsing most of the time.
She closed her eyes and tried to force sleep when Jae-young’s face suddenly rose in her mind.
Shin-wol’s words about having thrown him at the mountain entrance kept nagging at her. Maybe she should at least check on him.
She agonized for a while—wondering if he was physically all right, if he remembered anything—before finally deciding against contacting him.
She didn’t want to stir up trouble for no reason. After all, both of them probably wished to forget what had happened that day.
After failing to fall asleep for a long time, she had just slipped into a light doze.
A faint scent of apricot blossoms drifted from somewhere. Sweet and refreshing, the fragrance drew her like a lure; she slowly inched her body toward it.
When soft fabric brushed her cheek, a smile rose to Yeo-won’s lips. Half-asleep, she thought the softness reminded her of Cheong-sil.
“Mmm… Cheong-sil?”
She mumbled the name like sleep-talk. A laugh sharp as a blade answered.
Thinking she had misheard, Yeo-won reached out and groped around. Something met her fingertips in reply. Silky fur slid between her fingers and tickled her face.
Had Cheong-sil’s fur always been this long?
Puzzled, she slid her hand lower. A heavy weight pressed down from above. Feeling stifled, she twisted, but her body refused to move as though pinned.
At that moment something soft and yielding touched the nape of her neck, and something else slithered beneath her clothes.
Sensing the wrongness, Yeo-won forced her heavy eyes open. A pitch-black silhouette filled her vision.
The sincerity in the muttered words snapped Yeo-won’s eyes wide open.
“Shin—Lord Shin-wol?!”
Startled out of her wits, she seized his shoulder and shoved, but he didn’t budge.
Still half-awake, she couldn’t fully grasp the situation before her.
“Why are you—ah!”
A large hand suddenly seized her breast. The vivid pressure of it being crushed made Yeo-won’s body flinch and tremble.
He circled her areola with his middle finger, then pressed firmly on the peak.
The finger that pressed her nipple moved languidly, heightening the stimulation.
“No—what are you even saying—hnng—first let’s talk, let’s just talk!”
When Yeo-won raised her voice and struggled, his body—unusually—obediently withdrew. She yanked her rolled-up clothes back down, sat up, and saw Shin-wol illuminated by the mood lamp.
He was looking down at her with clear displeasure.
Yeo-won felt so disoriented she wondered if she was dreaming. She glanced around hurriedly. The familiar wallpaper and bookshelf of her own room met her eyes. She had thought she might have been taken to Myoilgung in her sleep, but that wasn’t the case.
“What’s going on? How did you get in here?”
“That’s not what I’m asking. Why did you come without a word?”
Seeing his expression darken further, Yeo-won pressed a hand to her forehead.
“Has it already been three days? I thought only one had passed…”
The conversation kept circling without progress. Yeo-won squeezed her eyes shut, then opened them again.
She decided to abandon any hope of a proper talk for now.
“Just get up and move aside so we can speak properly.”
She pushed at his chest, trying to rise, but Shin-wol showed no intention of moving.
“……?”
When she turned to look at him again, the corner of his mouth curved wickedly.
......
She was already furious that he had entered her house without permission, and now he demanded a kiss on top of it.
There had to be limits to his selfishness. Yet she knew all too well that speaking of common sense or conscience to him was pointless.
Still, if she let this pass, the same thing would surely happen again.
Yeo-won seemed to hesitate, then slowly leaned toward him and carefully tilted her head.
Just before their lips met, she stopped and whispered softly.
“Promise me you won’t appear so suddenly next time.”
Seeing her pause at a distance where her breath could tickle the fine hairs on his face, he gave a short laugh.
“Then I won’t play baduk with you anymore.”
Shin-wol’s smile vanished instantly. Even as his face turned utterly expressionless, Yeo-won continued to gaze at him with a deliberately forlorn expression.
After a long moment of silent eye contact, he murmured in a low voice.
“You’ll promise, won’t you?”
It was vague, but she decided it was good enough. Yeo-won carefully pressed her lips to his.