A Face That Could Make One Weep
He stood motionless for a long time, his face utterly blank. When the silence grew awkward and Yeo-won stole a glance to read his mood, he was staring down at her with a face so rigidly frozen it was almost frightening.
Startled, she stumbled back; he seized her shoulder and steadied her.
“Eep.”
The grip was stronger than usual. Yeo-won couldn’t suppress the small groan that escaped her.
The voice echoed not in her ears but directly inside her skull. Yeo-won slowly lifted her head.
The instant her gaze met those inorganic, brilliantly vivid eyes, she drew a sharp breath without realizing it. Something like fleeting expectation sparkled and vanished within their golden depths.
His sentence broke off. The ground surged like a wave and a violent earthquake shook the cavern so fiercely that their attention shattered.
“What in the world…”
He exhaled softly while gazing at the cave now split into two passages. A faint ripple of unrest crossed the face that had remained composed until now.
“Ah—”
Before Yeo-won could reach out, Shin-wol had already vanished into the cave. His movement was so swift that no afterimage remained; her raised hand fell uselessly back to her side.
What had he been about to say?
She had never seen that expression on him before. Even when she had tried to touch him while he slept, sorrow had flickered across his features, yet this was subtly different.
If a single face could move a person to tears, it would be one like that.
A trace of expectation, a thread of desperation directed toward something—followed by the hollow futility of watching those feelings vanish into the distance in the space of a heartbeat.
Leaning her back against the cave wall, Yeo-won slid slowly to the floor.
If Shin-wol saw her like this, he would surely scold her again.
Even while thinking so, she felt no urge to stand.
“Why…”
Why did you wear that expression?
Her chest ached. Heat prickled at the corners of her eyes.
Though she didn’t want to dwell on it, the image kept rising in her mind like an afterimage that refused to fade.
In those eyes that shone like a radiant moon, the clearest emotion was an undeniable longing.
And from the very beginning until now, the compass of that longing had pointed unwaveringly in a single direction.
“……”
With lifeless eyes, Yeo-won slowly stroked the back of the cat nestled in her arms.
A faint, bitter smile touched her lips as she murmured.
“Why did you do it, Mun-a?”
He was so sad. Even after hundreds of years, why did you betray the man who still yearns for you?
Why betray him? Why steal the marble?
“Why are you making this so painful for me…”
Yeo-won lowered her head and bit her lip fiercely to hold back the tears.
Endurance and acceptance had always been her greatest strengths. Now it seemed she would have to speak of them in the past tense.
She had never wanted to resent or hate her own ancestor. After all, doing so wouldn’t improve anything.
Yet at this moment, she could not help but resent her.
If she did not hate the woman who had created this situation, the suffocating pressure in her heart would never ease.
Yeo-won felt a deep, festering irritation at being forced to simply accept a truth she knew nothing about.
She did not know what had happened between them. She had not wanted to know, and she had not tried to find out.
She had believed it would be better for everyone that way. Stirring up the sins of her ancestor would only provoke his anger further—or so she had told herself.
But day after day he tore open her heart and offered her the very thing she needed most. Yeo-won could no longer pretend ignorance.
To her, Shin-wol was not merely a tool to dissolve her karmic debt. He was not a terrifying ghost, nor was he a helpless being like Cheong-sil who required her protection.
Her feelings toward him had never been something so simple as affection.
Yeo-won smiled bitterly.
That kind of expression is unfair.
Even if she regretted thinking she could have endured it, the emotions she had already recognized showed no intention of retreating.
The past could not be changed. Time that had already passed could never be rewound.
She knew that, yet now Yeo-won wanted to understand why he had worn that expression—and beyond that, she wanted to know every fragment of the past that appeared in her dreams.
But how?
She could occasionally glimpse pieces of the past in dreams, yet she could not summon them at will. The times and situations appeared completely at random, so they offered no clear picture of what had transpired between the two.
She did not want to ask Shin-wol directly. Even if he refused to answer, she never wanted to see that anguished face again.
While she sat with eyes closed, lost in thought, the cat in her arms began to squirm.
“Oh, are you awake now?”
“……”
The cat poked its head out from her embrace and stared at her with clear green eyes. Yeo-won smiled softly in return.
“You must have been in a lot of pain. I’ll apologize in your stead.”
She carefully set the cat on the floor and examined it thoroughly for any injuries. Once she was satisfied, she gently stroked its head.
“Didn’t you say you can understand speech?”
“Meow.”
The cry sounded almost like an answer. Yeo-won let out a small laugh.
“I heard the master of this place isn’t feeling well. I’m sorry for barging in without warning… But we didn’t come to fight. We came to ask you to open the path for us.”
“……”
“Could you open it for us? If the way opens, I’ll take him and leave as quickly as possible.”
The cat had been watching her quietly as she explained the situation in a gentle, measured tone. Then it abruptly turned and began walking in the opposite direction from the split entrance.
After taking several steps, it glanced back at Yeo-won and cried again.
“Meow.”
Its thin tail swayed twice, as though beckoning her to follow.
“You want me to come with you?”
“Meow.”
Without hesitation the cat turned away again and approached what appeared to be a perfectly solid wall.
When Yeo-won stopped in front of the seamless stone, the cat suddenly slipped inside it.
Only the spot where it had passed rippled like heat haze.
Yeo-won’s eyes widened.
“Meow.”
The cat cried again, urging her on.
“But I can’t go alone…”
“Meow!”
Frustrated, the cat trotted back, seized the hem of her trousers in its mouth, and tugged.
“W-wait a second.”
As Yeo-won stumbled forward, the entrance behind her vanished instantly. It felt similar to the way Shin-wol had torn through the air.
She turned her head, scanning her surroundings. The landscape was markedly different from the cave she had just left.
A long, wide single path stretched before her, lit at intervals by torches set into the walls. It resembled an old abandoned mine, yet the ceiling was unusually high, giving the space an odd sense of grandeur.
The somewhat eerie atmosphere made Yeo-won’s body tense.
“Meow.”
The cat at her feet began walking slowly forward.
After a moment’s hesitation, Yeo-won followed.
“Can you actually open the path?”
“Meow.”
She had no idea what the sound meant.
At least with Cheong-sil she could hold a proper conversation.
She never imagined she would miss that little fox.
The cat continued silently ahead. Though Yeo-won followed, uncertainty gnawed at her and anxiety steadily grew.
When she felt they had walked quite a distance, a pitch-black wall appeared before them.
Wondering if they were meant to pass through this one as well, she waited. Instead the cat sat down and swished its tail lazily.
“Is this the destination?”
“Meow.”
“It sounds like you’re saying yes, but…”
There was nothing here. The surroundings looked no different from the path they had already traveled.
The path had not opened, and there was no sign of the Mountain God Mu-ho.
“I trusted you…”
Yeo-won narrowed her eyes at the cat. Still, since she had chosen to follow, she could hardly blame anyone else.
Exhausted from the long walk, she braced her palm against the wall—then quickly snatched it back. The texture was wrong.
“What…?”
She staggered backward and stared at her hand.
It had not felt like cold stone. The surface had been soft yet firm, plush yet smooth.
“This isn’t a wall?”
She asked the cat while pressing a hand to her startled chest, but received no reply.
After studying her palm for a moment, Yeo-won steeled herself and reached out again with a solemn expression.
Her trembling fingers met something. She swallowed the scream rising in her throat and explored further.
The stiff texture wrapping her fingers was unmistakably fur. A warmth—almost hot—flowed from it, proof that this was a living creature.
At that exact moment the ground shook violently, as if another earthquake had struck.
The deep voice reverberated through her mind. Yet it was somehow familiar.
Nabi? Wondering if that was the cat’s name, Yeo-won looked down. The cat purred in response and pressed its head against the wall.
The enormous wall began to move.
Only then did the unusually high ceiling make sense.
Even without rising, its body would brush the roof.
The massive form shifted slowly. What she had mistaken for a wall gradually revealed its face.
The being that filled the space with overwhelming presence was Mu-ho’s true form—the majestic Mountain Lord of Mount Gonok, a giant tiger whose orange-and-black coat gleamed with ancient power.