Pure Selfishness
Yeo-won's gaze drifted out the window.
"So offering my spiritual energy is purely my own selfishness."
Shin-wol followed her line of sight. At the end of that distant stare stood a fully bloomed apricot tree. Now that she thought of it, an apricot tree had grown in the garden of her own home as well.
It was a little smaller than the one here, yet as she gazed at that identical tree she seemed to be recalling some fragment of the past.
"I understood after speaking with her. Grandmother is also terribly exhausted... She no longer appears to hold any significant attachment to life."
At the sharp question Yeo-won offered a feeble smile.
"I know. Because I am the same kind of person."
With a smile that crumbled like petals scattering on the wind, Yeo-won murmured.
"That is why I am giving you my spiritual energy. I am so tired that I want to cast every last burden I carry onto someone else."
Listening to that faint yet gentle voice, Shin-wol felt an uncomfortable weight settle in his chest.
"Grandmother will spend the rest of her days drowning in guilt and resentment. I pity her, but that no longer matters."
She spoke with a resolute face, as though nothing in the world could restrain her any longer.
It would have been better, he thought, if she had trembled with hatred and resentment toward her own blood.
Human hatred could sometimes become the very force that sustained life; therefore it was not entirely bad.
Or had he underestimated Yeo-won? She had sorted through her emotions far more swiftly than he anticipated.
"I will not do the same. The time left to me is too precious to waste burning it away in hatred and resentment toward another."
At those words Shin-wol irritably snapped his fingers, slamming the paper door shut. At the loud bang Yeo-won blinked in surprise and looked up at him.
"Are you angry?"
"It looks like you are."
When she repeated the question Shin-wol's brows drew together sharply.
The rebuke burst from him before he could stop it.
His lips pressed into a tight line.
Yeo-won watched him with faint curiosity. The very fact that he had swallowed the rest of his sentence felt strangely new. Her pupils trembled helplessly as they met his slowly lowering gaze.
He wore an expression of such sorrow that it would make anyone's heart ache.
Yeo-won gazed at him in silence. Forgetting everything. She lowered her eyes quietly and gave a faint smile.
"That doesn't sound so bad."
At her words tension locked Shin-wol's jaw. Suppressing the emotions surging inside him, he ground his teeth.
At the sorrowful timbre of his voice, Yeo-won's body flinched.
That was what death meant. Both body and soul would be completely extinguished, only to be reborn as an entirely new existence.
Even if hundreds of years passed and her soul were reincarnated, that new being would have nothing to do with the Yeo-won who stood before him now.
Shin-wol buried his face against the slender column of her neck, lips brushing her skin.
The hot breath that fell against her neck felt unbearably pitiful. For a moment Yeo-won froze, then reached out and pulled him into a tighter embrace.
Against her chest she could clearly feel the slow, heavy beat of his heart.
Thud. Thud.
The weighty sound, like stones dropping, echoed through her ribs. Compared to his slow yet powerful heartbeat, her own was as thin and lonely as the ticking of a clock.
Every time those two vastly different heartbeats crossed, Yeo-won was swallowed by an immense, distant sorrow.
She grieved that they were not beings who could walk the same path of time, and she understood—just a little—the crushing weight of the eternal life he carried.
What would become of Shin-wol once she was gone? From everything she had heard, he might ascend and become a higher existence.
But if that was not what Shin-wol desired...
Would he remain here?
Would he spend his days in solitude, playing long games of strategy while gazing at apricot blossoms that never fell?
The thought felt as if it would tear her chest apart. Imagining him alone with no expression on his face made her want to promise she would stay by his side.
Yet pity that could not be followed through would only bring more pain. Yeo-won no longer had the strength to continue this sorrowful life.
"...I'm so very tired."
At the plea in her voice, the movement of his head against her neck suddenly stopped.
"Even if I don't give Grandmother my spiritual energy, we cannot walk the same length of time anyway."
Yeo-won struggled to hold back the tears rising in her throat and continued with difficulty.
"So I hope you will take the marble and ascend. And I hope you find someone who can live the same span of time as you."
There were mountain gods, after all; surely there would be at least one being who could stand beside him.
His voice was suppressed, as though he were fighting to contain something.
At the almost begging tone, her heart sank heavily.
Yeo-won bit her lip and gently pushed at his shoulder. His body yielded without resistance, revealing his face. Those golden eyes trembled like those of a wounded child.
Suddenly she thought how alike they were.
Shin-wol, betrayed by humans, and herself, abandoned by her family.
She who could not abandon her love for family even after being hurt and hurting others, and Shin-wol who, despite such betrayal, still ended up opening his heart to humans again.
The two of them truly made a foolish and bizarre pair.
The only difference between them was the existence of an ending.
Within this cycle of suffering, Yeo-won could bring it to a close, but Shin-wol could not.
For eons he could only endure, unable to shed any of the humans who had passed or the wounds he had received.
How could anyone possibly fathom how painful and exhausting that must be?
Unable to meet his eyes any longer, Yeo-won lowered her head.
The heart she had barely put in order shook wildly.
To crush the hope that had bloomed without permission, she deliberately thought of Grandmother.
She did not want to hope again only to be hurt again.
In the end the tears she had held back spilled over once more.
"I'm sorry."
She did not know what she was apologizing for.
Even so, Yeo-won could not stop apologizing.
"I'm sorry, Shin-wol."
Understanding that this was a clear rejection, Shin-wol's face hardened like ice.
Yeo-won cried until she collapsed from exhaustion. Lately she had been losing consciousness or falling into sudden, broken sleep quite often, and it was not merely because her body had grown weak.
Her body had simply reached its limit.
A body was like a vessel; the capacity to accept power differed from person to person. Yeo-won had always been frail, and it was no exaggeration to say she had been prolonging her life solely by the power of the marble.
That was why he had tried to make her absorb the marble itself without delay, yet her body had struck its limit first.
Yeo-won seemed to have sensed this instinctively. That she would soon die.
If she remained in the human realm like this, she would not last much longer.
Shin-wol looked down at Yeo-won lying beside him and smiled bitterly.
In the end Yeo-won had never once said she wanted to live. She truly wished to die.
How absurd.
There were many ways to keep her alive. Taking her family hostage was the most effective, yet he did not wish to do so.
Because he knew that as long as her blood relatives lived, he could never become her first priority.
There were countless other reasons, but none were as clear as this.
Shin-wol could not understand why she clung so desperately to her family. Why she devoted herself to beings who could not even remain at her side for a full century.
But he was different. He could stay with her for all eternity, and although there would be some restrictions, he could grant her the immortal life that countless humans had longed for.
Yet all she asked was to be killed. The fact that the only thing she desired from him was death displeased him endlessly.
Shin-wol stroked the cheek of the woman lying beside him. In just a few days her face had grown noticeably thinner, her cheeks hollow.
He had met countless humans and built relationships with them, but the end was always the same. Some had seemed likely to betray him, others had seemed they never would, yet in the end every one of them had betrayed him.
Shin-wol recalled Mun-a. Even now he could vividly remember what she had been like before she took her revenge.
He would neither permit her to betray him nor allow her to die.
Just as she had selfishly chosen death and abandoned him, he too would make a selfish choice.
Even if that was not what Yeo-won wanted.
Shin-wol carefully lifted her hand and pressed his lips to each fingertip with reverent care.
He had the power to do so. If she wished, he could grant her wealth and honor no one in the world could touch. If she desired slaughter, he was willing to turn the entire realm into a living hell.
In his eyes swirled an indescribable darkness.
After releasing her last finger, Shin-wol placed her small hand against his own cheek. The delicate hand twitched once, then moved of its own accord to stroke his face.
His eyes curved gently.
Even if she hated him, even if she resented him, it was fine. Those feelings would still belong entirely to him.
He had never felt such emotions toward any other human.
For a long while Shin-wol rubbed his face against her hand, then rose with clear reluctance.