Chapter 22
Chapter 22
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Translator: Ace
Chapter: 22
Chapter Title: The Wind Blows (7)
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Jin-hyuk had once lived at Choi Mi-kyeong's house.
It was back when he had been left all alone.
Grandma never scolded him as he huddled in the corner, nor did she try to comfort him on purpose.
She only sent him wistful glances from afar. It felt like her own form of solace.
'That's why I don't remember much.'
In recent years, Grandma had spent less and less time at Mi-kyeong's house, busy taking care of her daughters scattered here and there. More precisely, she traveled to Seoul and Daejeon to look after her grandchildren, as Mi-kyeong had told Jin-hyuk while complaining that she missed her grandma.
- "My cousins at Aunt's place are all grown up, in college, even married, and way older than me!"
Mi-kyeong probably knew better than anyone.
She understood her mother's heart—feeling guilty for not being able to care for all her many children evenly and focusing only on her youngest son, now trying belatedly to make it up to her daughters. And Grandma's earnest efforts to fill the void left by her daughter who had passed first.
"Hey... what am I supposed to do with this."
He walked carefully down the mountain path he usually ran along, lost in his own worries.
It was a fateful encounter, something miraculous, but keeping it bottled up might just make him sick. There wasn't even a bamboo grove nearby to shout "The king's ears are donkey ears!" like in the legend.
'She told me not to tell, so I have to hold back. Mi-kyeong's family must be hurting the most.'
Even though she was well over eighty, she had been so full of life. Yet the moment she arrived, saying she missed her youngest son and wanted to see him, she took to her bed.
Jo Il-heon had said something like that.
- "An old lady who's spent her whole life knee-deep in dirt and compost fumes goin' to the city to live all fancy-like? Get her used to that, and she'll catch some kinda sickness."
It must have been the day Park Dae-soon, Jo Il-heon's best friend, had fled in the dead of night with his wife and kids. He'd come to Jin-hyuk's house to vent about Park's disappearance, and the comment had slipped out purely by chance.
Looking back now, it made perfect sense.
Maybe Grandma had caught some kind of lovesickness wandering from city to city.
Even how she'd recited her entire life story before passing.
'She must've been lonely.'
Running around between cities to care for her children and grandchildren had worn her down with heartache, and fighting loneliness without anyone to talk to had sapped her strength.
It still felt like the right thing to do.
Listening quietly to the twists and turns of Grandma's life. Perhaps that's what allowed her to shed all her unresolved grudges and leave in peace. Hadn't she even joked around and laughed brightly?
'Inventory!'
It was a fateful encounter, but she hadn't left him with anything.
He hadn't gained any new abilities or anything, but hey, he'd done a good deed.
Jin-hyuk praised himself.
His steps grew lighter as he descended the mountain.
Like chanting sutras in the rain, he kept muttering nonstop.
"......Subspace underwear, appear, appear... lotto numbers, stock info, come to me, come to me......"
Mutter mutter.
It was so embarrassing he ended up scratching the back of his head for no reason.
Felt like someone behind him was snickering, so he decided to stop there.
"Shall our General get a hug from big bro?"
Heh-heh-hek-?
General tilted his head up at Jin-hyuk, as if wondering what that meant.
The way he pretended not to understand even though he did made him seem less like a mutt or a lion and more like a fox.
Not like he could talk anyway. Jin-hyuk decided to do as he pleased.
"Hup— dang, this guy's heavy."
He was hefty, but Jin-hyuk lifted him without breaking a sweat. He could feel the weight, yet it wasn't burdensome—an ironic sensation. Strength really was something else.
When Jin-hyuk came down from the mountain, General had been climbing that rugged path on his short legs. His expression reminded Jin-hyuk of Manager Min Yong-rak, who had been rushing back and forth to the bathroom with enteritis.
He came running to Jin-hyuk, panting and licking his face, which made his intentions pretty clear without words.
Sometimes you just connect without needing to say anything.
Jin-hyuk carried General and walked slowly.
Pondering Grandma's advice all the while.
'Live excitedly, have fun?'
Besides spending each day with family, were there other fun things out there?
In summer and fall, picking and eating all sorts of fruits; in winter, roasting sweet potatoes, chestnuts, potatoes.
With his body growing so fast day by day, eating was his greatest joy.
Maybe other fun things would come along as he lived.
"General, when do you have the most fun?"
Kiiing-kiiing.
General wriggled in his arms. Looked like he wanted down.
Before Jin-hyuk could fully set him on the ground, he hopped the rest of the way.
"Wanna race?"
Woof-!
His tail spun like a propeller as he looked back at Jin-hyuk—clearly a challenge to race.
He really does understand people.
"Winner gets two mackerel!"
Huh-heh-hek-! Tap-tap-tap.
Without even a starting signal, General bolted off the road into the woods.
False start and off-course to boot.
Like a dog using lightness skill, he vanished in an instant.
"Nyahaha—."
A goofy, cheerful laugh burst out of him unbidden.
Jin-hyuk's feet powerfully kicked off the paved road.
Running is the best! he thought as he dashed.
Jo Il-heon drove his cultivator around the neighborhood, the cargo bed piled high with food.
Boiled eggs, rice cakes, fritters, fruits, and more packed into thin, transparent vinyl lunchbox cases and sealed with rubber bands.
He was distributing return gifts to the neighbors. A thank-you for their condolences, a reminder not to skip meals even if they couldn't attend the funeral. It offered a glimpse into Choi Jang-hwan's character. Heartwarming, even amid the mourning.
The younger kids chased excitedly after the cultivator, grabbing handfuls of snacks. Some had been playing tops, clutching wooden tops and whipping strings; others had kite shields or ray kites tucked under their arms.
No one scolded the little ones.
'Those are the good times.'
Innocent kids with no worries—maybe they were the true masters of this world.
The neighborhood adults had pitched several tents in Mi-kyeong's yard. The same ones printed with the village name, used at school sports days on the edge of the field.
Jin-hyuk's family practically lived at Mi-kyeong's during the funeral.
Han Yu-young helped prepare food, cleaned, and comforted Mi-kyeong's mother, Kim Sun-boek, in spare moments—all while carrying her still-young daughter Son Yu-jin on her back in a carrier. She remained as quiet as ever.
Son Gwang-yeon kept chatting with the chief mourner by the front gate, worried Choi Jang-hwan might be struggling.
Choi Jang-hwan, dressed in coarse hemp mourning clothes, gripped a thick, long bamboo pole with both hands, planting it firmly on the ground before him.
"Hyung-nim, if you're tired, I can take over—."
"Nah. This is how it's done proper-like. Ain't leanin' 'cause I'm beat."
"Ah......"
Even in mourning, Choi Jang-hwan let out a hearty laugh at Gwang-yeon's earnestness. He was living well enough, but still had much to learn, this younger brother of his.
The two men stood together at the gate, chatting amiably.
When a visitor arrived, Jang-hwan would let out a low, resonant "Aigoo—aigoo—" wail. Some kids nearby giggled at the sight, finding it amusing.
Gwang-yeon, who had started with just blinking in confusion, soon joined in the wailing, but Jang-hwan didn't chide him.
'Never seen a funeral like this.'
To Jin-hyuk, accustomed to city funerals, it was a fresh shock.
Kids running around, village dogs sniffing for greasy scraps, women nonstop cooking and washing dishes in one corner.
Some uncles playing yutnori or hwatu.
'I hate crowds, but this feels good.'
Even in this situation where it shouldn't, his heart felt strangely warm and cozy.
Maybe that's what they meant by a funeral house bustling with people being a good thing.
He could feel the genuine affection.
Just then, an auntie helping out thrust a black plastic bag into Kim Eun-jeong's father's hands.
"Hey, Eun-jeong's dad! Take this. Don't forget Eun-jeong and Hu-nam."
"Aigoo, why'd ya go and pack all this?"
"Ya gonna have another drink at home, ain'tcha?"
"Ya got the seasoned octopus too?"
"What kinda question is that?"
Priceless raw beef, seasoned flounder, rice cakes, fritters—all sealed in semi-transparent white vinyl, double-bagged in black. Village folk said a funeral without raw beef or flounder salad meant you were raised wrong. Add one more item, and it was the "big three" of feasts, though the commotion made it hard to hear properly.
"Won't eat the cow fodder and stay put—come back again."
Peeking inside to find pollock pancakes and more fritters for the kids, Eun-jeong's dad grinned wide and headed off. Vowing to win big at hwatu tonight.
Jin-hyuk helped his friend Choi Tae-yang set up tables, clear them, and ferry food nonstop.
'My hometown really is a great place.'
Jin-hyuk didn't know how to comfort people.
But understanding the feelings of someone in need wasn't hard.
He just worried if his friend Mi-kyeong was okay, if she wasn't too sad. He kept glancing her way while carrying dishes.
Mi-kyeong wore a white skirt-blouse like her mother Kim Sun-boek, her hair tied back with a black ribbon. A black hairpin made her look neat and pure. She hadn't put her hair up, so no binyeo ornament, she said. To Jin-hyuk's 21st-century eyes, it was exotic. Like peeking into another world's culture—fascinating.
"Grandma said she spanked my butt so hard when I was born, it's still blue. Look— I'll show you special."
"Nah, I believe you without lookin'."
Jin-hyuk freaked out as Mi-kyeong started lifting her skirt, gripping the hem firmly to keep it down.
She'd cried a lot the first day, but seemed okay now.
Her bloodshot eyes now shone clear and bright, black and white in sharp contrast, as if she'd never shed a tear.
"How ya gonna believe without seein'?"
"......There's a thing like that."
Mi-kyeong nodded.
She trusts this big sis, she muttered to herself.
'Maybe I can tell Mi-kyeong.'
About Grandma going to a good place.
Sharing the mystery he'd experienced might ease his friend's grief.
"Mi-kyeong, your grandma went to a good place."
"Yeah. She became a fairy."
Jin-hyuk's eyes went wide.
She'd told him to keep it secret, but had she blabbed to the whole neighborhood? It wasn't just a long story special for him before she passed?
Didn't peg that grandma for the type.
"Grandma came to me in a dream last night. Wearin' fairy wings, lookin' super super pretty like a big sis, but I knew it was her right away. No special words, just came to say hi, I think. Mom and Dad said she came to them in dreams too."
Mi-kyeong spread her arms wide for emphasis, excitedly recounting her dream.
Jin-hyuk just nodded silently while she spoke.
She really did appear in dreams. Almost misunderstood.
Dressed primly, young again, ascending through Fairy Rock—clear sign she was a special soul.
"—Mom says we'll hold the ancestral rite at Fairy Rock."
"Lemme come too. For the rite."
"Sure thing."
Jin-hyuk now had a grandma.
He'd lived in an era where only the educated and wealthy got respect.
Tamed by the world, even Jin-hyuk sometimes viewed it that way.
No need anymore.
'Gotta live kindly. Righteously. Protecting family.'
He nodded naturally.
This life had a clear goal: live for his family.
Jin-hyuk stood, brushing off his bottom from where he'd been squatting under the eaves.
Mi-kyeong tugged his arm.
"It's still morning, not many people yet. Let's play more."
"Ah, I kinda......"
The yukgaejang was too good.
There was beef soup for those who couldn't handle spice, but yukgaejang was tops for Jin-hyuk's taste.
He'd already had six bowls—would another look weird?
Not getting fat or needing the bathroom meant he was growing big. For General's sake, he'd hold back. The dog loved eating with him, wolfing down fritters and boiled pork every time. Any more, and his belly might burst.
Jin-hyuk smacked his lips and squatted again.
'Yeah. That's what friends are for.'
Hoping lunchtime came soon. Gazing at the ornate flower-draped bier, he muttered inwardly.
"Yawwwn—."
Too much yukgaejang, rice, meat, fritters—yawn. No exercise, body felt heavy. House was close—nap there? Having a home was great. Miss those days sweating under thick quilts on the scorched ondol floor.
"Sleepy? Go up to my room on the second floor and crash."
"Nah. I got my own room."
Mi-kyeong sighed deeply. Jin-hyuk's room was nicer, true.
"Spring break was great, no homework. Already sixth grade. Time flies."
"......"
What would this kid say learning time speeds up as you age?
Probably not believe it. Time really dragged when you were a kid.
'Breaks are nice.'
Whole day with family.
School started in three days.
Heh-heh-he.
General lay beside Jin-hyuk, tail sweeping the floor, then propped his chin on his paws. Rolled his big eyes upward in a wistful gaze. Belly bulged like he was full-term from all the scraps.
The wind blew.
Carrying the scent of earth, infused with spring's warmth.
The two friends breathed it in deeply.
Sharing time, growing together—felt pretty good.
A sense of kinship he'd never felt from anyone before.
"Smells like our grandma."
Mi-kyeong grinned, flashing neat white teeth, her eyes misty.