Side Story 8
Translator: RaidenTL
Side Story 8
Sa-eon gently pulled down the edge of the bulging quilt.
Under the moonlight, Ga-hyeon’s face, pale and serene, was revealed as he slept with soft, rhythmic breaths.
A pang of heartache crossed Sa-eon’s face when he noticed the faint tear tracks near his son’s reddened eyes.
‘He must have been crying.’
As Sa-eon brushed away the stray hairs clinging to the boy’s cheek, something caught his eye.
He carefully picked it up.
It was a leaf, covered in unfinished lines of writing.
He paused.
As he stared silently at the leaf, his expression darkened. It was because…
<Dragon God, please, Mom…>
<Let the war end safely so Mom can come back…>
Every inch of Ga-hyeon’s leaf was filled with his longing for a single person.
[My little brother said it’s just a superstition. He said only a stupid tiger would believe in stuff like that.]
Sa-eon had been troubled by those words Ga-yul had said to him not long ago.
Ga-hyeon had been precocious since he was small, learning to read and write much faster than others. Before Sa-eon had left for the front lines, the two of them used to enjoy writing on leaves together to send letters to the Dragon God…
[He missed Lady Cheong-ha terribly, and it seems he discovered the family register in the Clan Head’s office.]
[Hyeon-i saw the register…?]
[After seeing that the Madam’s name had been removed, it seems he closed off his heart.]
[…I see.]
It had happened shortly after Sa-eon left for the war.
It was a blunder by the family servants, who assumed the Young Master was too young to understand anything even if he saw the documents in the office.
Until then, Ga-hyeon had inwardly believed his father’s words that his mother would return someday. Seeing her name erased from the family register had been a profound shock.
And so, he had come to a conclusion.
That his mother was not coming back.
That she had abandoned them.
Having made this judgment on his own, Ga-hyeon’s heart—once filled with longing for Cheong-ha—gradually built up a wall, firmly closing itself off with an equal measure of betrayal and resentment.
Though the adults tried to reason with him after finding out too late, Ga-hyeon would only give a docile, outward "Yes," without ever changing his mind.
In fact, the more the adults tried to persuade him, the more his animosity toward Cheong-ha grew.
Eventually, Cheong-ha’s name became a taboo in Ga-hyeon’s presence.
If only he had been by the boy’s side, could he have comforted him in a way that left fewer scars?
It was while Sa-eon was tucking his son in with a heavy heart, lost in these futile "what-ifs," that Ga-hyeon stirred in his sleep and slowly fluttered his eyelids open.
“Father…?”
“Are you awake, Hyeon-ah?”
Sa-eon offered a broad smile as he greeted his son.
Ga-hyeon blinked for a moment, then scrambled to sit upright in a formal posture.
“W-what brings you here at this hour?”
Even while half-asleep and dazed, the boy sat with perfect posture and folded his hands politely. Sa-eon couldn’t help but let out a small chuckle at the sight.
[And about the second tiger—he’s really strange. He thinks he’s an adult or something. He’s only seven!]
He remembered what Ga-ya had grumbled to him when he first returned from the battlefield.
His second son, who wanted to be seen as an adult more than anyone, had actually been sobbing all alone because he couldn’t send his letter to the Dragon God…
Having grasped the situation, Sa-eon ran his fingers through his son’s messy hair and spoke in a tender voice.
“I have to go to Mt. Horim, but I’m a bit scared to go alone.”
“…?”
Ga-hyeon looked up at his father with a bewildered expression.
“Will you come with me?”
Ga-hyeon’s eyes grew wide at his father’s grinning proposal.
‘To Mt. Horim…?’
In an instant, all other questions vanished, leaving only his father’s invitation to go to Mt. Horim together.
“Yes! I’ll go with you!”
Ga-hyeon shouted with a bright face, but then, feeling as though his father’s gentle smile had seen right through his inner thoughts, he quickly composed his expression.
He tried to look prim and proper, but with his soft baby fat, he only looked docile and harmless.
Sa-eon scooped Ga-hyeon up into his arms.
“F-Father…!”
“Why? Do you dislike being in your father’s arms?”
“….”
Startled, Ga-hyeon quickly shook his head.
Sa-eon gave a small smile and carried the child toward the window. Just as he opened the window and was about to leap out—
“W-wait! I have to get ready!”
Ga-hyeon shouted, hopping out of Sa-eon’s arms.
“Hmm?”
“I-I have to change my clothes, so you mustn’t look!”
Guessing his son’s true intentions, Sa-eon let out a smirk and turned around.
“Alright. I won’t look, so take your time changing.”
He heard the sound of Ga-hyeon hurriedly packing something behind him.
“I’m ready now.”
Secretly, Ga-hyeon had packed a fine brush and a small porcelain bottle of ink.
He scurried back to Sa-eon and kept glancing at his father’s chest. Seeing his son hesitate, unable to dive into his arms like Ga-yul would, Sa-eon laughed and picked the boy up.
Then, he leapt out of the open window.
The night air, still chilly, brushed against their skin.
White Tiger beastkin were physically robust and rarely caught colds. Even knowing this, Sa-eon tucked the child into his embrace to shield him from the cold air as he bounded toward Mt. Horim.
With every step he took, the surrounding scenery blurred past.
Ga-hyeon stared blankly at his father’s face.
Being held in his father’s arms like this felt strange. It felt as though he had become a small child again.
‘But… I don’t think it’s so bad. Being a child again.’
Ga-hyeon thought as he wiggled slightly in his father’s cozy embrace.
‘I guess this is why Yul is always jumping into Father’s arms at every chance he gets.’
He never thought the day would come when he would understand that "stupid tiger." He really had lived a long time.
Just then, sensing Ga-hyeon’s gaze, Sa-eon looked down.
When their eyes met, Ga-hyeon flinched and shifted his gaze away, prompting Sa-eon’s clear laughter to ring out pleasantly through the night air.
Ga-hyeon didn’t know why his father was laughing, but hearing the sound made him feel good too.
So, he followed suit and gave a shy little smile.
“Hyeon-ah.”
His father’s low voice drifted down from above.
“Becoming an adult means that sometimes, you have to leave the ones you love behind. Sometimes, things as important as love itself arise.”
It was a gentle voice, yet it carried an inexplicable, heavy weight.
Ga-hyeon couldn’t quite grasp the meaning and wore a puzzled expression before suddenly asking as if he’d figured it out.
“Like how you went to the battlefield to protect the Empire, Father?”
Ga-hyeon’s eyes sparkled, as if asking for praise for getting the right answer.
“Yes, that would be one example.”
Sa-eon chuckled and stroked the boy’s hair, making Ga-hyeon giggle despite himself.
“But, Hyeon-ah. Sometimes, when love is too great, it gets hidden by other things and becomes invisible.”
“Why? If love is great, shouldn’t it be easier to see?”
“Love that is too vast can blind people. Because it is so great, it can turn into resentment, or it can turn into sorrow…”
“…?”
“So, perhaps that love just isn’t visible right now.”
His father’s words felt like a cryptic riddle.
“But our little tiger is smart. When the time comes, you will surely recognize that love.”
Sa-eon spoke with a soft smile to the blinking Ga-hyeon.
“So for now, I hope that such great resentment and sorrow do not hurt you too much.”
“Yes, Father.”
Ga-hyeon nodded obediently, though his face remained filled with wonder.