Chapter 5
Onju, who had completely forgotten that she was only wearing a skirt, snorted to hide her rising embarrassment.
“Who cares if I take off my jeogori or my skirt? Why the nagging?”
The man turned sharply on his heel as if she wasn’t worth a reply and strode away. In an instant, he reached the door, grabbed the doorknob, and let out a deep, heavy sigh that made his shoulders rise noticeably.
“Haa…”
Only after the long sigh subsided did the man turn back to Onju with eyes tangled with mixed emotions.
“Pardon the rude question, but… how do you usually move around?”
“Huh? I don’t.”
“You don’t… move?”
“Why should I?”
Tilting her head as if she had heard the strangest question in the world, Onju replied. The man’s hand dropped limply from the doorknob.
“You really… don’t move?”
“Nope. I don’t need to eat, drink, sleep, or use the bathroom, so I don’t need to move.”
“No such person exists.”
“That’s what I said, but the village doctor said there are rare cases like me. He’s lived way longer than me, so I guess he’d know better.”
He stood frozen like a stone, staring at the small girl. In his gaze was a deep bitterness, helplessness, and guilt.
“You really sat in that musty corner of the alley for ten years…?”
His low voice echoed through the shop with a chilling resonance.
Onju blinked her round eyes and responded simply, “Yup.” The man grimaced as if he were sick to his stomach.
Misunderstanding his silence as disbelief, Onju pouted and added:
“It’s true. Apparently, when someone experiences extreme trauma, they can rarely develop a body like mine. That’s what the doctor said.”
“…I should go pay that quack a visit on my way out.”
Grinding his teeth, he slammed his fist against the doorframe. A cloud of dust that had settled in the shop burst into the air.
Seeing the suddenly cleaned shop, Onju clapped her hands innocently.
“So clean! That’s a relief. People in Dongrae don’t clean because they say even dust is part of the barrier. It was suffocating.”
“…”
“I don’t really have anything to offer in return, so I’ll cut your fee from triple to double. Thanks.”
Still frowning at the shop, he quietly stared at the giggling Onju.
“You call it a ‘barrier’, but isn’t this just imprisonment?”
Feeling slightly uncomfortable under his piercing gaze, Onju shrugged slightly and offered an excuse.
“No need to be so serious. I just don’t eat or sleep or grow, that’s all. I’m just a normal, powerless kid. So the people of Dongrae set up the barrier to protect me.”
“A child who doesn’t sleep or eat isn’t exactly ‘normal’, is she?”
“Why not? I think I just got sick of sleeping after being unconscious for three years. Don’t take it so seriously.”
The longer Onju spoke, the deeper the rage in the man’s eyes grew. She gave him an awkward smile and waved a torn piece of paper instead of her hand to say goodbye.
“That’s enough of this depressing talk. I’ll fix the jeogori once I finish sewing the jewels back on, so don’t worry.”
“…Right. See you tomorrow.”
He greeted her in a heavy voice and stepped out, leaving behind her bright, innocent smile. His footsteps down the alley toward the main road leading to the port were harsh and heavy.
Right before the wide street that led to the sea, an old man with a long white beard reaching his knees called his name from between narrow buildings.
“Pilhwan. Did the talk go well?”
“…How do you know my name?”
Gone was the politeness he had shown Onju. Pilhwan raised his eyebrows sharply. The old man clicked his tongue in disdain.
“Ask what I don’t know, you foolish brat.”
“How about you start by telling me why you approached me?”
His tone grew more dangerous. The old man, tapping his bent back, answered playfully:
“If you want to hear the purpose, I guess I’ll have to start from the day you ran away from the palace.”
“…”
“Let’s see, that must’ve been when you were eight, right?”
When the word “palace” escaped the old man’s lips, sparks flew in Pilhwan’s eyes. The old man continued leisurely, as if taunting him.
“Just a few months before you turned nine, wasn’t it? My, that was almost twenty years ago.”
“…”
“It was during a season of strong winds. A blue fire broke out in your chambers. No matter how much water or soil was thrown, it wouldn’t go out. You might’ve been too young to remember.”
Pilhwan frowned darkly at the old man who spoke like he knew everything. His voice, however, was low and cold.
“How do you know about that night? I need an answer.”
“How, you ask? I was there, you fool.”
Unbothered by the killing intent emanating from Pilhwan, the old man laughed and stroked his beard.
“I am Yeonggwi, a divine turtle spirit who can predict the future and guarantee longevity to those near. I’m the guardian beast of the eastern mountain, the home of the Blue Dragon clan.”
He paused as if waiting for awe or reverence. Pilhwan remained silent and expressionless. The old man awkwardly cleared his throat and continued.
“You know your mother was the only daughter of the Blue Dragon clan, right? She married the emperor as a peace offering when the Eastern Continent was annexed.”
Pilhwan nodded wordlessly. The old man looked at him with a nostalgic gaze.
“It wasn’t a real treaty. The emperor was a madman who invaded just to take your mother. She agreed to the marriage thinking it would save her people.”
Pilhwan knew all of this. He also knew the emperor had destroyed the Blue Dragon clan right after the wedding.
When Pilhwan didn’t respond, Yeonggwi furrowed his brows.
“As the guardian of your mother’s clan, shouldn’t you be glad to meet me?”
“Ha.”
With a bitter laugh, Pilhwan tilted his head slightly.
“My mother couldn’t accept that the child born from her was the son of the man she hated most. She choked me, slapped me, cursed why I had to be born. The emperor said if I died, he could bed her again. You think I’ll be glad to see someone from my mother’s family?”
“Even if not glad, you should be grateful. You’re alive thanks to me.”
The old man lifted his chin arrogantly.
“This old fool really thinks that?”
Pilhwan’s temper snapped. The old man yelled back:
“You think your miserable life is why you survived? I saved a powerless child with no backing, and this is how you repay me?”
Their eyes clashed—Yeonggwi’s full of wounded scolding, Pilhwan’s burning with disbelief. And then…
Pilhwan’s mind filled with memories he didn’t want to recall. Memories like sewage in the monsoon season—filthy and overwhelming.
At age five, Pilhwan was sent to the farthest wing of the palace: the Crown Prince’s quarters in name only, a ruined, abandoned place.
The court maids and servants assigned to him routinely poisoned his food and drink.
All under orders from the emperor and empress. The emperor, to justify making another heir. The empress, to erase the shame she birthed.
Everyone in the palace wanted him dead. Everyone… except one lanky man who had been forced to serve as his guard because he had no connections or power.
