If Silk Flowers Bloom by the Water’s Edge Chapter 10

There’s a saying, ‘The moon has eyes but no ears.’ The windows of her newly changed chambers were so exceptionally clear that the indifferent moon and stars were peering into Chaehwa’s living room all night long. Chaehwa, having signed all eight places the master had instructed, closed the cap of the ink-depleted pen. With perfect timing, the bell announcing 10 PM tolled, signaling the night. It was the time for things that crawled out of the underworld to play, a disadvantageous time for people with clear spirits. The night of a warrior, who could see things that shouldn’t be seen, was already like that.

“I’m tired.”

Chaehwa stopped mid-stretch and collapsed onto the desk. To become a martial artist, one must not overeat rich and greasy food, must move with the morning sun, and must not be lazy in meditation and training. The training grounds, where one season lasts for a whole year, have a structure that inevitably builds a wall against change. All too often, families know each other, and all too often, relationships last for twenty years. It was no joke that after just three years, you’d know how many pairs of underwear the person next to you owned.

It hadn’t been long since the 6-inch screen, with its flowing electronic waves, had become Chaehwa’s everything. In order to follow the footsteps of the modern era, she had called in a special technician to connect a part of the outside world. The people of the training grounds, who had no connection to outside objects to begin with, and her grandmother, had been vehemently opposed. But thanks to Chaehwa’s bloody hunger strike, she had been allowed to use a cell phone and TV since she was twelve.

Her grandmother granted the stubborn Chaehwa’s wish on the third day of her fast, but as her granddaughter’s phone addiction grew more serious day by day, she imposed time limits. Even with the limits during her teenage years, Chaehwa couldn’t let go of her phone, so her grandmother went as far as hiding it in liquor jars, wardrobes, and her own underwear drawer. The unspeakably ridiculous cell phone war between the granddaughter and grandmother began then.

“Young Lady. It’s Yeonrye.”

Yeonrye, who had followed the warm light of the bedroom, knocked on the door with a late-night snack. Chaehwa threw the pen cap she had been fiddling with onto the desk and said,

“Come in.”

On sleepless nights, the loyal Yeonrye would bring warm milk mixed with honey. It was also Yeonrye who had been the first to greet Chaehwa when she returned yesterday, drenched from the water-dousing. Yeonrye, who played the role of Chaehwa’s mother, had fainted for a second before getting up and demanding to know who on earth it was, vowing to tear them limb from limb, her voice growing hoarse, but Chaehwa had sealed her lips.

“Why aren’t you sleeping?”

“I’m feeling unsettled.”

“Why so?”

Yirok, the outsider, didn’t know about cell phones, didn’t know about games, and would surely not know any TV programs. Far from being a channel of communication to the outside world, he was more likely to treat her like a three or four-year-old child and push her away. In class today too, he had put up a smokescreen with a murderous look that said, ‘Don’t bother me or else.’

“First, warm yourself up….”

“When is Grandmother coming back?”

“Well, she says the movements of the Maeng warriors are unusual. It seems you might have to go outside soon, Young Lady.”

Yeonrye, who believed that even the walls had ears, lowered her voice and delivered the bad news. An outing to the outside was welcome, but it was a different story if work was involved. Her expression darkening uncontrollably, Chaehwa picked up the milk glass and fell into thought.

“An eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth. Isn’t that the way of the warriors?”

“That’s right. They were the ones who broke the peace treaty first, so they must bear the consequences of what’s to come.”

But in their minds, two completely different people were hovering. In Chaehwa’s mind, where the Maeng warriors were not even a concern, the arrogant outsider was sitting there, being cheeky.

A different kind of being had entered the training grounds where every day was the same. It was no wonder her attention was drawn to him whenever she had a spare moment. Thinking of the outsider who had thrown water at her in her own front yard, Chaehwa held the terribly sweet milk in her mouth.

🌹₊ ⊹

Once every three years, people from the six small villages of ‘Yeongwa Mang-ul’ would knock on Nanjubeol’s gates in search of jobs. Trivial people who didn’t even try to escape the fate set by the heavens, the board laid out by the high and mighty. With so many gentle-natured people around, Chaehwa had been sick and tired of everything in ‘Yeongwa Mang-ul’ since she was a snot-nosed kid. Truly everything.

“They never come when the meal is ready, but come later and only take plain rice with soy sauce or a slice of bread.”

“They don’t put out their clothes for laundry either, so when I checked, they were washing and ironing them alone.”

“It seems he’s not letting anyone in. He must have grown very fond of the Baekyeong clan.”

Without much effort, just by taking a turn around the kitchen, she could find out Yirok’s daily routine. A healthy routine where he spent most of his time either in class, meditating, or reading. And how focused he was when he was in class. He was kissing the chalkboard with his eyes, like someone who lived all alone in the world.

He trusts no one, likes no one, and doesn’t want to be indebted to anyone. The man whose dream is to be a voluntary loner can be said to spend most of his day in the guest room. It was like a silent protest, a declaration that he would never give himself over to Nanjubeol.

“Young Lady, where are you going?”

“I have something to do. Oh, right. That new guy, Yirok. Is there anything unusual about him today?”

“Unusual? Hmm, I don’t know….”

“Never mind, never mind. You can go now.”

Chaehwa, who was not at a level to train with the other haenangs, had a lot of free time. Thanks to that, she was wasting her time leisurely tormenting Yirok.

After a lighter-than-usual lunch, Chaehwa went for a walk to the dormitory building. She strolled along the snowy path where sparrows had left their footprints, then hid behind a 300-year-old Gwi-mok tree and peeked out. Yirok was sitting on a long bench that had been placed outside, seemingly getting ready for lunch.

Even if she had Shinwoo turn off his alarm, even if she blatantly refused to speak to him, even if she openly embarrassed him, Yirok nonchalantly ignored it. It was in the opposite situations that he showed a sharp, soda-like reaction. He would spit on the kindness offered to him when she approached him, smiled at him, or spoke to him. Hadn’t he pushed her, the young mistress of Nanjubeol, away like chasing flies from a watermelon?

She secretly watched Yirok, who showed no intention of coming out of the castle he had built for himself. He hadn’t gone to the dining hall, which served warm rice and soup and at least eight side dishes, since the first day. The kitchen matron hadn’t been exaggerating; Yirok took out a slice of bread he had brought from the kitchen.

“How did he get so tall eating so little?”

Just as she was bad-mouthing Yirok in a voice only she could hear, the two-headed magpies that lived in the Gwi-mok tree came down and loitered at his feet. They must have thought the bread was their share. They were magpies that ate a lot and were quite a nuisance to the kitchen matrons.

Yirok, who was taking a bite of his bread, didn’t chase away the flock of magpies aiming for his meal. Instead, he tore off the crust of the bread and threw it on the ground. The two-headed magpies went under the long bench and started pecking at the bread. Yirok’s lunch, of which he had eaten very little, was gradually turning into a feast for the birds.

“Hah, honestly.”

The empty-handed Yirok’s next action was to look at the math book he had seen in class again. The moment Chaehwa sneered, calling him a model student, she did a tap dance on the spot because Yirok suddenly turned his head. Yirok’s sharp senses soon saw through the silk skirt hiding behind the Gwi-mok tree.

Throwing away the hope of not being caught was the way to save what little face she had left. As Chaehwa peeked, Yirok, who had closed his math book and stood up, raised his finger and twirled it next to his head.

Chaehwa, who knew more about the outside world’s culture than anyone in the training grounds, covered her mouth. As far as Chaehwa knew, Yirok’s finger gesture had only one meaning.

You’re crazy.

“You, Yirok! What does that mean right now?”

Wasting the time she had spent hiding, Chaehwa popped out and pointed a finger at Yirok. At Chaehwa’s roar, the birds flew up with a flutter, as if it was not their place to be.

“Hey!”

At the sound that echoed through the mansion, Yirok, who was walking away with his math book dangling, frowned.

“I told you to stop following me.”

The action he had just performed was shocking enough, but the words that followed pierced right through the center of Chaehwa’s chest. Feeling as if she could faint with her eyes open, Chaehwa pressed down on her pounding heart and gasped for breath.

After Yirok left, only Chaehwa was left alone at the Gwi-mok tree’s resting spot. The wind and snow were perfectly calm, but Chaehwa alone was flushed as if she had just run a 100-meter dash.

“Kim Yirok!”

How dare he treat the respected young lady of Nanjubeol, from the world of warriors, like a stalker. But though her actions were exaggerated and large, a subtle satisfaction was evident on Chaehwa’s face.

Yirok of the Kim clan had none of the characteristics of an outsider from the common world. Extensive knowledge of the outside world, a cell phone expert, proficient gaming skills. However, he was brightening Chaehwa’s boring future more than she had expected.

Though she was worried that he seemed soft-hearted, seeing him share his meal with the magpies.

In Chaehwa’s field, which had been full of sunflowers, a small, pretty thorn had sprouted. She had been terrified that the field would be ruined by the thorn that pricked the flowers. But when she was pricked in the foot, she found that the tingling pain was actually fun.

“This is fun in its own way.”

If he had imitated a flower like any other riffraff, she would have gotten tired of him soon enough.

Chaehwa’s steps were very light as she walked back to the kitchen with her hands behind her back. But if there was one thing she had missed, it was that the word ‘stalker’ was not so wrong. It also meant that Chaehwa, who had failed to clear up the misunderstanding and only took away her interest, would not have a fun tomorrow.