If Silk Flowers Bloom by the Water’s Edge Chapter 25

Outfits for the haenangs’ outing arrived in gift boxes, like Christmas presents, and were brought to the front of the dormitory. The ‘pig-catching day’ was set for two days later, so Old Lady Yomyung had given a strict order for the haenangs to behave and not cause any trouble. Yirok, who had been hoping to make progress in his math studies, put his books and writing utensils deep inside his drawer.

It was just after lunch when he came out of the dormitory at Old Lady Yomyung’s summons. Yirok, who had no record of his measurements, had not received a new outing outfit. This was the story of how he ended up in the dressing room where Old Lady Yomyung had called him to get his measurements taken on this occasion.

“Oh my, he’s so tall.”

“So handsome, so handsome. He’s going to make a lot of women cry later on.”

“Stop talking nonsense. Just take the measurements properly.”

“Yes, yes.”

Hearing that five sets of outing clothes for each season was the Nanjubeol regulation, Yirok accepted the measuring tape being held against his body. If they told him to raise his arms, he raised them; if they told him to raise his head, he raised it. At night, there was also some sort of social gathering for the haenangs. Trying to find an internal accomplice as an outsider was like looking for a needle in a haystack.

“Now… but aren’t you hot? I made it warm in here because it’s a dressing room. Shall I give you a glass of cold omija tea?”

Yirok expressed his refusal with a nod of his head. But the woman measuring the length of his arm said, ‘It’s a shame, I made it myself, not bought it,’ and explained the benefits of omija. She was on the verge of bringing up the story of her cousin’s in-law who had picked the omija for her to gain Yirok’s interest. But when Yirok showed no reaction, the woman, immersed in her main job, said it was hot inside and told the person behind her to open the door.

“It feels like spring already. The year hasn’t even ended yet.”

The sound of a sewing machine ran for a full 30 minutes, as if it were true that the outing clothes were handmade. The door opened amidst the fuss of them deciding to get summer clothes made at the same time.

Yirok, who wanted to get only his measurements taken without dragging it out, frequently looked at the cuckoo clock in the dressing room. Yirok’s head was just starting to tilt away to avoid the woman who was re-measuring a spot she had already measured with personal interest.

“I’m going to wear pretty jeans. And a coat with fluffy white fur on it.”

“Young Miss. It’s autumn outside now, so it’s not that cold. Besides, the Young Miss doesn’t even have to walk around outside…”

As if his body had been trained by hearing it to the point of his ears scabbing over for days, it reacted. Passing by in the background of the open crack was a pair of flower shoes with a special flair. His gaze was locked on the feet wearing pink peonies. The skirt that brushed over the slender instep snatched away all his senses.

Chaehwa was captured in a frame smaller than the palm of his hand. The sound of the rattling sewing machine, the feel of the metal measuring tape, even the dressing room staff who were fervently praising omija- all were erased from his senses.

Even if he combined all his functioning senses, it couldn’t compare to the single sense of hearing Chaehwa’s laughter. Had he wished for her to look back? He probably had. When Chaehwa, as if by fate, spun around and discovered him in the crack of the door, he was on edge. The gazes that met in that tiny crack caressed each other.

“You can put your arm down now. You’ve worked hard.”

“…”

“Oh my, the Yirok haenang must be hot. I should have opened the door sooner. Look at how red his cheeks are.”

Were only his cheeks red? His gaze was out of control, his feet were turned outward like a five-minute standby team. Yirok’s actions became very fast. He shook off the woman’s hand telling him to look at the measurements she had taken and picked up his outerwear that had fallen on the floor. He pulled open the closed sliding door on the opposite side.

“Where are you going in such a hurry?”

As he stepped out of the dressing room, a playful voice tripped him up. He saw Chaehwa, who was hiding like a sly cat behind the right door. She was sitting with that silk skirt he hated so much spread wide, smiling brightly.

Yirok felt the strength drain from his entire body and stood, grabbing the door frame.

“Help me up, no, never mind. I should get up myself. You’re just going to say ‘you have to do it yourself, blah blah blah’ again, aren’t you?”

“Oh my, Young Miss, you’re here.”

“Hello!”

When the dressing room staff ran out and offered omija tea and seolgi rice cakes, Chaehwa beamed. Yirok, who had become taciturn due to the many watching eyes, put his feet into his sneakers. The Young Miss with mind-reading abilities must have read his intention to run away. Just as the black laces were being tied into a bow, a slender arm wrapped around his neck.

“Where are you going? Without even answering.”

She leaned her full weight on him without a care for propriety. Chaehwa, who had climbed on him as if for a piggyback ride, smiled shamelessly. As if reading Yirok’s mind, which was about to spit out a nasty word, Chaehwa made the first move.

“Are you going to say you’ll drop me in the pond again if I don’t move? Go on, try it.”

There were few people with the guts to spit at Chaehwa’s natural smile. Yirok, not caring if Chaehwa fell or not, stubbornly put on his sneakers and stood up. Chaehwa, who he thought would fall off after a short while, wrapped her two legs around his waist like a monkey.

“Uh, uh…”

“Young Miss. You’ll get hurt like that. Please stop bothering the Yirok haenang.”

It would have been enough to just throw Chaehwa to those who were arguing about whether to put ice in the omija tea or not. Or he could have asked Yeonrye, with her old-fashioned views on romance, to pull her off. But his insolent hands did something they weren’t told to do. He blocked Chaehwa, who was slipping due to the glossy silk, with his hands.

Giving her a boost up to a stable position with a bounce of his hips was a bonus. As the motion of carrying her became easier, Chaehwa’s rash kicking gradually subsided. Their bodies were perfectly pressed together, and the sound of two throbbing heartbeats could be heard, intersecting. There were hands hugging his neck, and lips that made his earlobes burn.

“See. I told you you’re super gentle with me.”

“…”

“You’re taking good care of the flowerpot I gave you, right? When it blooms… you have to show me.”

Each and every word dug into his ear more forcefully than the winter wind. Yirok bit the inside of his cheek hard and, the moment he felt the soft texture, turned his direction. Finding a porch of a height from which he could throw Chaehwa, who was saying “uh, uh,” he released his arms. Chaehwa, who had been arrogant, intoxicated with victory, rolled like a silk ball and fell onto the porch.

“Ah!”

Hearing her loud voice, she seemed to be fine. Looking at Chaehwa, who was sprawled out with her limbs intact, Yirok walked backward.

“Where are you going! Come here.”

“People.”

Yirok pointed to the dressing room he had just passed and then to his own eyes. It meant that people’s eyes were nearby, so don’t make a scene. He shook his head to warn Chaehwa, who was rustling her skirt as if about to chase him. The first time, he was caught off guard, but the second time… actually, he wasn’t confident he would be fine the second time either. So Yirok smiled like someone with a wicked plan and turned away.

“I have something to ask you. Don’t go, come here.”

But the voice of the Young Miss, who only used the word ‘give up’ when counting cabbages, called him again.

“Yirok!”

“No.”

“Kim Yirok.”

Yirok, who had thrown up his hands at her persistence that would follow him to the ends of the earth, finally stopped and faced Chaehwa. Was it because she had never met someone who said they disliked her? The ‘I only know love’ Young Miss gave him a smile just by looking at him. Chaehwa, seeing how Yirok was only sighing, got to the point.

“Let’s say hello when we meet. We were in a relationship where we even shared a yeongju.”

“I did.”

“When?”

At Chaehwa’s way of speaking that didn’t allow for mumbling, Yirok became addicted to sighing. His business was long over. Yet he cursed his own feet for not leaving, as if they were glued down with superglue.

“Our eyes met. Just now… and that’s a greeting. That should be enough.”

“That’s not a greeting. This, waving your hand like this and saying ‘hello’, that’s a greeting.”

A smile seeped through at Chaehwa, who was so natural as she mimicked his way of speaking sarcastically. Anyway, she was a Young Miss with a natural talent for making others laugh. She turned his scathing sarcasm into nothing overnight. It seemed that was Chaehwa’s ability, not something else. And it was an ability that worked on Yirok, who had no sense of humor. On days when he was one-on-one with Chaehwa, there was no hope.

“We’re in a truce, so we can at least say hello.”

“What did you have to ask?”

“Huh? What?”

The way to persuade the Young Miss, who was harping on about greetings, was surprisingly simple.

“What you just said. ‘I have something to ask you.’ What you said.”

“Ah!”

Chaehwa, who had indeed forgotten about the conversation about greetings, swung her feet as if she was about to get up.

“You, Yirok. Your birthday…”

“Young Miss.”

Chaehwa, whose words were cut off mid-sentence, turned her head. Shinwoo, holding a vase with a flower arrangement, bowed his head and greeted her.

“I was just on my way to see you with this, Young Miss.”

“Wow, what’s that?”

“It’s a gift for you, Young Miss. My family sent it.”

At Shinwoo’s few words, who was like a well-tended flower, Chaehwa’s attention was stolen. He watched the two of them playing, amiably giving and receiving the vase. He felt pathetic. He was standing there as if he had taken a waiting ticket for the Chaehwa bank.

Telling himself it was a golden opportunity to shake off Chaehwa, Yirok moved away without a sound. He heard a shout like “Yirok! Where are you going!” but he never looked back.