If Silk Flowers Bloom by the Water’s Edge Chapter 41

The incense made by Old Lady Yomyung plunged people into unconsciousness as if pushing them from the top of a building. It was like a fairy tale read in childhood. Just like Alice who followed a rabbit with a pocket watch, Yirok too was falling into the heart of a person he could not fathom.

In the blink of an eye, the world of Yirok, who had woken up suffering from a headache, was turned upside down. Chaehwa who was on the railing, the Haenangs who were sitting on silk cushions listening to the training, and Old Lady Yomyung who was holding the incense burner, had all disappeared.

The place Yirok arrived at was a den of darkness, filled with silence in all directions. He couldn’t even hear his own breathing or footsteps. Before starting the training, Old Lady Yomyung had said that one must enter the abyss to know a person.

A Yogwi, she said, can trust and make a contract with a person because it knows the contractor’s weaknesses, strengths, advantages, and abyss. The reason opening one’s abyss was a basic requirement for a warrior was due to this unwritten rule.

Even while listening to Old Lady Yomyung’s explanation, Yirok was not at all curious about what his own abyss would be like. This was because he expected a desolate landscape like a sandy desert, let alone a single blade of grass. And the abyss of Yirok that was finally revealed could be described as a black curtain, a black road.

At a point where he couldn’t tell how long he had walked, Yirok came to a stop. He gave up walking. No, he gave up on escaping. It was an environment where he could not expect to meet or see anything.

Could there be a space that so perfectly summarized his life, which only ever scored minuses? Having quit running on the hamster wheel, Yirok sat down and looked up at the empty sky.

The option of not going back outside seemed fine at this point. In the blacked-out abyss, his sick brother and Sarira were not there. In a world that felt like the apocalypse had come, Yirok lay down, stretching his limbs out long. Might as well lie down and sleep. There was no need to agonize over anything.

If it weren’t for the voice he heard at that moment, Yirok would have taken a long nap.

“Kim Yirok. Yirok.”

As if his desire to become one with the darkness was a lie, Yirok’s eyes followed the faint voice that lingered in his ears. He slowly raised his crouched body and walked in the direction the sound was coming from.

Yirok’s aimless steps gradually began to take on a clear direction. Let’s run before the voice dies out, let’s chase it—his thoughts changed in that order, leading his sprint. He was all talk. The words about giving up must have been just a glossy pretense. He himself did not know specifically whether he longed for death or for hope.

Even as Yirok gasped, his inhales and exhales tangled, the world did not change. The only thread of hope was the voice, like a broadcast searching for a lost child. A voice that said the destination was right ahead, so don’t give up midway and run.

“Kim Yirok.”

The cold air he breathed in through his mouth got caught in his throat, and Yirok opened his eyes. From the damp towel placed on his forehead and the pink ceiling, he knew he was no longer in the abyss. A sigh of relief was heard from the foot of his bed. As his blurry vision focused, Yirok lifted his head from the pillow.

“Stay lying down.”

The person who had been sighing dramatically at his feet was Old Lady Yomyung. His head was heavy, so Yirok lay back down, pushed away the towel with his hand, and recalled his last memory. He had been in the middle of a class with Nanjubeol’s Halmeom and the Haenangs, summoning a Yogwi.

Belatedly realizing his own condition, Yirok fell into self-reproach. When he was fourteen, he had fainted similarly the moment Sarira lit an incense burner as a test. The only difference was that back then he had only fainted, whereas today he had half-opened the door to his abyss. It was impressive how he had forgotten about it just because time had passed.

“Halmeom. Don’t look at him so scarily. It’s not his fault he fainted.”

At the delicate voice, Yirok’s shoulders trembled so slightly that no one would have noticed. He knew who the owner of the voice that had called for him so desperately was. It was the same as the owner of the bedding, plump with cotton, and the pink wallpaper. Yirok tried to push himself up with difficulty again, but an approaching hand pressed down on his shoulder.

“Stay still. You’ll be dizzy from being forced awake right now.”

His stomach churned every time Chaehwa spoke a word. Yirok himself was a being who was harmful to Chaehwa. He only felt sad for Chaehwa, who approached him with undeserved kindness and eyes full of trust.

The pen he had received for the first time, which he had listlessly handed over to Sarira—because of that, the spy who deserved to be killed was able to read Chaehwa’s texts the moment they arrived.

“I want to ask first if something like this has happened before.”

As if displeased with Yirok who was quietly catching his breath, the interrogation began. Yirok, who was torn between lies and the truth, hesitated before slowly nodding his head.

“There’s no way the Baekyeong Family wouldn’t have said something. This is….”

He knew what kind of look would be in Old Lady Yomyung’s eyes as she trailed off. It would be the look one gives to a nasty little pest. The reason he felt pity for the Jangshi, who carries an evil spirit in its body, was because, in truth, his and its circumstances were not so different.

“It’s not a Yogwi. It feels like a wicked little pest is stuck to you. I can’t even see it… It seems to hide well usually.”

Yirok was not greatly surprised. A long time ago, he had already been diagnosed that his affliction was not a simple abyss rejection syndrome, but a Japkwi. He had been ridiculed by the Bansi clan, who said a Japkwi was blocking his path to the abyss. But they also said it was too faint, like mist, to be a Yogwi with enough energy to be exorcised. The Japkwi would mischievously cause him to fall into a state of fainting whenever he prepared the incense to enter the abyss. Seeing him unable to perform even the basics of a warrior, Sarira had simply said one thing.

“Chaehwa will fix it on her own. I believe in her. Besides, Nanjubeol is very good at making incense.”

Sarira’s words, which he had regarded as her daily praise of Chaehwa, turned out to be more or less correct. Old Lady Yomyung’s incense had succeeded in guiding Yirok to the entrance of the abyss, a place Sarira couldn’t take him. However, what Sarira didn’t realize was that his fainting reaction, as if possessed by a Japkwi, was exactly the same as back then. Thanks to that, Old Lady Yomyung’s face now expressed the thought, what use is a Haenang who can’t even enter the abyss? This was even lower than the evil spirit attached to the Jangshi. The meaning and purpose of its existence were both ambiguous.

“For now… I plan to speak to Jiju-nim and hold an exorcism ritual. We can’t keep imposing on the young lady’s room every time.”

“…Yes.”

He would rather the Japkwi be so difficult to exorcise that Nanjubeol would kick him out. If he were branded as useless and abandoned by Sarira too, he could wish for nothing more. But above all, getting out of Chaehwa’s room, which was filled with stuffed dolls and pink accessories, was the priority. He didn’t want to borrow the bed like some pathetic creature. It was just as Yirok shifted his body to get out. Chaehwa, who had been watching like a mediator, spoke in a gentle tone.

“There’s another way, Yirok.”

“Yes? Young lady, what do you mean….”

“An evil spirit that blocks the path to the abyss. I’ve never heard of or seen such a thing.”

Yirok looked back at Chaehwa with considerably tired eyes. The gaze she shot, straight as if measured with a ruler, pulled at Yirok’s heart.

“If we get rid of that… I feel like something bad will happen to you, Yirok.”

“It’s very rare for a person to be harmed by removing an evil spirit, young lady.”

“This is my intuition. An evil spirit harms a person. Like with the Jangshi, for example. But this feels like it’s blocking something. It was similar last time when you collapsed after being hit with an overdose of sleep-inducing grass.”

At Chaehwa’s firm words, Old Lady Yomyung looked like she was about to say a few things but stopped, clutching her skirt in frustration instead. Yirok, caught in the middle, couldn’t take his eyes off Chaehwa’s gaze, which contrasted with her soft way of speaking.

He hadn’t lived for very long, but no one had ever told him that the thing attached to him was not a Japkwi. In the world of warriors, upon learning of Yirok’s condition, a reaction like Old Lady Yomyung’s was typical. The look one gives a half-baked Haenang who cannot summon and contract a Yogwi, a useless hanger-on, was something he could feel everywhere.

Although there were clearly three people in the room, the only things he was aware of were Chaehwa’s words and her gaze. He now understood Chaehwa’s words about how he might feel dizzy. Yirok was currently experiencing a severe case of dizziness. If not, then why did he feel like he would become intoxicated by Chaehwa’s every word and action?

“The choice is yours, Yirok. It might be possible to overcome that symptom through training instead of a ritual. If we get rid of it before we even find out what it is… we can’t take it back.”

“Speaking as if an evil spirit has some grand reason is dangerous, young lady. Besides, Yirok is already a Haenang with much to learn; when would you find the time to teach him separately?”

There was nothing wrong with Old Lady Yomyung’s words, but Chaehwa’s eyes showed no sign of backing down.

“I’ll give you special tutoring. I have nothing to do anyway, if not for class studies… isn’t that right, Old Lady Yomyung?”

“Well, that’s true, but….”

Old Lady Yomyung scanned Yirok with the eyes of someone facing something ominous. Sitting on the bed surrounded by rabbit and bear dolls, Yirok was being forced to make a choice. The ritual was the sure solution, whereas Chaehwa’s intuition was the solution his heart was drawn to. It felt like if he held the young lady’s gentle hand, everything would be okay. It was a very bad feeling.

“Just….”

However, he was not in a position to be drawn to things that attracted him. Because the things that pulled Yirok in were usually the things that ruined him. But before he could make a rash decision, a small hand grabbed his wrist. It was a secret meeting that took place under the blanket. Old Lady Yomyung, who was waiting for an answer, was erased once again, as if she wasn’t there.

His eyes met with Chaehwa’s, who did not let go of his wrist. From that moment on, his lips moved regardless of his will. Having made his decision, Yirok deliberately looked at Old Lady Yomyung as he spoke.

“Since it’ll be free… I see no reason to refuse an offer to help.”

Old Lady Yomyung looked displeased but couldn’t show it much in front of Chaehwa. But Old Lady Yomyung’s glare didn’t bother him. He just stared intently at the brightly smiling Chaehwa.

It couldn’t be possible. But he thought that the outside world where Chaehwa was, was better than his dead abyss.