If Silk Flowers Bloom by the Water’s Edge Chapter 68

The Bansi clan were Maengmusa, but at their core, they were still of a warrior lineage, so they placed great importance on the end and beginning of the year. However, there was a fundamental difference between the events of the Jeongmusa and the Maengmusa. The Jeongmusa’s events were centered on soothing souls, honoring the heavens, and remembering their ancestors. The Maengmusa’s events were centered on corrupting souls, regarding the heavens as the earth, and summoning their ancestors.

When the year-end came, the Maengmusa would gather at the Bansi clan, the largest of the clans, to eat a man-eating fish called ‘geumhyeoreo’. During this period of year-end events, the tables were filled with carnivorous dishes marked with the stigma of a curse.

The one saving grace was that since the plan from the beginning had been to raise Yirok as a Jeongmusa, he was, in principle, forbidden from participating in the year-end and new-year events. Instead, during that time, he was not allowed to take a single step outside his quarters, and he had to pretend not to notice even if something wicked knocked on his door.

Because of this, whenever the year-end arrived, Yirok would always lock his door and hold his own private event. It was a time when he could consume nothing but the thin rice gruel that the Bansi clan’s housekeeper, Old Lady, occasionally brought him. For Yirok, every year-end was nauseating, and every new year was tiresome.

“Come out.”

He did not know how many days he had spent sleeping. Yirok, opening his eyes in a daze, saw the Old Lady housekeeper’s shadow reflected on the paper-paned window. Without rushing, he got up and found some clean clothes in his drawer.

Just as he was nonchalantly taking off his top, the Old Lady housekeeper let out a dry cough. Yirok stared straight ahead and changed into a white shirt.

“Did they not even provide you with new clothes in Nanjubeol?”

“No, they did not.”

They had given him a shirt, pants, and even an outer coat, but he had left them all behind in Nanjubeol. He was worried they would be tainted by the Bansi clan’s ingrained energy. Though it was not something he, who had lived on the food Sarira provided, should say.

Yirok, wearing a worn-out shirt as he did on any other day, followed the Old Lady housekeeper. Before long, he could see workers sprinkling the blood of a dead horse at the base of the wall. They were people who put their all into gathering impure energy—in a word, they were not in their right minds.

Everything about the Bansi clan, which had once been tolerable, now made him feel sick to his stomach. But sprinkling blood on the walls or corrupting Yogwi was nothing compared to a meeting with Sarira.

In Sarira’s residence, which had grown more turbid with dark energy since he had last seen it, red bamboo had been planted. From inside where the candles were extinguished, the strong smell of something burning spread. Without even looking at Yirok, who was frowning, the Old Lady housekeeper spoke.

“Do not show it. It is because the Jiju is planning a new sorcery.”

In short, she was telling him not to show any reaction whether he smelled something rotten or saw something foul. Yirok, who was sick of the Maengmusa’s cruelty, followed behind the Old Lady housekeeper from that point on with an empty mind. Old Lady’s warning could also be interpreted as Sarira being in a bad mood today. If things went wrong, he could be seized upon for some trivial fault and forced to spend two days kneeling in a snowy field.

“Ms. Sarira.”

However, when the Old Lady housekeeper opened the door to the bedchamber where Sarira primarily resided, even Yirok’s expressionless face broke. Sarira, who had been meditating while seated on a proper wooden chair, opened her eyes. Looking extremely pleased, Sarira stood up and ran over, her white hair flying.

“Yirok.”

He wondered who her playful walk resembled. Sarira, who looked younger than in their last meeting, pushed past the Old Lady housekeeper and snatched Yirok’s wrist.

“My, look how much more handsome you’ve become. As expected of our Bansi clan’s proud captive. This is how you should be.”

“Then I will be on my way…”

“Yes, yes. Old Lady, you may leave.”

Sarira, her steps filled with excitement, pulled Yirok by the wrist and led him to a black cushion. Seeing that warm tea and refreshments had been prepared, Yirok cursed harshly under his breath. This was surely a meeting that would not end within ten minutes.

Yirok tried not to look around as he sat down. Sarira, wearing a kind smile, poured the tea with her own hands. How wonderful it would be if Sarira had put a kill-us-both poison in the tea.

“Drink, Yirok.”

He did not want to meet the eyes of Sarira, who had her hair in a ribbon like Chaehwa. Yirok erased his emotions and held the tea in his mouth. The only surprising thing was that it was just ordinary, warm tea.

“Your contribution is great. Thanks to you, the day I meet our Chaehwa is drawing nearer. And the abyss has opened as well. I knew sending you to Nanjubeol was the right decision.”

“Yes.”

“Look at me. My hair, too. I braided it very prettily, didn’t I? Just like Chaehwa.”

The moment a nagging suspicion was confirmed as fact was not very pleasant. She was old enough to know better, yet the words confessing she had copied an eighteen-year-old lady came out so smoothly. Reading Yirok’s bleak expression, Sarira laughed like a child.

“Does it suit me?”

Yirok shook his head without realizing it. It was a moment when his true feelings came out, but Sarira was not offended. Come to think of it, she seemed to have liked it whenever Yirok’s rebellious streak showed. With a face that showed she had asked knowing full well, that wicked Sarira loved to tease. It was quite difficult to put up with that nasty temperament of hers.

“Jiju. I have brought the person you called for.”

At the voice from outside the door, Sarira’s interest quickly shifted elsewhere. Hating Sarira’s delighted expression, Yirok fixed his eyes elsewhere.

“Oh! Come here.”

Yirok’s gaze was stuck on one of the walls, unable to be torn away. It was a wall that originally held bizarre bottles and potions, and just looking at it inflicted mental damage. But in the place where the grotesque items and drugs had been cleared away, something new was hanging. Something like a corpse drained of blood, for instance. Three corpses that had once been human were now occupying the bedchamber wall.

Corpses that had been hung on a special clothesline to drain them of their smell and soul. A characteristic feature was their mouths hanging open as if their souls had been sucked out. Seeing the altar next to them, it was clear they had been used as tools for a ritual. But didn’t the surprisingly formal Sarira dislike performing rituals in her bedchamber?

“Sit here.”

Yirok briefly set aside his thoughts and turned his head to meet the eyes of the person who had just entered. This, too, was as shocking as the corpses. A man dressed only in his undergarments was clinging to Sarira with a bewitching smile. Sarira was in the middle of stroking the man’s hair as if he were cute.

“You are very beautiful. Your name?”

“I am called ‘Yeongju’.”

“Yeongju.”

A pair of them, acting like lunatics. Yirok, a bitter smile on his face, momentarily met Yeongju’s gaze. Yeongju, who could not have been unaware of the atmosphere, asked Sarira pitifully while rubbing his cheek against her shoulder.

“Who is that handsome young man, Ms. Sarira?”

“My captive. He’s being blackmailed with his brother’s life, so if I tell him to crawl, he crawls, and if I tell him to die, he dies.”

“You’re amazing.”

Yirok, sitting across from them, scoffed coldly. psst. He felt not even an ounce of shame for the cockroach-like man and woman who were swapping tongues in front of a minor. He wished they would just go ahead and lay out the covers and lie down, and let him leave.

Sarira’s hand, nauseatingly caressing the man’s bare chest, was dynamic. She must know that in his imagination, he was dicing them both up. The face of the man, whose breath was being stolen by Sarira’s lips, was turning the color of red bean porridge. One of Sarira’s eyes, while she was kissing, watched Yirok’s nonchalant reaction with interest. And so, Yirok did not look away.

It was for that reason that Sarira, who had been exploring the man’s mouth with her purple tongue, pulled her lips away. When the spectator’s cheeks did not flush, her excitement cooled and she withdrew her tongue.

“Haah, ugh.”

And the pitiful man, unaware that his soul was being devoured, coughed until his face turned red and collapsed onto the floor. Sarira stuck out her death-colored tongue and swept it across her own chin.

“By the way, my dear Yirok. You’ll be an adult soon.”

What allowed Yirok to suppress the words that had risen to his throat was the bedchamber door opening. A swift servant entered and placed a platter of glossy, twisted fried pastries on the table. In the meantime, Sarira stretched her legs out and gestured for Yirok to leave.

“You may go.”

Once the awaited command was given, Yirok stood up without delay. Sarira, fawning over the breathless man—they were a pair well-suited for the Bansi clan. Sarira had the bad taste of lavishing such creatures with pastries and a bed, even though she would kill them after one night. Yirok pushed aside his half-hearted pity and turned to walk away.

However, what caught Yirok’s eye was the servant’s movement. The servant, who he thought had left after setting down the pastries, was sweeping the tools used in the ritual into a trash bag. Among the bugs, medicinal herbs, and other unidentifiable things being cleared away, there was also what appeared to be a woman’s hair tie. His gaze followed the servant, who was diligently packing everything into the trash bag.

“Now, shall we have some fun?”

At the filthy sound coming from behind, Yirok exited the bedchamber. The servant, who had left before him, was scurrying along and opened a small door to a detached building.

Once outside Sarira’s residence, their paths diverged. Though he knew he should return to his quarters before he saw something terrible, Yirok’s eyes followed the back of the hastily walking servant.

In the end, his feet followed his gaze.