If Silk Flowers Bloom by the Water’s Edge Chapter 7

When the moonlight grew brighter than the lanterns, the Nanjubeol clan would turn off their lights early. Not only were their lights-out hours strict, but it was also a measure for the yogwi who used the training grounds as a resting place. It was common sense among warriors that yogwi and light were not friends. Accordingly, the apprentice haenangs, who had yet to complete their training, were forbidden from leaving their dorms late at night, and even official haenangs were only permitted to use candlelight after 10 PM, out of concern that they might attract wicked yogwi.

Yirok, who wasn’t a yogwi but preferred the night to the day, sat at his desk with a candle lit. He was reviewing his lessons in advance, as the probability of him being embarrassed in class tomorrow was high.

Most haenangs were born and raised on the training grounds, but the Nanjubeol clan also taught an outside curriculum just in case. From 10 AM to 3 PM, they learned subjects like Korean language, math, and history, which made Yirok feel a subtle sense of shame.

An outsider who knows nothing would look pathetic. He could picture, even with his eyes closed, the contempt of a certain young lady who never missed a class. Letting out a soft sigh, he tried to read one more page when a voice spoke from the darkness behind him.

“You’re not sleeping? Studying this late at night?”

Even though Yirok had drawn a line by saying he was into men, his roommate Shinwoo’s attitude hadn’t changed since they first met. Rustling sounds, buseureok, buseureok, came from the bed, suggesting he was restlessly moving under the covers. Then came Shinwoo’s mumble that the moonlight was too bright for his eyes. His interest gone, Yirok blew out the candle and put the book he was reading into a drawer.

Wearing the gray pajamas of an apprentice haenang, Yirok walked over nonchalantly and closed the curtains. Thinking that would be the end of the pointless chatter, he lay down on his bed. His breath stretched out long, as if he were about to fall asleep.

“You saw the young lady during the day, right? Did she say anything?”

But at the words “young lady,” his eyes, which had closed on their own, snapped open. He considered ignoring him, but Yirog finally opened his precious mouth.

“So what if I did?”

The reply seemed to get caught on the curtain by mistake on its way over. It took a while to arrive, not coming right away. With sleep now far away, Yirok stared at the bare wall, his patience wearing thin.

“The young lady… try not to get on her bad side. I know you’re not ordinary, but… she’s the one you’ll be serving in the future. She’s the young mistress here.”

It was such irritating advice that Yirok wanted to fire back a sharp retort. Seeming not to expect a reply, Shinwoo hugged his blanket and tossed and turned. And in less than five minutes, Shinwoo’s regular breathing filled the room. To set someone else’s insides on fire and then fall sound asleep himself. As if forgetting his resolution to ignore him completely, Yirok’s brow furrowed slightly.

Lying flat on his back and staring at the ceiling, Yirok was so worked up that he kicked off his blanket. The young lady, who would have grown up in a place where they’d pluck the stars from the sky for her if she just asked, must have thrown a crying fit. Chaehwa’s face, who had come over so friendly with potatoes and eggs, floated on the ceiling. For the first time, a shadow was cast on Chaehwa’s face, which had been smiling without a care in the world just a while ago. A shadow that the unsociable Yirok had created, and one that Sarira would create in the future.

But still, for the young lady to be stealing potatoes so thoughtlessly. The more he thought about it, the more absurd it was, and his lips reacted before his mind could.

“Chaehwa….”

Not wanting to see the face floating on the ceiling any longer, Yirok covered his eyes with his wrist. It seemed that sleeping tonight was a lost cause for him.

🌹₊ ⊹

Early in the morning, Shinwoo said he had something to do and coolly gathered his clothes and a bundle before heading out. This all happened the moment Yirok got up to iron his shirt. The sound of his footsteps crossing over to the next room, skipping washing up, was quite sharp. As Yirok tried to ignore it, he remembered the young lady’s threat that she would “cry until she was exhausted.” His angelic roommate’s desertion must have been the first chapter of her revenge.

Unconcerned with socializing anyway, Yirok focused on ironing his sky-blue shirt until it was wrinkle-free. Ironing his shirt once a week was one of Yirok’s compulsions. Next, he spent a long time deliberating over the color of the socks he would wear today before, as usual, choosing black. By the time he finished getting ready and came out, the time was 9 AM. Having arbitrarily skipped breakfast, Yirok was able to be the first to arrive at the study hall.

It was a day with no snow. The study hall was at the end of a path that branched west from the dorms. It seemed to be a relatively new building, as there were no traces of ivy climbing up its walls in competition. It was a 15-minute walk from the dorms to the study hall. Yirok was already fed up with the sheer size of the palatial house, which demanded diligence to avoid being late.

But a moment later, when Yirok opened the door to the study hall, no trace of his annoyance could be found on his face. When he looked at the green chalkboard, for a brief moment, his eyes seemed to return to his elementary school days. Memories, always living as if nonexistent, took advantage of their owner’s unguarded moment to land a powerful blow.

“If you’re going to be picky about side dishes, do it at your own house.”

“Do you really want us to have to walk on eggshells around the chef too?”

“Yesterday it was rolled omelets, today it’s steamed eggs, tomorrow it’ll be omelets. I can already see it….”

As the clock’s hands pointed to 10 AM, the haenangs, all in matching sky-blue shirts, filed into the study hall. Four girls and two boys. The six of them, who had been chattering away, stopped in their tracks upon seeing the front row. Yirok knew the stiff silence was because of him, but he paid it no mind and opened his book. After hesitating awkwardly, the six haenangs soon found their seats.

There were long, rectangular desks, five chairs on the women’s side, and three on the men’s. As soon as three of the female haenangs sat down, they gathered like sparrows and began to chatter. Since they had never exchanged any real words, Yirok let their conversation, which seemed to be about him, go in one ear and out the other. His only question was why no one was sitting in front of him. Just as Yirok glanced toward the door, as if trying to shake off a bad feeling…

“I’m here.”

It’s a rule that premonitions that grab you by the scruff of the neck are never wrong. His eyes met with the girl entering while holding up her faded blue silk skirt. The flowers embroidered on her white jeogori seemed to be gaping in shock, their buds wide open, just like their owner.

“Young Lady.”

“Young Lady Chaehwa, you’ve arrived.”

One by one, they rose from their seats to greet Chaehwa, but Yirok alone remained stubbornly seated. Shinwoo, who had appeared at his side without him noticing, shook Yirok’s arm, telling him to get a clue. But Chaehwa’s clicking tongue was louder. Yirok’s gaze followed the silk skirt, and he coldly shook off Shinwoo’s arm.

“Leave him be. That Yirok is an outsider.”

Entering with her pure white beoseon-clad feet, Chaehwa sat in the seat across from Yirok. As if realizing that ignoring him was the best form of attack, she primly unpacked her bundle. In the moment that Chaehwa was setting her books down neatly like a model student, the three girls struck up a conversation.

“Are you going to use a pink pen for your notes today?”

“Yeah. I got this as a gift, and I feel like it’s been a while since I used it.”

“It’s so pretty. It’s a pen that really suits you, Young Lady.”

“Pretty? You want it then, Jinhwa? I have ten more.”

The conversation, which began with the four different colors of the ballpoint pen, flowed smoothly to the heart-shaped charm on its top. The story progressed so quickly that Yirok lost interest and looked away. He was casually gazing at the snow-covered tree branches outside the window when he turned his eyes back. Chaehwa’s dark eyes, her lips pressed firmly together, were glaring at him.

She was staring with such a resentful gaze that even the others noticed. The two boys, who were quiet to begin with, went without saying, and even the chattering girls fell silent in an instant.

With the unspoken tension and gazes focused on him, he felt as if he had become a celebrity. Yirok, who at first had decided to just ignore it, at some point found himself locking eyes with Chaehwa. It was, naturally, by no means a kind or gentle exchange of greetings.

“Forget it.”

But in the end, it was Chaehwa who looked away. The pampered young lady, perhaps furious at having lost the staring contest, opened her pencil case with a forceful tug.

“Everyone, take one of these.”

Chaehwa straightened her back, speaking in a childish, theatrical tone. After handing out the pink pens that no one even wanted, she finally spoke to him as if doing him a huge favor.

“You can use one too if you want.”

A small hand finally left one pen in front of him before departing. Yirok, who had more than enough with the writing tools he received yesterday, didn’t readily accept it and just stared at the pink pen.

“I said you can have one.”

He was just thinking that since he had to live in Nanjubeol, he might as well accept a single pen. But at her primly added words, Yirok clenched his twitching fingers. He could understand that she was furious, having gotten the first-ever scratch on her precious little heart. When Yirok didn’t pick it up right away, one of Chaehwa’s cheeks puffed out.

“You’re all here early. Wouldn’t it be nice if you were like this every day.”

The fierce staring contest over a single pink pen only came to an end when the teacher opened the door and walked in. Yirok opened his book as if nothing had happened, while Chaehwa, continuing her lonely battle, opened her book a step later.

“Shall we begin class?”

The teacher who walked to the front of the chalkboard was a tall man. Looking to be in his mid-thirties, he picked up a piece of chalk and began his introduction.

“Alright, since we have a new student today, let me introduce myself briefly, though you all know me. I am Myeongil. And as you also know, this student here is Kim Yirok. We’re just starting the first part of the math curriculum, so you should be able to follow along just fine.”

In the world of warriors, there were clans, but no surnames. The name ‘Kim Yirok’ itself, a symbol of an outsider, was like a label stating his place of origin. There were several things, both in the outside world and the warrior world, that reminded him of his ambiguous identity. To hide his feelings of emptiness, Yirok fixed his eyes on his book.

“Let’s start by reading the explanation in the box on page 3.”

Fortunately, he was confident in math. For some stubborn reason, even when he was with the Bansi clan, he had gotten hold of old math books and studied on his own. He supposed he had held onto a sliver of hope. A hope that, if by some chance he went out to the outside world with his brother, he would at least need to get a high school diploma. Looking back, he had a rather long history of tying himself to futile things and struggling in vain.

“We’ll start by explaining the concept in the box at the bottom of page 30.”

The relaxed way Teacher Myeongil held and waved the chalk lowered Yirok’s confidence in him, but the class itself was flawless. He moved his hand, which had been idly rolling a pen, and began to fill in the blanks in his book. When his mind was noisy, there was nothing like text and workbook problems. Things like solving math problems, for instance, were something he intentionally sought out because they could cut through complex thoughts all at once.

In many ways, the morning class was more than satisfactory for Yirok. Quietly lowering his gaze to scan the notes he’d taken, Yirok massaged one of his shoulders toward the end of the class. It was then that his gaze drifted across the room, and Yirok’s lips parted slightly.

The young lady, pink pen in hand, was sound asleep, her head bobbing up and down.