If Silk Flowers Bloom by the Water’s Edge Chapter 72

The start of the year was disappointingly quiet. Sarira, who called over the Maengmusa family to hold sacrilegious parties, completely lost interest in her underlings, and Yirok was no exception. Furthermore, Chaehwa, who had made his phone ring noisily for over ten days, had suddenly gone silent.

He could understand that Chaehwa would be busy now that the new year had begun and her beloved spring had arrived. What he could not understand were his own fluctuating emotions that had started at the beginning of the year. Knowing full well it was dangerous, Yirok looked at his phone several times an hour. Even when Butler Halmeom gave him rice cakes and meat for the new year, he could not eat much and would end up throwing it up in the bathroom. Before he knew it, it had become pathological; when the wind blew, when his hands trembled, he would open the drawer and take out his phone.

Eventually, like a person who had developed a sickness of the heart, he locked his door and refused even Butler Hal-meom. Butler Halmeom, who at least tried to look after Yirok, was not a person who asked twice. When Yirok refused the decent food that was served at the start of the year, she went back to bringing him only white porridge and soy sauce, just like before.

Yirok lay on the floor, reading the last text on his phone as if it were a winning lottery ticket. Chaehwa’s message saying spring had come must have been what took her away. Spring, loved by all, had defeated that blasted, dreadful winter and arrived at the Bansi family estate as well. When he chanced to open the door, a warm and fresh breeze would cover his eyes. But Yirok would slam the door shut as if he had seen something he should not have. He acted as though the lingering attachment of winter, jealous of spring, remained in his bones. As if spring had snatched away Chaehwa’s messages that had been flying to him.

Yirok was curled up on the floor next to the small dining table where the white porridge and soy sauce were placed. When he was rescuing Chaehwa’s ballpoint pen, a minute had felt like a second, but now that the new year had started, a minute felt like an hour. The sound of Sarira’s laughter as she held her bloody festival day after day seemed to echo throughout the entire mansion. Yirok put the wretched phone back in the drawer and barely managed to sit up.

By the time he had endured the tedious hours with his mind coming and going, it was afternoon. Even if he had no appetite, he had to put out the empty bowls to avoid Butler Halmeom’s nagging. An unusual act of defiance would only draw Sarira’s attention. He poured the musty soy sauce into the white porridge and picked up his spoon. It was the moment he had scooped a spoonful of the cold porridge and brought it to his mouth. Vmmm, at the vibrating sound, Yirok’s head turned quickly.

Like a person who had found a well at the tail end of a drought, he flung open the drawer with staggering speed. Clatter, he put his hand into the drawer that had come out with a noise and rummaged through it as if searching for lice. Finally, with the deeply wedged phone in his hand, Yirok looked at the screen. The phone, which turned on quickly as if responding to its owner’s expectations, showed only a blank screen. He threw the phone, which had played a trick on its owner, back into the drawer as if to smash it.

He sat at the head of the table, resenting the ringing in his ears. Yirok, who had stopped halfway through bringing the spoon to his lips, lowered his hand. Next, he pushed the table attached to his body and opened the door. The impulse to find a knife and cut off his ears spurred his steps. To make matters worse, his heart pounded wildly and he felt a fever coming on. He was at the point where he would wake up from his sleep if he heard a sound similar to a phone vibration.

Yirok, powerlessly thrown into symptoms he did not know what to call—ringing in the ears, a fever—ended up resenting one person. If she was going to be bewitched by spring, she should have been the only one, but she had gone and turned the heart of a person who had never cared. If flowers bloomed, they bloomed, and if they withered, they withered; she had made a person who had lived without knowing the seasons come to hate spring. That was right. Yirok had come to hate Chaehwa, who had disappeared for the past few days leaving only a message that spring had come, and he hated spring. She had tamed a person whose only pleasure in a day was reading her texts, only to disappear because the flowers had bloomed; he hated Chaehwa.

But if he thought about it carefully, it was better for Chaehwa to go to spring than to come to him. He knew he had no right to resent her for leaving, but don’t people do foolish things even when they know better? To shake off the ridiculous fever that had come over him, Yirok went outside and put on his sneakers. He was in the middle of wrapping the worn and tattered laces around his fingers to tie a bow. At the shadow cast over his head, Yirok reflexively looked up.

“You’ve been locking your door for a few days. The look in your eyes has become harsh.”

The entire reason he could not even resent spring was because of Sarira, the Bansi family, and the Maengmusas. So, there was no way a kind look would come out for the Butler Halmeom in front of him. If the place he belonged to were just some run-of-the-mill Jeongmusa family, he would have gotten angry that Chaehwa was not replying. He would have called her and urged her to talk all night. Was it because of spring and Chaehwa that he could not do so? No, it was because of that wicked Sarira.

“Where are you going?”

“Outside.”

“I mean, where outside.”

“Somewhere outside.”

Even though he knew it would displease Butler Halmeom, Yirok could not stop his wordplay. Normally, Butler Halmeom would have taken out her switch, and in fact, what Yirok was hoping for was a sharp caning. If he were beaten until the switch broke, perhaps the fever would subside. However, what Butler Halmeom took out was something more painful than a switch.

“Ms. Sarira is looking for you. Follow me.”

She must have been called in a great hurry for Butler Halmeom to swallow her temper and take Yirok with her. Along the way, there were outbursts like kicking flowerpots or shouting at servants, but she could not do anything directly to Yirok. That meant Sarira herself was going to step in and deal with Yirok. It meant that an underling could not lay a hand on him before the master did, and thus, a very difficult time was coming for Yirok.

Even in the moment he was following the enraged Butler Halmeom, Yirok was lost in a daze. His mind was gripped by mostly useless thoughts, such as Chaehwa being sulky because his replies were insincere. By the time such trivial thoughts had made a full circle, Sarira was placed before his eyes. His entire mind was so focused on one person that he did not even know how he had passed the annex. The fever, which surpassed even Sarira’s summons, folded his day into a shape of its own liking.

“Yirok.”

As Sarira’s words fell, Butler Halmeom grabbed his shoulders and pushed him down. Yirok, forced to sit by the old woman’s hand, thought that he had been caught for stealing the ballpoint pen. The moment Chaehwa’s messages stopped, his own vigilance had grown lazy. Had the servant who was beaten until her calves burst finally remembered him?

“Look at this, Yirok.”

But what Sarira was waving in front of his seated form was something else. It was a letter paper that somehow carried a fragrance that might come from Chaehwa. A change occurred in Yirok’s eyes, which had not wavered even when faced with knives and guns. It was a change Sarira would not miss. Sarira, with a raised eyebrow, kindly opened the envelope and read the letter’s contents aloud.

“‘I write this letter to all the families who have trusted our Nanjubeol and sent their precious Haenangs. We will be holding the Narye ceremony, scheduled for the beginning of the year, earlier to celebrate the warm spring, so if it is not too great a discourtesy, we ask that you send the Haenangs to Nanjubeol sooner than planned. May greater blessings and encounters…’”

Sarira, who had been reading up to that point, folded the letter as if she had goosebumps and threw it down in front of Yirok. In short, it was Chaehwa’s request to send the Haenangs to the Nanjubeol family quickly. Sarira, whose expression alone made it seem she would not comply, fixed a calm gaze on the letter and asked.

“Just how did you win her over for a letter like this to arrive? How many Haenangs from Nanjubeol have even returned to their hometowns? This seems like a letter written with our Yirok as the target, don’t you think?”

And disgustingly, the emotion Sarira displayed was possessiveness. Her deft fingertips touched the chin of Yirok, who was bristling with defiance. When Yirok tried to turn his head away in discomfort, Sarira grabbed his chin with a firm grip and held it in place. The gazes that clashed in mid-air were devoid of warmth.

“Remember, Yirok. You are mine. In just a little while, freedom will come to you. Surely you’re not falling for our young lady’s sweet talk, are you?”

Spring, Chaehwa’s sweet talk. The person who would give it wasn’t even thinking about it, yet Sarira alone was lighting a fire of suspicion. Yirok inwardly scoffed at Sarira for jumping to the wrong conclusion. Chaehwa was just kind to everyone. Yirok realized only now that it was he, in fact, who was relying on the kind young lady’s warmth.

At this rate, his sickness was only bound to deepen. Selfishly, his heart felt much better at the flower-like letter that seemed to be calling for him. He knew it was a wisdom tooth that had to be pulled out someday, yet he found himself enjoying the pain. Yirok smiled coldly, as if he did not know why his eyes were growing hot.

“I won’t fall for it, so take your hand off me.”

“As I thought. I like you.”

Though his words flowed smoothly, both Sarira and he were realizing that he had changed. Unlike before, his hyung, lying there without knowing the flow of any season—not spring, let alone winter, summer, or fall—did not come to mind first. He came to mind last, in the place where the fever had ravaged. His hyung, whom he would not have even bothered to remember if Sarira had not mentioned him. The guilt that had once kept him alive had today become something he had to barely manage to recall.

“Then, you shall leave tomorrow. I have something else I’ve prepared.”

As soon as Sarira, who was clapping her hands excitedly, finished speaking, Butler Halmeom released her hand from him. Spring had come, and Chaehwa had called for him, and yet Yirok could not smile. It seemed like a fitting punishment for him, who had hated Chaehwa and spring. Sarira’s thorough preparations were ruining his spring.