Wandering Through Vol. 2 Chapter 45 - Escape

It wasn’t long after the drum announcing the break of dawn had sounded.  

 

The Shaman, who had been sitting quietly all night, rose from his seat and stepped outside. It was so dark that calling it dawn would have been almost embarrassing.  

 

He opened the gates of the Seongsucheong. 

 

The well-oiled stone hinges turned smoothly, and at the same time, he came face-to-face with the woman standing before them.  

 

Neither of them was surprised.  

 

As if they had arranged it beforehand, the Minister stepped aside at the gate, and Yiseo walked inside.  

 

Having walked quite a distance, Yiseo’s right leg, which had been limping, gave way, causing her to stagger. 

 

The Minister, as if anticipating even that, caught her arm. Half-leaning against him, Yiseo looked up at the cloth covering his eyes.  

 

“…Can you see?”  

 

“Many misunderstand, but I’ve been blind since birth. This isn’t some scheme to pretend otherwise—I just cover them because they look grotesque.”  

 

Yiseo couldn’t tell whether his answer, spoken while touching the blindfold, was true or not. He gripped both her shoulders and asked,  

 

“Then, out of curiosity—may I touch your face? I’d like to know what you look like.”  

 

“No.”  

 

Yiseo firmly refused and pushed his hands away. He let out a long, regretful sigh. But as if he had no intention of pressing further, he turned away and said,  

 

“Follow me. I’ll show you where to rest.”  

 

“Not to rest—”  

 

“I know. But you can’t set out alone at this hour. I’ll call for a companion—rest inside for a while.”  

 

“…I don’t know how much you actually know.”  

 

He paused, then looked back at Yiseo.  

 

“Does that matter to you?”  

 

“How can I trust your help when I don’t know what you know or why you’re helping me?”  

 

“Then why did you come here when you needed help? You must have sensed it to some extent—that I was arranged here for you.”  

 

“…”  

 

“I was born for you. That is my duty.”

 

As if joking, he quietly added, “That’s why I was curious about your face.”

 

Yiseo stared blankly at the royal physician. He still carried an air of detachment, as if removed from the mundane world—a quietness reminiscent of a deserted mountain valley.  

 

Yet, for some reason, he seemed faintly exhilarated now.  

 

Like someone who had just received a long-awaited gift.  

 

“You said you don’t know how much I’m aware of. The same goes for me. I don’t know how much you know either.”

 

“…”

 

“But at the very least, I know you will bring our task to an end. That alone is reason enough to help you.”

 

“What do you think I can do?” 

 

“You’ll make us forget our past lives, won’t you? Whether it’s ill fate or destiny—all of it. Am I wrong?”  

 

He was right. That was exactly what Yiseo intended to do. 

 

She planned to erase everything—every tangled thread of past-life grudges and bonds.  

 

“Being tormented by a lifetime I never even lived is punishment. I want to forget it all, forever.”

 

That was his true heart.  

 

Suddenly, Yiseo felt as if the ‘him’ from the past life and the ‘him’ now were different people.  

 

Had he truly identified himself with his past-life self, he wouldn’t have thought that way. He wouldn’t have acted like someone suffering the karma of deeds he never committed.  

 

It was just a passing thought.  

 

Could a soul remain the same? Could past and present lives truly be the same person?  

 

Every single thing that makes up a person would be different.  

 

Without memories, they would be entirely separate beings—completely different from their past selves, just another individual.  

 

…What would Leegwang, who had no memories of his past life, think if he saw her?  

 

For no reason at all, Yiseo found herself curious.  

 

It was a pointless curiosity. Whenever she thought of the Grand Prince, such meaningless thoughts always swirled in her mind.  

 

The royal physician guided Yiseo to a resting room inside the Sacred Water Pavilion. He suggested she close her eyes for a while, but sleep never came.  

 

Before long, as dawn broke and daylight approached, the royal physician returned with a man in tow.  

 

It was Suyeong.

 

The bewildered young man glanced at Yiseo’s face once, then dropped his gaze to the ground. 

 

Unlike his previous appearance—when he had burst into the mountain shrine door, barely in his right mind—his expression now showed more confusion than desperation as he looked at her.  

 

Seeing that Suyeong didn’t seem eager to help her, Yiseo turned to the Minister, but he simply handed her a bundle of luggage and spoke indifferently.  

 

“You must reach Inwangsan today. Since you can’t cross the mountain at night, stay at the Guksadang shrine there. I’ve already informed them, so no one will object to you staying overnight.”  

 

🦋 

 

Yiseo stared silently at Suyeong’s back as he walked ahead of her.  

 

Then, after alternating glances between his long strides and her own pitifully weak legs, she decided it would be better to go alone.  

 

She understood why the Minister had insisted she needed a companion. It was because of her legs. 

 

How could someone like her, who could barely walk short distances alone, possibly travel a long journey by herself?  

 

With these legs, she wouldn’t even make it out of the capital on her own.  

 

Yiseo stopped and looked down at her swollen legs, now throbbing with pain to the point she could barely move. 

 

After walking ahead for a while, Suyeong noticed she wasn’t following and turned back.  

 

Meeting his flustered and awkward gaze, Yiseo spoke calmly,

 

“You can just go back. There’s no need to trouble yourself over what the councilor said. If you’re concerned, you can just send one of your servants with me.”  

 

Her tone wasn’t that of an older sister addressing a younger brother. It was as if she were speaking to a stranger. 

 

Suyeong was left speechless. Slowly, Yiseo explained to the confused young man.  

 

“You are not my brother. You don’t need to help me.”  

 

“But…”

 

She had opened her mouth but didn’t know what else to say. 

 

Suyeong looked down at Yiseo, who barely reached his chest, opening and closing his lips repeatedly. His pale face twisted into a faint smile.  

 

“All the ties that once bound you and me are now in the past. They hold no meaning in this life, so do not dwell on what will soon be forgotten.”  

 

Yiseo’s words were not wrong, but that was precisely why Suyeong couldn’t help but ask in return.  

 

“How can I not dwell on it when I still haven’t forgotten?”  

 

The only thing she shared with her past self was those pitch-black eyes. No—even that was likely just his desperate attempt to find some resemblance after racking his brain. 

 

Most people had dark eyes, and how many of them could be said to have exceptionally black ones?  

 

Yet, staring into those inky depths made his heart feel as though it were plummeting into an endless abyss.  

 

Was this how it felt to look at the parents he had doomed to death?  

 

Without realizing it, Suyeong was overwhelmed by a surge of tenderness, unable to steady his emotions. He was still confused about whom he truly was. 

 

At times, he became the Grand Prince of his past life, desperate to save his brother at once—but most of the time, he was lost, questioning whether that identity was truly his own.  

 

The young master had returned with a fractured mind, locking himself in his room and wasting away, worrying the household. 

 

Yet, when asked why, Suyeong couldn’t give them an answer.  

 

After shutting himself away for so long, he had been summoned by the State Council to accompany Yiseo on her journey—but it only made things more awkward and uncomfortable. 

 

He couldn’t act intimately by forcing their past connection, nor could he treat her as a complete stranger.  

 

“Is it that easy for you? Do you truly feel nothing when you look at me?”  

 

“What difference would it make? In this life, you and I share no bond.”  

 

“If fate no longer ties us, does that mean your heart feels nothing?”

 

Suyeong couldn’t leave Yiseo alone. Even if they were no longer bound by any ties.  

 

“I’m concerned about you. Even if it’s inconvenient, I can’t just walk away. If I return like this, I’ll spend the whole day worrying about what might have happened to you, and in the end, I’d probably come chasing after you anyway.”  

 

“…”  

 

“Let me help you. This isn’t because of the State Council’s request—it’s my own choice.”  

 

A hint of resolve flickered in his previously confused eyes. 

 

Realizing Suyeong had made up his mind, Yiseo let out a sigh.  

 

“If the scholar insists…”  

 

Yiseo trailed off. Then, looking up at Suyeong’s solemn, determined face, she sighed once more. 

 

Hesitating, she finally parted her lips.  

 

“One of my legs is disabled.”  

 

“I know.”  

 

“So I can’t ride a horse.”  

 

Suyeong nodded. He had seen Yiseo’s ankle before. 

 

Riding a horse with that leg would guarantee a fall. That’s why, even if it was slow, they were walking instead of riding anything now.  

 

“And… I can’t walk for long, either.”  

 

Yiseo could guess why the State Council had summoned Suyeong. 

 

It wasn’t because of their past-life connection or the expectation that he’d help her well—no, to be honest, it was simply because Suyeong was a young man with strong, able limbs.  

 

“The scholar will have to carry me…”  

 

He would be her substitute for a palanquin.