Wandering Through Vol. 2 Chapter 65 - Kidnapping 01

Yiseo lost consciousness and collapsed.

Leegwang caught her as she fell. Even her limp body felt light, making his touch grow even more cautious.

 

He discarded the cloth he had been using to clean her scraped knee and lowered the skirt she had lifted. His movements flowed seamlessly, as if he had rehearsed this very scenario in his mind—unnervingly natural. 

 

Holding Yiseo, he stood up and, without hesitation, began descending the mountain.

 

Though his steps down the slope were steady, the arm cradling Yiseo handled her as delicately as if she were a fragile treasure. 

 

Gazing at her closed eyelids, he swallowed a sigh.

 

If he took her back into the house like this, she might resent him. But leaving her behind wasn’t an option either. 

 

Under normal circumstances, he might have considered following wherever she went, but…

 

That would have been something to attempt only if they had truly just met.

Now, however, he knew—even if he had lost his memories—that they were not strangers. 

 

And there was nothing he could do about it.

 

Given what had happened in the past, Yiseo seemed to have no intention of mending their relationship. She had only allowed him near because she thought he might let her go. 

 

The moment he tried to get closer, she would surely flee and disappear. 

 

Hadn’t she already tried to abandon the house she had stayed in for nearly a year, just after exchanging a few words with him?

 

There was no opening to wedge himself in. 

 

Since she was always scheming to run away, he had to keep her within reach for now.

If he kept her in the inner quarters, she wouldn’t be able to escape with her injured leg anyway. She had said her ties to her family were already severed. 

 

No one would come looking for her or take her away. 

 

The thought of a trapped roe deer in a temple flickered through his mind, but what could a mere servant possibly do?

 

After all, that deer-like creature was said to have been brought out by Yiseo after being struck by a spear. It must have been a slave she once owned, so its home would be known. 

 

If that deer somehow manages to luckily find Yiseo and return to its home, it can be taken back in then.

 

If Yiseo sees a familiar maidservant, she might grow slightly more attached to the house.

 

Not that it matters—whether she grows attached or not, she’ll have to live there for the rest of her life anyway.

 

Rather than letting Yiseo go in hopes of winning her affection—which seemed futile—Leegwang decided to simply keep her by his side. He figured that if she stayed close, he might find a crack in the wall she had built around her heart. 

 

Or if not, well, they could just live together forever regardless.

 

At the very least, if she wasn’t right in front of him, he felt like he’d go mad. For his own sanity, he needed this woman. Her feelings were a secondary concern.

 

And so, Leegwang abducted Yiseo and brought her home. 

 

Lady Shanggung, who had assumed her former mistress was dead after losing contact, was stunned to see the grand prince return with her in tow. 

 

The other servants weren’t faring much better.

 

🦋

 

In a nameless village at the foot of a pine-covered mountain, three days’ walk north of Hanseong, the local shrine had a new young shaman after the old village shaman passed away.

 

The new shaman, her face heavily painted, looked terrifying to the point where her original features were unrecognizable. 

 

Still, the villagers praised her, saying her divine energy was stronger than the deceased old shaman’s.

 

Thanks to their support, the shaman was able to settle properly into the shrine—along with an unexpected male companion. 

 

True to the nature of such figures, he rarely showed himself except to drive away troublemakers.

 

“Can’t see, so what’s the point? Where else would I wander off to, anyway?”

 

“Honestly, even if it’s just one exchange of labor, you’d think they’d show up…”

 

The villagers often grumbled about that blind husband of hers, but not wanting to provoke the village shaman who held sway over all matters, they never said more than that.

 

And so, the shaman living with her blind husband—or more accurately, Eunbi, who had declared divorce to Leegwang, run away, and was now pretending to be a shaman—stepped lightly out of the room. 

 

Waking briefly in the middle of the night, she had found the space beside her empty.

 

The full moon shone brightly over the man sitting on the porch.

 

Eunbi found him easily and, as if to climb onto his back, wrapped her arms around his neck from behind.

 

“Why are you out here instead of sleeping?”

 

The man stiffened at her gentle weight leaning against him. But Eunbi’s hands slid unhesitatingly past his nape and into the collar of his clothes. 

 

Flustered, he grabbed her wrist and turned around.

 

“I was about to go back in. I just couldn’t sleep for a moment…”

 

“Why couldn’t you sleep?”

 

Eunbi buried her face in his shoulder. Now holding her in his arms, he fumbled awkwardly, his hands twitching. 

 

Seeing no sign that he would dare wrap his arms around her back even if he were dying, Eunbi sighed and lifted her head. The cloth covering his eyes made it hard to gauge his emotions. 

 

Letting go of his hand, she asked, “Do you regret running away with me?”

 

Startled, the man shook his head vigorously.

 

“No, not at all. Never. That wasn’t what kept me awake.”

 

He quickly grabbed the hand she had let go of. Eunbi smiled faintly at his touch. If she just pouted and spoke without letting him see her face, this naive man wouldn’t understand a thing.

 

“But you stiffen up the moment I touch you…”

 

“I was just flustered. It wasn’t because I disliked it at all. After running away with the Madam, I’ve never once regretted it.”

 

“Madam? Didn’t I ask you to call me by my name? Or at least just ‘wife.’”

 

“I—I was wrong.”

 

Seeing his face, which always seemed more like an immortal’s than a human’s, flush with embarrassment was amusing, but if she teased him any further, he might just drop to his knees and beg for forgiveness. 

 

From their very first meeting, perhaps because Eunbi’s status was so far above his, Yangmu had always acted subserviently toward her.

 

Not particularly wanting to see that, Eunbi laughed softly and fiddled with his fingers, which were clasped in hers.

 

“I was just joking. I woke up and found the space beside me empty, so I felt a little lonely.”

 

“I’m sorry.”

 

“If you’re sorry, then tell me why you couldn’t sleep and came out here.”

 

He hesitated but eventually spoke. From the very beginning, he had never been able to win against Eunbi.

 

“As I mentioned before, my memories aren’t complete.”

 

“Do you feel like you’ve forgotten something important?”

 

“No, not at all. I don’t have any thoughts about the memories I’ve lost. Besides, if it were truly important, I would have carved a record of it on a wooden plank.”

 

He had even known in advance that some of his memories would disappear. When he first opened his eyes in that incomplete state, a wooden plank lay on the desk before him, as if someone had already foreseen this would happen. 

 

It was inscribed with words telling him it was for the best, that he should live without trying to remember anything.

 

He didn’t know what he had forgotten, but since all the truly necessary things had been recorded, living wasn’t an issue. Then he met Eunbi, and after that, his past life didn’t matter to him at all—so he simply continued forgetting and living…

 

“Before fleeing here, I organized all the separately recorded notes. I read and memorized everything before burning them, but one of them contained entirely unrelated matters, so I kept it instead of burning it.”

 

Since he couldn’t see, writing on paper wasn’t an option, so he usually carved characters onto wooden boards, making the records bulky. 

 

Naturally, he couldn’t take them while escaping and had to burn them all—except for one that lingered in his mind.

 

“Earlier today, I was about to burn even that last one, but…”

 

He pulled Eunbi’s hand and buried his face in her palm. His uncharacteristic gesture darkened her eyes with concern.

 

“…I learned something new from that small wooden board. That someday, it might save your life.”

 

“Then isn’t that good? If you’ve seen a future where there’s a way to avoid death, you should keep that board safe.”

 

Eunbi deliberately brightened her tone, sensing the unusual mood, but his expression remained somber.

 

“That you can be saved also means that someday, you’ll face mortal danger. I’ve never seen such a threat in your future before. If being with me has put your life at risk, then I…”

 

Eunbi pulled him into her embrace. He fell silent, his head buried against her smaller frame. 

 

Gently stroking his back, she soothed him, “Why worry about something that hasn’t happened? Whatever happens to me, it’s my fault, not yours. I made my choice—why should you be afraid? If you end up regretting running away with me, that would hurt me more.”

 

After whispering slowly for a long while, the tension left his shoulders. Eunbi smiled, took his hand, and pulled him up.

Quietly, they entered the room and lay down on the cold bedding. She nestled close, patting his chest.

 

“Don’t worry, let’s just sleep. Tomorrow, we’ll find a sturdy chest to store that wooden plank safely. And until it saves my life, we’ll get a big lock to bar it shut so no one can steal it.”

 

At her soft voice, he turned toward her. Eunbi burrowed into his arms and continued speaking, as if to keep his night from growing too quiet.

 

“Maybe we should make several identical copies of that plank, just in case. What’s written on it? Is it a long story? A short one?”

 

“I… I’m not sure. It seems to be about someone’s three lifetimes…”