Episode 8
Seomun Cheonoh, the eldest child of the Seomun family, had never encountered kids his age who wouldn’t listen as much as these.
“Big sister, it’s all healed.”
“Let’s keep it wrapped; your skin is still delicate. How’s your neck?”
…
With one hair neatly tied and the other hair left flowing, Sahyun and Sayoung busied themselves wrapping silk cloth around Cheonoh’s legs while looking at him.
Cheonoh finally spoke under their direct gaze.
“I’m fine.”
“Oh, it doesn’t look fine.”
“Or maybe your voice just naturally sounds like that?”
They chattered away in front of him, mentioning that the master said internal injuries heal slowly, that without clearing the meridians and blood points, medicine is needed, that he hasn’t gained weight despite eating so much chicken, and that he isn’t very cute.
Cheonoh couldn’t listen anymore and spoke out, both Sahyun and Sayoung once again turned to look at him.
“Still… now that I’m able to talk.”
“Now tell us. We’ve been taking care of you for more than a fortnight and we don’t even know your name.”
“The master didn’t tell me either…”
“If you’re grateful, you should at least tell us your name.”
Cheonoh took a deep breath as if he had given up and said, “Seomun Cheonoh. You can call me Cheonoh.”
“Cheona. Got it.”
“It’s Cheonoh, not Cheona…”
“Hold your hand out for a moment, quickly.”
Sayoung rummaging through the bundles he brought abruptly interrupted him while calling him an unexpected nickname. Sahyun, who remembered something, washed her hands in a wooden basin and searched her pockets.
Frowning slightly, Cheonoh hesitantly extended his hands.
Soon, candies shaped like pumpkins and candies made from hawthorn fruit landed on Cheonoh’s little hands.
“What’s this?”
“We got it to thank you for telling us your name. A market was set up at the foot of the mountain yesterday. We went down with permission.”
“Have you heard? Starting today, we’ll eat goat meat instead of chicken. They told us to buy goat bones too, so it looks like we’re going to have soup. Do you think it will taste better than chicken?”
“I… guess? Goats are much bigger, after all.”
“I’m looking forward to it. It’s my first time having goat. Do you think we’ll also get to eat beef or pork?”
The siblings rushed out of the room just as quickly as they had barged in, leaving Cheonoh to stare blankly at the snacks in his hands. Cheonoh carefully took a bite of the candy.
It was hollow inside and crumbled crisply in his mouth. After days of sipping clear soups and porridge, this texture was refreshing. The candy made from hawthorn berries and sugar was sour enough to make his tongue tingle.
Cheonoh, who didn’t usually like sour tastes, frowned for a moment, but then crunched through the candy. He also ate the pumpkin-shaped candy, which was the size of his fist but hollow inside. After that, he picked up his shoes from under the bed and put them on.
Though the shoes were a bit loose, his body felt light, thanks to the dedicated care he had received here. Despite having been without food for a week and suffering severe mental trauma, his body was healthy.
Humans are simple creatures: when the body is healthy, the mind follows.
Cheonoh slowly looked around the room he was in. It was a modest and academic space, something unimaginable for a place where a master martial artist would stay. The polished wooden furniture, used for a long time, reminded him of white hands that naturally swept over it.
Every martial artist who came to the Seomun residence had rough hands and coarse fingers, but the person’s hands were different. When he had been treated, the touch had been soft and smooth without a single callus.
Come to think of it, he didn’t say he was a master.
He said he was just a person who studies medicine and a mere martial artist. But it was still hard to believe. What kind of person, if not a master, would walk around with such an aura, such presence, and such a voice?
Cheonoh couldn’t fully describe him in words, but he could feel the unreal atmosphere that surrounded him. He seemed like someone who wasn’t quite rooted in this world and could return to his own world without hesitation.
That was Cheonoh’s impression of him.
Cheonoh walked out of the room, continuously thinking about Choyun’s indifferent eyes and unchanged expression. Ever since a while ago, when he was alone, thoughts of Choyun filled his mind.
He wondered just who this person was, why he was living secluded in this place, why he had heard of Dumang Mountain before, what it was, and whether his hair had turned white at some point or if he had always been an albino.
Naturally, even when he shared a room with Choyun, his eyes constantly followed every move, trying to observe and learn. Thanks to this, his tormenting memories had subsided quietly to the bottom.
When he pushed open the wooden door and stepped outside, cool sunlight poured over his head. The air in the mountains was refreshing and clean, and the scent of fresh trees and grass filled his lungs.
The person he wanted to see wasn’t far away.
Cheonoh pushed open the gate made of wood and slowly stepped outside. Uneven stones and soft grass brushed under his shoes. Although the person seemed uninterested in him and turned his back with white hair flowing, Cheonoh knew he had long noticed his presence. Proving this, as he approached, the person looked down at him. His bright amber eyes looked like they were made of pumpkins under the sunlight.
“This time, you didn’t fall.”
Though it seemed like a compliment, the tone was indifferent. Cheonoh clasped his hands together and fiddled with them, hesitating as he spoke.
“Thanks to your care, I have recovered. Last time, I couldn’t say it properly… thank you for catching me.”
“What’s the big deal about catching a falling child?”
Choyun spoke indifferently and bent down. Only then did Cheonoh notice that there was a rock beside him drying medicinal herbs. Choyun picked up a fully dried rhododendron leaf and crushed it in his hand, nodding.
“This should be enough. I’ll gather it. Can you bring me the folded bags inside? They’re on the table next to the medicine cabinet…”
“Oh… I know. I’ll be back soon.”
“Good.”
Having thought about the room so many times, he already knew where everything was. Although he hadn’t dared to open or look through the drawers without permission, he knew where the needed bag was.
Cheonoh quickly walked into the hut. He almost started running but held back when he heard “Don’t run.” The bags were neatly folded in the expected place, and Cheonoh took one and quickly returned to Choyun.
Taking the bag from Cheonoh respectfully, Choyun said,
“You worked hard even though your body isn’t fully recovered. Thank you.”
Without exaggeration, Cheonoh felt immensely pleased by those words. Although he knew it was just a polite remark, he felt truly accomplished. He wanted to do more and help more. At that moment, his heart, usually torn by rising vengeance, felt simply happy.
Whether Choyun knew this or not, he opened the bag and handed it to Cheonoh, saying,
“Put the rhododendron in here.”
Cheonoh carefully swiped the dried herbs into the bag with both hands. When he meticulously ensured the leaves wouldn’t break, Choyun said, “It’s okay if they break, no need to be so cautious.”
Feeling as if his thoughts had been read entirely, Cheonoh wondered if Choyun was using some kind of mind-reading skill.
After Cheonoh had packed all the herbs, Choyun patted his shoulder quietly a few times and then rolled up the bamboo mat. As Cheonoh watched him intently, unexpected words burst out from his mouth.
“Sage, what can you do for me?”
Startled by his own words, Cheonoh covered his mouth. He had told himself to be careful, but he had ended up testing Choyun once again. Having said such a thing three times now, Cheonoh braced for harsh reprimand and looked up at Choyun again.
Unexpectedly, Choyun showed no signs of anger. Instead, he seemed to ponder what he could do for Cheonoh, touching his lips thoughtfully before speaking.
“Well… at least I can make you resistant to all the world’s poisons.”
Immunity to all poisons.
Under the golden sunlight, Choyun’s head sparkled. As the wind blew, the forest rustled. The clouds drifting leisurely in the vast sky seemed to stop for him, and his fluttering hair glittered like spun platinum.
For a moment, he truly looked like a mythical sage who had descended to help the suffering Cheonoh.
From that single word and that single moment, Cheonoh made up his mind to change his life.
Choyun, who had unintentionally uplifted a seven-year-old’s spirits, was only joyously thinking that Cheonoh had become much brighter, unaware of the consequences he would face.
