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Chapter 05
If you follow the sloping path down alongside the river for a good while, it leads into town. Overnight sleet had fallen, and now the frozen river drew unnecessary glances from Yeon-woo as she kicked at loose stones rolling along the ground.
“……”
“…Cough.”
Each time, Jungha’s lips tugged faintly upward, twitching before settling back down.
Though she couldn’t even manage to hit the stone with her toe properly, the irritation from her missed kicks was visible even from behind. Then she’d huff for a moment before breaking into another bout of harsh coughing.
She should have dried her hair before going out. Seeing the damp strands whip about in the winter wind, Yeon-woo’s gaze twisted with distaste, then sank again.
“This is the town. Go your own way.”
“Where would I even go?”
“You said you wanted to look around. Go wander on your own.”
Her voice cracked and splintered, her pale face lit only by the flush of fever on her cheeks. It didn’t look like an ordinary cold.
But Jungha guessed that wherever Yeon-woo’s steps were headed, it wouldn’t be the hospital. Even while shivering, she pulled out her phone again and again to check the time—like someone being chased by something unseen.
“And where are you going?”
“Why are you so nosy?”
“Wondering if you’re off to die again.”
Yeon-woo’s annoyance was written plain across her face. Where had this nuisance even come from? Yet the irritating face beside her remained perfectly calm.
If it were up to her, she’d have kicked that tall body square in the back just to feel better—but her strength wasn’t up to it.
“You planning to keep following me?”
“Yeah.”
“Ha.”
At last, Yeon-woo let out a long sigh, turned, and set off down the road again.
The mistress had said breakfast was over. That meant she had to hurry—buy cold medicine at the pharmacy, pick up a bunch of green onions for lunch prep.
At the Ire Orchard, breakfast, lunch, and dinner times were always fixed, and it had become law that Yeon-woo helped with them.
She had no desire to hear her aunt’s sharp voice again, telling her to cover child support her mother never even managed to wring out—at least by doing this much work.
“Hey.”
“……”
“Seo Yeon-woo.”
He must have memorized it from the name tag he’d glimpsed last night. Hearing her name spoken like that, gently almost, made Yeon-woo’s insides lurch.
What if he asked about what he’d seen last night?
Why she’d wanted to die. How she’d ended up living in a closet room at her aunt’s. Why her aunt seemed so desperate to devour her alive.
When Yeon-woo stopped in her tracks, Jungha also halted beside her.
“Where do they sell clothes here?”
“…Clothes?”
The question was far removed from what she’d feared. Even someone like Yeon-woo, who didn’t know much about brands, could tell he always wore good things. Why would he be looking for a clothing shop at this hour?
“What do you want to buy?”
“A scarf.”
“…Follow me.”
So the Seoul-raised boy did find the country air cold, after all.
Thinking little of it, Yeon-woo led him toward the shop that carried the priciest items in town.
She worried it might not be open yet, but just then the shopkeeper auntie was switching on the lights.
“Wait a sec.”
Jungha slipped into the store. Yeon-woo turned her head away. Telling her to wait—yet she couldn’t just leave a kid who didn’t know the neighborhood standing there alone either.
Pulling out her barely-functional phone, she checked the time and tapped the ground with her toe while waiting.
“…?”
Something soft wrapped around her neck. She blinked stupidly as fabric passed in front of her face and circled again and again.
Not so tight it choked, not so loose it slipped. Looking down, she saw a pink scarf knitted with neat, tight stitches.
“What the—what is this?”
“Let’s go.”
“What?”
“You’ve got somewhere to be, right? I’m done.”
Just like that, Jungha strode past her, leading the way down an unfamiliar road. At her nose lingered the faint rubbery scent of something brand-new—mixed, almost imperceptibly, with a trace of body warmth.
A breeze picked up. The raw pain scratching her throat eased. Yeon-woo blinked twice in surprise.
“Not coming?”
“…Go.”
She couldn’t tell where his kindness came from. Whether it was lent or given. She didn’t ask. Instead, she quietly hurried her steps to follow behind him.
If she asked, her cheeks would only burn.
They first bought a bunch of green onions, then stopped by the pharmacy. It was already past nine—they needed to rush.
“Cold medicine, please.”
“What symptoms?”
“Just a sore throat, chills…”
While she was asking for a simple cold remedy, Jungha picked up a box of bandages and tossed it on the counter.
“Will you take this too?”
“Ah, well…”
She hesitated, unable to spare the money. But Jungha smoothly pulled out a card and handed it over.
And when they left the pharmacy, the bandages ended up stuffed into Yeon-woo’s pocket.
“What’s this?”
“Your foot.”
He must have seen her limping slightly. Last night she’d only poured disinfectant on her cut foot before collapsing asleep. It hadn’t healed.
Again, she tried to pin it down as either pity or charity. Then his voice cut straight through her thoughts:
“Pay me back. For that and the scarf.”
Not even a loan shark—his way of claiming debts was sharper than her cousin, who wasted money gambling.
Her eyes flashed like daggers as if to say she didn’t need any of it. But by then, he was already striding ahead with those long legs, widening the gap.
“…”
Too petty a matter to fight over, yet staying silent made her feel like she’d been thoroughly taken in. Pouting, she bit her lip and trailed after him until they crossed through the orchard gates.
Rounding the corner toward the annex, she ran straight into her aunt.
“Where’ve you been! The green onions!”
Her aunt, who had been stoking the fire under the cauldron for her cousin’s bath, turned, eyes blazing at the sight of Yeon-woo.
“…I bought them.”
“And what’s that—around your neck?”
“Ah.”
The fancy scarf looked far too out of place. Her aunt stood up from where she’d crouched, teeth grinding as if sure Yeon-woo had wasted money foolishly.
“That doesn’t look cheap.”
It happened often.
Whenever Yeon-woo spent a few coins she’d earned running errands for old man Yang-gyu—buying a workbook, a pen—her aunt always assumed she’d stolen money from the vanity stash.
Even though it was really her own son who’d taken that money and squandered it on drink.
As Yeon-woo instinctively stepped back, bracing for the blow, a shadow suddenly fell from behind the corner.
“It’s mine.”
The cold voice struck like iron.
“…Y-young master.”
Flustered by his intrusion, her aunt’s eyes darted wildly, lips smacking. The hand already half-raised was hastily shoved behind her back. Both Yeon-woo and Jungha saw it.
“I said, it’s mine.”
