Chapter 6 – The Place Where Warmth Stays, Jeoksongyeon
It was hazy.
His vision blurred in and out. Through the narrow slit of half-opened eyelids, unfamiliar faces appeared from time to time—men, women, old people, children.
So many kinds of people. Perhaps this really was heaven.
Strangely, everyone seemed so big.
They were all busy. Sometimes, warm voices brushed against his ears.
But it was cold. Though he didn’t want to fall asleep, his consciousness kept slipping away.
He opened his eyes again. A tuft of white fluff appeared before him. It looked like the paw of a small creature.
It resembled the paw of a cat or dog he had once seen long ago in Fox Valley.
Could this really be heaven?
A soft, fluffy blanket wrapped around his body.
“So warm… I like it.”
This time, falling asleep again wasn’t frightening.
The Vermilion Bird Clan estate, Hwacheongung — Annex, Unjoru.
Geum Ihwan sat wrapped tightly in a silk quilt, leaning against the sunniest window, staring at the scene of a diagnosis being made.
“The heartbeat is still unstable.”
The clan’s physician was checking the pulse at several points on the small, white fox’s body.
Beside him, Ihwan’s mother, Cheon Unseon, dipped a dry towel into warm water and gently wiped the fox’s fur.
“You’ll need to keep administering the fever-reducing medicine.”
“Can’t we try another remedy?” Unseon asked, voice heavy with pity.
“She is still a child. We cannot recklessly use medicines. Normally, transformation (환태) is only possible for adults.”
“How could such a young fox child have transformed at all?”
“Likely because of divine power mixing in. Perhaps it interfered with her ability in order to stop her from dying.”
“That must be dangerous as well.”
“In truth, this child is as good as dead. Her whole body is filled with yin energy. I have never seen such a bitter aura. Even if she opens her eyes by Heaven’s grace, she will not live long.”
Unseon’s hand slowed, then stopped. The tiny fox, no bigger than half her arm, was fated to die. For a woman who loved animals and children dearly, the pain doubled.
“We don’t even know what to do.”
As she placed the towel into the basin and rolled down her sleeves, the door opened.
A man stepped in, dressed in a golden robe embroidered with crimson thread.
“Clan Lord.”
The one who entered, with golden hair neatly tied, was Geum Heemun, head of the Vermilion Bird Clan.
He had returned in haste from investigating the land of eternal night, thanks to his reckless son—and the near-dead fox the boy had brought back. Such turmoil had not shaken the clan in years.
Behind him followed his advisor, Myeong Heun.
“How is she?”
“As I told Lady Cheon, her condition is poor.”
“Will she die?”
The physician nodded.
“That is troublesome. For some reason, the girl and Ihwan are connected.”
“Connected?” Unseon asked.
“When the child suffers, Ihwan shivers with cold as well.”
Everyone turned to look at Ihwan. His lips were blue, shivering violently. In the Vermilion Bird’s warm lands, this was unheard of.
“It seems he has fallen under a curse through using Hyupundo.”
“A… curse?”
Myeong Heun explained, and Unseon staggered. The clan lord supported her.
“Two hundred years ago, the divine sword Hyupundo was forged from two powers. But its user was bound to share senses and life with the one tied to it.”
“That means…”
“Yes. If this child dies, young master Ihwan will die as well.”
Unseon collapsed into Heemun’s arms. He helped her sit by the fox’s bed.
“Therefore, we must save this fox.”
“But at this rate—”
“Infuse her with Vermilion Bird fire regularly, and give her the Red Flame Pill passed down in our family.”
“To this child?” the physician asked, startled.
“Did you not hear? If she dies, so does Ihwan.” His voice was resolute.
“Ah… Ihwan…”
Unseon looked at her son, trembling by the window, and tears welled. But Ihwan only shook his head weakly.
“Don’t worry, Mother. I won’t die so easily.”
“But—”
“Even if I do, it won’t be her fault. It’s all… all because of me. She was dragged into this by accident.”
At his words, Unseon stroked the white fox’s back. Like Ihwan said, the child seemed a victim of misfortune, and guilt pressed on her chest.
“…I must go and pray.”
Silence hung over the room.
“This must never leave these walls,” said the clan lord.
“Yes, understood.”
He and the physician spoke long about Soha’s condition. Meanwhile, Ihwan stared endlessly at the sleeping fox.
For days he had been astonished. Could such cold truly exist in the world?
Born of the Vermilion Bird, fire had always been with him. Cold was nothing but a passing breeze.
But now—
‘So cold.’
This bone-deep ache was something he had never felt. He felt as though he would die at any moment.
Yet, more than his own pain, he worried about the small fox. If he, with fire, suffered this much—how was she enduring it?
Sometimes, when he touched her, her body was like ice. He pitied her, and so he would pour Vermilion Bird energy into her, watching her grow a little warmer.
But now, he knew if he gave more, he himself would die. Thankfully, his father did it in his stead.
His energy drained. His vision blurred. He longed to sleep on a heated floor, yet strangely, he couldn’t leave the fox’s side.
“Until the curse is broken, our lives are bound together.”
The future seemed bleak. His eyelids drooped, and he drifted against the pillar.
In his dreams, he saw again Soha’s frost-covered body.
And each time, sorrow welled up—a sorrow his ten-year life had never known.
It was just an unbearably bitter cold.
When Soha’s hazy mind cleared, the first thing she felt was cold.
‘It’s cold…’
Even as she floundered in illusions, she longed for warmth.
Perhaps it was that wish which worked a miracle—suddenly, warmth spread through her, like someone holding her tightly.
Soha opened her eyes.
“Are you alright?”
The first thing she saw was a woman, dressed in white robes embroidered with flowers and birds, with a pale pink sash over her shoulders—like a fairy.
“Who…?”
Soha looked around. Golden wallpaper, polished wooden furniture, a scroll of a phoenix, porcelain vases and jade ornaments, and above, curtains embroidered with dragons and clouds.
Was this what it felt like to wake in a treasure hall? Everything was dazzlingly beautiful.
“You’ve been asleep for a full week. Can you see clearly? Does your head hurt?”
The stranger worried over her. Soha felt burdened by such concern.
“Oh my manners. This is the Geum family’s estate—the home of the boy you saved, Ihwan. I am his mother, Cheon Unseon.”
“Ah…”
“Here, drink some warm water first.”
She offered a porcelain cup painted with lotus and koi. As Soha stared at it, everything seemed surreal.
She had returned to being nine, been chased by a trafficker, met a ghost, and through that entanglement, ended up here.
She had thought she would surely die, and yet—she lived. The emotions tangled inside her. Was this good fortune, or misfortune?
Only one thing was certain.
“Is this place… always this warm?”
Unseon blinked, unsure how to answer. What an odd question for a child who had nearly died.
“As warm as you want it to be, my dear.”
She overlapped her hand gently atop Soha’s.
Soha gazed at that hand. It was so warm.
The future had changed.
And it had begun with a single step she had chosen for herself.
