Yeonwoo stood before the courtyard of Yunseondang.
Her body felt hollow, drained of its final reserves, yet she steadied her breathing and raised the broom. After a day spent with pollen drifting through the air like slush, the ground was carpeted in beautiful, ephemeral petals.
Yeonwoo drew a long, slow breath as she swept. With the slightest breeze, the petals lifted in a ghostly swirl. She cast her gaze toward the distance, where the setting sun seemed to set Mount Yeosong ablaze. The thought that the world was doing a thorough job of erasing her brought a strange, flicking sense of relief.
She was hungry and exhausted, but it was a familiar state. She couldn’t remember a single meal she had truly enjoyed or a night she had slept soundly in months; this destitution felt like her new baseline.
What felt more pressing was a sudden, sharp sense of liberation. Unable to define this freedom, Yeonwoo tightened her grip on the broom, putting more force into the work.
That was when it happened.
“Yeo…nwoo?”
At the sound of her name, she froze.
Her heart lurched, plummeting beneath her feet, and a dizzying sensation surged through her. A phantom heat prickled at her back, and her lips parted, trembling. She couldn’t shake the frantic suspicion that this voice was tied to Cha Yoonseok. Reason argued otherwise, but her body had already braced for impact.
“Ji Yeonwoo? Whoa, no way. It really is Ji Yeonwoo!”
As the man’s voice—heavy with recognition—washed over her, Yeonwoo turned her head slowly.
But the person who caught her eyes first was Seongheon.
*‘There is no way that man could have called my name.’*
Why would he? Watching Seongheon, who stood as motionless as an ancient tree, Yeonwoo shifted her gaze toward the speaker.
“Yeonwoo, it’s me! Hyun-wook! Nam Hyun-wook!”
The man hurried toward her, hand outstretched for a shake.
“Domyeong Middle School, 3rd year, Class 2! Do you remember me?”
“……Ah.”
As she identified the man—the wide, familiar grin plastered across his face—the tension finally drained from her, leaving her legs trembling. She felt as though she might collapse.
“Man, it’s so good to see you. You work here? Since when? I didn’t see you when I came by last time. How have you been?”
As Hyun-wook, genuinely delighted to see an old classmate, shook her hand vigorously, Yeonwoo’s arm bobbed rhythmically, as if dancing of its own accord.
“I heard you went to Seoul. Your mother works here, right? Whenever I saw her, I’d ask how you were doing. I’m really glad to see you, Yeonwoo.”
“Oh, have you been well? It’s been a while.”
Hyun-wook couldn’t possibly sense the volatility of her emotions. Yeonwoo managed to pull the corners of her lips into a tight, small smile, and Hyun-wook burst into laughter at the reception.
“Wow, no wonder I had this urge to come to Domyeongjae—you were here! How long has it been? Your face hasn’t changed a bit.”
Speaking in a high-pitched, excited tone, Hyun-wook turned his head toward Seongheon, who was waiting in the distance.
“Hyung! Go on in first! I’ll talk to my friend for a bit and then catch up!”
Seongheon began to move. As he reached them, Yeonwoo ducked her head in a stiff, reflexive greeting. She wasn’t in any physical danger, yet she felt a primal, subtle fear whenever she stood before him. She couldn’t understand why.
“Hyung. I met a friend. I’m going to chat for a moment, so please, go ahead.”
“Do that.”
Seongheon stood tall, facing Yeonwoo, and offered a curt nod. It was remarkably formal for a response to a shy, fleeting greeting.
He walked away, the rhythmic strike of his leather shoes echoing toward Yunseondang. Yeonwoo kept her gaze fixed on the floor until the sound faded—further, and further, and further away. Only when a door finally clicked shut did she release her breath.
“Yeonwoo, let’s go sit over there and talk. You have a moment, right?”
She looked up at Hyun-wook, whose face was bright with enthusiasm, and offered a faint, tired smile.
“I’m sorry. I’m in the middle of a shift, so it’s hard to spare much time. Just a little, though.”
“Okay! Just ten minutes! No, five!”
Hyun-wook laughed and pointed to a nearby bench.
*
When Seongheon emerged after washing up, Hyun-wook was already settled on the sofa in the study. The windows were thrown wide, and the mountain wind cooled the room.
“You’re done? Hyung, beer is okay, right?”
“It’s fine.”
Three or four cans of beer sat on the table. Hyun-wook was already finishing his first. The side dishes were plentiful and neatly arranged—standard procedure for Domyeongjae, where the Nam family’s needs were satisfied twenty-four hours a day.
Seongheon sat across from him and pulled the tab on a can. He didn’t usually drink beer, but he wasn’t picky; he swallowed several mouthfuls in quick succession. The carbonation was a sharp, welcome contrast to the heat radiating from his skin. After downing half the can, he looked at Hyun-wook.
“You seem to be in a good mood.”
“Me? I am. I ran into an old classmate. I’d actually been wondering how she was doing.”
“Were you close?”
The question felt unnecessary, even to him.
“With Yeonwoo? Of course. You know me, I’m a social butterfly. The student body was tiny—we were all just familiar faces.”
Seongheon nodded, drinking in silence.
He had scrubbed his skin raw in Yunseondang, a desperate ritual to wash away distracting thoughts. He wanted to erase the feverish sensation he’d felt upon seeing that woman, to pretend it had never happened.
Instead, he felt as if he were simmering. He was trapped in a situation where his own logic was failing him. Standing there, staring at a woman with nothing to say and no reason to be there, he felt like a fool.
“Yeonwoo’s mother worked at Domyeongjae for a long time. The last I heard, she was doing well. Running into her like this… how could I not be glad? It’s been years.”
“…….”
“Her mother got hurt, so Yeonwoo came in to cover for her until she recovers. She’s still just as kind as she ever was.”
Hyun-wook hummed, swinging his legs. Seongheon cracked open a second beer.
Despite his long, grueling shower, he hadn’t achieved the clarity he sought. The irritation that had latched onto him didn’t want to leave; it felt as if it had carved a mark into his skin.
“It was a good choice to come here. You’re here, and Yeonwoo’s here—it’ll be fun for a while.”
A cousin’s friend. A servant’s daughter.
Information he hadn’t gathered himself was piling up. Seongheon nodded slowly and drank again. The carbonation scratched at his throat, a sharp sting he welcomed. He drank ruthlessly, as if trying to choke himself, and set the empty can down. Hyun-wook watched him with wide, rounded eyes.
“Whoa, Hyung. You really were thirsty.”
The heat didn’t subside. Seongheon exhaled.
“See? It was a good thing I came, right?”
To the playful prompt, Seongheon offered only a cynical laugh. When he pushed his can toward Hyun-wook to signal the end of the conversation, the other man clinked his against it in a toast.
“The weather is nice, everything’s good. I met my Hyung, and I met Yeonwoo! Everything is good!”
Seongheon wiped the stray foam from his lip with a fingertip.
“I guess you liked her.”
“Who? Yeonwoo? Me?”
Hyun-wook swirled his beer can, his tone mocking the triviality of the question. He hesitated, then shrugged and grabbed a fresh can.
“Was I? Who knows. Maybe I did.”
Hyun-wook laughed at his own ambiguity. Seongheon closed his eyes and opened them again, his expression unreadable.
*
Hyun-wook had been a born leader, the kind of student who never missed a chance to be class president. In school, he had been the golden child, a member of the Nam family—an object of both envy and admiration.
Yeonwoo recalled those distant, buried memories. The name ‘Hyun-wook’ had been a stranger to her, but the moment she saw his face, the familiarity rushed back. He had been a friend with a lively spirit, the type who looked after others to ensure no one felt excluded.
Having met him again, he seemed even more affable than before. His questions and laughter were relentless.
After leaving him and walking toward the main building, Yeonwoo tilted her head. His insistence that he had thought of her so often, his curiosity about her life—it felt heavy, difficult to accept.
*‘Was I really that close with him?’*
A pang of guilt hit her. She had forgotten him entirely, while he seemed to have held onto her memory. She felt terrible that she hadn’t been able to show more genuine warmth in return.
She heard he would be staying at Domyeongjae for a while, so she resolved to greet him properly next time. As she walked, lost in thought, she ran into Manager Moon, who was emerging from the kitchen.
Manager Moon peered at her over the rim of her glasses.
“Since the Managing Director and Young Master Hyun-wook are having their drinks in Yunseondang, keep an eye on the radio and be ready to run errands.”
“Yes. I understand.”
*Young Master Hyun-wook.* The title felt absurd.
“If they get hungry, I’ve prepared snacks. Bring them over.”
“Yes.”
Yeonwoo’s answers were curt. Manager Moon turned to leave, tossing one last command over her shoulder.
“You don’t need anything else from me, right? Keep an eye on the radio….”
Yeonwoo suddenly blocked her path.
“Oh my, you scared me!”
Manager Moon recoiled. Yeonwoo, realizing she had stepped too close, held an awkward expression, then stared blankly at the older woman.
“What? What is it? My eardrums are fine, you don’t need to stand so close. I can hear you.”
“That’s not it.”
“Then what?”
Yeonwoo fidgeted with her fingers. After a long silence, she raised her gaze, as if she had finally made a choice.
If she was going to endure this place, she had to adapt.
“Manager Moon.”
“Yeah? What is it?”
“I’m hungry.”
If she was going to survive, she had to let herself be stained by this world.
“What?”
“I’m hungry. Please, give me something to eat.”
It was the conclusion Yeonwoo had reached after two long, empty nights at Domyeongjae.