V1S3C3

True to his word, Yeom-gon agreed to tell the story, but didn’t start immediately. He carefully wiped Kang-soe’s swollen lips and, producing another piece of the sweet white pastry from seemingly nowhere, broke off a morsel and placed it in Kang-soe’s mouth. The taste of food hitting his chronically empty stomach momentarily distracted him from everything else.

“Where on earth are you hiding these?! They just keep coming out!”

“…I merely found one I had forgotten in my sleeve.”

What a miraculous sleeve. What couldn’t it hold? Kang-soe resolved to thoroughly inspect the inside of that sleeve the moment they escaped the cave, but as his mind wandered, Yeom-gon swiftly withdrew the end of his sleeve and hid it behind his back.

It’s not like touching it will wear it out.

“What is it you wish to know?”

“I want to know what’s in your sleeve…! I mean. Ahem. Cough.”

Hastily reining in his wandering curiosity, Kang-soe corrected himself.

“Just tell me the story of how you were born, Hyung-nim.”

“Why are you curious about that?”

“I’ve always loved hearing stories about people’s births, their conception dreams, their childhoods. And since you aren’t an ordinary human, Hyung-nim, it’s bound to be fascinating, right?”

He claimed he just enjoyed those types of stories, but the truth was, he loved imagining whether he himself had a conception dream or a special birth story. He couldn’t bring himself to admit that pathetic truth, swallowing the words down. Yeom-gon called him eccentric, but seeing no reason to refuse, he finally began his tale.

“I was not born on this earth, but in the heavens.”

***

Yeom-gon was born in the heavenly realm. Just as there are various ministers and kings in the sky, he was born the son of one such king.

From the moment of his birth, he possessed a massive lump on his chest. Not only was it grotesquely unsightly, but it also emanated a bizarre, terrifying power. He had an older brother, an older sister, and several younger siblings, but his eldest brother was destined to inherit the throne.

He was ordered to become a general and protect the future king, but his unnatural power became an insurmountable obstacle. He was vastly more powerful than the brother destined to rule; fears grew that this monstrous younger brother might seize the throne. Plagued by this anxiety, his mother summoned him to her chambers one fateful night. It was pitch black. As he sat quietly in the room, she burned an immense quantity of incense, the smoke billowing so thickly it resembled storm clouds.

Inhaling the heavy smoke, an unnatural drowsiness overwhelmed him, draining the strength from his limbs. He fought desperately to stay awake. He gritted his teeth and clenched his fists so tightly his nails bit into his palms, but the magical slumber dragged him down. He stood and slammed his head against the wall to shock himself awake, but even as blood poured down his face, the sleep was inescapable.

Mother. Mother. What are you going to do to me?

The young boy wept bitterly. He cried out like a fawn caught in a snare, but his mother remained deaf to his pleas. Instead, she took a blade forged in blue fire and carved into his chest. She knew his terrifying power stemmed entirely from that lump. But its roots ran unfathomably deep; even slicing away massive chunks of flesh failed to dislodge it. Tossing the blade aside, she grabbed the lump with both hands and pulled with all her might. When her strength failed, she ordered her servant girls to help. Horrified by the butchered state of his chest, the girls hesitated, but terrified of the queen’s wrath, they grabbed him by the waist and hauled backward. Still, it refused to tear free.

How many servants were summoned that night? She called for his sister, his brother, and finally, even his father. Working together, they pulled with such immense, combined force that the lump finally tore free, ripping away whatever remained of his chest cavity. The force of the sudden release was so explosive that the lump was launched violently into the sky, rocketing far, far away.

Had he not been a being of the heavens, he surely would have died from such a catastrophic wound. He was fed miraculous herbs that regenerated flesh and replenished blood, along with celestial peaches, teetering on the edge of death for ten agonizing days before finally stabilizing.

While he hovered near death for ten days, the severed lump continued its chaotic flight. It flew far across the realms, tumbling and rolling endlessly until it landed in a mystical garden brimming with strange and marvelous flora, embedding itself deep within a patch of thick mud, lost from sight.

When he finally rose from his sickbed and demanded to know where his lump was, his mother simply shook her head. Having purposefully severed it, she had no desire to seek it out. Filled with bitter resentment, he interrogated the servant girls. But when they claimed ignorance, he stomped his feet in raw fury. He interrogated every servant in the palace, his breath coming in ragged, angry gasps.

He sought out his sister, but she knew nothing. His brothers knew nothing. In his sheer, agonizing frustration, he clawed at his own ruined chest. Finally, he sought out his father, only to be met with the same answer. Tears of blood streamed down his face in pure, unadulterated hatred. He grew older, his body maturing into a towering, powerful adult, but the hollow, aching void in his chest constantly throbbed, an eternal reminder of what was stolen. The sorrow and emptiness were so profound he could not bear to leave it empty. If I put this here, will it fit? If I put that there, will it fit? He obsessively stuffed various mystical artifacts and treasures into the gaping hole. Yet absolutely nothing could fill the space where his lump used to be. During his endless, desperate search, he finally discovered that his lump had fallen into a mystical garden.

Had the lump, buried in the mud, mingled with a magical seed? One day, it sprouted into a massive, magnificent flower bud. The master of the garden, discovering the anomaly, sensed something extraordinary within and cultivated it with meticulous care for ten months. When the flower finally bloomed, a beautiful child emerged from within. Believing it to be a twist of fate, the garden master adopted the child. By the time Yeom-gon finally tracked it down, the child had grown significantly.

When he demanded the return of his stolen flesh, the master of the garden shook his head.

“I nurtured this child for ten months; this child is mine. It is no longer your lump, so I cannot give it to you.”

Being treated like a thuggish bandit demanding a child ignited an inferno of rage within him.

“When I think about that moment even now. Haha.”

Damn it to hell. Yeom-gon’s venomous mutter caused Kang-soe to shrink back involuntarily.

“It was mine. Who the hell did he think he was? Haha. The sheer audacity. When I remember that day, truly… I wake up furious in the middle of the night.”

He smiled, claiming he was only expressing his lingering anger and that he wasn’t mad at Kang-soe, but the smile was infinitely more terrifying than a scowl. Desperate to redirect the conversation, Kang-soe quickly asked:

“So what did you do?”

“So I asked him what I had to do to get it back, and the bastard gave me a demand.”

“What was it?”

“He claimed the child had not yet fully matured, and required three more years.”

“The child is not yet fully grown and requires three more years. Therefore, if you assist me during that time, I will consider it.”

It was framed as assistance, but it was essentially indentured servitude. Yet what choice did he have? Believing that retrieving it was the only way to fill the void in his chest and soothe his agonizing emptiness, Yeom-gon humbled himself and worked as a lowly servant.

“Is that true?”

“Would I lie to you?”

“…Of course not. You are Hyung-nim, after all.”

He agreed verbally, but his lips jutted out in disbelief. Yeom-gon’s hand twitched, tempted to pinch the disrespectful pout, but he restrained himself.

“And so, three years passed.”

He endured those three years burning with barely suppressed rage, yet when the time was up, he couldn’t simply take the lump back. The child had grown into a young maiden. Taking a fully grown woman away posed complications. Fearing what Yeom-gon might do to the child he had raised as his own, the garden master imposed one final condition.

“What was the condition?”

“He demanded that I take her as my bride.”

“Excuse me?”

In essence, he was arranged to marry his own severed flesh. Isn’t that a bizarre tale? Yeom-gon stared intently at Kang-soe, but Kang-soe, unable to fully grasp the absurdity of celestial mechanics, merely stared back with blank, innocent eyes.

“…”

Realizing further explanation was useless, Yeom-gon seamlessly continued. Determined to reclaim what was his regardless of the method, he agreed to the marriage. Since she had spent eight days inside the flower and only half a day outside, there wasn’t much of a wedding to speak of. He brought the massive flower bud to his estate and held the ceremony. He couldn’t share the ceremonial wine with her, so he poured it over the petals. They consummated the marriage simply by him sleeping beside the bud, as there was nothing else to be done. What more could one do with a giant flower bud? Rushing the formalities, he set off on the procession to bring her to his true home. Escorted by a massive retinue of flower children, the path they traveled was saturated with a divine, intoxicating fragrance.

Yes, it was that very fragrance that must have drawn the beast.

“We never crossed the threshold.”

The exact moment Yeom-gon stepped over the threshold and the flower children bearing the bud attempted to follow, a massive gale erupted. A monstrous beast with a Five-Foot Tail, Five-Foot Beak swooped down from the heavens and snatched the flower bud away. The bud was the palanquin, the flower chariot, and the bride herself, all as one.

Yeom-gon’s lips curled upward. Recalling that moment, the phantom pain in the back of his head still throbbed. He had been robbed blind while his eyes were wide open. He never imagined such a disaster could strike twice, yet it was stolen from him once again.

“If the beast had merely taken her and hidden her, it would have been manageable.”

Instead, it tore her to pieces and scattered the fragments across the realms. Some drifted down rivers, others fell into deep ravines. Mountain beasts devoured some, lowly creatures swallowed others, and some sank to the lightless depths of the ocean. Some claimed this horrific scattering was the ultimate price he paid for his heavy karma.

—“Your karma has ruined everything. If only you had been a little more patient.”

But regardless of how it happened or whose fault it was, his singular mission was to retrieve every last piece.

“…Did you never feel the urge to just give up?”

“Hard to say.”

“You never even saw your bride’s face, did you?”

“That is true.”

“Was it really your lump, Hyung-nim?”

If you never even saw it, how can you be so certain? At the innocent question, Yeom-gon smiled softly. Knowing Kang-soe couldn’t see it in the pitch black, he let the silent smile serve as his only answer.

“You really have had a tragic fate, Hyung-nim.”

“…?”

“I always figured that if you weren’t born on this earth, you wouldn’t have to suffer the miseries of life.”

“That is not the case.”

Hearing that, Kang-soe chuckled.

“I guess I only hear what I want to hear and ignore the rest, which is why I thought that.”

“Perhaps.”

As Yeom-gon smiled and replied gently, Kang-soe smiled back. In the absolute darkness, Kang-soe didn’t know exactly where Yeom-gon’s face was, smiling blindly into the void. Yet Yeom-gon didn’t find the sight unpleasant.

“And whoever told you it was because of your karma is a mean-spirited bastard.”

What massive sin could a man who only worked hard until that day possibly have committed to deserve such a fate? At those words, Yeom-gon’s gentle smile instantly vanished. The memories that abruptly flooded his mind were of things he had torn apart, cleaved in two, and bludgeoned to death—a mountain of bleeding, broken corpses. He saw no reason to detail the horrific atrocities he committed in his blood-blinded rampage the second the beast snatched his bride and vanished, so he kept his mouth firmly shut.

Instead, he shifted to tales of his heavenly realm—elegant, refined stories of breathtaking beauties, celestial wine, and sophisticated arts. Any cultured scholar would have listened with rapt attention, but Kang-soe, having absolutely no connection to such highbrow concepts, let most of it go in one ear and out the other, eventually beginning to nod off. By the time Yeom-gon started detailing celestial paintings, Kang-soe had fully lain down and was dead to the world.

“…”

Yeom-gon stared quietly at the sleeping Kang-soe. The stories weren’t exactly meant to be lullabies, but the sight of him falling asleep before the tale was even finished was undeniably amusing. Though bathed in absolute darkness, nothing could escape his gaze. The freezing draft swirled around their feet before being swept away by the rushing water. The roar of the torrential rain outside remained deafening.

The rain would likely stop by today. He had estimated two days would be sufficient to wash away such a minuscule village, but it was taking longer than expected.

Was there that much filth to wash away?

Yeom-gon glared sharply toward the cave entrance. Tomorrow, the sun would finally break through. They couldn’t leave until the floodwaters receded and the mud hardened into solid earth. They were trapped here for at least two more days. Not that he had any intention of leaving just yet, anyway.

Yeom-gon watched silently as Kang-soe slept.

It was hardly a tale suited for passing a lonely evening, yet the sight of the man drifting off before it had even reached its conclusion was rather amusing. Even in the all-consuming darkness of the cave, nothing could evade Yeom-gon’s piercing gaze; a biting chill swirled around their feet before spilling into the rising water, the rain still drumming its relentless cacophony overhead.

The rain would likely cease sometime today. He had estimated that two days would suffice to sweep away a village no larger than a fist, yet the task was dragging on unexpectedly. Was there truly that much to clear out? Turning his sharp eyes toward the entrance, Yeom-gon mused that by tomorrow, the sun would surely show its face. Until the swollen waters receded and the mud hardened, however, they remained trapped. They were forced to stay here for at least two more days—though, truth be told, he had no intention of leaving just yet.

“Little brother,” he called softly.

There was no answer. Kang-soe remained fast asleep, his breathing deep and rhythmic. Despite the ample space, the man looked uncomfortable huddled in a ball, so Yeom-gon gathered him into his arms, laid his own outer robes down as a mat, and rested Kang-soe’s head upon his thigh.

“Mmph…” Propped at that height, Kang-soe’s neck bent at an awkward angle, drawing a soft groan of discomfort from his lips—but he didn’t wake, sleeping as peacefully as a child. Yeom-gon made no move to set him down, contenting himself with simply watching that face.

Little brother. My dear little brother.

He whispered the words like a secret, knowing full well there was no way he could be heard. Looking down at the motionless face, Yeom-gon leaned closer until his lips brushed against Kang-soe’s forehead. He considered kissing him on the mouth, but the angle was poor. Lowering the man’s head from his thigh, he lay down beside him and pressed his lips to Kang-soe’s once more.

As their soft skin met, their breaths melded into one. Closing his eyes, Yeom-gon could feel the energy of the fragments through the contact—they seemed to throb with life, perhaps because so many had been gathered together. He pulled back for a moment and retrieved a pouch from his robes, an object that looked precious even at a glance. Loosening the drawstring, he revealed several glowing, pearl-like beads within.

Selecting one, he pried open the mouth of the man who slept on, oblivious to the world, and slipped the bead down his throat. Startled in his sleep, Kang-soe swallowed hard, his eyes fluttering open for a brief second.

“Agh! What—”

“Is something the matter?” Yeom-gon asked.

“Something… in my mouth…” Kang-soe clutched at his throat, looking around with startled, dazed eyes.

“You must have swallowed some water dripping from the ceiling in your sleep,” Yeom-gon replied with feigned innocence. Or perhaps a bug. Kang-soe seemed to fall for the deception, nodding in slow realization. He is so gentle—too gentle. How could a person be this naive? Yeom-gon could hardly suppress his laughter as he coaxed the man back down, dismissing his mumblings about having swallowed something as mere imagination.

It wasn’t long before Kang-soe drifted back into sleep. Securing the pouch back in his sleeve, Yeom-gon swept a hand over the man’s body as if searching for the bead he had just administered. The synchronized fragments spiraled in gentle circles, pulsing in time with Kang-soe’s heartbeat like flowers in bloom, or perhaps the frantic heart of some small animal.

Grow quickly now. Yeom-gon laughed without sound.

By what twist of fate had a mere mortal come to possess such fragments? He recalled someone else who had once carried shards within their body, much like Kang-soe. That person’s elegant smile had been like a lotus flower. Was it the same for this one? Or perhaps…

That person had never been able to align the fragments, and Yeom-gon was no different. Because of the heavy karma staining his hands, he could never fit them together, forced instead to carry them as mere shards. If he found every last piece, would they finally align? Even the immortal who had taught him the method could not say for certain.

“And yet, the fragments have aligned,” he murmured.

Even if they had been absorbed into this body, it was a phenomenon bordering on the miraculous. Yeom-gon reached out, tracing the contours of Kang-soe’s face—feeling the brow, the bridge of the nose, and finally the lips. At the touch, he felt the fragments thumping again, as if offering a joyful greeting. If he parted those lips and entwined their inner flesh, he could feel them even more intimately. He wanted to feel it again, just as he had moments ago, even if such an act between two men was considered a peculiar deviancy.

And I must eventually extract the pieces, after all.

Infusing his own energy to keep the fragments from adhering to the man’s flesh was no easy task; it was an arduous labor that demanded immense devotion over a long period. Yet, even so, feeling the fragments throb with life was a pleasure to him. He smiled, noticing how Kang-soe’s lips had become swollen from their long kiss. When the man had tried to shy away earlier, it had only piqued Yeom-gon’s irritation, driving him to push even harder. Seeing him gasp for air, a sudden, dark impulse to torment him further had surged within.

“Did I mention that I was a frightening man?”

If so, Kang-soe had been right. He had seen clearly. Even by Yeom-gon’s own admission, he was someone to be feared. He smiled brightly, thinking of how Kang-soe cowered before him every day. Even without words, the man had clearly sensed his aura. He had a pure spirit—Yeom-gon hadn’t encountered one so untainted in a long time. His short stature was a slight flaw, but had he been built with a grander frame, he would have easily risen through the government ranks. Of course, his lack of scholarship might have been an issue.

Scholarship, indeed.

Nine shallow, one deep. Three to the left, three to the right. Engage but do not release.

It was ridiculous how he had memorized those phrases by heart without even knowing their meanings. Yeom-gon was not usually a man given to laughter, yet he found he could hardly stop himself.

His eyes are good, his ears are sharp… and while I don’t know about his wits, surely they’ll improve with work.

Once this business was concluded, it might not be a bad idea to keep him around and put him to use. He was the kind of person who was fun to have nearby and torment. Among his subordinates, a fellow named Yoyo would surely find him to be just his type.

Yes. He is exactly that guy’s type.

At the time, Yeom-gon had criticized Yoyo for his bizarre tastes, but now, he felt he could understand. Thinking of those flushed cheeks and ears, he chuckled silently again. “Little brother,” he called out softly in place of a laugh, then pulled the man’s waist into a firm embrace. Perhaps because of the cold, Kang-soe burrowed deep into his chest the moment he was held.

Just then, the rain stopped. A few stray drops might fall later, but the heavy drumming of the downpour had vanished.

Bland, predictable fools.

Everything was proceeding exactly as he had calculated, which felt utterly uninspired. It seemed the ones responsible for the rain intended to bring out the sun before tomorrow. Regardless, Yeom-gon gently stroked Kang-soe’s back. How long would it take for them to be like this even when the man was awake? Whenever those eyes were open, Kang-soe trembled if Yeom-gon so much as moved. Had Yeom-gon ever actually struck the man, such trembling might make sense, but as it was, he found the behavior deeply offensive. There were still many days left before the ritual, yet Kang-soe thought of nothing but escape; it was enough to make one feel stifled.

And a bit annoyed.

Therefore, Yeom-gon had no intention of leaving the cave immediately. What fool opens the cage door for a bird looking to bolt? He decided it would be best to wait until Kang-soe grew completely accustomed to him, until the sun blazed high and the muddy earth hardened completely. Tightening his grip slightly to ensure his captive couldn’t move, Yeom-gon slowly let his own eyes flutter shut.