It was a spring day.

Myojeong was climbing a mountain with a newborn baby in his arms. The sunlight was warm, but the wind was still chilly. The earth, having safely endured the bitter winter, was exuding a strange life force. The trees that had once stood bare now had green buds sprouting from every branch, and wildflowers bloomed wherever the sun touched the ground.

Myojeong’s steps were light as he climbed the mountain.

The preparations were already complete. He had procured a stone coffin and prepared a place to bury it. All that remained was to perform the rite. He had given the baby a draught before they left to induce a deep sleep, so the child would soon fall asleep. Patting the baby’s back until he drifted off, Myojeong walked along the mountain path and muttered to himself.

“The plum blossoms have already bloomed...”

Myojeong, who had been looking up at the profusion of red plum blossoms, lowered his gaze to the petals scattered at his feet.

“These are called plum blossoms. Aren’t they truly beautiful?”

He picked up a red petal from the ground and placed it on the baby’s nose, and the baby babbled something unintelligible. They had been on the mountain for quite some time, so the medicine should have been taking effect and making the baby fussy by now, but far from whimpering, the child only beamed. Myojeong pressed the tip of his nose to the baby’s forehead and smiled brightly as well.

Before long, the baby fell asleep.

After confirming that the baby was asleep, Myojeong took out the merman’s pill. He pushed the merman’s pill, which looked like a small ball of dough, between the sleeping baby’s lips and gently placed it inside his mouth. Hwirim had said that if one took the merman’s pill, any wounds one sustained would heal on their own, one would not age, and one would live for a very long time. If the merman’s pill worked properly on the baby, he would be able to escape the curse of dying at thirty-three.

If he could avoid the curse of dying at thirty-three, it would mean defying the Bangsangsi’s prophecy and creating a crack in the history of the curse passed down through generations. If fate could be subtly twisted, and if, by doing so, the child could escape this net, then he might be able to live a life different from Myojeong’s own.

Myojeong closed his eyes and recalled what Hwirim had once said to him.

Still, you never know, do you?

Right.

You never know.

The words you never know held a strange power. If something could be changed by one calm phrase, neither expecting much nor giving up completely...

A little while later, when he checked inside the baby’s mouth, the merman’s pill that had been there had melted away without a trace. Myojeong used his fingernail to make a tiny scratch on the baby’s soft cheek. It was to check whether the pill had worked properly. In the blink of an eye, the small scratch healed and disappeared on its own.

Myojeong carefully laid the sleeping baby inside the stone coffin he had buried in the ground beforehand. He closed the heavy stone lid and used his blood to write the character for “wait.” It was a character that held the meaning of confinement, yet also signified waiting. It was the mark of a barrier made to keep the child safe so that nothing could intrude, but also to break on its own when the child woke after a long time had passed. Myojeong himself had lived his entire life trapped within boundaries, holding a map called fate, but he hoped that this child, at least, would forge his own path.

Life is always full of variables.

And the truest moments of life come from unexpected paths.

Myojeong covered the stone coffin where the baby slept with earth.

He did not give the baby a name. As Hwirim had said, no one is born because they wish to be. If being born was itself karma and a burden, then a name was the same. A name was something given by another. No one was born with the name they desired. Just as one’s fortune and destiny were decided at birth, a name, too, was given by a force one could not resist. Therefore, a name and fate were the same.

With this, the opportunity was gone.

The opportunity to twist fate.

In the end, Myojeong would live according to the Bangsangsi’s curse. He had lost the one he loved, had a child to whom he had passed on the curse, and had no way to avoid his fated death. But just as Hwirim had thrown off her head covering and risen to her feet, knowing she would die that day, this, too, was something Myojeong had chosen for himself. The fact that he had thrown away the opportunity with his own hands suddenly made him laugh.

At that moment, Myojeong knew that this life had finally become his own.

Now, Myojeong had only one year left.

Wondering how he should spend that final year, Myojeong set off on a journey alone. It was a journey without a destination. Since his mask had been taken, he was no longer followed. Now, there was nothing to protect and no place that needed him. Having gained true freedom, Myojeong wandered the mountains and rivers, taking in the scenery.

He decided to visit every place he had ever wanted to see. He went to places renowned as famous mountains and to places rumored to have spectacular views. When it was time to eat, he would visit any house and ask for leftover rice. When night fell, he would ask, “I am a passing traveler. May I stay for one night?” and borrow a place to sleep.

When he found a place he rather liked, he settled nearby and stayed there for a few days. Traveling alone was not bad. Sometimes, if he was fortunate, he found a companion. That companion was sometimes a person and sometimes a ghost, but even if they walked the same path for a while, they inevitably parted ways later.

Occasionally, there were connections that only brushed past.

“What are you waiting for so intently?”

As he sat on a hill gazing at the distant scenery, someone came and asked. Judging by his clothes, he seemed to be a passing woodcutter. That day, Myojeong had been sitting on a scenic hill, staring into the distance from morning onward.

“Do I look as though I am waiting for someone?”

“You’ve been staring at one spot for a while now, so I thought you might be waiting for someone.”

But Myojeong did not know what he was waiting for.

“Well. I suppose I am waiting for death.”

“Haha. What a strange fellow.”

Summer and autumn passed, and winter came.

One day, when snow had piled high, Myojeong visited the Jaseonwon charity house. Jaseonwon, which had closed long ago, was in ruins, no different from a desolate abandoned house. The stream where he had played with Hwirim as a child was frozen solid, and the willow tree beneath which he had once played grass flute with Suhyang had been cut down by someone, leaving only a stump.

The one he had loved was gone, and his old friend had turned her back on him. His only child had been sent into the distant future, entrusted to an uncertain time, and the disciple he had raised with all his heart was no longer by his side.

All brilliant days were in the past.

Myojeong walked over the crunching snow.

The seasons made one full circle, and spring came again.

It was the last spring given to Myojeong.

The journey, short if one called it short and long if one called it long, was at last nearing its end. There were no more places he wanted to see, and after wandering aimlessly for a year, he suddenly felt that he wanted to go home.

And so, after a long and winding journey, Myojeong finally returned home.

Where are you going to go?

I suppose I have to go home.

I don’t have a home.

I don’t have a home either.

What? Then how are you going to go home?

When you feel, “This place is my home,” that is where your home will be.

It was the old thatched house with the red plum tree in the back yard, where the boy had first made his nest as a child. It was in this house that Myojeong had resolved to live with the child, and it was also the place where he had given the child a name while pondering how to suppress the god of calamity. Because it was the first place where he had built a life, it held many memories, and he remembered feeling especially sad to leave it because he had grown so attached.

The house, neglected for several years, had fallen into ruin and looked as though it might collapse at any moment. The yard where the child had once run and played was overgrown with weeds, and the mud-plastered walls were cracked all over.

And yet, Myojeong felt a sense of comfort, as though he had returned home after a very long time.

Myojeong slowly looked around the yard. In one corner, the child was squatting and eating dirt. He took off his shoes and stepped onto the wooden porch. A creak came from the old, warped wood. When he opened the tattered paper-screen door, the mountain trout the child had once released was darting around the room.

A faint smile touched Myojeong’s lips.

This time, he decided to go to the kitchen. As soon as he entered, a mouse scurried away with a squeak. Turning his gaze to the wall, he saw a scribble. It was the clumsy drawing the child had once scrawled there with charcoal.

When he wiped it with his hand, the drawing blurred.

“This place is my home...”

It felt as if he had returned from a very long journey. Myojeong first cleared the weeds that had sprung up in the yard and repaired the cracked walls. He applied paste to the tattered paper-screen door and bought new paper to affix to it. After clearing out all the ash piled inside the fire pit, he diligently swept and cleaned the room.

When he had finished everything, Myojeong let out a long, deep breath.

Outside, it was already the middle of the night. He wanted to rest for a moment. Myojeong placed a small desk where he always sat and sat formally before it. He leaned his back against the wall and closed his eyes. All around him was silent.

Myojeong fell into a deep sleep.

And when he opened his eyes again, it was still the middle of the night.

It felt as if he had only dozed off for a moment, and also as if he had woken after sleeping for a very long time. He could not tell how many days had passed. There was no presence and no sound, but Myojeong knew there was someone else in the room. Someone was standing in the darkness.

The moment he saw the figure before him, Myojeong finally realized.

What he had been waiting for all along was this very moment.

“Gyeom, are you there?”

Myojeong straightened his back and sat formally. The room was dark, so he could not see the boy’s face clearly. He strained his eyes, wanting to make out his features, but it was a shame that he still could not see well.

“My disciple has come.”

Without showing any sign of surprise, Myojeong smiled brightly.

“Myojeong.”

“Yes.”

“I came to return your clothes.”

“Yes. It is good that you have come.”

On the day I depart from this world, I shall wear this and enter my grave.

“Will you hesitate this time as well?”

“No.”

At the boy’s answer, Myojeong smiled quietly.

“I came to kill you.”

“I know.”

Myojeong, sitting before the desk, looked at the boy standing in the darkness.

“Are you going to let me kill you without a fight?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

He had traced the same trajectory as the fate given to him, but the end was clearly different.

“You are the only one who can kill me.”

This was the path Myojeong had chosen.

The boy slowly approached Myojeong. The moment the boy’s face was illuminated by the moonlight filtering into the room, a cold blade slid deep into Myojeong’s side. Myojeong slowly closed his eyes, then opened them again.

It was strange.

Even though he had been stabbed, it did not hurt at all. Only, as the blood drained from his body, he felt colder and colder. Strength slowly left his upright torso, and his vision darkened.

Just then, the boy took off the clothes he was wearing and draped them over Myojeong’s shoulders. The warmth lingering in the clothes transferred directly to Myojeong’s body. With wavering eyes, Myojeong looked at the leaf on the coat tie.

“Myojeong.”

Just then, the boy plopped down on the other side of the desk.

“This is the price for your betrayal.”

The boy was watching Myojeong die.

Myojeong, who had been sitting with his back straight, slowly slumped over the desk. The blood flowing from his side had pooled like a puddle. He no longer had the strength to hold himself upright.

A laugh suddenly slipped out of him.

“...”

When he had heard the news of Hwirim’s death, Myojeong had thought of her heartlessness.

Had she held no resentment at leaving him and their newborn baby behind? Had she perhaps become a ghost? Sometimes, he had wished Hwirim would come to see him just one more time, even as a ghost. But Hwirim had lived out her life without lingering attachment or regret and had lightly left this land behind.

Myojeong suddenly felt he understood that feeling.

“Gyeom, remember this.”

Myojeong’s lips moved faintly. He wanted to lift his head. He wanted to lift his head and see the grown boy’s face. He could not tell what expression the boy was making, but it seemed as though he was crying.

“The master of your life is...”

His final words scattered faintly.

He could not tell whether his words had reached the boy properly, but his eyelids kept growing heavy. His vision gradually sank into blackness, but the sound of an owl hooting in the distance was distinctly clear.

Hoo-hoo...

Hoo-hoo...

Light seeped through the darkness that had filled his vision.

His closed eyelids opened again. The boy stared blankly up at the ceiling. Pushing himself up, the boy unconsciously turned his head and looked out the window.

A vast night sky, like a curtain of darkness, spread before him.

Hoo-hoo...

The owl’s hooting could still be heard. The night wind swept through the dark mountains. Scattered stars twinkled. His eyes met the round moon. As he blankly closed and opened his eyes, something fell.

The boy stiffly raised a hand and touched his face.

His cheek was damp.

Only then did the boy realize that he was crying.

That this place was real.

“Traitor.”

The boy parted his lips blankly, like someone who had just learned how to speak.

“Traitor...?”

He tried saying it again.

He thought perhaps he had been dreaming. He had the illusion that he had dreamed for a very long time, but in truth, only a short time had passed. The boy stood frozen and dazed, his pupils blown wide, then soon began to look around the interior, craning his neck here and there like someone dropped into a strange world.

Where am I?

A wooden pavilion.

I came to meet Byeoksadan.

But who are they? Why are they looking at me?

Ah, they said they were Black Emperor, Saero, and Paehyeon.

They said they learned the sword from Hwirim.

And the one before my eyes is...

Taehee.

“Taehee.”

Jaegyeom muttered suddenly, as if he had realized something.

“I was the traitor...”