Honbul: Flame of the Soul

In a memory from long ago, the man had been smiling gently beneath a fully blooming plum tree.

“Jaegyeom, what do you think fate is?”

What had he answered to such an immense question? He could not remember, which probably meant it had been some trivial reply. The man pointed a finger at the ground. On the patch of bare earth he indicated, red petals fallen from the plum tree were scattered here and there like drops of blood.

“Look at this. At first glance, they seem to have fallen at random, but in truth, each one has found its exact place before falling. That is what fate is. Even something as small as a single petal falling to the ground is the result of fate.”

The boy, who had lived as an outcast from the day he was born, had no choice but to keep proving to himself why the man had chosen him.

Why had he taken me in?

Because I was a powerful gifted?

Why me, of all people?

Because I was clever and quick-witted?

If I had been neither gifted nor clever nor quick-witted, what would have happened then?

Would he still have kept me by his side?

“Even a single petal finds its exact place before it falls.”

To a boy like him, those words had been no different from a tremendous gift, a consolation.

They said even brushing past someone by the hem of your clothes was fate. And that man was the one who had taken off the clothes he was wearing and wrapped them around his shoulders. The warmth left in the fabric, the way it had settled over his frozen body. As the boy recalled that sensation, he thought hazily to himself.

So fate is warm.

The man, who had been his teacher, his parent, and his only friend, had taught him many things. About humans and ghosts, and about this world. The boy was no longer alone. Pretending to be looking at the fallen petals, young Jaegyeom lowered his head and stared at the dirt for a long time.

So our meeting had been decided from the very beginning, just like the falling of a flower petal.

His chest swelled so painfully it felt as though he might burst into tears.

And yet—

“Traitor.”

Back then, he had not known. He had not known that the word fate also included cursed fate.

The man had placed a curse on Jaegyeom.

***** 𝒇𝙧𝙚𝓮𝙬𝙚𝓫𝒏𝓸𝓿𝓮𝒍.𝓬𝙤𝓶

Left alone, Jaegyeom suffered at the sight of even a small stone, even a single flower petal. Some days he wanted to die with madness. Other days he wanted to live with the same madness. He hated the one who was no longer by his side, and at the same time missed him so desperately it ached. Anger and hatred with nowhere to go slowly gnawed away at Jaegyeom over the long years.

And so Jaegyeom let countless seasons slip past.

At the end of his hundred-and-seventh autumn, Jaegyeom stopped counting the seasons he had lived through. Whenever he came to his senses, flowers were blooming. And when it seemed the blossoms had only just fallen, snow had already piled up. Everything lived and moved and changed, and only Jaegyeom remained suspended somewhere between boyhood and youth. Unchanging, beautiful, and strong, the boy watched the passing scenery every day with a numb gaze.

In the meantime, countless beings brushed past Jaegyeom’s life. Jaegyeom always remained in the same place, repeating meetings and partings more times than he could count. If there was any fate allotted to this cursed body that could not even grow old, then perhaps all of it was cursed fate. Just as his first fate—and once, his only fate—had been. It was only natural that Jaegyeom recoiled from forming ties with humans.

At some point, Jaegyeom stopped suffering. Stopped raging. At a glance, he seemed to have gone back to how he had once been, as though nothing had ever happened. There was only one difference. Jaegyeom no longer wanted anything at all. What came at the end of that long hatred and anger was a vast lethargy.

Buried in that lethargy, the boy shut the door of his heart and spent the long years holed up in his room.

Because of that, Jeongju suffered in silence, unable to show it. To Jeongju, Jaegyeom was both the benefactor of his entire life and a precious friend. He was grateful that Jaegyeom kept living, even like this, but he could not help wanting more.

Just once more, as in some moment long ago, I want to see you smiling brilliantly beneath a brilliant sky...

“Jaegyeom.”

Not like this, staring at a game console under this stifling roof.

“Is it really that fun?”

Bleep. Bleep-bloop. Bleep...

Jeongju’s low question was buried beneath the noisy sounds pouring from the game console. Barely listening, Jaegyeom was shaking the device so hard it looked ready to break. Jeongju stared at the back of his head, completely absorbed in the game, and let out a sigh.

Then, out of nowhere, the previously quiet Jaegyeom suddenly started smacking his own forehead hard with the palm of his hand.

“Damn it, I could’ve cleared it!”

Jaegyeom glared at Jeongju with a murderous look.

“Fuck... I died because you talked to me.”

Every time he dies, it’s my fault...

Without a word, Jeongju looked away and picked up the remote. He did not have the energy to argue, and thought he might as well watch television. On the screen, a melodrama soaked in misery was in the middle of its daily broadcast.

“Who even put this on?”

Jeongju muttered to himself and was about to change the channel when Jaegyeom, straightening his posture again and gripping the game console properly, shot him a sidelong glance.

“Don’t change it.”

“You’re not even watching the TV. You’re playing.”

“I am watching it.”

“You liar. What’s happening right now, then?”

“That guy lied about his identity and everything so he could inherit the family fortune and married into a rich family, but the woman started suspecting something was off and had someone investigate him. This is an important part, so don’t change it.”

Rattling off the plot like gunfire, Jaegyeom snatched the remote from Jeongju’s hand. He turned the volume up three or four notches. Jaegyeom was now performing something close to a miracle, fiddling with the game console while also sneaking glances at the daily drama.

“...”

In the end, Jeongju let out a pitiful sigh.

When Jaegyeom had first started lingering around the television, Jeongju had been nothing but happy about it. After spending so many long years lying around in grief, the fact that Jaegyeom had found even the slightest source of enjoyment had delighted him, and he had secretly felt relieved, thinking maybe the boy had finally regained some spirit. He had even let himself hope that Jaegyeom might recover a lively everyday life.

But Jeongju’s expectations came to nothing. Things went in a completely bizarre direction instead.

Jeongju had always been interested in modern human inventions. Because of that interest, he adapted to them quickly. The television, the microwave, all of it had originally been things Jeongju brought in for his own use. But while Jeongju was preparing for his debut in the entertainment industry and got himself a separate place in Seoul, every object in the country house naturally ended up in Jaegyeom’s hands.

Perhaps because he had remained stuck as a boy all this time, Jaegyeom unexpectedly absorbed things like a sponge. Television, radio, game consoles, refrigerators... no matter how unfamiliar the object was, if someone showed him how it worked, he would grumble that he did not care, that it was difficult, that it was a pain, and yet at some point he would be handling it with ease, much to Jeongju’s astonishment.

And so the strong, beautiful boy became a perfect shut-in.

With his outgoing nature, Jeongju simply could not stand by and leave Jaegyeom that way.

“Jaegyeom. They say cafés are trendy these days. Want to go to one?”

“No. Too much trouble.”

“Jaegyeom, you like that singing show, don’t you? Want to go on it yourself sometime?”

“Why the hell would I? Are you insane?”

“Jaegyeom, should I open a flower shop for you? Mesan knows flowers really well.”

“Don’t start with that flower bullshit.”

There had been countless attempts to drag Kim Jaegyeom out of the house.

Every single one had failed, but...

Still, they said no tree stayed standing forever once it had been struck ten times, and Jeongju did not give up so easily.

“Yes, that’s right. It was all a lie.”

“You... how could you...”

“When I said I loved you, that was all a lie too. Satisfied now?”

“That bastard needs to fucking die. What the hell did she ever do?”

While waiting for the next round to begin, Jaegyeom watched the drama and twisted his face into a savage scowl.

“If you’re going to do something, just do one thing. If you’re going to watch TV, come sit here and watch it with me.”

Seated on the sofa, Jeongju patted the spot beside him, but Jaegyeom did not even pretend to hear. He had apparently sunk back into the game already. He was sitting with his back straight, leaning only slightly against the sofa. Though Jeongju had brought in an expensive, high-quality sofa, Jaegyeom always sat on the hard floor. He adapted quickly to new things, and yet chose the strangest places to dig in his heels.

On the TV screen, a man and woman were in the middle of an argument. Jeongju watched the crystal-clear marital fight with bored eyes. The story was obvious and embarrassingly childish.

What on earth is so entertaining about that?

He could not understand Jaegyeom’s taste. Then the scene changed, and students in school uniforms appeared on the screen. They were around the age Jaegyeom should have been, had time not stopped for him long ago.

Half sprawled across the sofa, Jeongju asked casually,

“Jaegyeom, what do you think about going to school? If you’d been born in this day and age, you’d probably be in high school by now. Aren’t you curious how ordinary humans your age live?”

As usual, Jaegyeom rejected the idea without a second thought.

“No.”

“Come on, just try going for three months. I’ll grant you one wish.”

Jeongju added the condition without much expectation.

“...”

But for once, Jaegyeom did not reject him right away.

Jeongju’s eyes went round.

Huh? What’s this? Normally he’d have said no already. I only offered to grant him one wish, and he actually looks tempted.

Jeongju knew Jaegyeom’s personality well enough never to ask for anything more than twice. But this time, maybe...

A fox’s instinct flashed through him, sharp as the moment of spotting a crack in prey.

“Then not three months—one month! Just go for one month!”

To hell with it. Seizing the moment while Jaegyeom hesitated, Jeongju threw everything into a bold gamble. After agonizing over it for a long time, Jaegyeom eventually gave a vague nod, and at last the deal was struck.

Making a huge fuss, Jeongju asked over and over whether he really meant it. Jaegyeom shoved him away, then picked up the game console again with an indifferent face. A single wish that had come to mind in that brief moment lingered in his head.

“You’d better keep your promise. I’ll tell you what the wish is when the time ❀ Nоvеlігht ❀ (Don’t copy, read here) comes.”