Chapter 4
The two men spoke in voices that sounded as if they had just been kissing, as though they had never been dumbfounded in their lives.
“I thought Miss Yoo-eun lived alone.”
Yoo-eun’s mouth fell open. The director, as if the answer was already clear, turned to Yoo and announced,
“So, you, sir scholar, will be staying here with this young lady.”
Though he didn’t fully understand the situation, upon hearing that he would have to stay with the young woman before him, Yoo spoke firmly.
“How could I impose on a lady? I wish to stay at the old man’s house. No, before that—where am I?”
“This young lady will explain everything.”
“It is improper for an unmarried woman to take me in.”
Yoo voiced his opinion resolutely, but the director pretended not to hear.
“Besides, if this young lady doesn’t go home, her parents will worry. And living with an unrelated man…”
“You don’t need to worry about that. Because Yoo-eun lives alone. Whether she stays away from home for a few days doesn’t matter at all.”
“Alone? Has she lost her husband? Oh dear, then I absolutely cannot impose.”
“Hey, I haven’t lost a husband. I’ve never even been married in the first place.”
Yoo-eun seemed clearly annoyed, yet she explained in a deliberately calm tone. The director and Ha-kyeong’s eyes sparkled as they watched her.
“But you say you live alone? Then it’s not a situation where, perhaps, you live only with your mother whom you must care for?”
At the scholar’s persistent questions, Ha-kyeong glanced at the director. The director was looking back at him, apparently thinking the same thing.
‘That fellow is quite something. Seeing Yoo-eun like that, does he still want to keep talking?’
‘Indeed. Yoo-eun has met her match.’
Having spent several years sharing this narrow space with Yoo-eun and tending to the museum together, the director and Ha-kyeong knew that Yoo-eun, who always seemed calm, actually had a fiery temper.
Yet after “that incident,” she rarely showed her emotions.
Since it had been a long time since Yoo-eun so openly displayed her feelings, Ha-kyeong, not wanting to miss the interesting sight, drove the wedge in deeper.
“Take care of her, Yoo-eun.”
“I’ll go get my belongings. The director and I can handle the cleanup. Isn’t that right?”
“Haha, of course. Director.”
The two men, who had spontaneously taken on the roles of drum and gong players, rose from their seats as if by prior agreement and disappeared toward the center of the building.
“What the…”
Yoo-eun, rarely at a loss for words, felt betrayed by the two who had already vanished. Unable to vent her anger on the man staring blankly at her, she clenched her fists.
‘Should I just go berserk?’
If she did, other people might come running, and besides, the man before her hadn’t done anything wrong.
‘I was a fool to agree to work here in the first place. When they told me about that absurd clause, I should have run away without looking back.’
After applying to Geumseongdang Museum and going through the interview, Yoo-eun had received a strange message. It said, ‘You have passed the interview, but one final stage remains,’ and asked her to visit again. It was then that she had been forced to agree to an odd promise.
‘You must never speak of what happens here to the outside world.’
The robust, serious-looking old man’s eyes had flashed behind his glasses.
‘If you cannot do that, you cannot work here.’
At the time, Yoo-eun had asked if she wasn’t allowed to talk about the martial arts paintings or other artifacts displayed here. The director had shaken his head, denying it.
‘It’s fine to talk about things that have been here from before. What I mean are the things that appear suddenly, out of nowhere. If you end up working here, I’ll tell you about them.’
Not even telling her what it was but telling her not to speak of it—it was utterly preposterous.
Nevertheless, Yoo-eun had answered without hesitation,
“Yes. I won’t speak of it. I can do that.”
And so she had officially started working.
At first, she felt no sense of disharmony. She only thought it strange that she often saw unfamiliar dogs or cats inside the exhibition hall or the building. Initially, she had no idea what was wrong.
But as time passed, completely unexpected things began appearing all over Geumseongdang.
‘I was shocked when arrows suddenly materialized out of thin air.’
Only after witnessing with her own eyes, over and over, objects that couldn’t exist in modern times appear and disappear, did Yoo-eun realize what the director had meant about the confidentiality clause.
For reasons unknown, “things that are not modern” occasionally appeared here, and this fact must never be leaked outside.
‘Still, it’s better than that time I heard a strange noise and saw a tiger.’
Burying the worst memory of her life deep in her mind, Yoo-eun looked at the handsome man sitting quietly.
‘In the director and senior’s eyes, this man is probably just a lost child.’
Whether animate or inanimate, things always disappeared on their own after a while. The director called this “crossing back through the gate.”
Creatures like dogs and cats needed food. Taking care of such beings that had accidentally crossed through time until they could return to their original place was also part of the duty of everyone who stayed at Geumseongdang.
Yoo-eun frowned and relaxed her brow repeatedly as she looked at the man, who seemed more troublesome the more she looked at him.
The man, watching her, opened his mouth.
“Thank you for the clothes. I think I should leave now and find my own way. The people around me are probably… looking for me.”
Though he tried to speak casually, the atmosphere around him was heavy.
‘He was tied up with rope, so maybe he was a criminal being exiled.’
Perhaps he was someone whose name she had read in the records. Yoo-eun’s heart pounded.
‘Should I ask his name?’
Thinking it might be alright to ask that much, she opened her mouth, then stopped.
‘And what if I do know it?’
What if she inadvertently blurted out something significant? Would it be all right to reveal knowledge of the past that she, as a person of the present, possessed?
First, Yoo-eun decided to deal with the immediate situation.
“Can you stand?”
“Listen, miss. The truth is, I am a fugitive. Not exactly running on my own feet, but nonetheless, I am not a free man.”
“I know. I saw you all tied up earlier.”
“Then this will be quick. I am a criminal, and I was being transported. Therefore, it is impossible for me to stay at your house. You should be careful of me, miss.”
The director often said, ‘Everyone who comes to Geumseongdang is good.’ Yoo-eun didn’t deny it, but she didn’t fully believe it either.
However, seeing the man who readily admitted he was a criminal melted the lingering doubts in her heart.
If he were truly a strange and suspicious person, he wouldn’t have warned her to be careful.
‘Not a single speck of impurity.’
The man’s clear white eyes had no visible blood vessels, making them seem almost blue.
The man, who appeared to be close to her in age, was silent. To Yoo-eun, he looked exactly like an abandoned puppy.
‘Yoo-eun, a person with clear eyes never tells lies.’
‘Why does my grandfather’s story from when I was young have to come to mind now?’
Roughly brushing aside her fallen hair, Yoo-eun sighed.
“Miss, I’ll be fine. Even though I’ve never traveled this road before, I can find my way. Above all, I fear causing you trouble.”
“It’s good that you want to go back to wherever you came from, but I think you should see what’s outside before making that decision.”
Shrugging her shoulders, Yoo-eun opened the closed door of the room.
Yoo slowly rose, his body still aching, and walked out through the freely opened door. Stepping onto the wooden veranda, he saw ordinary stone walls and a few trees casting shade with their green leaves.
The scenery was similar to that of any nobleman’s house, so he felt relieved and looked up.
“What the….”
A building so tall that even when he craned his neck back he couldn’t see the end stood as if it might collapse at any moment.
“This is not the place you remember. So for the time being, you must do as I say. Understood?”
“What do you mean, not the place I lived…?”
“You’ll understand after a few days. I’ll explain things gradually, so rest today. It won’t feel real yet.”
‘It doesn’t feel real to me, either.’
Swallowing the murmured words, Yoo-eun stepped outside.
The seemingly dignified scholar must have been flustered, but she was equally taken aback.
‘Still, this is better than a tiger, much better.’
Better than the man-eating tigers of Inwangsan, at least a scholar who could talk was preferable. She headed home to pack her things.
‘So there was a reason this small hanok had a guest room.’
Geumseongdang had an old directive that the guest room must always be kept empty, no matter what. Clearly, it was for times like this.
“Help! Please, save me!”
A young girl was being swept away by the river current, but the onlookers only stamped their feet, unable to jump in. Because it was the rainy season, the current had swelled and was ferocious.
“Kkeoheok… Hup.”
Half-conscious and swallowing mouthfuls of water that rushed into her mouth, young Yoo-eun was carried somewhere.
She only stopped when she reached a stone wall. Coughing up the water she had swallowed, she tried to raise herself. Or rather, she tried, but her battered little body wouldn’t budge.
No one came until the sun set, and Yoo-eun just shed streaming, sorrowful tears.
“I’m scared… Hup, I’m scared…”
Rustle.
“Hiccup.”
She had hoped someone would appear, but when she actually felt a presence, her pupils trembled.
Wanting to run away, Yoo-eun tried to stand up, but her legs were still shaking and she fell over. The child’s eyes, fixed on the ground, saw two small shoes.
But only for a moment. Soon, her body was slowly lifted with someone’s support.
Before Yoo-eun’s nervous eyes were black pupils like the morning star.
“That looks painful.”
Then she felt warm hands cupping her cheeks.
“You’re cold. I’ll warm you up.”
The strange boy carefully embraced Yoo-eun.
With the clear scent of grass and the warmth of another person, Yoo-eun’s trembling gradually subsided.
‘He’s not a ghost.’
The boy looked to be about her age and wore strange clothes, but Yoo-eun clutched tightly at his garments. A wave of relief welled up from deep inside her, and her dried tears began to flow again.
“I’m lost… Hhueup, hup. I want to see my mom.”
“There, there.”
Though her endless tears might have tried his patience, the boy patiently patted Yoo-eun’s back.
“It’s okay. Everything’s going to be okay.”
Through her blurry, tear-filled eyes, the morning star (Venus) came into Yoo-eun’s view.
