Walking in the Darkness || Yeosang (A Treasure Tale)

An Arrangement Between Gentlemen

Spring's last hurrah was doused in rain. The lake was flooded and school was suspended so Yeosang spent as much time as he could in the wood grove waiting for Father.

Yeseul insisted that he go and return within predefined hours, and when the rain was strong, forbade him from going at all.

After all, he had nearly been killed out there in the woods. Surely he wouldn't want to return.

Even sitting in the observatory and practicing his calligraphy, his sister sat only a few feet away, half focused on her embroidery and half focused on him.

"I won't mind it if you leave me alone," he muttered, punctuating with the stroke of his pen before placing it in the inkwell and levelling a glare at Yeseul.

"Last time you were in here alone, an assassin threw rocks at you," she retorted without even glancing up.

"He wasn't an assassin," Yeosang corrected, rolling his eyes and resuming his work. "He was a bandit and he was trying to kidnap me, that's what Seongho said."

"I think a filthy pirate is more than capable of lying to his captive."

"Seongho wouldn't," Yeosang snapped, in his annoyance dabbing the brush on the page in the wrong place and spoiling the entire word. "He was haughty, h-he gloated to me the entire time. What would be the point in lying?"

"I don't know and I don't particularly care," Yeseul answered calmly, tying off the end of her thread and putting the embroidery aside. Her creation still looked perfect and symmetrical.

Yeosang frowned at his own smeared page.

The forsythia grows where it is planted he had tried to write in attractive script. Turning over the page and trying again, he changed the phrase to suit him better.

The forsythia grows where the wind takes it.

"It's about time for your nap, Yeosang," Yeseul hummed as she got to her feet, packing things away.

"I'm not a child," Yeosang protested. "Do I really have to?"

"The doctor said your head needed rest," she answered quickly. "And, to be frank, you seem cranky today."

I'll show you cranky, he thought angrily to himself as he packed up his art supplies.

"The calligraphy looks good," Yeseul commented as she peeked over his shoulder. "And I like the little forsythia shrub you painted. But I don't think that's how the proverb goes..."

"Well, I made a new proverb," he huffed, setting the paper to dry and heading towards his bedroom.

Predictably, Yeseul trailed after. As annoying as she could be, it was in some small way comforting to be cared for personally instead of left alone to fend for himself like he usually was.

It was best when he lay under the covers, his head pillowed in her lap, and she said nothing at all but pet his hair until he relaxed enough to drift to sleep.

"Did Mother tuck you in like this?" He found himself whispering, his eyes on the curtains and the sliver of the outdoors world they revealed. Rain was still pattering quietly and his eyes were growing heavy.

Yeseul's hand froze and hovered for a moment before she sighed and resumed carding her fingers through his hair. "She did until I asked her not to. I was in a hurry to grow up, and having Mother play with my hair seemed childish."

Yeosang's eyes became misty and he shifted so as not to drip tears on her forest green dress. He knew she was trying to be Mother for him, because he had missed his chance to enjoy those precious moments, and she had no children of her own yet.