Moon's Whisper, Heart's Echo

11. The Journey

Each step felt heavier than the last. Min-joon's earlier perfect posture had crumpled, his small shoulders drooping beneath the weight of the day's events.

The Eastern District's pristine streets had given way to familiar market paths, but Nandi barely registered the change.

A group of children ran past, spinning tops forgotten in their hands as they raced home for supper. On any other evening, Min-joon would have watched them longingly, perhaps even asked to join their games. Today, he simply pressed closer to her side, his fingers tangled in her skirts.

The clip-clop of hooves against stone drew closer. Nandi barely glanced up, moving to the side of the path as she'd done countless times before. But the sound slowed, then stopped entirely.

"I wasn't aware your business today extended to the Eastern District."

Tae-young's voice, lacking its usual sharp edge. Nandi kept walking, one hand steady on Min-joon's shoulder.

The horse's hooves clicked against the stone again as Tae-young guided his mount alongside them at a careful walk. His usual immaculate appearance was slightly disheveled – perhaps he'd been handling trade matters all day.

"Though I suppose even matchmakers must occasionally venture beyond their usual territory." His remained concerned. "The Eastern District nobles can be... particular about their traditions."

Nandi said nothing. Min-joon stumbled slightly, fatigue making him clumsy. She steadied him automatically.

"Uncle Park?" Min-joon's voice was smaller than usual, but still clear. "I went to visit someone, but—"

"Min-joon." Nandi's quiet interruption held volumes. Her son fell silent, understanding in the way children often do when adults speak in certain tones. She looked at Tae-young, then back at her son.

"And he is not your uncle," she whispered more to herself.

But Min-joon, lost in his own world, continued as if he hadn't heard her.

Tae-young's mount shifted beneath him, sensing perhaps its rider's uncertainty. The evening dance continued around them – some merchants packing away their wares, women calling children in for supper, temple bells marking the day's end. But it all felt distant, like a painting viewed through rain.

"The sun sets soon," Tae-young observed after a moment. His voice had softened further, shed of its usual sardonic edge. "And it's a long walk back to your district."

Min-joon stumbled again. This time, Nandi couldn't quite catch him. His knees hit the packed earth, and though he didn't cry out, his breath hitched in a way that made her heart ache.

Before she could kneel to help him up, Tae-young had dismounted in one fluid motion. His movements were careful, as if approaching a frightened deer.

"Min-joon-ah." He crouched to the boy's level, his voice carrying none of its usual sharp wit. "I find myself in need of an expert opinion. You see, this horse..." He gestured to his mount, which stood patient and gleaming in the fading light. "I've been told he's the fastest in the capital. But I suspect he's actually rather lazy. What do you think?"

Min-joon blinked, momentarily distracted from his exhaustion. "He's very tall," he offered tentatively.

"Mm. And quite proud of it too." Tae-young's mouth curved into a slight smile. "Perhaps you'd care to test his speed yourself? Though of course," he glanced at Nandi, his expression unreadable, "only if your mother allows."

The horse huffed softly, its breath stirring Min-joon's hair. The boy's eyes widened slightly.

"Eomma?" Hope crept into his voice for the first time since the gate had closed.