[CYM] 17 – Worried About You

After that, their relationship became slightly awkward, not so much due to who turned sullen first, but rather due to bad timing.

During the busy summer season, she went to the young master after being pushed to her limits working in the fields all morning. She was fed up with the constant, poorly paid work, the cursed heat, and dozing off beside her mother until midnight, only to be greeted by another exhausting day full of work.

Perhaps due to her worn body and spirit, she lacked motivation and had lost her appetite.

The young master mistook her gruff demeanour as something caused by him. He caught her heel as she was about to leave after just dropping off the medicine, after glaring at the medicine left at the door as if it was something distasteful.

“Is it because I haven’t granted your request?”

“What are you talking about?”

“That time. You insisted on seeing my face.”

“When did I insist...”

“Then why don’t you talk like before?”

Without a word from her, the young master became silent too. After a while of enduring this, he finally asked, defeated by boredom,

“Why aren’t you chattering anymore?”

“...”

“Perhaps I am indeed a sick person, and you prefer the company of your other friends.”

He listed things she hadn’t even considered with a cold voice. She silently continued with her work, regardless.

Afterward, the young master behaved as if watching over her all day was a serious task. She sweated in the lukewarm heat, preparing medicine, while he watched her lying down with cool eyes.

Feeling the weight of his gaze, she turned to sit in a different direction and said,

“Why are you curious about my face?”

He asked this question to the back of her head now turned away. Flies attracted by the sweet scent of grapes hovered over her nose as if to lay eggs. The source of the sweet smell was her own body, which had been rolling in the grapevines all morning.

Although she received five bunches of grapes as a reward, she didn’t feel much joy and had just given a whole bunch to the young master upon arrival.

“Why? I heard that the young master had argued with your father and was worried you might be hurt, so I wanted to see.”

She fanned herself roughly, as if catching flies but only managing to slap her own cheek. Anger boiled within her, and with the intent to burn away the annoying fly buzzing violently around, she waved a burning stick until exhausted, then collapsed back to sitting.

“Worried?”

“Yes.”

He exhaled sharply and then asked back,

“You were worried about me.”

“Isn’t that so? Honestly, I was thinking that perhaps I would leave without ever having seen the face of the master I serve.”

She tiredly let the persistent gaze drilling into her temples slide off and weakly murmured her complaints.

She awaited the day of her departure from the Muritmaegol with a heavy heart, already sick of summer and wishing it would pass quickly. The pile of work kept her from sleeping, and just on cue, drowsiness came rushing in.

“Hmm.”

She must have gone mad in the scorching heat as well. The young master was laughing in a strange sound as he watched her squatting like a dried pufferfish.

“Eat some grapes.”

She must have looked pitiable, squatting there on her knees, because the young master’s tone had softened considerably from before. It even sounded affectionate at a glance.

She shook her head as if to say she was fine, pressing her cheek to her knees and forcing her half-closed eyes to stay awake. If she fell asleep, the medicine would just congeal. Then she would have to start all over again, boiling it from the beginning...

The return of her rational mind coincided with the sunset that had spread across the floor, reaching up to her ankles. She rose, clutching her head, and felt surprisingly refreshed as if she had lain down very comfortably, her old fatigue dissipating.

If only the decoction could clear up as her mind did. Anticipating a thickened mess, she hurriedly turned her gaze to the fire, but to her surprise, the medicine pot was empty.

Despite it being summer, the dropping temperature after sunset should have been chilly, yet she hadn’t felt the cold, having slept soundly for a reason. A small flame. An empty earthenware bowl. After staring blankly at the whole situation, she made her way to the young master’s door.

“Young master.”

Even when she called out loudly, there was no sign of him. It was as if he was mocking her concerns as mere delusions, not showing his face even once.