[CYM] 38 – Growing Attachment

Despite the number of those who were head-over-heels for him, it was puzzling why he was so insistent on her company, but she couldn’t deny it felt quite pleasant. Was it just pleasant, or was her heart actually fluttering with excitement?

            She clenched and unclenched her fists. Even moments ago, she had lacked enthusiasm, but thinking of the festival she had once attended, her mind wandered to the difference it could make if she went again.

            Although everyone else was in the festive mood, she didn’t want to be the only one lying around in idleness. She had considered reconsidering Yunhu’s invitation, but now she felt a strong need to get her mother’s permission. She also felt guilty for breaking her promise with the young man due to her busy schedule.

            “Perhaps I should.”

            –Yunhu, I’m truly sorry.

            Even now, the young man’s bright smile was pounding on her heart. She could now distinguish a little bit between a feigned smile and a genuinely joyful one.

            The young man cheerfully departed, saying they would see each other then. Beodeul immediately changed direction to return to Yunhu.

            “I’m sorry, Yunhu.”

            When she conveyed that she could no longer join him, Yunhu’s face fell, as if struck by disappointment. Such an expression was bound to be misunderstood.

            Her suspicions about Yunhu’s preferences were turning into certainty. Yet, it was unfortunate because Beodeul knew she couldn’t give Yunhu the love he desired.

            On the day of the Lotus Lantern Festival, Beodeul appeared dressed more modestly than usual. While her attire was plain, her face was as noticeable as a white egg; had she not worn a mask, she would have attracted attention like a shooting star at every turn.

            The only flaw in her appearance was a crooked band around her forehead and a casually worn sash around her waist, perhaps due to never having been properly taught the etiquette of a noble house in her life.

            “That’s not how you wear it,” she remarked, moving behind the young master to tie the uneven sash properly. He stood quietly, seemingly pleased, while she adjusted the fit.

            The highlight of the Lotus Lantern Festival began in the early evening. Although the market was not large, lanterns were strung up in every narrow alley, and colourful lotus lanterns adorned the sky like fireworks.

            When night fell completely, a small cart would make its rounds from the lower reaches of Soru River, traversing the village. The cart, adorned with bright lanterns filled with fireflies, carried a stone statue carved like a fish — an image of the river deity.

            The sound of thousands of bells tied to the cart rang out in unison with the wind. Those attending the festival would place their hands together in prayer as the cart passed by.

            “What’s this?” Beodeul inquired.

            “They were handing them out at the entrance,” replied the young master, referring to bags containing rice-flour-covered rice cakes and roasted beans, which they snacked on while walking around.

            “Look over there, young master,” Beodeul pointed out. A lantern festival was in full swing on the pond over the cloud bridge, for those who had come of age or celebrated a birthday that month. Their lanterns were larger and more elaborately decorated, highlighting their special day. One by one, they released sky lanterns with their names and wishes written on them into the distant sky.

            The young master’s face, sprinkled with light fragments, caught Beodeul’s eye. With an expression she had never seen before, he watched the colourful sky, the beautiful night’s edge caught on his long eyelashes, a crescent moon settled on his nose.

            The night sky, filled with soaring wishes, would remain unforgettable to Beodeul even after she left the village of Muritmaegol. Such a sight was magnificent, and yet, the young master’s eyes looked empty for some reason, perhaps filled with the emotion of the night.

            Clearing her throat, she turned her head, “This must be your first Lotus Lantern Festival.”

            Speaking without thought, realisation came belatedly. “Come to think of it, you will soon have your coming-of-age ceremony. When is your birthday?”

            “The seventh day of the seventh lunar month.”

            “So that’s soon?” Beodeul pondered. The children gathered there were all born in July.

            “I’m not registered in the family registry. I don’t have a name to write on a lantern,” the young master confessed.

            Beodeul blinked slowly, choking on a piece of bean she had hastily swallowed, coughing violently and wiping her lips as the young master patted her back.

            She had always called him “young master,” never thinking of a name. She had assumed he’d been given one by his parents after recovering from his illness.

            “What do the people at the scholars’ hall call you?” she asked curiously.