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East Wind
Jeongson, the yard servant of the Kyung family, had no surname. His original name was Yeomson. This was because he was the son of serfs who milked goats at a farm beyond the valley. Sold to the Kyung family at a young age due to debt, Yeomson was given the name Jeongson by the master himself, who told him to grow up righteous and kind. That was the most special event in Jeongson’s life, and afterward, like any other serf, his life continued as an ordinary but hard one.
After the master passed away and Kyung Munhwan inherited the family headship, Jeongson, who had aged somewhat, became the yard supervisor. However, his life after that remained ordinary. Without anything that could be called a proper marriage, he was paired with a water carrier by the master’s arrangement, and just as animals mate, they became a couple and gave birth to Jeonggwan.
So there was nothing special about Jeonggwan’s life either. There was certainly no secret about his birth. Jeonggwan was not a child born from Jeongson having a secret relationship with the master; he was born inheriting the bloodline that had continued for generations among serfs. Because of this, unless he was reborn, Jeonggwan could never become the man’s official consort.
Both of them knew this fact well. Jeonggwan and the man. Knowing this fact well, even though their hearts connected, they never considered the position of queen. Nevertheless, the man was thinking of giving Jeonggwan the position of First Rank Noble Consort. That was the highest position Jeonggwan could receive.
But what did such a position matter? Jeonggwan was of lowborn origin, and whether a lowborn received the position of Noble Consort or Queen, the fact that he was lowborn would not change. And that unchangeable fact would follow Jeonggwan for life, holding back both the man and himself. How could a person sitting in a high position not develop greed? Those who have tasted meat cannot forget its taste and look for meat at every meal. When one comes to believe that nothing is unattainable, one will want to possess everything.
Jeonggwan feared this. He knew himself well. The reason he had been called clever since childhood was because he was greedy. Wanting to exclusively enjoy the scraps that fell from Juhwan, he had performed his duties as a body servant better than anyone, observing carefully and massaging shoulders. He had followed Juhwan into the palace because becoming a court person meant receiving a salary and better accommodations. Of course, it was also true that Juhwan was like a real brother to him and he didn’t want to be separated, but Jeonggwan wasn’t a fool. He had always sought benefits that satisfied his greed.
That was also the reason he liked the man at first. A handsome young master in jade-colored robes came to see him every night and said he liked him—it seems he wanted to possess this young master who shone brighter than anything else. Of course, afterwards, he truly gave his heart completely to the man’s tenderness, which he had never experienced before in his life.
Even when the man said he was a eunuch, Jeonggwan had no greed. Perhaps he loved more freely because there was no source for greed to arise in the first place. He had thought that just gathering small happinesses like this, depending on each other in the palace with the man, would be enough.
But if the man was the Crown Prince, if he was the king of this country, it was a different story. Wasn’t it better than when he was a eunuch? Couldn’t he just love with the same heart? Absolutely not. Jeonggwan could accept love with a eunuch who had a limit so he couldn’t be more greedy, but love with a king who had no limits and could place the world at his feet seemed like it would inevitably create greed, making it difficult to accept.
That’s how greed worked. The thought that he just wanted to live peacefully with the man would likely change to wishing that a child born between the man and himself would become Crown Prince. The inferiority complex created by the label of being a lowborn who could not become queen might make him hate Juhwan, who was born a son of a noble family despite being like a brother. No, that would definitely happen. Even if someone scolded him for having such irreverent thoughts when Juhwan cared for him, it seemed like he would shout back with a wicked heart, asking how they could understand the feelings of a lowborn who had envied nobles all his life.
Even if he disciplined himself saying he wouldn’t do that, he had no confidence. No confidence that he could just sit quietly in the palace, receiving the man’s attention without being greedy. It felt like he would eventually collapse. The love with the man would wash away like a summer downpour, and only his desire would remain like mud on wet ground, pushing away Juhwan who had been his master, leaving him nailed to a corner of the palace with no one remaining around him. He might become the only blemish on the beloved sage king remembered by future generations.
So he didn’t want to start at all. Because he didn’t want to lose anyone. Not Juhwan who had treated him well, not Minister Kyung who was Juhwan’s father. He didn’t want to lose his parents working under them or the heart of the man who had first taught him love. So Jeonggwan could not answer “I will” to the man who embraced him, asking him not to leave.
“Your Majesty.”
“…”
Jeonggwan raised his arms and embraced the man’s back. The back of the man he was embracing after three years had become even more dependable than before. So this is how broad the back of someone who carries a nation is. Jeonggwan closed his eyes, nestled in his embrace.
“I’m too greedy.”
“…Then be greedy.”
“…It’s so difficult because I’m too greedy.”
“I won’t say anything, so…?”
“I loved you greatly, young master.”
“…”
“And I believe you certainly know that my feelings were sincere.”
He was so greedy. For this man’s embrace, for this man’s touch and warm gaze. And for the place beside him. Even at this moment, a feeling of lament was blossoming in a corner of his heart—why was he born without even a surname, unable to openly desire a place beside the man? Human greed was truly this persistent.
“Those feelings…”
“…Please.”
“Please let me finally put them to rest.”
Jeonggwan, who had been silently shedding tears, extracted himself from the man’s embrace. The man’s face that he looked up at was more of a mess than his own. To think that this beautiful face is crying and distorted because of me. This is truly something I shouldn’t do. Jeonggwan firmly grasped the man’s hands, which were reaching out to embrace him again, as if to block them. And though he had no intention of smiling, a smile appeared on his face without his realizing it. Perhaps it was a smile that emerged because his heart was settled and his resolve was firm.
“I am also your subject, so I will mingle with them and hear news of Your Majesty.”
“…Jeonggwan.”
“I hope the country that Your Majesty wishes to create will surely come someday.”
Then, I will not run away saying I am unworthy of you, young master, but will surely give you all my heart. So, Your Majesty, please continue to treat me kindly as you do now. Jeonggwan swallowed the words he could not speak aloud, withdrew his hands that were tightly held by the man’s, and bowed deeply. Then, feeling that if he saw the man’s crying face any longer, he would truly have regrets, he turned away.
He heard the man’s footsteps following behind, but he did not look back. Only when he had left the stream and returned to the marketplace, approaching the inn where he was staying with Jihoon amid the bustling crowd, did the man’s footsteps cease. Still, in case the man might be watching him from a distance, Jeonggwan did not stop walking.
When he entered his quarters at the inn without stopping once, Jihoon, who had apparently woken up thirsty, was rising to drink the water Jeonggwan had poured into a bowl before leaving. And seeing this, Jeonggwan’s legs finally gave way, and he slumped to the floor.
“Gwan, where did you go at this hour of the night, what’s this? Are you crying?”
“…”
“Did you… perhaps run into that person?”
“…”
“Aish. Tsk. That’s why you should have just slept. Of all times…”
Jihoon hurriedly approached, pulled over the bedding laid out on the floor for Jeonggwan, and roughly wiped Jeonggwan’s tear-soaked face. Three years ago when they boarded the ship, he had cried all night until his voice was hoarse thinking of that person, but today he was crying more pitifully, without making a sound, just his body shaking.
“…Seems you had quite a passionate love. This is…”
“…”
“But that’s better. Don’t they say some people die without ever knowing love?”
“…”
Dying without ever knowing love. Yes, perhaps he would have been like that too. If he hadn’t met the man on that autumn night, if he hadn’t gone to deliver Juhwan’s letter to Jihoon, he would have just grown old ordinarily, naturally forming a relationship with a servant paired by the master without his own will or preference for good or bad, having children and living out his life.
But having met the man, he had loved like being drenched in a summer downpour, and had received treatment beyond his station in life. Even now, there was a selfish thought that since one only lives once, wouldn’t it be good to live as one pleases regardless of what happens in the future?
However, enough to bury even that selfishness deep in his heart, he had loved the riverside where chrysanthemums bloomed, where he and the man had wandered every night. It had been wonderful to lie on the grass together, counting stars that seemed about to pour down right before their eyes, and to peel precious tangerines, taking two bites for himself, one for the man, three for himself, one for the man.
It had been good enough to live his entire life on those memories.
Author: Hyacinthus B
Hyacinthus
