Back Home (1)
An afternoon when the blazing sunlight was so hot it felt as though the ground itself were burning.
Before the two men crossing the fields, a single massive zelkova tree revealed itself in all its grandeur.
Its trunk was so thick that three or four grown adults would have to join hands to wrap around it, and its height seemed to reach well over ten jang.
"Guardian spirit."
Sima-Jian gazed at the zelkova with a face full of emotion.
The people of his hometown called the zelkova at the entrance of the village that, gathering every year to hold rites and revere it as sacred.
The Guardian Spirit was also the playground where the village children gathered. He himself had brought his younger siblings there whenever he could, running and playing beneath it day after day.
"Wow! What kind of tree is this huge?"
Cheol-woo couldn't help exclaiming as he looked up at the zelkova towering into the sky.
Every village seemed to have at least one zelkova tree, but he had never seen one this enormous.
"That's why they call it the Guardian Spirit."
"Oh, the Guardian Spirit! Is this the one the boss used to talk about?"
Cheol-woo asked, looking at the tree again with fresh curiosity.
"That's right."
Smiling brightly, Sima-Jian approached the children playing beneath the zelkova.
At the appearance of the strangers, the children were clearly on guard.
"Don't be so scared. I'm not a bad man."
Though Sima-Jian spoke gently, the children's wariness did not fade.
That was because Cheol-woo, following behind him, looked exactly like the embodiment of a villain.
Sima-Jian smiled at the children who were edging away.
"He may look scary, but he's not a bad man. Well… he can get fierce like a bear sometimes."
At the word "bear," the children's eyes widened as they examined Cheol-woo—then their expressions grew even more frightened.
Chiding himself for saying something unnecessary, Sima Jian asked in the gentlest voice he could manage,
"You're from Dohwa Village, right?"
"You know our village?"
One of the older boys asked, his eyes still guarded.
"Of course. This tree is Dohwa Village's Guardian Spirit. I lived here when I was young."
"Oh!"
The children seemed somewhat reassured that the stranger knew not only the village's name but also that the zelkova was its Guardian Spirit.
As the atmosphere eased a little, Sima-Jian quickly continued.
"There's a small pond to the north of the village, right?"
"Yes."
"And a little to the left of that pond there's a thatched house. Ah—maybe it isn't thatched anymore."
"That's right."
The boy nodded repeatedly.
"That's my house."
"Really?"
The child he was talking to asked, eyes wide.
"I'm telling you."
Just then, a girl who had been tightly clutching the boy's sleeve spoke in a sharp voice.
"Don't lie."
"A lie?"
"That's Adu's house. Adu doesn't have a father or an older brother."
"He could be her uncle," the boy said, lightly tapping the girl's arm.
The girl shook her head firmly.
"I've never heard she had an uncle either. That man is lying. Let's go."
Glaring at Sima-Jian with intense suspicion, the girl grabbed the boy's arm and pulled him away.
Caught off guard, the boy was dragged along. The other children, who had been watching anxiously, quickly turned and ran as well.
Sima-Jian couldn't bring himself to stop them. A foreboding thought struck him—that there might be no family left in the house by the pond, his home.
A moment later, Sima-Jian began moving urgently in the direction the children had disappeared.
"Whew! Sweet—this is seriously sweet. Now I get why it's called Dohwa Village, Boss."
Cheol-woo spat out a peach pit and reached out his hand.
True to its name, the village was surrounded by countless peach trees, each laden with ripe peaches just about ready to be harvested.
Cheol-woo wiped the peach in his hand on his sleeve and offered it.
"Have one, Boss."
"No thanks."
"Oh. Sorry."
Seeing Sima-Jian's hardened expression, Cheol-woo slowly withdrew his hand, then, gauging his mood, took another bite himself.
"Oof!"
As Cheol-woo reveled in the fragrant juice bursting in his mouth, Sima-Jian's pace gradually quickened.
Reaching the pond, Sama-geon steadied his breathing and slowly turned his head.
An old thatched house.
The home he had longed for even in his dreams.
It's the same.
Seeing his childhood home just as he remembered, a smile naturally formed on his lips.
"Is this it?"
Cheol-woo asked, wiping his mouth.
"Yes."
Sima-Jian nodded and strode straight toward the house—
"Who goes there?"
At the gruff voice from behind, Sima-Jian turned around.
A middle-aged man was staring at him with a cold gaze.
Behind him, villagers began gathering one by one. In no time, their number exceeded ten.
Seeing the girl clutching the man's collar, Sima-Jian immediately understood. She must have called the adults, saying suspicious people were following her.
"This is Adu's house. What business do you have here?"
The man spoke threateningly. Only because of Cheol-woo—standing behind Sama-geon with a peach in his mouth—did he refrain from outright aggression. Otherwise, he looked ready to start a fistfight at any moment.
"No, that's not it. This place is—"
Trying to explain and clear up the misunderstanding, Sama-geon trailed off as he studied the man's face carefully.
"Could it be… Uncle Jang?"
At being recognized, Jang Rok blinked in confusion.
"You mean the village head's house—Mr. Jang?"
"Well… yes, but who might you be…?"
As Jang Rok answered cautiously, Sima-Jian suddenly rushed forward and grabbed both his hands.
"Uncle, it's me. Sima-Jian—the one who used to live here."
Unable to pull his arms free, Jang Rok wore a deeply uncomfortable expression.
"Sima… Jian? Who is th—"
Suddenly recalling something, Jang Rok's eyes widened like lanterns.
"S-Sama-geon? That kid from back then?"
"That's right. It's me, Uncle."
"That's impossible!"
At Jang Rok's shocked stare, Sima-Jian brushed aside the hair covering his forehead.
"My goodness!"
Seeing the small lightning-shaped scar on his forehead, Jang Rok covered his mouth without realizing it.
"Do you remember now?"
Sima-Jian's voice rose with emotion.
"That scar… our Uk left it with a stone when you were kids…"
"Yes. You remember. After losing the fight, that brat Uk suddenly smashed me with a rock. That's how I got it."
"Right… then are you saying you're the one who followed the escort caravan twelve years ago and went missing?"
Jang Rok stammered, disbelief and joy mixed on his face.
"I worked as a porter for the Eunsung Escort Agency. You warned me again and again that it was dangerous."
Jang Rok pulled Sima-Jian into a tight embrace.
"You fool! Where have you been all this time, and what have you been doing? What on earth happened?"
Sima-Jian said nothing, simply holding Jang Rok tightly.
The ones stunned by the sudden turn of events were Jang Min—the daughter who had been glaring fiercely from behind her father—and the villagers who had rushed over after believing the children's words.
"Is it really you, Geon?"
A middle-aged man who looked almost as old as Jang Rok asked in a trembling voice.
Sima-Jian, who had been patting Jang Rok on the back, looked at him for a moment and then nodded firmly.
"That's right. You've aged a lot too, sir."
"So you still remembered who I was."
Wang Gae said, his eyes reddening.
"Of course. How could I ever forget you? I remember every blade of grass and every rock in this place perfectly."
As Sima-Jian looked around at the villagers who had gathered, his eyes were already moist with tears.
"Seohung?"
Sima-Jian asked, startled.
"Yes. It's been… four or five years now, I think."
When Jang Rok tilted his head uncertainly, Wang Gae shook his head as if that couldn't be right.
"Four or five years? No. This year makes it exactly six."
"Hah! Has it already been that long? Time really flies."
Jang Rok let out a hollow laugh.
"After you disappeared, your family really wasn't in their right minds. It was painful just to watch. But they never once gave up hope, saying you would definitely return."
"Then why did they leave for Seohung?"
Sima-Jian asked, his voice filled with worry.
If a family that firmly believed their missing eldest son would return had still abandoned their hometown, there had to be a reason.
"The youngest fell seriously ill."
"The youngest… you mean Jin-ah?"
He asked, recalling the little sister he cherished beyond measure—the four-year-old who used to chase after him with her hair neatly braided.
"Yes. She had been a healthy child, but suddenly she became sick. Was it after she turned eight? From some point on, she grew visibly weaker and started wasting away. Your family, and even everyone in the village, tried everything to find out what illness it was, but it was all in vain. They sought out every physician reputed to be skilled, but not a single one could identify her condition."
"So that's why they moved to Seohung."
"That's right. They thought there would be better doctors in a big city than in this backwater. And the cost of medicine was no small matter. They bought and fed her every medicine said to be effective, and the expense was staggering. They sold the cow they had raised so carefully, and eventually even the house. They sold everything they could to pay for the medicine, but it was still impossible to keep up. And in a rural place like this, the only way to make money is farming—and even that barely puts food on the table, let alone brings in large sums."
As Wang Gae continued, Sima-Jian felt his heart being torn apart, imagining the devastation his family must have endured.
Seeing Sima-Jian struggling to hold back his grief, Wang Gae and all the villagers around them looked on with pity.
After taking a long time to steady himself, Sima-Jian offered a faint smile to the villagers watching him anxiously.
"It's all right. I'm fine, and my family will be fine too. Please don't worry. I will save Jin-ah no matter what. Even if it costs a thousand gold pieces, ten thousand—I will cure her. And I'll make up for all the filial duty I couldn't fulfill. My mother, who suffered so much raising the four of us alone—I'll give her a life of comfort greater than anyone else's."
Sima-Jian smiled brightly, making a vow not to the villagers, but to himself.
"Geon-ah."
Jang Rok called to him in a deeply subdued voice, heavy with sorrow and compassion.
Sima-Jian's heart dropped. Jang Rok's expression was anything but normal.
"What is it? Is there something else I need to know?"
Sima-Jian asked in a deliberately cheerful voice, trying to shake off the ominous feeling.
"..."
Jang Rok hesitated, unable to speak. Sima-Jian grabbed his arm.
"Why are you doing this? You're making me nervous."
"Well…."
"Please tell me. What is it?"
Sima-Jian's face was already badly twisted with dread.
"Your mother…"
At just those two words, the strength drained from the hand gripping Jang Rok's arm.
That night, in the room Jang Rok had given him, Sima-Jian wailed and screamed, coughing up blood.