Mu-ryeong’s Spirit

Mu-ryeong’s plan was so simple that there was no need to explain it in words.

The goal was to encounter Hwan-young as much as possible, and if possible, to make physical contact, thereby somehow transferring as much of his spiritual energy as possible.

It wasn’t the ultimate solution, but for now, it would solve the ‘burdened problem’ at least. Well, it was originally supposed to be replaced by a charm, but due to unavoidable circumstances, there was no choice.

So, Mu-ryeong tried to find ways to be with Hwan-young as often and as long as possible. Every break time, he would go find him, or at lunchtime, he would eat together with him. He couldn’t just show up, as Hwan-young would find it strange, so Mu-ryeong made sure to have some reason to bring up each time.

“Eat this.”

“…Are you telling me to eat it?”

“I already ate it.”

Candies, chocolates, jelly, even drinks. The snacks he brought were quietly piling up on Hwan-young’s desk. Seung-joo asked why he kept bringing food, and the truth was, Mu-ryeong couldn’t think of anything better to try. Still, wasn’t it common to start by feeding stray cats when trying to get close to them?

Anyway, at first, Hwan-young refused, but Mu-ryeong didn’t give up and eventually, he started reluctantly accepting them. Though his face showed displeasure, Mu-ryeong was certain that Hwan-young wasn’t going to throw them away.

After spending the whole afternoon trying, Mu-ryeong sent Seung-joo home first and then headed to Class 3.

Due to the students leaving school right on time, the classroom was left with only neatly arranged desks. There was no strange atmosphere in the familiar scene, and Mu-ryeong felt a sense of relief as he looked around the room. Behind the window, someone was still sitting in a proper posture.

“…Hwan-young…”

Mu-ryeong had intended to call out to him, but he unconsciously swallowed the rest of his words. The reason wasn’t anything special—it was simply because Hwan-young was sitting still with his eyes closed.

The soft glow of the setting sun seeped through the window. The dark shadow stretched long, and Hwan-young’s black hair turned a deep red under the light.

Mu-ryeong held his breath and quietly stared at the entire scene. The bangs that brushed his eyes, his delicately closed eyelids, his long eyelashes, and his smoothly contoured nose.

“He’s handsome…”

Mu-ryeong thought he understood why his friends called him "handsome but scary" or "arrogant but handsome." Not only were his features striking, but the unique, still, and cold aura around him made him seem like someone not of this world. It almost made Mu-ryeong think that everything about him, just like his name, might be an illusion.

Why was he sitting so calmly alone in the empty classroom? Thinking back, he had seemed similar when Mu-ryeong first received a request from him.

“…Hwan-young.”

It took a long time before Mu-ryeong finally spoke, his voice barely above a whisper. The eyes that had been peacefully closed slowly lifted their eyelids. His dark pupils revealed themselves in a way that felt like a scene from a movie.

“Aren’t you going home?”

Mu-ryeong felt like he had interrupted a well-rehearsed play. In the surreal stillness of the moment, Mu-ryeong took a slow step forward.

The figure of Hwan-young, sitting like a painting, changed to one of surprise as soon as he noticed Mu-ryeong.

“You again?”

It was a somewhat disappointed reaction, but Mu-ryeong didn’t mind. Hwan-young had casually swept the snacks from the desk into his bag without even looking at him and added a comment as if to explain himself.

“I didn’t throw anything away.”

Mu-ryeong smiled brightly. His neatly folded eyes sparkled with pleasant light.

“Yeah, I know you didn’t throw them away.”

Although he had only known Hwan-young for a short time, Mu-ryeong found it easy to understand him. For example, he wasn’t a bad person as others might think, and there was nothing he did intentionally to harm others. Also, he realized that Hwan-young wasn’t someone who could easily refuse what was given to him.

“Let’s go to the school gate together.”

“…”

As expected, Hwan-young didn’t refuse. He simply sighed a little and packed up his bag, but there was no sign of him trying to pull his wrist away from Mu-ryeong’s gentle grip.

***

It was forecast to rain on Thursday. Though it wouldn’t come until after sunset, Mu-ryeong remembered and brought a small umbrella with him. The unpredictable weather was as erratic as the whims of lost souls.

When Mu-ryeong arrived at school, he once again looked for Hwan-young as soon as he could. First, he returned a pencil sharpener to a student who had lost it, and then, he handed Hwan-young a drink in a glass bottle. This time, it seemed to suit his taste, as by the time Mu-ryeong went to his next class, Hwan-young had already drunk half of it.

“Today, they’re serving pork cutlets.”

“…”

Had he gotten used to it in the past two days? Hwan-young silently followed Mu-ryeong to the cafeteria during lunchtime. Mu-ryeong made sure to hold onto Hwan-young’s wrist tightly, smiling brightly.

“The line’s probably going to be really long.”

To effectively transfer his spiritual energy, physical contact was most effective. Mu-ryeong wished that Hwan-young would wear summer clothes soon, but as usual, he wore his spring and fall uniform, buttoned all the way to his neck.

The only parts of his body exposed were his neck and the back of his hands. Mu-ryeong wished he could throw an arm around Hwan-young’s shoulders, but since there was such a height difference, he had long given up on that idea.

“The cast is really uncomfortable.”

The humidity made Seung-joo grumble that his hand in the cast felt especially uncomfortable today. He always found things inconvenient—taking a bath was a struggle, he couldn’t wear a dress shirt, and using his left hand for daily tasks had its limits.

Mu-ryeong listened to all this and, teasingly, said, "I’ll feed you, you know?" but was immediately met with a sharp glare. Seung-joo, snapping at him about enjoying his reactions, left Mu-ryeong unable to deny it, and he broke into a small grin.

"I’m hungry, I’m hungry."

As they headed toward the cafeteria, Mu-ryeong swung Seung-joo’s wrist back and forth, making the gesture as though he were a child when saying he was hungry. It was an unconscious habit, but Seung-joo suddenly stopped, grabbing Mu-ryeong’s arm firmly and shaking his head.

"Stay still."

His voice was stern. "You’ll hurt yourself," he added as a warning. Seung-joo, amused by the remark, looked at Mu-ryeong and gave him a subtle nod.

“That’s something his brother says to Seolgi.”@@novelbin@@

Whenever Mu-heun, who lived in the countryside, visited home, Seolgi would get overly excited, running madly around the yard. The problem was that, not considering his age, he’d jump around and sometimes injure his joints. To prevent such mishaps, Mu-heun would hold Seolgi tightly, saying something like what Hwan-young had just said.

"Mu-ryeong, you’re just like Baekseolgi..."

Just as Seung-joo took a step down from the stairs, he lost his balance—whether it was because he missed a step or his shoes had caused the slip. His foot slid out from under him at the bottom of the stairs.

"…!"

He staggered and almost fell forward. He tried to reach out with his right hand, but the cast prevented him from grabbing the railing, and he was about to tumble.

Damn it, he thought, bracing for the fall, closing his eyes tightly. In that moment, someone grabbed Seung-joo’s left arm.

"…"

"…"

His body, which had been tipping forward, abruptly stopped. The world seemed to fall still, a deep silence surrounding him.

Seung-joo, with his body still slightly tilted, cracked his eyes open and looked down. Through his blurry vision, instead of seeing the hard floor at the bottom of the stairs, he saw his own sneakers firmly planted, making sure he was steady.

"Wow, crazy..."

I thought I was going to die.

Seung-joo straightened his body, brushing off his chest. He felt a wave of relief, realizing that if he had fallen, the cast might not be the only thing at risk—it could stretch. Turning to thank the person who had saved him, he noticed the rigid figure holding his arm.

"…"

It was Ki Hwan-young. Still as stoic as ever, with his mouth firmly shut.

Thinking it was Mu-ryeong who had helped him, Seung-joo reflexively looked at Hwan-young with a slightly displeased expression. It wasn’t because Hwan-young had helped—rather, it was because the intense gaze Hwan-young was giving his arm made him feel unnerved.

"…uh,"

"…"

"Thanks, but could you let go of me…?"

Only after speaking did Hwan-young slowly release his grip. The pressure had been so intense that Seung-joo felt a tingling pain where he had been held. He rotated his stiff shoulder, letting out a long, relieved sigh.

"Thanks. I owe you one."

"…You scared me. Are you okay?"

Mu-ryeong, who had been a step behind, finally caught up, joining them. Seung-joo scowled, grumbling about how he was going to throw those cursed shoes away. The two of them continued down the stairs, but Hwan-young’s expression remained stiff, his gaze still fixed on Seung-joo.

Hwan-young didn’t say a word until they reached the cafeteria. He maintained his intense stare the whole way. Seung-joo noticed, but couldn’t address it, as Mu-ryeong kept talking non-stop.

“Don’t do that again. Watch where you’re going,” Mu-ryeong scolded, chatting aimlessly until Seung-joo met up with another friend. Only then did Mu-ryeong slow his pace a bit.

“Seung-joo says he’s fine.”

"…"

Hwan-young’s black eyes shook slightly. Mu-ryeong tilted his head, glancing at the side of Hwan-young’s face. His gentle eyes reflected Hwan-young’s serious expression.

“He’s not hurt at all.”

It was a quiet whisper, almost too soft for others to hear. Seung-joo, still chatting with a friend, didn’t seem to notice Mu-ryeong’s words. Mu-ryeong then subtly reached for Hwan-young’s hand—the one that had grabbed Seung-joo earlier.

“You didn’t let him fall.”

"…"

The hand was clenched tightly, the pressure cold enough to leave his fingertips stiff. Mu-ryeong carefully pried open the fist, rubbing the palm where his nails had left marks, speaking with a voice that was as soft and soothing as ever.

“It's fine now.”

Hwan-young didn’t reply, but his sealed lips twisted slightly, as if there was something he wanted to say. The emotions swelling in his dark eyes were too complicated to explain with mere words.

Mu-ryeong repeated it again and again, whispering it to Hwan-young: everything’s fine now, and it would all be okay.