SNF | Chapter 1.5

The moon, half-hidden by clouds, was now shining more brightly as the wind scattered the veil of mist. Or maybe it was simply because he was now closer—close enough to see him more clearly.

Rather than responding, Yeon-oh calmly straightened his slightly disheveled robes, all the while fixing his gaze on the man.

He was tall.

From the way the top of Yeon-oh’s head barely reached the man’s chin, he had to be at least six cheok tall.

After making a rough estimate of his height, Yeon-oh took a moment to examine his face—then his overall appearance—before finally parting his lips to speak again.

“Who are you?” His tone was still laced with sharp wariness.

“Are you asking again in case I might be an assassin?”

“I’m asking because I know you’re not. Not because I trust your words, but because I trust my own judgment. If I had deemed you an assassin, do you think I’d be standing here, making polite conversation with you like this?”

“So that’s what that intense gaze was about. You were sizing me up.”

“Are you a guest at tonight’s banquet?”

“What makes you think that? I could just be a servant of one of the guests.”

“The luster of the golden embroidery on your robes isn’t exactly of the highest grade, but the overall air you carry is anything but ordinary. That’s why I ask. Besides, the way you address me is not that of a mere servant. If you were, you wouldn’t dare speak to me in such a manner.”

And then, there was his hand—just barely visible between the folds of his sleeve. It was not the hand of someone who had endured years of hardship. Large and firm, it looked more like the hand of a warrior. But Yeon-oh kept that observation to himself, instead laying out the reasoning behind his deduction.

Of course, not all the mysteries were solved—such as how this man had entered the inner garden alone, without even a single attendant, or how he had instantly recognized him as the young master. Still, this was the most plausible conclusion he could reach for now.

“I’ll ask again. Who are you? I assume you are a guest of my father’s, but even so, it is rude not to introduce yourself.”

“Is it really that important? You’ll find out eventually.”

“If you are not a night visitor, then it is basic courtesy to introduce yourself upon a first meeting.”

“Courtesy, is it? Then I suppose I should do the proper thing.”

“…….”

“Yesin.”

Yeon-oh had been waiting, prepared to extend the appropriate courtesies upon learning the man’s status. But when those two syllables finally left his lips, Yeon-oh blinked in mild surprise.

“Yesin,” the man repeated.

Yeon-oh quickly combed through his memory—was there an official title by that name? But nothing came to mind. That meant it had to be either his given name or an epithet, but either way, it provided no clue as to who he actually was.

There was nothing to deduce from his answer.

“I was asking for your family name and status. I have no interest in just your given name, especially when you haven’t even mentioned your household.”

“And yet, I’ve already told you. Twice, in fact. So kindly, too.”

“…Are you mocking me?” At Yeon-oh’s response, the man made a face as if he were genuinely disappointed. But Yeon-oh could not understand.

Nobles did not introduce themselves like this. They would state their family name, or, if they held an official position, their title. This man’s behavior was nothing like that of an aristocrat.

So how else could Yeon-oh see this other than as a deliberate evasion?

“These two syllables are all that I have, and yet the young master calls it mockery.”

“…….”

“I mean it, young master.”

Yeon-oh bit his lip, locking eyes with the man. But the man did not avert his gaze. If he had been lying, there should have been some flicker of hesitation in his expression. But his eyes remained unwavering.

“…Fine.” In the end, it was Yeon-oh who yielded.

He was too tired to keep up this exchange any longer. His body still carried the weight of fatigue, and if this was to be a fleeting encounter, he could simply let it pass as a coincidence. If they met again, as the man suggested, then the truth would eventually come to light.

“For now, I will regard you as a guest of the household.”

“Ah, what an honor.”

The man took a step closer as if that response meant Yeon-oh had now accepted his presence. Instinctively, Yeon-oh tensed, his body stiffening in wariness.

But he remained composed, choosing instead to turn his back to him, shifting his gaze back toward the lotus pond.

“The pond is frozen. We won’t be able to see the moonlight shimmering on the water’s surface.”

“…….”

“There are rumors that, deep within Hanam Province, there exists a garden said to rival even the imperial secret garden in the Capital City. Everyone who’s seen it speaks of it with awe—how could I not be curious?”

“I have heard the same.”

“Yes. After seeing this place today, I could understand why people speak of it so highly. But then, after seeing you, my thoughts changed. No matter how breathtaking a sight may be, it would lose its brilliance in your presence.”

Yeon-oh frowned. This was a completely different kind of reaction than the wariness he had shown earlier.

“Noble sir.”

“Ah. Have I said something that offended you? If so, I sincerely apologize.”

“I am not some noble lady who blushes with joy at such words. I would appreciate it if you refrained from such remarks.”

His mother had been a renowned beauty in the Capital City—compared to a peony, the queen of flowers. In her youth, poets had competed to compose verses in her honor. Even having only seen her portrait, Yeon-oh knew that their words were not mere exaggeration.

And he had inherited that beauty almost entirely.

Because of that, people often commented that, if he were to wear makeup, he could easily pass for a woman. But what man would be pleased to hear such things?

It was precisely for that reason that Yeon-oh despised any discussion about his appearance.

“Are you still upset?”

Perhaps it was because it had been a while since he last heard such words, but his irritation didn’t fade so easily. Yeon-oh took a slow breath before finally managing to answer.

“…No.”

Yesin scratched his cheek with an awkward expression. He hesitated for a moment, lips parting as if searching for the right words, before suddenly walking away.

For a moment, Yeon-oh wondered if he had left without even offering a farewell, unable to endure the uncomfortable atmosphere. But soon, Yesin returned—this time, holding a flower.

“A token of my apology.” A red camellia, vivid as if steeped in blood, lay in full bloom upon his palm.

“Even after this, will you still refuse to forgive me?”

“…It was not something that required forgiveness, nor a gift.” Feeling as if he was being unnecessarily petty, Yeon-oh hesitated before finally accepting the camellia.

The moonlight cascaded over its brilliant red petals.

“It shines even brighter in your hands.”

“Noble sir.”

“I only meant that the moonlight is illuminating you. There was no other meaning behind it.”

At Yeon-oh’s raised brow, Yesin quickly waved his hands in an exaggerated gesture of innocence.

His reaction was both ridiculous and strangely considerate, making Yeon-oh simply shake his head before lowering his gaze back to the flower.

Just as Yesin had said, the camellia glowed vibrantly beneath the moon’s light.

“Do you like camellias?”

“…Pardon?”

“You keep looking at it, so I was curious.” Only then did Yeon-oh lift his gaze from the flower to look at Yesin.

“I neither like nor dislike them.”

“Then why do you keep staring at it?”

“This is the first time I have ever received a flower.”

Yeon-oh was the heir of the Hye-ga household. People gifted him rare gold and jewels, but a flower? Never.

Not even his father, nor even his nanny, had ever thought to give him one. He had simply grown accustomed to such things, but now, holding a flower for the first time, it felt oddly unfamiliar.

“I see. Hmm… In that case, should I bring you one from time to time?”

“No, I appreciate the sentiment, but that won’t be necessary. Your thought alone is enough.”

“How coldly you refuse.”

Hearing the feigned disappointment in Yesin’s voice, Yeon-oh glanced at him, wondering if he had been too curt. But upon seeing the teasing smile playing on Yesin’s lips, he immediately realized he had been tricked.

“Noble sir.” He hadn’t actually been offended, but still, he deliberately called out in a tone of reprimand.

Yesin merely laughed lightly—then, suddenly, his head snapped to the side. As if he were looking at something in the distance.

Seeing this, Yeon-oh instinctively followed his gaze, but there was nothing there. Nothing but the dim shadows of the night.

“…What is it?”

Yeon-oh asked, but Yeshin didn’t answer. Since there was no point in pressing further, Yeon-oh held his breath as well.

“…It might be sudden,”

Yeshin, who had been staring into the darkness for a long time, finally turned his gaze toward Yeon-oh. He paused as if taking a moment to collect himself, but Yeon-oh had a vague idea of what was coming next.

“It seems it’s time to say goodbye. I had hoped to stay a little longer, but unfortunately, that won’t be possible.”

Gone was the playfulness in Yeshin’s voice. He bid farewell with a composed expression, as if parting was nothing out of the ordinary. His goodbye was just as abrupt as their unexpected meeting had been.

“As a guest, it wouldn’t be proper to leave your seat empty for too long, would it?”

Rather than reacting emotionally, Yeon-oh simply prepared to return the farewell with proper courtesy. But before he could, Yeshin cut him off.

“Young Master, have you ever heard this saying? Those who remain strangers all their lives may meet once by chance, twice by fate, and three times by inevitability.”

Yeon-oh wasn’t sure where Yeshin was going with this or why he was dragging out his words, so he simply waited for him to continue.

“The camellia I just gave you was partly an apology. But more than that, it is a token to mark our connection and to promise peace.”

“……”

“I look forward to our next meeting.”

He smiled. It was a faint, ephemeral smile—so light that it wouldn’t have been strange if he disappeared at any moment. Yeon-oh stared at him before slightly parting his lips to speak.

“Young Master.”

At that moment, a familiar voice called out to him. Turning toward the sound, he saw his nanny striding over, holding a lantern in one hand.

“Nanny.”

“I thought you might be cold, so I went to fetch an extra coat, but it took longer than expected. Nothing happened while I was away, did it?”

“No. Ah, but just now, there was…”

The nanny draped the coat over his shoulders. Yeon-oh turned his head to let her know that someone had been with him just moments ago—but his words trailed off.

Yeshin had vanished. Without a trace. As if he had been nothing more than a wisp of smoke. Or perhaps, just like that fleeting smile he had given before disappearing.

“…Someone was here with me. Did you see anyone on your way here?”

The nanny blinked in confusion, tilting her head with a puzzled expression. Yeon-oh glanced down at his palm again. The camellia resting in his hand was not something he had picked himself, so there was no way that person had been a mere illusion.

Then how had Yeshin disappeared so completely?

“Young Master, who were you with?”

“……”

“Young Master?”

“No. …It’s nothing.”

Pushing his lingering doubts deep inside, Yeon-oh shook his head. Instead of letting the camellia slip through his fingers and fall to the ground, he quietly clenched it in his hand.