SNF | Chapter 5.2

It was only then that Yeon-oh realized he had been pressing against his eyes with his hand. It was such an unconscious habit that he hadn’t even noticed. Lowering his hand, he slowly blinked his dry, tired eyes.

“I must not be sleeping well since I’ve been dreaming lately.”

“You had nightmares on your way up to the capital as well. That never happened in Hanam. Have you been having them again?”

Yeon-oh hesitated to answer. It wasn’t something he wanted to put into words. Ever since he had returned to the capital, the frequency of his nightmares had increased. In his dreams, shadowy hands would wrap around his throat, spewing curses at him. It had gotten to the point where he dreaded falling asleep.

”…When I was little—no, never mind.”

Curiosity flickered in his nurse’s eyes, but Yeon-oh said nothing more. He had almost asked if he had ever been strangled as a child, but he was certain such a thing had never happened. A memory that vivid couldn’t possibly be forgotten. It was just a dream, nothing more.

“Young master?”

There was a hint of unease in her voice as she called him, but it was fleeting. One slow blink later, and it was gone, as if it had never been there. Yeon-oh dismissed it as his imagination and leaned back toward the window.

“I suppose I’ve been thinking too much. That’s why I’m tired.”

“Then why don’t you close your eyes and rest for a while?”

He shook his head. Now that his nightmares had been brought to mind, if he fell asleep, he would only dream of them again.

“Besides, it’s New Year’s Eve—I can’t just sleep through it.”

If he admitted he wasn’t sleeping because of nightmares, his nurse would only worry. As he grew older, so had she. She had already passed her fiftieth year, and he didn’t want to trouble her with unnecessary concerns.

“You don’t put much meaning into New Year’s Eve.”

His nurse saw right through him, but Yeon-oh only responded with a faint smile.

“I’m turning sixteen.”

This time, his excuse must have been convincing. A brief glance showed that the doubt in her eyes had faded. Well, it was a reasonable reason, even in his own mind.

“Then why not invite Physician Jo to keep you company?”

“Seok Kyung… He’s probably alone too. Not a bad idea.”

When Yeon-oh agreed, his nurse immediately rose, offering to go fetch him.

The image of Jo Myeonghwan frowning, annoyed at having to spend yet another New Year’s Eve together, flashed through Yeon-oh’s mind. Somehow, the thought eased the heavy warmth behind his eyes just a little.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

Not long after, Jo Myeonghwan arrived. Yeon-oh had been reading when he came in and had to set his book aside to greet him.

“Somehow, I’ve ended up spending another New Year’s Eve with you, young master.”

“You don’t have any family to spend it with anyway. It’s better than being alone, isn’t it?”

His parents had passed away years ago, and his only sister had been married off long ago. Like Yeon-oh, Jo Myeonghwan would have spent the night alone. When Yeon-oh pointed this out, Jo Myeonghwan was quick to refute him.

“There are times when a person wants to be alone.”

“Then you should’ve told my wet nurse. I wouldn’t have insisted on calling you.”

As if to say he could still send him away at any moment, Yeon-oh took a slow sip of tea. The movement was poised, refined—flawless.

“Young master.”

“What?”

”…I heard you’ve been dreaming a lot lately.”

Yeon-oh’s fingers tightened slightly around the teacup before he set it down. He had thought his wet nurse had dropped the subject, but apparently, she had gone and told Jo Myeonghwan. He had given her an excuse that barely even suited him, telling her not to worry, and yet here they were.

When Yeon-oh glanced at her, she quickly lowered her head and took a few quiet steps back before slipping out of the room.

“She’s just worrying over nothing. It’s nothing more than a passing nightmare.”

Yeon-oh dismissed the topic. He had no desire to discuss his dreams.

“If it’s happening often enough to keep you from sleeping, it’s something worth addressing.”

“Since when did physicians start interpreting dreams?”

“Young master.”

“I must be feeling pressured about my coming gwanrye and having to enter government service.”

”…I didn’t realize you were such a sensitive person.”

“Good that you know now.”

His tone was light, almost teasing, as if brushing it all off. Jo Myeonghwan stared at him for a moment before exhaling deeply.

“Keeping everything bottled up inside will only make you sick.”

That was new. Jo Myeonghwan had never said something like that to him before.

Yeon-oh looked at him, watching as Jo Myeonghwan absently scratched beneath his eye before meeting his gaze again.

“Why are you looking at me like that?”

“It’s unexpected.”

Even if Jo Myeonghwan cared about him, he wasn’t the type to voice it aloud. When Yeon-oh pointed that out, Jo Myeonghwan glanced away for a moment, as if carefully choosing his words.

“I’m saying this because I won’t be by your side forever.”

“Oh? Planning to become a court physician?”

That was a possibility. With his skills, it would be a waste for him to remain just Yeon-oh’s personal physician. Even the Emperor had once shown interest in recruiting him.

“His Majesty has had his eye on you for a while. Should I put in a recommendation on your behalf?”

“That’s not what I meant… Never mind.”

“Ah, or are you thinking of getting married? You are overdue. Seok Kyung, you should hurry up and marry and have children already.”

For a moment, something flickered across Jo Myeonghwan’s face—something sharp. And just like that, the heavy atmosphere between them lifted.

That was Yeon-oh’s intention. He hated it when people tried to dig into him. So instead, he turned the tables, poking at Jo Myeonghwan’s own secrets while keeping his own tightly sealed.

”…I have no plans to marry.”

His eyes, filled with betrayal, resentment, hatred—and beneath it all, a lingering grief—were like a vortex of emotions that could pull anyone into their depths. So Yeon-oh looked away first.

“Then the Jo family’s direct line ends with you.”

“So what? It’s not a bad outcome.”

The cold indifference in Jo Myeonghwan’s voice made Yeon-oh glance back at him. Jo Myeonghwan only shrugged, offering no further explanation.

“Well, never mind me. Now that you’ve come of age, your marriage will be the next big topic of discussion in the family.”

“Most likely.”

Because he had spent his childhood in Hanam, Yeon-oh had no betrothed. Noble children were usually engaged before the age of sixteen, sometimes even marrying early. While marriages had been occurring later in recent years, with some men waiting until twenty-three or twenty-four, families with strong bloodlines still preferred to marry between sixteen and eighteen.

Among the direct male descendants of the Hanam Hye family, aside from the Prime Minister, Yeon-oh was the only one left. Now that his gwanrye was complete, his marriage wouldn’t be postponed much longer. If they found a suitable match, it could happen within a year or two—certainly before he turned twenty.

A wife and a child.

It felt foreign. He couldn’t picture it. But then again, what was there to imagine? It was bound to be a political marriage, either to a daughter of the imperial family or the child of another noble house. There would be no place for emotions in it.

Thinking about it, his parents had been somewhat of an anomaly.

“I just hope you’ll have a marriage that brings you happiness, young master.”

“Like my father and mother?”

“If so, there could be no greater happiness.”

“Indeed, your parents’ marriage was quite unusual. It wasn’t a case of love blossoming after the wedding, but rather, they were already lovers before they got married.”

“Since His Excellency had such a marriage, if you were to find someone like that, I’m sure he would gladly give his approval.”

“Hmm. Love, huh.”

“……”

“A marriage not dictated by politics might seem enviable to others.”

Yeon-oh paused slightly between his words before continuing in a detached tone.

“But I have no desire for that kind of marriage.”

So, does that mean he wants a marriage without love? Jo Myeonghwan’s gaze lingered on Yeon-oh, as if he was searching for an answer in his expression. Love—while nice to have, was not something Yeon-oh particularly wished for.

Having seen the Prime Minister spend over a decade mourning the wife he had lost, drowning in grief and unable to move on, Yeon-oh couldn’t help but think love was the most irrational thing in the world.

To be so consumed by emotions, to be ruined by love—he could never imagine himself like that. If anything, he would rather marry someone for political reasons, share mutual respect without emotional entanglements, and simply fulfill their duties together for the rest of their lives.

“You have no sense of romance.”

“Because it’s unnecessary.”

“But childhood romance often turns into fond memories later in life, in one way or another.”

Yeon-oh briefly considered asking whether Jo Myeonghwan had ever entertained such romantic ideals at his age but held his tongue. It had been a while since their conversation veered away from nightmares, and he knew that bringing up the subject would only remind Jo Myeonghwan of the lover he had lost. Yeon-oh supposed he was being considerate, though even without his words, it was clear that Jo Myeonghwan was already struggling to rid his mind of lingering memories.

“…I think we’ve talked enough. How about a game of janggi¹?”

Before he realized it, his teacup was empty. So was Jo Myeonghwan’s. As if determined to bury his memories, Jo Myeonghwan gave a nod. Yeon-oh was about to call for Ha Seong, who was waiting outside, to bring the board when an unexpected commotion outside made him pause and tilt his head in curiosity.

“It’s gotten quite noisy outside.”

Jo Myeonghwan must have been thinking the same thing, as he spoke up just as Yeon-oh had.

“Indeed.”

Up until now, he had heard the occasional crackle of bamboo burning and the excited chatter of children, but the current noise was far louder—enough to drown out everything else.

“We should check it out.”

As the head of the household, anything happening today was Yeon-oh’s responsibility. He was about to call for Ha Seong to investigate when his nurse’s voice reached him first.

“Young master, you should come outside.”

“Yumo, what’s going on?”

“It would be better for you to see it yourself. Quickly, young master.”