Memories of White Snow
Ruman, who opened the carriage door and entered, looked at Ren for a moment.
The moonlight faintly streaming through the carriage window gently illuminated Ren. His palely risen face wasn’t so much pale as… it sparkled like a pebble that had received sunlight.
Ruman unknowingly quietly looked down at him.
Seeing him sleeping quietly somehow made his chest ache.
Why?
It was a question he couldn’t get an answer to even if he asked it now.
There’s no way a Hero could properly understand why he felt this way, why it was like this.
Ruman wasn’t someone who clung to solving difficult problems. When the time comes, it’ll naturally be solved. If even pondering felt unpleasant, wouldn’t he be crazy? He felt like he’d already known the reason for his capricious heart a long time ago, but Ruman pretended not to know once again.
He wished time would stop for a moment, then his heart ached worrying the snow he wanted to see together might stop, so he ultimately decided to wake Ren. Though Ren’s sleeping appearance was good, after all, it was better to see his brightly shining eyes. It would be even better if he was reflected in those eyes.
“Ren. Ren.”
A faint voice woke Ren.
Ren, who drowsily opened his eyes, really liked the touch that woke him. Because the way it gently and softly shook his body seemed just like being soothed to sleep well. As if lying in a cradle…. Though he didn’t remember such a touch, it seemed there was such a passage in a fairy tale the pharmacist harabeom had told him.
When Ren smiled faintly and tossed at Ruman’s touch, he found it harder to wake Ren. Ruman hesitated for a moment, then closed the carriage door and sat on the chair. Ruman, who was looking at his own knees and Ren as if pondering, soon carefully lifted Ren’s head and placed it on his lap.
The warm child’s body heat quickly warmed Ruman’s knee.
He carefully arranged the disheveled blonde hair.
A clean and upright forehead peeked out. It’s a gentle face. Ruman thought so while looking at the splotchily swollen cheek. Looking like this, he’s unmistakably a child. Does such a child have to hurt like this? Ruman couldn’t quite touch Ren’s cheek and groped the empty air. Light formed at Ruman’s fingertips then disappeared. He couldn’t help but think such thoughts. Because he’d already given Ren….
Ruman knew this era’s cruelty better than anyone and had experienced it sufficiently. War orphans, beggars starving to death on the streets, those living unhappily under the shackles called family—he knew very many. There are lives where starving to death is a blessing, and lives where being bound is something to be grateful for. From a certain perspective, being a Hero’s younger brother was also glorious, and the pain Ren experienced could be overlooked to some degree. But that would only be others’ sentiment.
How many times had Ren heard such questions?
How much had those words like ‘your brother is a Hero’ hurt Ren? Thinking about that made him upset. Whether the benefits gained from being a Hero’s younger brother were greater, or whether the sorrow to be endured for being a Hero’s younger brother was greater—Ruman couldn’t fully measure it all.
What if Ren hadn’t been a Hero’s younger brother?
Without his parents’ protection, if even his brother had been an ordinary person, Ren couldn’t have survived even that much.
No, that’s not it. If he’d been born into an ordinary, affluent family.
It was a futile and happy imagination Ruman was having for the first time.
If that had been the case, Ren would have grown up bright and ordinary. He would have eaten lots of delicious things so he’d have plumped up nicely, and could have run around the village playing leader games with kids his age. Not a life of being robbed by others…..
Ruman couldn’t stop imagining even though he knew it was a meaningless hypothesis.
A comfortable and warm, happy and ordinary life that even he himself didn’t know. Barely recalling passages he’d read somewhere, scenes he’d glimpsed, fairy tale books he’d read and torn up in his very early childhood.
The image of Ren growing up only clear and pure under his family’s protection. An environment where he wouldn’t have to struggle to get angry and raise his thorns to protect himself—he continued such dream-like imaginings.
The end of it was pity.
“Ren….”
Such imaginings can’t change anything. Even if he had such feelings, what would be different?
But the unfortunate heart that couldn’t help but have such imaginings tormented Ruman.
“The snow won’t stop soon.”
Ruman looked at the snow falling through the window.
The campfire surged, illuminating the pitch-black forest darkness, and white snow was slowly covering the quiet forest. The snowflakes flying small like fireflies seemed to devour all the surrounding noise. Black shadows rippled as if dancing.
It’s beautiful.
He didn’t know he could have such a sentiment.
Though he’d seen countless times the breathtakingly beautiful night sky in the middle of blood-soaked battlefields he’d passed through countless times, Ruman had never once in over ten years thought such skies, any scenery, was beautiful.
What had changed for this scenery to approach him beautifully?
Ren’s small breathing sounded like thunder in Ruman’s ears.
But why was his heart so sad and heartbreaking?
Ruman carefully stroked Ren’s forehead.
Probably there would be no more time to be alone together like this. Ruman momentarily felt an impulse to kiss the round forehead. Ruman’s fingers carefully stroked his forehead. Whether Ruman’s coldly frozen fingers felt good, Ren made a sound and rubbed his forehead against Ruman’s hand. Ruman, who had stopped as if frozen, carefully lowered his hand.
It’s already more time than deserved.
He stayed in the carriage for a long time, hoping the snow wouldn’t stop.
“Mmm….”
Ren woke up whining in his sleep. A cold hand touched his cheek. He thought it was a dream, but someone must have come to wake Ren. Ren’s clear pupils rolled, discovering the owner of the hand placed on his forehead. It was Ruman. He was asleep leaning against the carriage wall, giving Ren a lap pillow. His quiet breathing descended upon Ren.
‘He looks really young.’
Ren suddenly thought so.
The beautiful young man’s face with eyes closed looked much younger than when his eyes were open. The long settled eyelashes and plump lips were beautiful. Since it was almost the first time seeing Ruman’s face without a teasing or mocking expression, Ren looked at him curiously. His platinum blonde hair was disheveled.
“It’s snowing….”
Snow falling quietly was caught in Ren’s vision as he’d been looking at Ruman for a while. The boy quietly removed Ruman’s hand and sat up. Whether Ruman was deeply asleep, he didn’t wake even at Ren’s movement. Ren watched the snow while holding his breath, worried Ruman might wake. The snow falling under the quiet night shone white in the moonlight.
Ren’s gaze groped distant places.
He remembered the old days.
When Temarr left for the 7-Year War, his thoughts.
The warm feeling from earlier that had felt like being put to sleep in a cradle froze.
Ren is afraid of snow.
Because on snowy days, many precious things were taken away.
It’s a memory he doesn’t want to recall.
The boy looked at the quietly sleeping Ruman, then lay down with his head on his lap like before. Tears flowed from Ren’s eyes as he buried his face. Ruman’s thigh quietly became wet. Ren sobbed for a long time before finally falling asleep, and when Ren’s crying subsided, Ruman opened his eyes.
The thoroughly wet eyelashes seemed to pierce Ruman’s chest.
“What were you thinking.”
His touch wiping the already dried eyes was affectionate.
“Why aren’t you coming out…”
“Shh!”
“Hup. I’m sorry….”
“He just fell asleep. I was going to wake him later.”
“I didn’t know falling snow was this wonderful. It would be good if Ren woke up quickly to see it together.”
Seeing Gepetto speaking regretfully, Ruman just laughed briefly. The person who went in to wake the boy saying he should watch the snow together with Ren earlier—why is his reaction so lukewarm? Gepetto thought so but didn’t particularly bring it up.
Gepetto, who had entered the carriage to avoid Temarr’s heavy atmosphere, had to return to the campfire without even breaking even.
“Ahem. Ren must be sleeping deeply.”
Gepetto, who was quite embarrassed to have returned alone, subtly spoke to Temarr while sitting down.
Crack. Crack.
Temarr, who was throwing in firewood, looked at Gepetto and nodded.
“Is that so.”
He didn’t seem to be in the mood to converse. It was an impression that he reluctantly answered just because he was spoken to. Rather than bothering the Hero who wanted to be lost in thought alone, Gepetto chose to sleep early instead. He rustled and took out more clothing than usual to lay out, then crammed his body into the sleeping bag.
“I’ll sleep first. Hero-nim. Good night!”
“Yes. Sleep well.”
Temarr’s gaze, answering mechanically, was also chasing the snow.
Soon Gepetto’s snoring sounded. The silent forest air seemed to have lightened somewhat at least. Though Temarr’s heart didn’t lighten.
Temarr was recalling a dream.
Some memory he wasn’t certain whether it was a dream or the past.
Why did he suddenly remember when he was very young?
‘Snow….’
When he thought about what kind of feelings he had while walking through the snow, pain he thought he’d forgotten long ago seemed to rush in.
It’s not the time to be soaked in memories. He was a Hero who didn’t look back.
Temarr lowered his gaze that had been looking at the sky to look at his interlocked hands. His thick, scarred hands stained yellow and red from being scorched by the campfire. He traced with his eyes the traces of the ‘Hero’s Miracle’ that would be there if he followed up those hands.
