Nunbi had spent entire days wandering alone through deep mountain terrain, valleys, and waterfalls, and had never once gotten into trouble or lost his way. When a small child roamed around on his own and made himself scarce, occasionally returning late in the evening, the devotees would say what a remarkable thing that was — and sometimes bring him cold yakbap, or pajeon, or side dishes left over from the kitchen. Even that had felt like more than enough to Nunbi.
“Wow.”
And yet here he was, with a properly laid-out meal right in front of him. Whatever had happened to feeling shameless about it — Nunbi forgot all of that the moment he saw the side dishes, and his mood lifted completely without his permission. The regular temple offerings were already more than he deserved, but this was clearly something else — prepared for the devotees, so it showed. The sheer variety alone, and then the mushroom dishes that were supposedly so hard to come by, and the fresh deodeok in season, and meol buckwheat buchimi — it was a spread to behold. And above all, the gujeolpan. His eyes landed on the thin millet crepes glistening with oil and his mouth watered on its own.
“Happy? Shameless, aren’t you.”
“I’d just find it exhausting to have shame about things like this.”
He’d been too obvious about it, apparently — his delight at the special spread had shown all over his face, and Woonjeong was already poking at him again. Nunbi answered without missing a beat. It was the monks who had always said, unanimously, that Nunbi was guileless, warm, and deeply affectionate — a soft-hearted sort by nature.
“So you’ll come back next Sunday too, then.”
“Will I?”
Whatever Woonjeong said, Nunbi focused on carefully layering the gujeolpan vegetables onto his spoon. He laid the millet crepe over the top, and then — whether or not Woonjeong was watching — opened his mouth wide to take a big bite all at once, and—
“….”
He felt a pointed stare from across the table and stopped dead.
“….”
“….”
It was the kind of stare he absolutely could not pretend not to notice. You’re the one who told me to eat, and now that I’m actually trying, why are you looking at me like that. Nunbi’s conscience pricked him preemptively. So he put his tongue back where it belonged and closed his wide-open mouth like a good boy.
“…You go first. Sorry.”
How embarrassing. This was a meal he couldn’t have dreamed of without Woonjeong, and here he was reaching for someone else’s table first. The truth was that even Nunbi, who wasn’t particularly food-obsessed, had gotten a little giddy at the prospect of eating. Not that he had any intention of coming back next Sunday for another free meal… but for some reason, Woonjeong was staring at him with an odd expression, something sharp flickering behind his eyes. As if the physical roughhousing earlier hadn’t been quite enough to satisfy whatever it was he was after.
“Do that again.”
“Do what?”
Woonjeong suddenly issued a command out of nowhere, and Nunbi asked back.
“Stick your tongue out and wait for the spoon.”
What is that. That’s strange. Nunbi’s expression control failed him and he went stone-faced without meaning to. Woonjeong just laughed that usual delinquent smile of his and asked, don’t like that?
“Then how about putting side dishes on my rice?”
That one caught him off guard.
“Why would I do that…?”
“Why do you think. Just do it.”
Nunbi studied Woonjeong with a suspicious eye. He had no idea why Woonjeong was like this, but he could guess — maybe he just liked the feeling of being looked after. Truly baffling. No matter how hard Nunbi tried to anticipate what he’d do next, his guesses were always wrong. This was already the third or fourth time. It was a little unsettling, but there was no real grounds to refuse — so Nunbi just grabbed the nearest side dish and dropped it into Woonjeong’s bowl without much ceremony.
“There. Happy now.”
“Terrible effort.”
Woonjeong said it with a smirk and ate it anyway. Honestly, strange person.
The food was good. Maybe that was why — even though it was Sunday, time seemed to pass unusually fast that day.
✽
Three or four days went by. The rain, which had seemed to ease for a moment, came back with a vengeance. It was a downpour, accompanied by rolling thunder and flashes of lightning. Thanks to that, Nunbi spent those days in a flurry — covering the well morning and evening, getting out the monks’ rain capes, checking on the umbrellas.
He ran into Woonjeong once more after Sunday, in the dining hall. Even while eating, Nunbi kept finding his eyes drifting toward where Woonjeong was sitting. But whenever he looked over, Woonjeong gave no sign of acknowledgment. Not even a glance. Why is he like this again? So Nunbi kept thinking about Woonjeong all through his meal, chopsticks in hand.
“Did I do something wrong.”
The boy muttered quietly to himself. No. I didn’t. I really didn’t. He couldn’t make sense of it and it made his seat feel uncomfortable. When he finished eating, he thought about going over to say something. That thought never made it to action, though. In the short time Nunbi spent tidying his bowl and chopsticks, Woonjeong disappeared without a word. And since he didn’t turn up in the dining hall after that, it seemed he’d gone back to having meals brought to his room again.
“Fine. Do whatever you want. I don’t care.”
Nunbi, draped in his rain cape, muttered that and swept at the wet fallen leaves with firm strokes. Thinking about Woonjeong again — what a bother.
Wednesday evening brought something Nunbi hadn’t been aware of all this time. The temple had, apparently, been quietly buzzing with talk of Woonjeong — not just among the devotees, but among the monks as well. The way his arrival on the first day had escalated into a physical confrontation between the guest and the monks seemed to have made a lasting impression. Wherever Nunbi went, talk of the annex guest followed — which meant it had probably been going on the whole time, and Nunbi simply hadn’t caught wind of it because he’d been holed up in the side room on account of his injury.
Every time he picked up on another whispered conversation that started with that young master, though and spiraled into all manner of things, Nunbi came away feeling mildly drained. Looking at it that way, he could sort of understand why Woonjeong didn’t like sitting down to eat together with everyone in the dining hall. Still — that didn’t explain why he had to walk right past Nunbi without so much as a word.
That day, too, Nunbi spent the whole of it quietly absorbing all the circulating talk about Woonjeong, until he was worn out enough to go to bed early.
“Haah….”
The rain drumming on the eaves, the insects, the narrow-mouthed toads — it was all noise. Maybe because of that, his head was full and sleep wouldn’t come easily. Why exactly does Go Woonjeong act the way he does toward me? He turned that question over for a while before finally giving up and coming out to sit on the veranda.
The temple with all its lights out was as still and quiet as ever.
Nunbi counted the raindrops falling from the eaves, and then let the soft breeze drift over him — over his ears, his cheeks, his whole body — and simply stretched himself out flat. He’d been doing chores all day so he was wearing ochre-coloured trousers that came down to his ankles, and they started to feel like a nuisance. He thought about it for a moment, confirmed there was no one around, and pushed the loose trousers all the way up to his thighs.
“Ahh…. That’s life.”
The cool air was incredible. Sitting there peacefully and letting the wind wash over him, his thoughts drifted to Woonjeong’s annex. Now that I think about it, the view from the rear veranda was really something. He found himself quietly wondering what it would look like at night. On a night like this you wouldn’t be able to see the moon, but just watching the rain pour down would surely be breathtaking in its own right. If we get back to being on speaking terms, maybe I’ll ask to visit sometime — and then he immediately stopped himself. Woonjeong would never just agree to that.
“Why tell me to come every Sunday if you’re going to completely ignore me.”
He muttered that aloud to no one, and turned over with a click of his tongue. He’d already said he wouldn’t go, so when he’d next see Woonjeong was anyone’s guess. At this rate, actually becoming friends was clearly going to be impossible. Fine, do whatever. It’s his loss for not getting to be friends with me…. Nunbi thought that, and shook his head as if to clear it. He’d been trying to chase off all the thoughts, but it didn’t seem to be doing much good.
When he’d laid out his bedding and lain down he’d been wide awake, but the fresh open air made sleep rush up on him fast. Nunbi’s gaze traced the faint grain of the ceiling beam, and soon he began to nod off.
Is he a castaway child, do you think?
Oh, surely not.
They left him here and haven’t looked in on him once — that’s why people say it.
And apparently the trouble he causes is something else. Whatever the circumstances may be….
The gossip from his very first day was something else. Word is he came in causing a scene even before he arrived.
Really? Maybe he’ll settle down a bit here. He’s been quiet lately.
It’s only been a week, though.
He’d spent all day pretending not to hear it, trying his best not to listen — but when sounds are circulating around you, there’s no way to completely block them out. Everything that reached him about Woonjeong, he’d tried to forget just as quickly, but the fact that it all came bubbling up now in the haze of half-sleep meant Nunbi had to admit — he was genuinely curious about Woonjeong’s situation. Whatever else was true, one thing was certain: there was no way Woonjeong didn’t know that speculation about him was rampant. And at exactly that moment — Nunbi, who had drifted into a light doze, jolted his eyes open.
“….”
