Mudoo - Chapter 56

After Seula left Jeonghae-dong, Kang Tae-shin locked the front door tight and didn’t step outside the house. It was the same when the elder passed away, and again when Yeo-ok died. After holding Yeo-ok’s funeral, he never took a single step out of the house.

He just slept continuously. Only getting up once every few days to eat cold rice soaked in water, then retreating back to his room to sleep again.

Dong-gil, who had accidentally eaten the peach blossom fruit that day, suddenly began speaking. Kang Tae-shin’s spiritual sight had opened, and he had gained mysterious abilities.

“Get up, feed me! Feed me!” Dong-gil shook Tae-shin’s body loudly, chattering nonstop. But Tae-shin neither blinked in surprise nor reacted with wonder. He just silently closed his eyes and slept like a dead man.

It was like going back to that moment.

“How long are you going to stay holed up in that room? Stay holed up?” Dong-gil shouted loudly, pacing outside the door.

But Tae-shin didn’t leave the guest room where the child had stayed, not his own room. The same room where Seula had been trapped and had lain quietly on the mandarin duck bed.

Dong-gil couldn’t stand it anymore. Scratching at the gap in the sliding door with his paws, he flung it open and shook Tae-shin’s body with all his strength.

“You sent her away yourself. So why are you the one lying sick now? Why are you lying sick?”

Tae-shin stretched out one arm and pulled Dong-gil close by the neck.

“Dong-gil, be quiet. Will you shut up now?”

“How much did I even talk? How much?”

“My head’s ringing. And you repeat yourself. It’s annoying.”

“Well, that’s… that’s…”

Even Dong-gil had no explanation for that. They didn’t know why. Maybe Tae-shin had chewed on some half-eaten peach blossom fruit rather than a whole one, causing side effects—that was their best guess.

“If you’re hungry, go find Hobun. You’re good at freeloading anyway.” Dong-gil knew how to scavenge here and there to fill his stomach, even without someone feeding him. But the problem was that Tae-shin was starving himself.

“And what about you? Aren’t you even a little hungry?”

“Mind your own business.”

His dry reply barely came out, but Dong-gil muttered under his breath, still annoyed. “Still such a rude, shameless, spoiled brat.”

Who knew how long this time would last? When Yeo-ok died, Tae-shin had stayed like that for at least a whole season. Apparently, he went through bouts of despair like this sometimes.

Since then, Tae-shin had shut himself away several more times, refusing to eat or drink. Sometimes for a week, sometimes for months.

Muscles grow by tearing and healing. Maybe the inner muscles Tae-shin had—the ones inside his heart—needed the same process. Time to tear down, then heal, becoming stronger. That’s what Dong-gil thought.

***

Seula’s scent lingered everywhere—on the blanket she had used, on the pillow she had rested her head on. The same scent from her body products, her shampoo, and faintly, the smell of her Mudoo. Kang Tae-shin buried his nose in the mandarin duck bedding and took a deep breath. He felt pathetic for filling the empty space left by Seula this way, but he had no other choice.

“I want to go back.”
“I don’t want to be trapped here anymore.”
“Please let me out, Dong-gil.”

Seula’s desperate voice pleading echoed vividly in his ears. At the same time, her eyes full of disdain, staring down at him, filled his vision.

He buried his face in the blanket and let out a small, bitter laugh.

She must’ve hated it so much. She must’ve been so fed up.

Was accepting farewell really this hard? Was letting go of someone who leaves you this painful?

He wanted to ask Seula if she could really forget the time they spent together. The days eating meals side by side, sharing everyday conversations, trading silly jokes, and the nights they shared warmth. Could she really escape those memories?

He knew he never could.

He couldn’t forget Seula’s pretty face smiling at him with the East Sea behind her. He couldn’t erase the image of her, easily annoyed by teasing words, quickly getting riled up with veins popping on her neck. Or her running and playing in the yard with Dong-gil, bright and carefree.

“I’m not Yeo-ok.” But, he loved her not for being Yeo-ok.

“I’m not Yeo-ok, so this whole thing is so unfair.”

But the undeniable truth was that it was because she was Yeo-ok that Seula had been pulled close to him.

What should he have done?

Even though he knew it was useless now, Kang Tae-shin looked back on the past.

Should he have gone straight to Seula the moment they met and asked if she was Yeo-ok? But that would’ve only made her treat him like some weird cult member.

When Seula came looking for him while suffering from Mudoo, should he have confessed then? Or when the child, now with opened spiritual sight, trembled and came to this house—would it have been different if he’d told her then?

No matter how he thought about it, there was never a good time. Whenever she found out, she would’ve been disappointed and turned away because of what he did.

So the secret had to be kept until the end. To keep the child from leaving him, he had to be even more meticulous with the secrecy. He couldn’t be careless.

His only regret was this—regret that came too late.

What was the fate of the woodcutter who hid the fairy’s clothes? When the fairy’s clothes were returned, she left, taking the children and abandoning the woodcutter, ascending back to the heavens.

“Haah.”

Kang Tae-shin laid his forearm across his forehead and stared at the ceiling.

It was the view Seula must have looked at every night before falling asleep.

Even though it hurt like his heart was being torn apart, even though it was agonizing, he resented the fact that he was still breathing.

***

In a hazy state of consciousness, he heard Hobun’s voice.

“You’re seriously suffering from lovesickness. It doesn’t suit you.”

Kang Tae-shin struggled to lift his eyelids, rolling his eyes to check where he was.

A familiar ceiling, a familiar smell, a soft bed.

Fortunately, he was still in the guest room where the Seula stayed. His whole body was so heavy he could barely move a finger, sinking like a wet rag.

“Who said I’m lovesick?”

His cracked, dry voice escaped between his lips.

“What’s lovesickness but an illness you get when you miss and long for someone you love?”

His eyes kept closing. Until a few days ago, he had closed his eyes by choice to sleep, but now it was because the tide of grief was too strong to hold back.

Heat coursed through his body, yet he felt cold as if he’d gone outside wearing only a shirt in the dead of winter.

“You should eat some porridge and get some rest.” Hobun tried to lift him up. Tae-shin frowned and pushed his hand away.

“Leave me be.”

“You know you won’t die like this. You’re just torturing yourself.”

“Being alive like this is no sane thing either.”

“And yet, you’ve lasted a long time.”

Indeed. He had never wished to live long, never craved immortality. What a painful curse it was to become immortal against one’s will.

Hobun pressed a spoonful of porridge between Tae-shin’s lips.

“Lovesickness is really cruel. It hurts like your heart is burning, sometimes so bad you wish your whole body would just turn to ash and disappear.”

“……”

“But somehow, you survive. Because the heart isn’t in the body but in the soul.”

“Who told you that?”

“Someone in the countless connections passing by must’ve told me. Does it matter, now?”

The porridge tasted bitter. He didn’t know if his taste buds were broken or Hobun had gotten worse at cooking, but swallowing the mushy rice was torture.

“Isn’t it cruel that even if the body dies, the heart remains?”

Hobun frowned, ignoring Tae-shin struggling to eat, and went on.

“So that’s why those who reincarnate erase memories of their past lives.”

“……”

“Because if feelings from a past life remain, living the next life becomes unbearable.”

Hobun’s quiet words made Tae-shin think of Seula. Now, he finally understood a little of what she felt when she said she wasn’t Yeo-ok.

A past life is just a past life. The person living now is Woo Seula.

She wouldn’t want to be trapped by memories of a past life she never knew—Yeo-ok’s memories, heart, and existence must’ve felt like a huge burden.

A bitter smile curled on Kang Tae-shin’s lips. It was useless now to try to understand Seula’s feelings, but still…