Munjeong - Chapter 19

Chapter 19

Rustle.

Long, pale fingers turned the page of a book.

Among the most important ways to move someone’s heart is to first make them feel that they need you.

Lying stretched out on the sofa, Yeonjun held the book and diligently moved his eyes over the text. Though the room was not particularly bright, it was sufficient for reading. The delicately crafted small chandelier on the ceiling seemed unnecessary as the room relied entirely on the sunlight streaming in through the windows.

That was how Yeonjun’s room usually was. During the day, the ample sunlight filled the space, eliminating the need for artificial lighting. Even so, he disliked excessive brightness and kept heavy curtains drawn over all the windows except for one large glass pane, as if isolating himself entirely from the outside world.

Soft sunlight gently settled on the loosely buttoned white shirt he wore. Had the position of the sun changed so much already? He glanced at the clock hanging on the wall and realized it was early evening.

At the crack of dawn, the Songbaekwon household would be bustling with activity. Everyone had roles to fulfill. But Yeonjun was always an exception.

Unlike the other members of the Junkwang family, who seemed born with a talent for handling money, Yeonjun’s only skill was the artistic talent inherited from his biological father, whose name he didn’t even know. Chairman Jang, who begrudgingly allowed the unrelated Yeonjun to stay as part of the household, hardly found this talent commendable.

“You should be grateful that you’re even allowed to set foot in this house.”

Songbaekwon, where he had come holding his mother’s hand at the age of ten, was as beautiful as it was suffocating. It remained a gilded prison, then and now. Chairman Jang allowed him to enjoy anything he wanted within those walls, but it was as good as telling him to live half a life. In exchange, Yeonjun and his mother had been bound hand and foot.

For over a decade since, life had been a monotonous repetition of days. Until he became an adult, he couldn’t even leave the house freely except to attend school unless specifically permitted by Chairman Jang. While the household staff politely fulfilled any requests Yeonjun or his mother made, they were never kind.

The only person who had ever shown warmth to the mother and son was…

Yeonjun slowly closed his eyes as he looked up at the unlit chandelier hanging from the ceiling.

“A child is never at fault. To take emotional anger out on an innocent child is nothing but abuse.”

A hand that had softly embraced his always-isolated shoulders, a beautiful face that smiled more kindly than his mother, a pleasant scent, and the piano melodies that always floated from her room.

But even she was no longer part of this mansion.

The day she died—no, the day she was killed—left an indelible scar on Yeonjun’s emotions and broke something in his mother’s spirit. The horrible secret that only the two of them shared gnawed at their guilt.

“Yeonjun is a child I cherish as much as my own Taeha. Please, for my sake, don’t cast him or his mother out.”

Despite everything, her final letter, written out of concern for Yeonjun, became a shackle for Chairman Jang. Because just as she had cherished Yeonjun, he too had cared for her as if she were his daughter. And so, even though Yeonjun and his mother were like troublesome items he couldn’t easily discard, they were allowed to remain in Songbaekwon.

For Yeonjun and his mother, broken in ways that set them apart from ordinary people, there was nowhere else to go. They complied, staying in this place, waiting for the day when Chairman Jang would decide their use.

As always, the morning sun awakened him lazily, and after a shower, Yeonjun’s daily routine involved filling the gaps left by what he had lost. His shattered “emotions” could only be rebuilt through learning.

He didn’t have trouble reading all emotions, but there were moments when he couldn’t understand things like when someone needed to fake emotions to win favor or when sympathy was required, or how to naturally gain someone’s affection.

“The Art of Understanding Human Emotions,” “The Hundreds of Meanings in a Smiling Face,” “How to Live Among Others.” Books with such titles were stacked haphazardly in a towering pile on the floor beside the sofa.

To understand what emotions someone feels for me, I need to decipher the body language revealed during conversations. For example, the meaning in their gaze or the direction in which their body leans.

Yeonjun’s gaze narrowed slightly as he read the passage. Body language. The meaning in the gaze directed at me. Closing the book on his chest, he allowed a face that had been creeping into his daily life to surface in his thoughts.

Like a sudden downpour of water, she had appeared abruptly before his eyes one day.

It was a calm midday, like any other. He had woken up late, showered, brewed coffee, and was sketching the view of the garden from his usual seat by the window.

Adjusting the pressure on his pencil to shade in the highlights and transforming the abundant greenery into black-and-white on paper—he raised his gaze absentmindedly to refresh his view of the scenery.

“….”

Yeonjun narrowed his eyes. A shadow had intruded upon the scenery, interrupting his sketch.

Could it be an outsider who had lost their way?

No, that was impossible. There was nowhere in this area with security as tight as Songbaekwon. Any unidentified visitor would have been stopped at the gates far below.

Then, could it be a guest? That seemed unlikely as well. Never before, in all his years living here, had a stranger appeared in the garden.

He paused and observed her. She was so striking that the tired phrase “impossible to look away” came to mind. Her pale, delicate face exuded a strangely ethereal aura, so much so that he felt an irresistible urge to capture her figure immediately.

When she smiled faintly, looking up at the statue of the Virgin Mary he had sculpted, Yeonjun hurriedly began sketching her. Among the thick green foliage of the scenery, a slender girl was added.

From then on, as Chaeon began visiting the garden repeatedly, he would watch the unfamiliar silhouette from behind the window. In several sketches, she appeared in varying forms—one day, reading a book on a bench; another day, hanging laundry.

But no matter how he drew her, it was never the same as seeing her with his bare eyes. The way she blinked her damp eyes slowly, the way her frail limbs moved like a fluttering wisp—those were things no canvas could capture.

And finally, the day they first met.

“Hello.”

The chest surged with an odd trembling. He recognized it at a glance—those eyes steeped in deprivation. A face that appeared untainted and pure, yet carried a desolate and numb expression, as though it had already endured too much and resigned itself to it all.

“Did you cry? Or were you about to?”

“No, I didn’t….”

What is delicate is easy to harm, and therefore beautiful. If he were to summarize Chaeon, whom he was finally facing up close, that would be it. She possessed the very aura he had been searching for, the one he had longed to capture in his work.

He wanted to draw her.

At the same time, a sudden greed surged within him. It was an emotion he had never experienced since coming to Songbaekwon. For the first time, he understood the feeling one gets when meeting a muse that sparks inspiration. For anyone close to art, an appreciation for beauty was indispensable. And so, naturally, he became instantly captivated by Chaeon.

But the walls surrounding Chaeon, and her wariness toward others, were more solid than he had expected. She deliberately avoided him, moving as if to ensure their paths didn’t cross, and refused to properly meet his gaze.

Watching her act this way, he instinctively realized: If he didn’t somehow break through that, she would never open her heart or even glance his way. She seemed determined to maintain that distance until the time came for her to leave.

His heart raced with a new sense of urgency.

…People often feel a strong bond with someone who shares their vulnerabilities. If that person helps them overcome hardships and trials, the bond grows even stronger. The reason creators impose trials on male and female protagonists in countless love stories is…

At that moment, a passage he had once read in a book flitted through his mind, and everything fell into place with startling clarity.

Thus, the method he chose was…

Knock, knock.

A small knocking sound pierced through his wandering thoughts.

Yeonjun slowly opened his eyes.

—

“Chaeon.”

The door opened, and Yeonjun, dressed unusually casually, greeted her. His slightly tousled hair added to his naturally languid, dreamlike aura, making him seem even more enigmatic.

“Hello.”

Chaeon bowed slightly in greeting, and Yeonjun leaned against the doorway, stepping aside to let her in. She hesitantly lowered her head and entered the room. It seemed he had been reading, as several books were scattered haphazardly beside the sofa and on the table.

Emotions, psychology, smiles, conversation techniques… The titles hinted at a common theme, one that was hard to miss. Was he interested in psychology? Chaeon’s gaze suddenly stopped on one of the books.

“How to Have Kind Conversations…”

Unintentionally, she read the title aloud in a small voice. Yeonjun approached and picked up the book.

“Do you want to read it? Are you curious?”

“No, it’s not that I want to read it…”

“Hmm?”

“I just think… you don’t really need to read a book like that.”

At her words, Yeonjun smiled faintly and placed the book back on the table.

“Should I take that to mean you think I’m kind to you?”

As Chaeon nodded shyly, Yeonjun’s gaze momentarily softened with pity. He had noticed the faint traces of a slap and nail marks still lingering on her cheek.

“I’m sorry… about what happened with your mother.”

“Oh, it’s… fine…”

His delicate, slender fingers gently brushed her injured cheek. His casual yet tender touch made her heart sink again. Looking at her with a sorrowful gaze, Yeonjun murmured softly.

“My mother… she’s been unable to sleep properly for a long time.”

On her first day in the mansion, Chaeon had learned from Director Kim’s warnings that his mother suffered from somnambulism. She listened silently as Yeonjun continued.

“Her anxiety acts up often. She has a bit of an illness… in her heart.”