The Only One Who Remembers

Back when he was Jin-mok, there had been many who came to the palace as tributes from other nations. Because he resided in Bogyeong-dang, he rarely crossed paths with them directly, though he would occasionally catch glimpses of them when he moved to paint outdoors.

However, their movements were always restricted to the vicinity of the East Palace. In So-hwa’s body, he had no idea how far he was permitted to roam. Had his quarters been near the East Palace, he would have stayed within those bounds, but being stationed in Bogyeong-dang—so far removed from the center of guest activity—only deepened his confusion.

“There were no specific instructions saying you could not go certain places. You may wander wherever you wish. If there were restricted areas, we would have been given prior notice.”

“Could they not have simply forgotten to mention it?”

The boy tilted his head as if the question itself were absurd. “There are no people in this palace so lacking in thoroughness.”

Now that he thought about it, the young attendants had changed frequently in the past. Those who vanished were usually the ones whose hands were not “nimble” or whose attention was lacking. The nimblest and most capable among them had been the very boy standing before him: Yun-gyo.

In the past, Yun-gyo and three or four others had rotated duties to serve Jin-mok. Now, it was almost exclusively Yun-gyo who stayed at Bogyeong-dang to look after him. While there seemed to be others present when the boy was away, Jin-mok had no way of knowing who they were during his long bouts of illness.

“Now that I think of it, you have gone to great trouble to care for me.”

“It is my duty, Guest. Please do not trouble yourself over it.”

The boy’s attitude was markedly different. The Yun-gyo Jin-mok remembered was far more affectionate. Having grown a bit taller, the boy had developed a slightly cool edge.

It wasn’t that he was cold, per se. It was just that the constant, beaming smiles and the sense of intimacy were gone. His skill and attentiveness remained unchanged, but the warmth had vanished.

Jin-mok felt a pang of loneliness, realizing he was the only one holding onto a sense of closeness. It would have been wonderful to share the snacks sent by the Emperor and laugh together as they once had—though currently, there was nothing to share.

But this was Jin-mok’s burden alone. He couldn’t feel slighted by a child who was treating him as the stranger he appeared to be. He had no choice but to swallow his disappointment in silence.

Despite the season hovering on the threshold of winter, the sunlight was surprisingly warm. Walking aimlessly without a destination, Jin-mok felt a bead of sweat break and stopped in his tracks.

After only a few dozen steps, a cold sweat had soaked his brow. This body is truly too frail, he lamented silently. In that moment of inward despair, Yun-gyo leaned in.

“Guest, do you feel unwell?”

“The padded robe makes me a bit warm, so I stopped for a moment. Do not worry.”

“There is a small pond and a pavilion nearby. Let us rest there.”

“Let’s do that.”

Knowing exactly where the pavilion was, Jin-mok instinctively took the lead. He heard the steady thud-thud of the boy’s footsteps following behind.

Behind Bogyeong-dang lay a small pond called Seokhoe-jeong. The pavilion, built half over the water and half over the land, bore a slight resemblance to the one at So-hwa’s quarters in Gyeong.

In summer, the pond would have been carpeted with lotus leaves, but now only a few withered stalks remained. The trees surrounding the water were shedding their yellow and crimson leaves.

This was a place where Jin-mok used to occasionally drink tea with the Emperor. He didn’t come often, but on fine days, he would wander here alone from Bogyeong-dang.

Missing those times, he let out a heavy sigh. Yun-gyo, perhaps misinterpreting his fatigue, spoke with a voice full of concern.

“It must have been a taxing walk. You should sit and rest, Guest.”

Jin-mok felt a fresh wave of regret at the title. The affectionate voice that used to call him “Painter, Painter” was gone, replaced by the distant, formal word “Guest.”

“I suppose I should. Let us sit a while.”

As Jin-mok approached the pavilion, he stopped at the sight of a yellow bundle of fur beneath it.

“Goo-aeng.”

A strange cry rang out, and a round, stout cat stretched its body as it emerged slowly from the shadows of the pavilion.

Jin-mok knew this cat. It wasn’t a palace pet but a stray that had wandered in and made this area its territory long ago. Because of its fur—the color of scorched rice—Jin-mok had secretly nicknamed it Nurungji.

Nurungji approached with narrowed eyes, brushing its cheek against Jin-mok’s ankle as it passed.

“A… cat.”

His throat tightened. It wasn’t as if they had met frequently or that he had even fed the creature, yet it felt as if the cat recognized him.

“He usually doesn’t take to people. This is strange,” Yun-gyo remarked.

The boy’s voice barely registered in Jin-mok’s ears. As Jin-mok crouched down, the flat-faced cat circled him, rubbing its face against him and flicking its upright tail.

“Come here.”

It was agonizing to be in a situation where he couldn’t acknowledge his past. In the entire Imperial Palace, this tiny cat was the only living thing that seemed to know him—and he couldn’t even say how happy he was to see it.

Jin-mok reached out and stroked the fur of the cat, which was busy rubbing against him. Seeming satisfied with the amount of fur it had transferred to Jin-mok, the cat finally sat down and began to lick its paws.

“You’re still so scruffy.”

The cat was as unkempt as ever, but it was far heavier than before. It was so plump that Jin-mok wondered if it could even clear a wall anymore. Have the mice in the palace increased? It was rare for a stray living on vermin to grow this round.

“I see life in the palace has treated you well. How did you get so chubby?”

Yun-gyo, standing a few steps back, provided the answer.

“By His Majesty’s command, food is set out for it regularly.”

“The Emperor must be fond of cats.”

That didn’t seem to be the case before, Jin-mok thought. Had the Emperor developed an affection for the animal in his absence?

“It is not quite that…” Yun-gyo trailed off, uncharacteristically failing to finish his sentence. Jin-mok turned to look at him with a puzzled expression, but seeing the boy’s awkward face, he didn’t press further.

When Jin-mok stood up because his legs were falling asleep, Nurungji let out another “Goo-oong.” As soon as Jin-mok sat on the edge of the pavilion, the creature leapt onto his lap. It curled its body like one of the stone guardian statues scattered around the palace, tucked its paws beneath its chest, and began to purr loudly.

“Truly bizarre. It really seems to like you, Guest.”

Jin-mok simply smiled and slowly stroked the cat’s back. Between the warm sunlight and the cat’s body heat, he felt himself growing drowsy. The cat’s tail flicked against his thigh, the tickling sensation causing a natural laugh to escape him.

“You must be in a good mood. My lap is too narrow to be comfortable for you.”

Since the cat had grown so large, it almost completely covered So-hwa’s thin thighs. Even though he was wearing loose trousers, it was clear the cat was too big for the space, yet Nurungji closed its eyes in total contentment.

The cat turned its “smiling” face toward Jin-mok, purring vibrantly, gave a massive yawn, and curled into a tight ball. Even though one hind leg dangled off his lap, it didn’t seem to care, settling in for a nap.

“It is very… quiet here.”

To Jin-mok, the Imperial Palace had always been a bustling place. There were countless palace servants, guards on patrol, officials scurrying about, and the occasional royal. It had always been filled with a restless energy.

But the palace he had returned to was strangely tranquil. Bogyeong-dang was naturally isolated, but even on the walk here, he had encountered very few people.

“There seem to be fewer people in the palace than I expected. In Gyeong, one encounters a servant every few steps.”

After a brief pause, Yun-gyo replied, “Access to Bogyeong-dang and this surrounding area is restricted.”

“Restricted? What do you mean?”

“Access to Bogyeong-dang is always limited when a guest is staying there. As for this area, it has been some time since access was restricted to everyone except the person who feeds the cat.”

Jin-mok looked at the boy in surprise. “Then should we not be here?”

“That only applies to the palace staff. You need not concern yourself, Guest.”

As if to prove the boy’s words, a few officials eventually walked by. They glanced toward the pavilion but hurried along on their business without stopping.

As he sat there absentmindedly stroking the cat, Jin-mok heard the sound of several people approaching from the direction they had come. Before they arrived, Yun-gyo stepped closer to Jin-mok and whispered softly.