Chapter 3: Waiting for Dawn

Gyesa replied curtly.

“Are you just saying that?

What do you even know?”

I let out a small laugh at his childish sulking.

Relief washed over me as the hostile atmosphere eased, and the sound slipped out naturally.

Perhaps my laughter tickled his ear, because Gyesa flinched slightly.

The rim of his ear had turned red, as if stained with balsam flower dye.

I leaned in and whispered softly to his flushed ear.

“I know you’ll make your wish come true.

Because even if I don’t know anything, Gyesa, you do.”

“…That’s not true.”

He rubbed his face against my shoulder again and muttered quietly.

“Hm?”

“Idiot.

You don’t know anything.”

“Ah… sorry.

Was I being presumptuous?”

His scolding left me awkward.

As I fidgeted with my fingers on his back, watching his mood, Gyesa clicked his tongue and straightened up.

As his face lifted away from me, my gaze followed.

He let out a low sigh and reached out with his large hand, roughly ruffling my hair.

“Hey!

Gyesa— I’m getting dizzy.”

I squeezed my eyes shut against the hair falling into my face, then opened them to see him wearing a mischievous expression.

Gyesa, back to his usual self, clicked his tongue once more.

“With you… I just can’t stay mad.”

“Then… are you not angry anymore?”

“Don’t be ridiculous.”

He tugged one corner of his mouth into a smile.

That refreshingly boyish smile still lingered, and my heart fluttered helplessly.

But perhaps I was the only one affected, because Gyesa soon began preparing to leave.

“That’s enough.

Go to sleep first.

They say we’re packing up and moving tomorrow, so it’ll be tiring.”

“…Okay.”

“What are you doing?

Lie down already.”

Only after making sure I lay down did he finally leave the barracks.

The tenderness I usually loved felt a little cruel this time.

As always, we argued, then quickly made up.

If anything was different, it was that he had spoken of his nightly outings—something that had been an unspoken rule before.

Even after clearing the misunderstanding between us, that topic remained like a thorn, pricking at the inside of my mouth.

Truthfully, I wanted to ask.

So you’re not coming back tonight either?

Can’t you stay?

Please don’t go to those people who treat you badly.

But the answer was already decided.

I didn’t have the courage to ruin the fragile peace we had regained, so I couldn’t ask.

All I could do was believe he would return and wait.

The frustration and sorrow of being able to do nothing weighed heavily on me, yet I couldn’t even cry.

When I was little, I used to cry on purpose because I liked how flustered Gyesa would get, trying to comfort me.

But after the day I was badly injured in an accident and began limping, after seeing Gyesa suffer as if he might die, I could no longer cry at all.

From his composed eyes, thick tears fell like chicken droppings.

That was the first—and last—time I ever saw Gyesa cry.

“Gyesa will come back soon.”

I kept repeating to myself that he had no choice but to go, that he would return in the end.

Still, the night felt unbearably long.

“Has the kid come?”

After waiting all night with my eyes open, Gyesa still hadn’t returned by dawn.

I headed alone to the barracks where meals were served.

Breakfast was porridge made by boiling together leftover soybean-cake scraps from yesterday’s performance and sweet potato stems.

I didn’t even have time to complain about the food, my eyes darting about in search of any sign of Gyesa.

“Mister.

Have you seen Gyesa?”

Thinking he might have come to eat early, I looked around, but he wasn’t there.

Instead, I approached “Obaltan,” who always called me “kid.”

Huge in stature, missing one eye, and sporting a bushy beard, Obaltan looked fierce, yet he always took good care of Gyesa and me.

He said we reminded him of his own children.

But I knew.

I knew why he was called Obaltan, and why a man who had once been a volunteer soldier ended up drifting all the way here, to Chunrak Circus.

Once a legendary sharpshooter, Obaltan had fired just one wrong bullet on the day bandits came, losing his entire family—his wife and even the child in her womb.

Since then, waiting for the day he could meet his enemy again and take revenge, he wandered the country with us.

So Obaltan had no children of his own.

‘So what if that’s the case.’

No matter his past, I liked Obaltan quite a bit.

He was the one who secretly slipped me barley rice cakes and taught me how to shoot a gun when I was little.

Besides, who in Chunrak Circus didn’t have a story.

“Gyesa?

Haven’t seen him.

Why—didn’t he come back last night?”

I nodded at his question.

He clicked his tongue briefly and tried to reassure me.

“Don’t worry too much.

He’ll be back soon enough.

We’ve got to pack this afternoon anyway, so he’ll return before then.”

“Yes….”

“And where would that punk go without you?”

If only that were true.

Why do I feel so uneasy.

I swallowed the words and forced an awkward smile.

“Eat up first.

Gyesa—well, he’s probably stuffing himself with good food outside.

The ladies are especially fond of him.”

His careless words made my throat tighten.

Hearing him touch on a topic so close to my weakness made the anxiety and sorrow that had tormented me all night surge back.

Gyesa’s words about being treated like a beast lingered painfully in my mind.

Unlike me, abandoned miserably in front of the circus tent, Gyesa was beautiful and radiant.

If he had been raised with proper care, he would have grown into a noble, imposing man like no other.

‘He already is that wonderful.’

Once, a storyteller who stayed briefly with the circus—Chotsaegi—told us about monsters in a faraway land that lived on blood.

If, as Gyesa said, we truly were monsters or beasts.

Then I would have gladly given him my blood, fed him until he was full, until he grew strong.

But clowns who were neither human nor monster could only stave off hunger with slop cooked from scraps people wouldn’t eat.

“Anyway, that Gyesa—he’ll come help clean the barracks, right?

Kid, you should scold that slippery bastard a bit too.

Don’t just coddle him.”

“How could I do that.”

“No reason you can’t.

You do everything for him, so that’s why he’s grown so crooked.

He wasn’t like that before—

well, maybe he was.

But he’s gotten worse as he’s grown.”

“That’s not true.

You just don’t know him well.

Gyesa does far more for me.”

“Oh, sure.

If you say so.

Still, it’s good that you two get along.

You’ve been inseparable since you were this small….”

I smiled faintly at Obaltan’s rambling about the past.

It was obvious he was trying to be considerate of my low spirits.

Right.

This useless anxiety was something I had to sort out myself.

Only then could I smile as if nothing were wrong when Gyesa returned.

“Come on, eat up and let’s get some energy before cleaning the barracks.

It’s a long road to Jeonsang City.”

The circus’s next destination was Jeonsang City.

Chunrak Circus never stayed in one place.

They performed in one city for as little as two weeks, at most a month, and once popularity waned, they packed up and moved on.

So none of the circus members really had a hometown.

“Come to think of it, kid—what do you plan to do once we get to Jeonsang?”

“What do you mean?”

“Isn’t Jeonsang your hometown?

Seems like we’ll be staying there a while this time.”

“Really?”

“Well, if you want, I can talk to that money-grubber and get you some free time—”

“Mister.

What are you trying to say?”

His roundabout way of speaking irritated me.

When I asked with a pout, he looked flustered.

“I mean—damn it.

I’m asking if you want to look for your family or relatives while we’re there.

Or anyone who might remember you.”

“Oh, come on.

What a pointless thing to say.

I’ve never once left the circus on my own—what good would free time do?

And my family is right here.”

Snorting lightly, I brushed off his words.

He thumped his chest with a hand as big as a pot lid, clearly frustrated.

“Kid, you can’t think of oddballs like us as your family.

And you know it too.

Our circus—”

Raising his voice, Obaltan paused and looked around.

Then he lowered it to a whisper.

“Chunrak Circus is falling apart.

It can’t be a place to stay forever.

You and Gyesa are old enough now—you should start preparing to stand on your own.”

“Independence…

It’s not like we can just do it because we want to.

Do you know how much debt Gyesa and I have?”

I avoided his gaze and tried to brush it off, but he didn’t give up.

“You weren’t sold, so what debt do you have!

Gyesa’s another story, sure.

But still… at this point, he could start paying his off.

Didn’t he say anything?

He’s always talking about leaving the circus.”

“I really don’t know!

And what about you, mister?

You don’t have any debt—why are you still here?”

When I asked again, pouting at his persistence, he gave a bitter smile.

“For someone like me, there’s no one waiting, no hope, no future.

But you two are different.

You shouldn’t trap yourselves in a world this small so early.”

“…Am I really any different?”

“Of course you are.”

“Different how!

If they hadn’t hated me, would they have abandoned a baby who hadn’t even lost their umbilical cord, in the dead of winter?

They dumped me right in front of the circus so I’d be fed to beasts.

If they wanted me to live, they could’ve left me at an orphanage or something.”

“Hey.

You shouldn’t say things like that.”

“Please.

Do you think I’m really that stupid?

I may not be educated, but I know my place.

What’s my hometown?

If being abandoned makes a place my hometown, then if I’m abandoned again here, this will be my hometown too.”

At the sharp words that spilled out before I realized it, Obaltan let out a rough sigh.

He looked at me with pity, his expression heavy with concern.