Chapter 14: A Name Given by Winter

Myeong knelt down and carefully looked at his reflection in the clear river. He was neither special nor important. He had learned that even the stones kicked aside along the roadside had more meaning than he did.

‘Who are you?’

The unanswered question sank beneath the riverbed.

For a hundred years, hope had been what kept him going. But as time passed, it gradually lost its shape, until only a shadow remained. Myeong pulled that shadow up and draped it over himself from head to toe, searching for the hope called the ice flower.

Yet this was both a hope for life and a surrender to death.

Myeong had staked everything on it. If he could not have any meaning, he had decided he would rather stop breathing.

He would return to Spring.

No.

He would die in Winter.

The two fates battled inside his chest.

“Get up.”

“…”

I-gyeol nudged the tearful Myeong awake with his left paw. If he was going to sleep, he should at least sleep properly. The boy’s quiet sobbing was irritating.

“Hey.”

“I’m awake.”

Myeong rubbed his eyes and wiped away his tears. But once his tears had started flowing, they showed no sign of stopping. With no other choice, Myeong covered his face with both hands so the wolf would not see him.

“Why are you crying after sleeping so well?”

I-gyeol had carried him all the way into the cave himself. Worried that he might be cold, he had even transformed into a wolf and wrapped Myeong up in his tail.

Instead of thanking him, the ungrateful little brat was sitting there sniffling and crying, putting I-gyeol in a foul mood.

I-gyeol licked Myeong’s hand. Along with the metallic taste of blood, he tasted the bitterness of grass.

“Sniff… ngh…”

Myeong was not even crying normally. He tried to suppress his sobs and make as little noise as possible.

Back in Spring, Myeong had often cried. But he had only ever been scolded for looking ugly or being too noisy, so he had learned to hide his tears.

I-gyeol sighed, then opened his mouth and bit down gently on Myeong’s head. When his teeth lightly touched Myeong’s forehead, Myeong startled and pulled his hands away, staring at him.

“Stop before I eat you.”

“…”

Myeong nodded and hugged the fluffy tail tightly against his chest.

A sudden wave of sorrow had left him depressed. I-gyeol briefly wondered whether he should pull his tail out of the dirty boy’s arms or simply leave him alone.

‘Is this because I asked why he didn’t go to the feast? Damn it. I only asked one question.’

I-gyeol glared at Myeong, whose shoulders had drooped, and sorted through his thoughts.

He had mercifully carried him to the cave himself, yet this ungrateful little brat lacked the sense to understand that and dared to act up.

Of course, I-gyeol was the one who had caused the avalanche in the first place.

But that was beside the point.

Myeong’s brown eyes were moist with sorrow. His light-brown hair had been repeatedly frozen and thawed, leaving it rough and badly damaged. His clothes were worn and tattered, exposing the wounds on his body.

He had lost all his belongings in the avalanche, leaving him with nothing.

The only fortunate thing was that he had kept the aquatic plant capable of holding the ice flower against his chest, so he had not lost it.

Myeong took out the plant. Many of its leaves had fallen away from all the abuse it had endured, and its stem was bent, but it still seemed usable.

“Wolf-nim.”

“…”

Annoyed by everything the boy did, I-gyeol pretended not to hear him and turned his head away.

“Wolf-nim!”

“For goodness’ sake.”

Perhaps Myeong thought he was deaf. He called out even louder, and I-gyeol snapped irritably.

The thing was barely the size of a bean, yet he had far too little fear.

“What is your name, Wolf-nim?”

Unaware that I-gyeol was holding back his temper, Myeong asked with sparkling eyes.

It was something he had wanted to ask but had never dared to.

Myeong had always been insecure about his own name, so even though he was curious about the wolf’s name, he had forced himself to pretend he did not care.

But he did not want to do that anymore.

He wanted to become closer.

They said one should know where it was safe to lie down before stretching out one’s legs. Myeong did not know it himself, but he had somehow recognized that beside the wolf was the place where he could rest.

“I-gyeol.”

The Winter King spoke his name in a low voice.

The name of the season that had been bestowed upon him before he was even born carried the weight of his existence. It was dazzlingly radiant and beautiful, as though adorned with crystals shimmering in every color.

Myeong could not bring himself to repeat it aloud. He merely let the name slip from his lips.

“…”

Compared to that, how lowly was his own name?

Myeong’s brows drew together.

“My name is Myeong.”

“I know.”

I-gyeol transformed from the wolf back into his true form.

He spread his white robes over Myeong’s body, covering him, then gently touched Myeong’s hair.

The texture was not particularly pleasant.

He tapped Myeong’s round forehead with his finger and examined his ears, checking whether they were properly attached and what shape they were.

As expected, this servant was hardly of sufficient standing to be swallowed in one bite.

“I don’t have a name. That’s why I’m Myeong.”

As though confessing something shameful, Myeong finally revealed his secret.

“…”

He had suspected it, but he had never imagined that Myeong truly meant nameless—無名.

I-gyeol watched him with lowered eyes.

Myeong’s face was still full of tears, as though he might burst into sobs again at any moment.

“I don’t even know if I’m a servant of Spring. The God of Spring never gave me a name.”

“That much is true. You smell like Spring.”

Even Asha, one of the strongest servants of Winter, had failed to recognize Myeong as a servant of Spring.

But I-gyeol could detect the faint scent of Spring lingering on him.

“I’m nothing.”

“You are nothing.”

It was as though Elder Giju’s voice had come riding on the winter wind.

Myeong covered both ears with his small hands and curled into himself.

A life that should never have been born.

He was a burden.

An extra.

I-gyeol sat with his back against the cave wall and looked at Myeong’s small head.

Beneath the glittering stars, a young servant was wandering, lost.

“…That’s why I came to find the ice flower. I thought if I gave it to the God of Spring, perhaps he would give me a name.”

Myeong sniffled as he summarized his life for I-gyeol. Then he added what he had been thinking.

“But now I’m not sure anymore. If I take the ice flower to him, will the god even recognize me?”

It was the thought that had followed him the entire time he had entered the frozen lake and dug through the frozen earth.

‘Even if I bring back the ice flower, will he recognize me? Or will he simply declare that I’m not a servant of Spring?’

Weeds had no meaning.

Perhaps Myeong had no meaning either.

Myeong shuddered in fear.

“Is there any life that is born because it wants to be born?”

I-gyeol exhaled.

He had not been born because he wanted to be born, either. Since he was already alive, he simply continued living.

Only Mago could determine the course of life.

An endless life that he could not even bring to an end himself.

A grand title that was nothing but an empty façade.

Foolish servants who trusted and depended solely upon him.

He was bound for something close to eternity beneath the responsibility of maintaining balance.

Had he not envied Summer when he watched him fade away…?

“Just live. Just live.”

There was no answer he could give.

I-gyeol clicked his tongue as he looked at the young servant who clung desperately to life.

What meaning could there be?

Everyone was merely living because they could not quite manage to die.

Meaning was a luxury.

“…”

‘Isn’t that something you can say because you’re strong, Wolf-nim?’

The words lingered at the tip of Myeong’s tongue, but he did not say them.

There was something about the wolf’s eyes.

They were filled with emptiness and weariness, and he looked tired.

“If you really want to find one, then give yourself a meaning.”

“How?”

“Do I have to tell you how, too?”

“You don’t know either, do you, Wolf-nim?”

“You little brat.”

At Myeong’s brazen reply, I-gyeol let out a hollow laugh and lightly flicked Myeong’s forehead with his finger.

The boy had only been born yesterday, yet he dared to talk back to the Winter King.

Still, seeing the young life tremble with the desperate will to survive did not put him in a particularly bad mood.

It was the first time in a long while that he had felt such a vivid pulse of life.

With the tears finally gone from his face, Myeong moved closer to I-gyeol’s side.

The warmth beside him melted something inside his heart.

“How do the servants of Winter get their names? Does the Winter Wolf-nim give them their names?”

Nothing had really been resolved, but Myeong’s heart felt a little lighter.

So he began asking I-gyeol about all the things he had always been curious about.

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