Chapter 40: A Fever Dream of What Was Lost

“My goodness, what should we do? How did you catch such a bad cold?”

The maid spoke with deep concern. Faced with her worry, Hae-min couldn’t bring himself to admit he had done it on purpose, so he simply replied shortly,

“It’s winter.”

“Well… that’s true.”

It was the kind of season where anyone could come down with a cold, so the maid didn’t find it strange at all that Hae-min had fallen ill overnight. She only kept repeating things like, “Oh dear, what will we do with you coughing like this…”

Was she really worried about him? Perhaps it was only natural, since she served him, but to Hae-min, it felt oddly unfamiliar and a little awkward.

“You should leave now. What if you catch it from staying with me?”

“I’ll be fine.”

“There’s no use nursing a cold anyway.”

His tone was cold, but he knew this much harshness was necessary for her to leave. It was better for her sake.

“Are you really sure you’ll be alright?”

“I said I’m fine- cough.”

As if to contradict him, another fit of coughing broke out. Covering his mouth, Hae-min waved his other hand weakly, urging her to go.

“You must drink plenty of water. Please, you must.”

Emphasizing her words, the maid finally left the room.

Even after she was gone, Hae-min continued coughing, his breathing turning ragged.

“Ha… ha…”

His throat burned from coughing so much. Still, in a way, it worked out. Anyone could see he was clearly ill now. If he had gone this far, at least it made catching a cold worthwhile.

He lay back down. After some time of intermittent coughing, he sensed movement outside the door. It was probably the maid again.

He had told her to leave, yet she lingered. Clicking his tongue, Hae-min called out,

“Is something the matter?”

“No, young master.”

“Then why are you still there?”

Forcing his weak body upright, he crawled over on his knees and opened the door.

“…”

It wasn’t the maid. It was the steward, standing solidly in front of her.

“What brings you here of all places? Shouldn’t you be busy running the household… Did my lord send you?”

“No.”

“Then why-”

A cold gust swept in just then. He had welcomed it the night before, but not today.

“Come inside first,” Hae-min said.

“No, I couldn’t possibly.”

The steward replied stiffly. Clearly, he was reluctant to enter the quarters of his master’s concubine. It might have been his way of showing respect, but to Hae-min, it was more irritating than anything.

“Is this some inner chamber? Just come in. Unless you have no business here.”

“…”

“If not, I’ll close the door.”

He tapped the door impatiently. At last, the steward stepped forward, the maid following behind. Once both were inside, Hae-min shut the door.

Warmth returned to the room, but an awkward silence settled in. Hae-min had nothing to say to the steward, and the steward seemed the same. Only the maid muttered while checking the kettle,

“You hardly drank any water…”

“I’ll lie down for a bit.”

Hae-min returned to bed, hoping whatever business the steward had would be finished quickly.

“Was any medicinal decoction prepared for the young master?”

“Not yet…”

At the steward’s question, the maid answered timidly. He clicked his tongue.

“How are you attending to him? No wonder he’s caught a cold.”

“I’m sorry…”

“At the very least, you should have prepared ssanghwa-tang, or even pumpkin tea.”

Hae-min frowned slightly. The raised voice made his already aching head throb. Even if it wasn’t directed at him, he had no desire to listen to a scolding.

“…If you have no business with me, you may leave.”

His voice was hoarse from coughing. The steward fell silent. An uncomfortable stillness filled the room.

Then, abruptly, the steward spoke.

“Take good care of your health.”

With that, he quickly left. As the door shut, Hae-min let out a sigh.

“Ha…”

Was that concern or a threat? Even if he was just a concubine, did he have to be treated like this?

Normally, it wouldn’t have bothered him, but perhaps because he was ill, it stung more than usual.

He was still coughing softly when the maid whispered with a hint of laughter,

“I think Uncle Jang was really worried about you.”

“Uncle Jang? You mean the steward?”

“Yes. That’s what we call him.”

Regardless of what they called him, it hadn’t seemed like concern at all. If anything, it felt like disapproval.

“He came running as soon as he heard you were sick.”

“…”

“He said people from Hanyang are weak against the cold, and that you, especially, are so frail that even a passing cold could become serious.”

“…That still doesn’t sound like concern-”

Cough, cough.

He couldn’t finish his sentence. The coughing clung to him stubbornly, and he was beginning to tire of it.

“That’s just how he is. Rough and blunt, but very warm-hearted.”

“…Warm-hearted?”

“Yes. He cherishes everything in this household, people, animals, even trees and flowers.”

A dull ache pulsed at his temples. Whether it was from the cold or the unexpected words, he couldn’t tell. Hae-min let out a hollow laugh, staring up at the rafters.

“So that’s how it is…”

Thinking back, the steward had never openly said he disliked him. He had only acted curt. It was easy to interpret that as disapproval, but perhaps it had been a misunderstanding.

‘Or maybe he does dislike me, just not enough to hate me outright.’

To realize something like this only after dying once and returning to the past, what an absurd irony.

“The water’s gone cold. I’ll bring fresh hot water—or better yet, some ssanghwa-tang.”

“No need. I should sleep.”

Drowsiness crept over him. Pulling the blanket up to his chin, Hae-min closed his eyes.

“Yes, young master. Then I’ll bring the medicine later tonight.”

The maid quietly withdrew.

Silence returned to the room, no longer awkward, but gentle, wrapping around him.

Hae-min drifted into sleep.

****

When he opened his eyes again, he was somewhere else.

Not Songdo. Not Hanyang. Somewhere entirely different.

It was a small tavern near Seonuimun.

In his arms was a child.

A small, smiling child with clear jade-colored eyes, unlike his own.

The moment their eyes met, Hae-min realized he was dreaming.

“…Bok-deong.”

He whispered like a sigh, pulling the child tightly into his arms. The warmth filling his embrace made his eyes sting.

It was a fragile dream, thin as ice, ready to shatter at any moment. Knowing this, Hae-min desperately tried to hold onto it.

‘My beautiful Bok-deong…’

He couldn’t bring himself to say he missed him. Instead, he gently stroked the child’s forehead. Even in such a shallow dream, the sensation was vivid, soft skin, even softer hair.

‘…Daddy…’

His lips trembled.

‘I’ll come see you someday.’

That, at least, was something he could hope for. Everyone dies eventually. If they could meet again in the afterlife, he would ask for nothing more.

‘But don’t wait for me. If you get the chance, you must be reborn.’

Even then, he felt they would meet again. Perhaps it was foolish, baseless hope, but that’s how he felt.

Bok-deong’s small lips moved, as if about to babble.

And then, a cold wind blew through.

The dream scattered like dust.

There was nothing left in his arms.

“…”

Hae-min slowly opened his eyes.

He didn’t feel particularly sad that the dream had ended. It was only natural. All dreams fade, and Bok-deong was gone.

Still, an emptiness remained, as if a hole had opened in his chest. He pressed a hand against his heart.

Then…

A low voice spoke.

“Are you in much pain?”

Recognizing the voice, Hae-min jolted upright, only for dizziness to overwhelm him, his body faltering.

Seong Seol caught him, supporting him carefully.

Leaning against him, Hae-min struggled to catch his breath.

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