Chapter 53: Straws and Lifelines

“…It wasn’t that big of a deal.”

“But it is, Hyung. Most people give up, but you didn’t. Year after year, you kept your feet on the dirt, sowing seeds and coaxing them to sprout.”

“…….”

Seonghye stared obsessively into Yunhwan’s eyes. A person’s eyes hold as much information as their facial expressions, and they often served as the key for Seonghye to interpret Yunhwan’s silences.

“Was being a farmer your childhood dream?”

Yunhwan let out a faint chuckle at that. As the corners of his mouth drifted upward, Seonghye instinctively leaned forward. The sunlight filtering through the window hit Yunhwan’s face and scattered; Seonghye’s dark pupils moved busily to capture every detail of that sight.

Then, Yunhwan—

He closed the book he was reading and spoke in a mock-serious tone.

“Seonghye, if I had been farming all my life, I’d probably own over ten thousand acres by now.”

“…Ah.”

Min Seonghye quietly bit the inside of his lip. His cheek twitched minutely.

“And besides, there’s no rule saying a person has to have only one job for their entire life, right? If you try this and that, eventually you might find something that actually suits your aptitude.”

“You’re right, of course. You’re doing great, Hyung.”

Seonghye took a sip of water from the side table and arched an eyebrow, encouraging Yunhwan to continue.

“And the reason I chose farming out of all those jobs was….”

“The reason?”

The hand Yunhwan had resting on the book clenched and unclenched, his knuckles like smooth pebbles. Seonghye watched him calmly during the pause.

Yunhwan’s face, layered with deep thought, held the silence for a long time. Just as the heavy stillness between them made Seonghye’s gaze grow even more intense.

Finally, Yunhwan looked up at the clear scenery outside the window and began.

“…When I first moved down to Sanghee-ri, I stayed inside for a month because I didn’t know what to do. My grandmother, far from being angry that her grandson was becoming a total bum, would sit by my head every night while I slept and… ahem, give me courage.”

“Ah—”

“Every night, without missing a single day.”

Yunhwan cut himself off. While he rubbed his dry lips with his palm, Seonghye held his breath, listening intently for what came next.

“You’ll understand when you find someone like that, too, Seonghye. …When someone believes in you and supports you for no reason and without expecting anything in return, a person finds a way to stand back up, no matter the crisis or hardship.”

“Mmm.”

A pleasant voice settled on Yunhwan’s shoulder. Seonghye, who had moved behind him at some point, spoke with a softened expression.

“So, that’s why you chose farming?”

“…Well….”

Yunhwan’s clear eyes flickered to the side, meeting Seonghye’s gaze. Seonghye’s eyes had grown as soft as flower petals.

He began to knead Yunhwan’s shoulders with a mellow touch and whispered.

“You probably felt you had to do something immediately so as not to disappoint your grandmother. Since jobs in the countryside are extremely limited, it makes sense that you chose farming.”

“Uh….”

Min Seonghye demonstrated a deep capacity for empathy even over such a simple story. He looked at Yunhwan like a boy who had just heard a folk tale filled with touching lessons, causing Yunhwan to laugh awkwardly.

Three years ago, Yunhwan had wrapped up his entire life in Seoul and moved to Sanghee-ri. At the time, he had moved before his injuries from Hong Kong had fully healed, resulting in him being bedridden for a week as soon as he arrived.

By the time he finally came to his senses and got out of bed, late spring was passing and early summer was climbing into the remote mountain village. The orange-roofed house, usually quiet, began to grow lively around then.

Yunhwan’s grandmother was less upset that her grandson had thrown away a good job and more worried about his self-imposed isolation and internal wandering.

Exasperated by her grandson’s behavior at such a prime age, she poured her worries onto him almost every day. One day, unable to take the bickering anymore, Yunhwan stormed out of the house.

He headed for the local community center.

And as soon as he got there, he blurted out:

“Just give me any job… anything I can do in the countryside.”

The young clerk at the center stared blankly at the sight of Yunhwan, who sat there clad in a black suit that looked like a suit of armor.

“…Uh, first, could you tell me what kind of work you did before? Ah, the reason I ask is that work efficiency goes up when you do something that fits your aptitude, and it’s usually better to use your previous experience—”

“…I.”

Inside the community center, where he was the only customer, Yunhwan’s throat felt parched under the weight of several curious gazes. As he became conscious of them, he felt a wave of nausea.

It took a long time for the words to come out.

“…I don’t have any experience worth using. I just need to do something right now. I don’t know if it helps, but I was in the military for quite a while.”

The clerk, who had been watching him calmly, nodded in agreement.

“I see. If you were in for a long time, you must have been a non-commissioned officer or an officer. Well, that certainly counts as experience. Actually, this is the busy season for farms, so I can introduce you to daily labor. …But since you were in the military so long, it seems you need something more long-term. There’s actually a program targeted at young people like you—”

The clerk handed over a pamphlet that hadn’t seen much interest lately. Yunhwan’s gaze sank quietly as he followed the gesture.

Looking down at the pamphlet in his hand, Yunhwan frowned slightly. Honestly, the title was a bit much.

“Most people in their twenties and thirties who move back to the country do so for farming or starting a private business. The local government is actively running projects for them.”

Young Farmer School. The moment he read the printed words, Yunhwan’s expression turned incredulous. He wondered if they were telling him to shovel dirt here just because he had shoveled dirt in the army.

“And it’s free. There’s an entry fee, but they return it to you once you complete the course, so it’s basically free.”

The clerk consciously ignored the bandages scattered across Yunhwan’s face and murmured softly.

“Mmm… sometimes… people come looking for something to hold onto rather than just a job. Whether it’s a straw or something else. People who find themselves in urgent situations where they just need to start something often enroll.”

A suit that didn’t match the weather, overgrown hair, and an aura that was sharp yet gloomy. The clerk looked at Yunhwan, who had fallen silent at her words, and opened a drawer. Inside was an application form, which she placed in Yunhwan’s hand.

“The deadline happens to be tomorrow… think it over and if you’re interested, fill it out and submit it.”

“…….”

If that pamphlet had said something else back then, what would he be doing now?

While Yunhwan was lost in his memories.

“That decision back then is what led to the ‘you’ of today.”

Instead of a verbal reply, Min Seonghye reached out and hugged Yunhwan’s waist as he sat on the bed. Before Yunhwan could even be flustered, he whispered again.

“You did well, Hyung. You’re amazing. There are so many people who can’t get their act together no matter how much people try to beat sense into them, but you stood up bravely on your own. You’re so cool.”

“You, cut that….”

He was supposed to tell him to stop, but Seonghye spoke tenderly again. I want to see you happy, farming again. When the sprouts break through and the fruit grows lush, I’ll have grown an inch taller by your side, too. Life will be breathing everywhere your hand touches, and people who were sick in body and mind like me will be healed completely.

Finishing his words, Seonghye interlaced his fingers tightly around Yunhwan’s waist. While Yunhwan just sat there with his mouth agape at the whisper, Seonghye smiled quietly behind him. His sparkling black eyes had captured the sight of Yunhwan’s bright red ears.

“Your recent levels are remarkably stable. Min Seonghye, you’ve been taking your medicine well, haven’t you?”

Junseong didn’t hide his joy as he scanned the test results. At this rate, the surgery could proceed without any issues soon.

Seonghye, sitting across from Junseong, watched him with a peculiar gaze.

“You must have brought quite a useful drug. The effects are decent.”

“Ah, yeah. You don’t have to worry about the medicine. It’s passed clinical trials perfectly, and its safety is proven. There are already plenty of people lining up to buy this.”

“Is that so?”

Seonghye’s eyes narrowed for a split second, but Junseong, preoccupied with the reports, missed it.

Soon, Seonghye’s fingers resting on the armrest moved lightly, as if playing a piano.

“That medicine definitely seems effective. It doesn’t feel as repulsive as the injections did.”

Junseong glanced at Seonghye at the irregular sound coming from his fingertips. He was met with a dry, emotionless expression.