Seoyeon returned three days later.
They had delivered the official document to the southern county, received a reply, and were on their way back. There was no urgency, and no reason to hurry. Yet the horse's pace was faster than usual. Seoyeon had not urged it on. The horse had quickened on its own. Perhaps it was missing the stable.
Seoyeon decided to think of it that way.
A market was being held as they entered town. It was the spring market. Merchants who had come up from the village across the river had spread out their stalls, women were choosing fabric, and children milled around the candy seller. Seoyeon did not like crowded places. After living for ten thousand years, every human face began to look alike. A place filled with similar faces was exhausting.
Seoyeon dismounted and took the reins, intending to circle around the edge of the market, when they spotted someone standing in front of a stall.
They were dressed in men's clothes.
An official cap was pulled low over their head, and they wore a wide robe. Their frame was small. For a man, their shoulders were narrow and their hands delicate. They were looking down at the rice cakes laid out on the stall. It was impossible to tell whether they intended to buy one or were merely looking.
Seoyeon did not stop walking. It was not unusual to see someone dressed as a man in the marketplace. Women from noble families commonly disguised themselves as men when going out in public.
And then that person looked up.
Their eyes met Seoyeon's. The eyes visible beneath the official cap. Seoyeon had seen those eyes before. Three days ago, on the riverbank. Eyes that had been burning even as they were soaked with water.
The other person seemed to recognize Seoyeon, too. Their eyes widened for a moment. Only for a moment. Then they immediately turned their head away. They twisted their body toward the rice-cake stall, showing Seoyeon their back.
They were pretending not to know Seoyeon.
Seoyeon kept walking. There was no need to do anything but pass by. They had confirmed that the person pulled from the river was alive. That was enough. There was no reason to concern themselves with anything more.
But as Seoyeon passed, a voice reached their ears.
"I'll take one of these."
It was a hoarse voice. The same voice that had said, "Who asked you to save me?" three days ago. But it was not angry now. It was a slightly hesitant voice. The voice of someone who was embarrassed.
Seoyeon walked on. As they passed, they glanced at the stall. They had not meant to look. Their eyes had simply gone there on their own.
The other person accepted the rice cake. They took a bite, then scrunched up their face.
Seoyeon stopped walking.
That scrunched-up face. Someone who made that expression after taking a bite, yet kept eating until the very end. There had been someone like that ten thousand years ago. A child of twelve or thirteen, dressed in silk and wearing a silver hairpin, who had taken a spoonful of a poor scholar's barley porridge, scrunched up their face at the taste, and still eaten it to the end.
Seoyeon turned away.
No.
They had been fooled countless times over ten thousand years. There were any number of people in the world with similar habits. Surely that person was not the only one who scrunched up their face after eating a rice cake. To be shaken by something like that was not befitting someone who had lived for ten thousand years.
Seoyeon kept walking. They left the marketplace and rode toward the government office.
There was no sound behind them.
After arriving at the government office, delivering the reply document, and returning to their room, Seoyeon found it as narrow as ever. A room given to the youngest son of the Seo family was usually like that. Seoyeon found it comfortable. A narrow room had nothing to fill. If there was nothing to fill, then nothing was left empty, either.
As Seoyeon changed clothes, something fell from their sleeve.
A cherry blossom petal.
The petal from the riverbank three days ago was still there. It had dried, and its color had faded. Seoyeon picked it up. All they had to do was throw it away. Giving meaning to a single flower petal was not befitting someone who had lived for ten thousand years.
Seoyeon placed the petal on the desk.
They did not throw it away.
They decided not to think about why they had not.
The illness shifted inside their lungs. Seoyeon could feel that its roots had sunk a little deeper. They coughed once. It was the first time. The illness was growing, just as Seoyeon had wanted.
Seoyeon looked out the window. The sun was setting. The sky was red.
The face of the person who had scrunched up their face while eating a rice cake at the market came to mind. Seoyeon closed their eyes.
They had said they would not be fooled. They had decided to give up in this lifetime. They would not search.
And yet they wondered whether the market would be held again tomorrow.
Seoyeon tried to erase the thought. It would not disappear.
They coughed once more.