March Novel (Completed) - Chapter 141 (End)

Large, star-like eyes gazed up at his face. Gi Taejeong called the child’s name a little louder, enunciating clearly.

“Lee Haerim.”

“What’s that?”

He was acting more seriously than ever, but Sehwa giggled, finding something so amusing.

“Why?”

“Because you sound like a real soldier.”

“Well, that’s because I am a real soldier…?”

“No, the tone of the Major General’s voice when you called Haerim, it was like… ‘Lee Haerim, attention! At ease!’ That kind of feeling.”

“…Was it?”

“Yes, it was.”

After a beat, Sehwa slowly nodded his head, as if replaying Gi Taejeong’s call from a moment ago.

“Haerim isn’t crying anymore, so I think you can put her down now.”

“Really?”

Gi Taejeong awkwardly bent down, holding the tiny baby, Haerim, as instructed. As his posture changed, the parts of him touching the baby tickled as she vigorously waved her hands.

“Wait a minute. What if she cries again after I put her down?”

“Huh?”

Just as he was about to lay Haerim down on the soft bed, Gi Taejeong suddenly turned to Sehwa.

“We haven’t even found out why she suddenly cried… What if I lay her down again and she cries really hard this time? There’d be no way to stop her then.”

One must always prevent accidents before they happen. If such a tiny thing frequently bursts into tears, it must be hard for her, so wouldn’t it be better to keep holding her like this? As he found himself in a dilemma due to this sudden thought, Sehwa puffed out his cheeks in disbelief and approached Gi Taejeong.

“Then you can just pick her up again.”

“If she cries, you comfort her, and if she’s cute, you hold her. That’s all you need to do,” Sehwa said nonchalantly, leading to Gi Taejeong’s hand.

“She’ll be fine again soon.”

Despite the gesture having no strength at all, his body moved as Sehwa pulled and pushed.

On the ivory bed, where cotton bunnies, deer, and ducks were occasionally lined up, the baby’s body, as soft as a doll, slowly settled down.

Contrary to his worries, Haerim seemed to remain in good spirits even after being laid down. Landing always needed to be done carefully. Gi Taejeong idly touched the wispy ends of Haerim’s dandelion-fluff hair, swallowing a thought he was too embarrassed to share with Sehwa.

“Should I leave her like this?”

“Yes, she plays well if you turn on the mobile.”

“Do I press this button?”

“Yes. Um… Major General. I’m about to change Haerim’s clothes.”

“Would you like to see?” Sehwa stammered, asking. He had been so impressed by Gi Taejeong’s calm and steady demeanor, as he had held the child and called her name as if it were nothing… but it seemed he couldn’t help but be nervous. And in Sehwa’s trembling, Gi Taejeong felt undeniable love. He even imagined the absurd idea of wanting to lean into and be embraced by the brave Sehwa, who stumbled yet moved forward, a man much smaller than himself.

“Her little hands and feet are still so… so cute.”

Sehwa rummaged through the baby’s wardrobe, saying that her tightly clenched fists were probably smaller than his own big toe. Inside the warm wooden furniture, rompers and hats were neatly arranged.

For Sehwa’s sake, Gi Taejeong also tried to act nonchalant, to prevent the conversation from delving deeper, and to allow Sehwa to treat him casually.

“…What kind of baby clothes are these?”

But without even trying, a critical remark naturally escaped him as he looked at the baby clothes in the wardrobe.

“Why?”

“They’re a bit too…”

It seemed whoever bought them just threw in whatever looked cute, as the colors and designs were all over the place. Come to think of it, even now, her clothes and that seemed to clash. Of course, Haerim herself was adorable enough to want to bite…

“Indeed. You were dressed strangely when I first saw you too.”

“Ah, that was…!”

Sehwa, who was about to take out a pink hat with bunny ears, bristled and turned to Gi Taejeong.

The face of the man he loved, who still found him difficult but no longer instilled fear.

Gi Taejeong watched Sehwa, who began to offer a string of excuses about the clothes he wore back then, and laughed again. It was a problem that such silly laughter kept escaping him.

Their luggage was simple. Large items like Haerim’s crib and sterilizer had been sent ahead, so there wasn’t much to carry. All he needed was himself and Haerim.

Just two days ago, Gi Taejeong had held Haerim in one fixed position, but in that short time, he had become adept at handling the child. The way he deftly placed Haerim in the small, round, basket-like car seat and fastened her mittens seemed even better than Sehwa’s own skill.

It was Gi Taejeong who, instead of Sehwa, who had hesitated, wondering what if he dropped her while carrying her carelessly instead of holding her close, firmly grasped the car seat handle and moved it to the car and then to the mansion.

“The house seems too small.”

“This is enough.”

Gi Taejeong patted Haerim’s back as she sucked on her pacifier, looking around the house. He thought the lighting wasn’t as good as he’d expected, disliked the color of one thing, and something else about another… The only things he didn’t find fault with were his spacious bed in the master bedroom and Haerim’s bed placed next to it.

“Aren’t you busy today?”

“No.”

It was a lie. Since Gi Taejeong and Sehwa had reunited, Lieutenant Park, who usually didn’t press them when they were together, had visited several times in the past few days. His wristwatch alarm would sometimes buzz threateningly. Yet, Gi Taejeong only said it was fine, it didn’t matter. He lingered idly by Sehwa and Haerim’s side until his exasperated adjutants pleaded in dying voices.

Sehwa, lost in thought, chuckled to himself. Who would have thought the day would come when he’d use the word ‘lingered’ to describe Gi Taejeong?

“Did you say General Oh Seonran is coming tonight?”

“Yes. We’re having a small dinner at home.”

Gi Taejeong’s hands, stroking Haerim, quickened slightly at the reply. Since there was no invitation for him to stay for dinner, it seemed he was looking for an opportune moment to casually slip away.

Of course, Sehwa had no intention of kicking him out, but he didn’t dislike seeing Gi Taejeong being mindful of him, so Sehwa pretended not to notice and changed the subject. His complaints were trivial, like how nice the view was, or how confusing the controller was with its many modern features.

Gi Taejeong’s eyes lit up, searching for flaws, but this house, provided by General Oh Seonran, was more than Sehwa deserved. Though smaller than Gi Taejeong’s mansion-like quarters, it lacked nothing. It was close to the hospital, so he could rush Haerim there anytime if she got sick, and he also liked the excellent security system.

He had jumped for joy when he was assigned a cramped single room, so there was no way he wouldn’t like such a pretty and wonderful space. He was simply grateful and sorry to General Oh Seonran, who had bought him a house without even making a fuss about it.

“Oh, by the way. I’ve been thinking about it…”

He exaggerated a little. It wasn’t ‘continuously,’ but rather a whimsical thought that had suddenly come to him last night, as he focused all his senses on Gi Taejeong’s presence, who had fallen asleep on the living room sofa in the protection room.

“What is it?”

“It’s… a bit embarrassing, but…”

“It’s okay, tell me.”

“Promise not to tease me,”

“I won’t tease you. What is it?”

“Ah… um, I’m thinking of… learning how to make desserts.”

“Desserts? Like baking?”

“Ah, yes… I want to do something after being discharged, but nothing specific comes to mind… Still, I thought I might be good at measuring flour…”

Gi Taejeong, who had been staring at him without a word, slowly smiled. The corners of his mouth twitched into a crescent moon, then opened wide with a hearty laugh.

Sehwa felt a little downcast. He said he wouldn’t tease him. Even though he thought it was a ridiculous reason himself, there was no need to laugh that much…

“Yes, that’s true. At least in that field, no one will be able to beat you.”

Though still full of laughter, it felt more like affection than mockery… Sehwa just rubbed his forehead in embarrassment. These past few days, Gi Taejeong kept laughing like that.

“Yes, so… General Oh Seonran and the Major General both said they’d assign a reliable sitter, so I thought I could leave Haerim for a bit and study in the evenings. Of course, I think I still need to exercise more diligently…”

“Are you going to enroll in a vocational school?”

“Well, I’m not confident enough for that… For now, just as a hobby…”

“Okay, that’s good. Go for it. As you said, anything.”

Twenty-two years. It was impossible to immediately shed the ingrained habits of a lifetime, however short. Like the muddy water that always ended up soaking his ankles no matter how much he struggled, the traces of his life as Samwol in Districts 2 and 4 were not easily erased.

So Sehwa decided not to try to forget them. He neither self-deprecatingly pulled out fragments of the past nor ignored them as if nothing was inside… He was trying to accept that what had happened before was also a part of him.

Even with the best medicine, phantom pain remains.

He had tried to live forgetting Gi Taejeong as if he were a stranger, but the moment he faced his eyes, all thoughts vanished. He even tearfully accepted the man who had willingly shed blood to protect him.

Haerim was the same. While he would risk everything for Haerim now, that didn’t erase the fear and depression he felt when the child first came into his life.

The lingering pain, like aftershocks, remained. Good and bad were not clearly separated. Yet, what was clear was that things were slowly getting better. He could talk about past events with Gi Taejeong, and when he looked at Haerim, there was nothing left but love.

If he diligently filled these deeply hollowed spaces, perhaps one day he would truly find himself healthy and strong. So Sehwa decided not to hide or be ashamed of his childish idea of learning baking because he was good at measuring flour, or the reason why he was good at it.

“Is that a rose?”

Gi Taejeong frowned deeply, looking at the terrace, which was as large as the living room, beyond the window.

“Why would they plant so many of those? Flowers with so many thorns, what if the baby gets hurt?”

“Hmm, wouldn’t it be a long time before Haerim gets hurt by rose thorns…?”

“Still.”

Gi Taejeong mumbled seriously, saying, “You might get pricked if you’re walking around holding Haerim.”

“Tetanus is so deadly. If you don’t act fast, you could die.”

It seemed he wasn’t just nitpicking, but seriously considering pulling out all the saplings. Sehwa just hummed, clearing his throat. What should he say in response?

“This won’t do. Come to the quarters when the weather gets warmer.”

It was a deflating statement, rendering his worry pointless. Was this what he wanted to say all along?

“There are no dangerous flowers like that in the quarters.”

“Unless I deliberately fall onto a rose, Haerim won’t die of tetanus…”

Even though Sehwa protested softly, Gi Taejeong just repeated that he should come to the quarters. He seemed like someone who had been biding his time, waiting for the right moment to bring up this topic.

“However safe a civilian building is, can it compare to officer’s quarters?”

“That’s true, but…”

“Exactly. Think positively. I’m busy anyway, so I won’t be home much.”

Busy? Hadn’t he been lounging in the protection room every day? Sehwa reluctantly nodded, and Gi Taejeong emphasized again, without an ounce of shame. He said he was truly busy, so they could feel like they were living alone, just Sehwa and Haerim. Truly, people never change. He was utterly shameless.

“Come in, okay?”

“When the weather gets warmer.”

“Are you serious?”

It was a meaningless reply, like Haerim’s baby gestures. Knowing that, Gi Taejeong persistently clung to Sehwa’s words.

“Are you serious about coming in when the weather gets warmer?”

“Well, I don’t know. It’s still a long way off, isn’t it?”

“A long way off? It’ll warm up quickly.”

His fingertips pointed to a well-trimmed, massive rose bush. In fact, Sehwa hadn’t even known it was a rose. He just accepted it because Gi Taejeong had said so earlier.

“Since it has thorns, leaves will sprout soon, and then the flowers will bloom in an instant.”

“…Really?”

“Yes. In unfamiliar climates, I used to gauge the season by looking at flowers and plants. As a sign that the season was changing.”

If the thorny bushes intertwined, it meant flowers would soon bloom.

It meant spring was coming…

“…I see.”

Sehwa somehow felt a sudden warmth behind his eyes and just tugged at his innocent top. Ah… An indescribable, poignant sensation melted his entire body.

He had never told him that he felt like he only had thorns, so how did he know to bring this up? How could this person so effortlessly drop words that made his heart soften?

“The baby must be cold.”

Gi Taejeong clicked his tongue softly and pressed the controller. Opaque drapes covered the huge floor-to-ceiling window, which seemed to be the height of a typical building’s second floor, and cream-toned curtains, similar to Haerim’s bedding, were drawn over them. Thanks to Gi Taejeong’s precise adjustment of the button, just enough of a gap was left to allow a pleasant amount of light to filter in.

“You’re right, it’s still cold.”

Even though the windows were sturdy and the heating was working well, Sehwa nodded and took in the curtains in the living room.

The tile representing March had only a flower and a curtain drawn on it. The sharply geometric cherry blossoms were reddish and black, not pretty at all. No one knew what lay within the suspiciously unfurled dark canopy. Other players and guests often joked, trying to belittle him, saying that those who came to see the flowers would just roll around freely…

Sehwa also wanted to be another tile, one with people or animals drawn on it. If he couldn’t be lonely, he wished for a cool month to be his own, even though he knew it was a distant dream.

He had never in his life expected such a magnificent and beautiful scene. If only he could be called Lee Sehwa instead of Samwol, if only he could be a person with his name registered on a resident registration card, not just a player who sold medicine and dealt hanafuda cards until he died.

Because he had foolishly harbored dreams beyond his station, Sehwa had always been in pain. As a result, nothing had gone as he wished, and what he had inadvertently gained was somehow cracked and broken, its edges still rough.

Yet, despite how overwhelming and painful it was, he didn’t want to let go of any of it now. Even though he hadn’t achieved anything on his own merits.

Even as he thought he shouldn’t wish for happiness on top of this, an insatiable desire grew within him. He hoped his heart would mature even a little more, tomorrow than today.

Because of that one casual remark from the man who could swim through the sky like the sea, he wanted to keep, keep being happy. Even if he was pricked by sharp thorns, sometimes bleeding and hurting, he felt that if he waited, as Gi Taejeong said, the day would come when flowers would bloom in his own hands.

“…Major General.”

“Hmm?”

“Would you like to stay for dinner?”

“So you were going to kick me out without even feeding me?”

Sehwa silently shook his head. In Gi Taejeong’s eyes, he saw his own reflection, smiling with round eyes.

“Let’s go put Haerim down now.”

“Already?”

“If you keep holding her, she’ll develop bad habits.”

“She’s still a baby, so even if she develops a few bad habits,”

“No.”

“…Alright.”

Gi Taejeong gestured with his chin, suggesting they go inside.

In the warm breeze circulating through the house, the tightly drawn curtain’s edge swayed slightly. Within the white, beautiful curtain that no one could peer into, a small world, reinforced even more strongly than before as cracks were mended.

Everything young Sehwa had ever wished for was within this place.

<End>