A Nameless Child
Splat.
A spoonful of rice gratter — a spoonful of thin gruel leapt out of the bowl and splashed across the table.
With a sigh, Sowol picked up the dish cloth. A fresh stain was already spreading over the spot he had just wiped clean.
"Baekya, you're splashing it everywhere. Be careful when you feed her."
Sowol chided him, but Baekya didn't answer. He was far too absorbed in the task of sitting the baby on his knee and spooning porridge into her mouth. Leave the inn work to pile up, hand the baby's feeding over to Baekya, and this was what happened — half a shichen already wasted.
"Give it here. I'll just feed her myself."
When Sowol reached out his hand, Baekya hastily hid the spoon behind his back.
"Baekya do it!"
Faced with such stubborn defiance, Sowol finally withdrew his hand.
"...Fine. Have it your way."
He gave up and set the cloth back down. All the while, the gruel kept dripping, drop by drop, onto the floor.
"Baby, eat."
Baekya held out the spoon again, but the baby didn't so much as glance at it. She lurched sharply forward instead.
Plop.
Her small face plunged straight into the gruel bowl.
"Baby!"
Sowol cried out in alarm. Baekya's eyes went wide, and he hurriedly pulled the baby upright. Blinking, her face and the front of her clothes smeared with gruel, the baby tilted her head — then looked up at Baekya and burst into giggles.
"Kyaha!"
Baekya beamed back at her, utterly delighted.
Only Sowol could not laugh. He swallowed a sigh as his gaze traveled between the wrecked table and the two children.
"Baekya. At the very least, hold the bowl while you feed her."
With that resigned warning, he returned to the kitchen and began preparing for the day's business. But there was barely any food left. The sack of flour had scraped bottom, the salt was nearly gone, and he would need to buy more rice to cook porridge for the baby. It looked like he would have to make a trip to the market before the lunch rush.
Wiping his hands on his apron, Sowol stepped out into the main hall.
"Baekya."
Baekya looked up from the baby.
"I'm heading to the market for a bit. Don't go anywhere — just watch the baby."
"Okay!"
Baekya answered stoutly, but Sowol couldn't quite put his mind at ease.
"If the baby cries because she's hungry..."
"Goat's milk."
"Make sure it's not too hot..."
"Test on hand."
"Stay away from the fire..."
"Won't go."
Baekya added one last thing.
"If something's wrong, call Auntie Wang."
"...Right."
The answers were sharp enough, yet somehow they still made him uneasy. Sowol pressed the point once more.
"If anything happens, you call Auntie Wang next door. Understood?"
"Yeah."
Looking back over his shoulder again and again, Sowol left the inn with a doubtful face.
The morning market was bustling. Vendors at their stalls raised their voices from every direction, and the clamor of haggling tangled into a thick din.
Shouldering through the crowd, Sowol made for a familiar stall.
"One maal of flour and one doe of salt, please. And five doe of rice."
The merchant, busy tidying his sacks of grain, looked up. Recognizing Sowol, his face lit with something between delight and curiosity.
"Master Yeon! I hear the inn's been doing marvelously well these days."
"Well enough to get by."
"They say customers have been flooding in ever since you drove out that ghost. The talisman that Taoist wrote for you must have done the trick, hmm?"
The merchant scooped flour into his measure, chattering on without pause.
"And word is you've got yourself a little one now. You look well, my friend — you truly do."
Instead of answering, Sowol simply stared at him in silence. The merchant flinched under that gaze and quickly lowered his eyes.
"Ahem. That was one maal of flour, one doe of salt, five doe of rice, yes?"
The man hurriedly bundled the goods together. Sowol swallowed a sigh and fished out his money pouch. If the gossip had spread all the way to the market, it wouldn't be long before his name was known across all of Sichuan as the widower with quite the story behind him.
He paid, then hefted the flour sack onto his shoulder.
"May business be brisk for you."
"And may you raise that little one well, Master Yeon!"
Waving and turning away, Sowol headed for the next stall. Scallions, napa cabbage, bok choy, and a few cuts of meat — by the time he'd gathered it all, both his arms were carrying a respectable weight. This much would last them several days.
Just as Sowol was about to head back to the inn —
Don. Don.
A sound like a small drum being struck reached his ears.
Don, don-don.
Sowol stopped in his tracks and turned his head. The moment he met the merchant's eyes, the man gave the handle of his rattle-drum a quick shake. Beads dangling from either side of the little drum tapped against its hide, drumming out that hollow rat-a-tat.
"Buy a toy for your little one, sir. Children go mad for the bolanggu."
Sowol looked at the rattle-drum. The baby had nothing that could properly be called a toy. All she ever played with was the pinecone Baekya had picked up for her, or her own toes.
But she would grow, and in time she would need toys of her own. A little drum like this wouldn't hurt to have.
"How much?"
The merchant's face bloomed into a wide grin.
"Just thirty wen, sir."
"Thirty wen? That's far too steep."
"This takes more work than it looks, sir. And I used a fine hide for the drum, too."
"Ten wen."
"No bandit would cut a price that low!"
"Then I'll be going."
The moment Sowol turned away without a flicker of regret, the merchant clutched at his sleeve in a panic.
"Wait, wait! Twenty wen. How about twenty?"
"Fifteen."
In the end, the merchant groaned as if dying and thrust out the rattle-drum.
"Take it, take it. Fifteen wen, and it's yours."
Sowol paid and took the toy into his hands. When he turned the handle lightly, a muffled drumbeat rolled out.
Don. Don.
There was no telling whether the baby would like it. But the moment he pictured her breaking into a gummy smile, the corners of his mouth lifted on their own.
And just as Sowol smiled and slipped the rattle-drum into his coat, a cold stare bored into his back.
Like a man who had noticed nothing at all, Sowol shifted the flour sack on his shoulder.
"May business be brisk for you."
"Come again soon!"
Having exchanged farewells with the merchant, Sowol began to walk — slowly, deliberately. Even after passing two or three more stalls, the gaze did not fade. If anything, it clung tighter. They clearly hadn't realized their tailing had been made yet.
In that case, the simplest thing to do was lure them somewhere deserted and find out what they wanted. Sowol turned, on purpose, into a quiet, shabby alley.
Yet the moment he set foot in it, the gaze vanished. They must have caught on to his attempt at luring them in and fallen back.
Sowol's brow creased. Somehow, he had a bad feeling about this.
Ignoring the weight of his bundles, he quickened his pace.
His shadow was one worry, but he was anxious about Baekya and the baby, too. Not about how much Baekya cherished the child — he never doubted that. The youth doted on her so much that the first thing he did every morning was peek into her cradle. The problem was that Baekya was utterly hopeless at telling what was dangerous for a baby and what was fine. He had been known to come up with wildly off-the-mark solutions in his determination to stop her crying.
One shichen should be all right. Even as he thought it, his steps kept growing faster.
As the inn came into view, Sowol raised his voice and called out.
"Baekya! I'm home!"
There was no answer.
Hurrying across the yard, Sowol flung open the inn's door.
Shards of broken dishes lay scattered in every direction. The tables and chairs had been overturned.
But none of it registered in Sowol's eyes.
The cradle.
The cradle was empty.
The color drained from Sowol's face. Tumbling his bundles to the floor, he drew his sword in a flash and pointed it at the empty air.
Nobody in the kitchen. Nobody in the storeroom. The second floor, then — or...
Cold sweat ran down his spine. Nothing. Not a trace of the baby's presence anywhere.
Sowol's thoughts knotted into chaos. Who took her? Did someone from Mi Family send people? Or had he stepped on the tail of the Meng Family?
Kicking the door back open, he ransacked the yard corner to corner.
"Baby!"
The hollow shout scattered across the empty yard. He opened his mouth to call for the child once more — then shut it.
Baby.
That was nothing but a word anyone might use for any child, in any household. It was not a name that could hold down the child Sowol was searching for.
The child had no name to turn back for.