The Butterfly on the Flower Vase (1)

It was the earliest hour of dawn, before the darkness had fully lifted. In the small pond that a tranquil hanok kept secretly tucked within its walls, the round moon glimmered softly, cradled on the water like a delicate jewel. So entrancing was the serene moonlight spilling down on everything that even a passing cloud paused for a moment, forgetting its way.

On the wide wooden veranda of a lonely annex hall lit by two moons, an enormous wolf with a lush white coat sat utterly motionless, like a sculpture carved in place. Now and then a gust of wind set the wind chimes under the eaves clanging, and a lost songbird would panic and cry out in a flurry of feathers, but the wolf, with every nerve in its body fixed on the worn Silver Mirror resting at its feet, did not so much as glance aside all through the night.

"Sorang."

The familiar voice came just as the deep blue sky, chilled to the bone, began to blush crimson at its edges. Though the wolf did not turn around at the sound of its name, it gave a lazy flick of its tail, pretending acknowledgment for the sake of the one who provided its daily bread. In truth, it had been thinking that it was about time the perpetually anxious Hee-joo came bursting in.

"Where is the CEO?"

"Not back yet."

At the wolf's short reply—its eyes still glued to the Silver Mirror—worry clouded the composed face of the woman dressed in a neat everyday hanbok. Hee-joo, who had faithfully managed the Master of Jungcheon's daily life for over forty years, could bear nothing less than seeing Gaon go hungry or sleepless.

"If she means to rest even a little, she should come right away…. If this goes on, she'll be boarding that plane without a wink of sleep."

"If she could calculate all that and cut corners properly, she wouldn't be Ju Gaon, would she."

"Of course not, but…. How many hours has it been now? She skipped dinner last night, too."

"It was the full moon, wasn't it. Past or present, I'll never understand why the lunatics lose their minds the moment the full moon rises. So tacky, in the twenty-first century."

The moment Sorang, who had been spitting out the words acidly, sensed the faintest tremor in the Silver Mirror, it sprang to its feet and swiftly backed away. Almost simultaneously, the palm-sized mirror blazed with brilliant light, and through that radiance Gaon walked slowly, looking somewhat worn.

"Welcome back, CEO."

Gaon gave Hee-joo, who bowed with courteous respect, a light nod, then stroked Sorang's head a couple of times with an apologetic face. She had known she'd spent quite a while in Jungcheon, but she hadn't realized how long. She herself had been too busy working to feel the hours, tedious though her body was weary—but Sorang, who must have stood in one spot all night watching for her return, could not have had an easy time of the boredom.

I'm so glad to have you with me—but meeting me has been nothing but hardship for you. I should have let you run free across the fields, as your nature demanded, and laid you down when your time came. The moment that look of regret rose again on Gaon's face, Sorang turned its head away as if it couldn't bear to see it, and tapped the ground irritably with a paw before speaking brusquely. That it had never once regretted having its fate entangled with the Master of Jungcheon was something it was tired of saying—so tired its mouth hurt.

"Stop with the pointless thoughts and go eat something and get some sleep. You're traveling today, aren't you?"

"Ah, the trip…. Ms. Kwon, was that today?"

"Yes, CEO. Your flight is at two in the afternoon. Please eat first, as Sorang says. You must be quite hungry?"

"…A little."

Well, I'll be. So even she admits when she's hungry. Did she really go all night without so much as a single snack, starving raw? Tsk. Growing that old and still having no sense, honestly. Well… though I suppose a person with about as much flexibility as a fingernail's worth would get picked to be Jungcheonju in the first place.

Sorang, shaking its head with a deeply disapproving expression, suddenly launched itself off toward the rear garden. Well, Gaon made it back safe, so I might as well catch up on my sleep. Gaon watched the wolf vanish like the wind for a moment, then began walking toward the main house. Sleep was the more urgent need at the moment, but with a long-haul flight ahead, she'd need to put something in her stomach to keep her condition up.

Gaon was walking in silence down the long corridor that connected to the main house when a fresh fragrance drifted in on the breeze, and she stopped, quietly taking in a garden that had, without her noticing, burst into astonishing bloom. She lived barely aware of when the seasons turned or how the years slipped past—so it was only when she happened, once in a great while, upon a flower tree in full glory like this, that she truly felt time flowing on.

"Is it time for the peach blossoms already?"

At Gaon's faraway murmur, Hee-joo, following quietly behind, said nothing and quietly put a few more steps of distance between them. A leisure moment like this was rare for Gaon, who lived a life utterly cut off from pleasure despite holding power that could turn the world in her palm. So she absolutely must not disturb it. Standing before the lush branches in full flower, Gaon was incomparably beautiful—and just as infinitely forlorn.

Bzzzz, bzzzzz. But that dreamlike instant of respite was unceremoniously cut short by a tactless buzzing phone. Don't tell me it's Jungcheon again. Gaon withdrew her gaze from the flower tree without regret and began walking again, and Hee-joo—whose face had been full of silent disappointment at the sight—checked the caller's name and her eyes widened slightly. It was the head of security.

"What's going on at this hour?"

She hurried to answer, and a voice roughened beyond anything she'd ever heard scraped against her ear. Hee-joo was genuinely startled—her junior's voice had completely given out overnight.

"What's wrong with your voice? Are you ill?"

Hee-joo blinked in silence at the unexpected news, then slowly furrowed her brow. Good heavens. A man who used to douse himself in cold water in the dead of winter without catching so much as a sniffle…. They say no one wins against the passing years, but still….

"Have you taken any medicine? No, wait—how does a man get this foolish in the flowering month of March…. In any case, don't you dare go anywhere near the CEO for the time being—hold on. Then what about today's trip? The chief secretary—what?!"

He said the source of the flu outbreak was presumed to be the meeting where the executives of both the secretarial office and the security office had all gathered to review Gaon's travel itinerary. Which meant the innermost circle that moved like Gaon's own hands and feet had been decimated. As Hee-joo's voice climbed higher and higher, Gaon, who had long since walked ahead, finally turned to look back.

"Is it Director Kwon?"

"Yes, CEO. But… it seems there's a bit of a problem."

Gaon held out her hand at once, took the phone, and quietly listened to what the head of security had to say. Her mind grew considerably tangled, but on her calm face—as impassive as ever—not a trace of disturbance showed.

On a gentle mid-slope drenched in sunlight, trees of every size and kind stood in orderly rows at even intervals. Two people climbed slowly among them and stopped before a fairly sturdy cherry tree.

"Mom, I'm here. It's been a while, huh? Have you been well? I heard we had a lot of snow last winter—was it cold?"

Ji-won glanced at Lisa as she chattered on softly and gently, then set down the bouquet of lilies he'd been carrying, saying nothing, at the base of the tree. And then he swept the cherry tree with a look of faint irritation. As always, the blossoms had all fallen on schedule, and only the calyxes that hadn't managed to drop dangled in disarray—and that unkempt sight jabbed at Ji-won's aesthetic sensibilities most unpleasantly.

I knew I should have planted something that blooms later. Every single time I come here, it's the same thing—what is this mess? Not that I could uproot a tree that's already taken root. It'd be like digging up a grave. Ji-won clicked his tongue in displeasure, then caught Lisa staring fixedly at him and hastily arranged his face into a smile.

"Cha Ji-won, aren't you going to say hello to your mother?"

"It's not like she's actually here, so what hello?"

Not just my parents—there isn't a single ghost in this entire park. They all bolted the moment my car pulled into the lot. And Mom already passed through the Gate of Reincarnation ages ago. I know that perfectly well, and I still make a point of coming here at the right times just to keep Aunt Lisa's heart at ease.

"Honestly, such a cold-hearted kid."

Still, I suppose he's improved since he was little. Lisa glared up at her nephew—who had grown so tall she had to crane her neck to meet his eyes—with something too fond to be real dislike, and then a thought suddenly occurred to her that gave her pause. It could have been brushed off as nothing, but something about the strangely assured way Ji-won had said it nagged at her.

"Ji-won… you still see them, don't you? Ghosts and things like that?"

Ji-won, inwardly flinching at his aunt's worried voice, curled the corner of his mouth with practiced ease. It's not just that I see ghosts—I've made beating them down my actual profession. She'd faint dead away if she knew.

"Sometimes."

Sorry, Aunt Lisa. The truth is, all the time. It used to be that I had no choice but to see them whether I liked it or not—now I'm at the point where they come looking for me.

"Maybe it's time we got you a proper exorcism after all?"

"Hahaha. I'll pass."

Ji-won waved her off and burst into loud laughter, but Lisa's expression didn't brighten easily. And he's laughing about it. Whenever she thought of the men who had tried to have her perfectly healthy nephew committed to a psychiatric hospital, a fury still surged through Lisa strong enough to make her bolt upright out of a dead sleep.

Even now, sixteen years later, her young nephew's screams crackling through the receiver were vivid in her ears. It was an era when public authority didn't reach deeply into family affairs, so the police were of no help, and having long since left Seoul, Lisa had nowhere else to turn. The fourteen hours of the frantic flight to Korea had stretched like an eternity. With the phone that never rang again clutched tight in her hand, she had pleaded tens of thousands of times to her sister, already gone from this world—please, help me, please.

At the hastily arranged funerals for her sister and brother-in-law, the family of her brother-in-law had assured her not to worry, promising they would take good care of Ji-won. Yet in less than a month, their true colors had emerged, gleaming with greed for the child's fortune. Her brother-in-law had built himself up from nothing into a magnate of staggering wealth, but after wearing himself out endlessly bailing out his grasping siblings, he had finally severed all ties with them—something Lisa, based in New York, had never known.

She was told that the uncles, remembering Ji-won had once spoken of seeing ghosts when he was very small, had conspired together and agreed to send him to a psychiatric hospital. With only an unmarried aunt on their mother's side of the family, they had presumably judged there would be no one to fight them over the guardianship.

Ji-won, phone wrested from his grasp, had barely escaped to the basement and locked the door behind him, and he had not let go of a golf club for nearly twenty hours—until Lisa arrived in Seoul. Ji-won, who had once been talented enough at golf to dream of going pro, never touched a golf club again after that day.

"No! I'm not making it up, I'm telling you! He actually said he saw his dead grandmother, right there in front of him! Drawing the faces of people freshly dead—it gave everyone chills…. Hey, you saw it too that time, didn't you? Nobody gets that look in their eyes unless they're insane. That's exactly why we were trying to get the boy treated. Or what, we're just supposed to leave a sick child alone? Protecting the child's health is a guardian's duty, isn't it?"

The horrifying sight of Ji-won collapsing on the spot the moment he laid eyes on her—the whites of his eyes gone scarlet, burst blood vessels flooding them red—Lisa would likely never forget as long as she lived. Fortunately, the guardianship lawsuit itself was not difficult. Lisa handed the case to the finest law firm in South Korea on the spot, and the uncles—men whose eyes had gone green over a child's fortune despite having little enough of their own—were of course in no position to mount a proper defense.