The Eternal Flower Beggar King Chapter 20 — A Sixteen-Year-Old's Spring

 The Eternal Flower Beggar King

Chapter 20 — A Sixteen-Year-Old's Spring

Eulsa Year, spring.

Jinhwa turned sixteen.

The long winter had passed and spring had arrived. As the piled snow melted away, green shoots began to push up through the earth. In one corner of the Chwihyang House courtyard, a plum tree had blossomed — small white petals trembling in the breeze, releasing a faint, sweet fragrance.

Jinhwa was sweeping the courtyard when he paused and lifted his eyes to the blossoms.

Pretty.

The inn was busy as ever, and spring had brought even more customers. Business was good, and Jang Ikho's face wore a permanent smile.

"This year's looking fine."

Yu Gapyeong, washing dishes nearby, nodded in agreement.

"It's spring."

Jinhwa still rose before dawn every morning to draw water and sweep the courtyard, still helped in the kitchen, still learned a little more about cooking each day. His knife work was growing faster, and he could handle simple stir-fry dishes on his own now.

I've gotten the hang of this.

His savings were building too. Thirty-seven nyang. Another month's wages had come in, and the bundle felt a touch heavier.

Little by little… it adds up.

But a part of him remained hollow — an emptiness he could not name, occupying a quiet corner of his chest.

The Festival — Spring

Eulsa Year, spring. A few days after the first full moon of the new year.

A spring festival opened in the village — a celebration to mark the passing of winter and the arrival of the new season. Jang Ikho called out to Jinhwa, who was scrubbing a ladle in the kitchen.

"Jinhwa — take the afternoon off."

Jinhwa looked up.

"…Sir?"

"Go see the festival. A young man shouldn't do nothing but work. Have a look around. Just be back by evening."

"…Thank you!"

It was the first day off he had ever been given. His spirits lifted, and he finished the kitchen work with extra energy. When afternoon came, he changed into clean clothes and stepped out of the inn.

As he walked toward the market, the distant sound of drums reached him, and laughter drifted on the wind.

Lively out there.

The Market

The market was packed. Red lanterns hung everywhere, and merchants hawked their wares at the top of their lungs.

"Rice cakes! Fresh-made songpyeon!"

"Taffy! Sweet taffy!"

"Pouches! Pretty colors!"

Jinhwa threaded his way slowly through the crowd. He passed a grandmother selling rice cakes — songpyeon stacked high on a steaming tray, their warm, toasted fragrance brushing his nose.

Those look good.

But he did not buy any. Now that he earned his own silver, spending did not come easily. He understood its weight too well to reach for it carelessly.

A little further on, a taffy seller was breaking apart a large slab with a hammer — clang, clang, clang — the sound ringing out bright and clear. Children crowded around, eyes wide, while their parents smiled and counted out coins to buy pieces.

"Wow, taffy!"

"Buy me some!"

Jinhwa watched quietly. A father held his child's hand. A mother walked beside them, smiling. A happy family.

Must be nice.

He stood watching for a long time, and the memory surfaced without warning — the day he had first climbed the path to Mount Hua. He had held his mother's hand that day, walking up the mountain trail. Her hand had been warm and steady. The memory grazed something deep in his chest, and his parents came to mind.

He moved on. A pouch stall caught his eye — red, yellow, green pouches hanging on strings, swaying in the breeze.

"Pretty pouches! Perfect for a gift!"

Young couples stood choosing pouches for each other, hands clasped, exchanging smiles.

"Do you like this one?"

"Mm — I love it."

Jinhwa stopped and watched.

Lovers.

The sight of them walking hand in hand, laughing together — he envied it.

Alone

He circled the market once, and by the time he finished, the sun had begun to dip. Everyone around him was with someone. Families, friends, lovers. Hardly anyone walked alone.

Jinhwa was alone.

He drifted to a bench at the edge of the crowd and sat. A father walked past with his son on his shoulders, the child waving and laughing.

"Papa, look over there!"

"I see it — what is that?"

The mother followed beside them, smiling.

A happy family.

Not far away, a group of boys ran past, shouting.

"Hey, let's go over there!"

"Yeah — hurry!"

Three of them disappeared together, laughing.

Friends.

Jinhwa simply sat and watched. No family. No friends. Surrounded by a sea of people, the loneliness only pressed in deeper.

He thought of Mount Hua. There, he had classmates. Bang Dal. Yuhwa. They had eaten together, trained together. He had not been lonely then.

Now it was different. At the inn, all he did was work. Jang Ikho and Yu Gapyeong were good people, but they were older — not the kind of friends you could play with.

The sun sank lower and evening drew near. Lanterns were lit, the market grew brighter, and the festival atmosphere swelled. Faces glowed warm in the firelight, and the laughter rose louder.

Jinhwa sat on the bench, still alone.

The Rice Cake Soup Stall

He was hungry. He had not eaten since morning, and his stomach was hollow.

A small rice cake soup stall caught his eye — a few benches under a simple awning. A grandmother stirred a large pot, steam billowing upward.

"One bowl of tteokguk!"

A customer called out, and the grandmother ladled the soup into a bowl and sprinkled scallions over the top.

"Here you are."

"Thank you."

Jinhwa approached.

"One bowl of tteokguk, please."

"Sure thing. Sit down."

He sat, and the grandmother set a bowl before him. White rice cakes floated in the broth, flecks of green scallion bright against the surface, steam curling upward.

"Two pun."

"Yes."

As Jinhwa counted out the coins, the memory of buying those dumplings for two nyang came back to him — and he realized, with a pang, how foolish that had been. Life on the road had taught him harshly.

He lifted the spoon and tasted the soup. Hot, but good. The rice cakes were chewy, the broth rich and savory.

Delicious.

He ate slowly, and glanced at the next bench. A family sat together — a father, a mother, two children — eating tteokguk and laughing.

"Is it good?"

"Yeah!"

"Want more?"

"Yeah!"

Jinhwa turned his head away.

Stop looking.

He finished the soup and set the bowl down. His body was warm, but his heart was still cold. He felt the loneliness even here, amid the noise and color of the festival — but he made himself not think too deeply. He knew by now that in moments like these, dwelling only made the ache worse.

The Streets

He left the stall and walked. The festival was in full swing — people dancing, beating drums, singing. The sound of it surrounded him from every direction.

On one side, a tug-of-war was underway. Two teams hauled at the rope, chanting in unison.

"One — two!"

"One — two!"

Spectators cheered and shouted encouragement.

"Pull!"

"Come on!"

Jinhwa stood at a distance and watched.

That looks fun.

But he did not join. He knew no one.

A boy beside him spoke up.

"Hey mister, want to play?"

"…No, I'm alright."

"It's fun, though!"

The boy grinned and ran off. Jinhwa stood where he was, watching him go.

I'd like to… but.

He knew no one. There was no one to join with.

He turned and walked away from the market, onto a quieter road. The laughter and drumbeats faded behind him, and strangely, with each step away from the noise, the loneliness seemed to ease a fraction too.

The Riverbank

At the edge of the village, a small river ran.

Jinhwa sank onto the grass by the bank and stared at the water. It flowed slowly, moonlight catching on its surface in a scatter of silver. The festival sounds behind him were distant now, and faint.

He picked up a stone at his feet and tossed it.

Plunk.

Ripples spread outward, shaking the reflected moon, and then the water settled again.

I'm lonely.

Mount Hua came back to him. The memory of playing on the hill behind the compound with Bang Dal was vivid.

"Jinhwa, look at this!"

"What?"

"I found a weird rock!"

The two of them laughing — he could still hear it.

He remembered eating with Yuhwa.

"Jinhwa! The side dishes are really good today."

"Are they?"

"Mm-hm!"

And cleaning with his senior brothers.

"Jinhwa, come help on this side."

"Yes, Senior Brother."

Back then, he was never alone. Someone was always nearby. They laughed together, worked together.

Now it was different. Four years since leaving Mount Hua. Everyone he had met along the way had been a decent person — but none had been a friend. Seokho, the old innkeeper, Jang Ikho, Yu Gapyeong — he was grateful to all of them. But none was someone he could laugh and joke around with.

Where was Bang Dal now? He had said he was in trade. Was he doing well in Cheongpung Town? Jinhwa wondered.

And Yuhwa — how was she? She would still be at Mount Hua, training. How many stages had she reached by now?

Jinhwa watched the water and the moonlight trembling on its surface.

And I'm… here.

He picked up another stone and threw it.

Plunk.

Ripples spread, moonlight shivered, and faded. In the wavering reflection, he caught a glimpse of his own face. It looked lonely.

His chest felt tight. He breathed in deep and let it out, but the weight did not lift.

A sudden cheer erupted behind him. He turned to see fireworks bursting over the distant market.

Crack! Pop-pop-pop!

Red light bloomed across the sky, and the crowd roared.

"Wow!"

"Beautiful!"

Jinhwa watched. They were beautiful — vivid reds painting the night sky, brilliant and fleeting. But watching alone made them lonely.

If only… someone were here.

He wished for someone to watch the fireworks with. Someone to turn to and smile.

The fireworks continued. The sky flared bright, then dark, bright, then dark, and the cheering went on. Jinhwa simply sat and watched.

He sat there for a long time. When the last firework faded and silence settled, he rose slowly to his feet.

Time to go back.

The Return

He walked toward the inn. The streets were still alive with people, but Jinhwa passed through them like a ghost. They were all strangers, and to them, he was just another face passing by.

He reached the Chwihyang House and pushed the door open. Inside, it was quiet. No customers. Neither Jang Ikho nor Yu Gapyeong was in sight — the festival had given everyone an early night.

He went to his room and sat on the small bench. He opened his bundle and looked inside.

Thirty-seven nyang of silver. The Mount Hua heart method manual. One knife.

That was all. Today, it looked particularly sparse. His chest ached with the emptiness of it.

This is… everything I have.

He looked out the window. The moon hung in the sky — full and bright, illuminating the world below. Beautiful, but lonely to see alone.

A Sixteen-Year-Old's Spring Night

He lit the candle. A small flame brightened the room.

Jinhwa lay on the bench and stared at the ceiling. The wooden boards bore the marks of passing years, barely visible in the dim light.

I wish… I had a friend.

At Mount Hua, there had been classmates. At the Blue Cloud Inn, there had been Seokho. But now, there was no one. Jang Ikho and Yu Gapyeong were good people, but they were older — not the kind of friends he longed for.

A friend his own age. Someone to share a bowl of tteokguk with, to wander the market with, to watch the fireworks with and laugh. He wished for that, simply and deeply.

A sigh escaped him.

When will that… ever happen?

Outside, the drums sounded. The festival was not yet over, and the distant laughter carried on the wind.

Jinhwa closed his eyes.

I want to laugh like that too…

But for now, he was alone. An inn worker named Oh Jinhwa. Sixteen years old.

He took out the Mount Hua heart method manual and opened it. Still nothing in his dantian. Whenever he felt this suffocating weight — whenever the loneliness or the frustration grew too heavy — he would take the book out and try to feel the qi. But as always, there was nothing.

He closed the book.

Someday… it'll work.

The candle flickered, and his shadow danced on the wall. Jinhwa watched the shadow. It was alone too.

Laughter drifted in from outside again. Jinhwa pressed his hands over his ears. He did not want to hear it.

But the sound continued — the sounds of the festival, of people living and celebrating, seeping through every crack.

Jinhwa pulled the blanket over his head and lay in the darkness, thinking.

A friend… I wish I had a friend.

It was a small and earnest wish. That someone might appear — someone to laugh with, someone to walk beside. Just that.

But the darkness held no answer. Only the drums, far away, beating on.

Thum. Thum. Thum.

Jinhwa closed his eyes.

Tomorrow… I have to work again.

And so the spring night of his sixteenth year deepened. A lonely night, for a boy on his own.

[End of Chapter 20]