The Eternal Flower Beggar King Chapter 22 — A Fateful Encounter (Part II)

 The Eternal Flower Beggar King

Chapter 22 — A Fateful Encounter (Part II)

Byeongoh Year, autumn.

Three days passed, and Jinhwa repeated the same routine at Chwihyang House.

He rose before dawn, hauled water from the well, swept the yard with a broom, and helped Jang Ikho in the kitchen. He washed the dishes, carried trays to the guests, and tidied the rooms when evening came. Yesterday was the same as today, and tomorrow would be the same as today — but a part of his mind kept drifting toward the market.

Hagun… will he come again?

The anticipation of a friend was a feeling he had never known before, and Jinhwa could not contain it.

What struck him most was that this was someone he had met and grown close to on his own — not assigned, not arranged, not placed in the same hall by someone else's decision.

It must have shown. On the second evening, Jang Ikho asked:

"Jinhwa, is something going on?"

"…No."

"You keep looking outside. You've been staring at the window all day."

Jinhwa folded the dishcloth in his hands and answered.

"Just… checking the weather."

Jang Ikho narrowed his eyes and studied him.

"That so? The weather's that interesting?"

"…Yes."

Jang Ikho wore a knowing smile, said nothing more, and went back to his work.

The afternoon of the third day. The sun hung high overhead.

Jang Ikho called from the kitchen.

"Jinhwa, run to the market. Bring back a basket of radishes and two bundles of green onions."

Jinhwa's reply came faster than usual.

"…Yes!"

Yu Gapyeong, washing dishes in the corner, turned to look at him and snickered.

"Well, well — why so eager? Got yourself a girl?"

"…No."

Jinhwa was already untying his apron.

He shouldered his carrying frame and stepped out of the inn.

The autumn sun was warm. People moved along the streets, and somewhere the smell of roasting chestnuts drifted on the wind. His pace was quicker than usual.

Maybe… he'll be there.

He hoped. His heart was beating fast.

Reunion

The market greeted him with its usual clamor from every direction.

"Fresh cabbage! Last batch!"

"Buy some fish! Just caught — still lively!"

Merchants' cries overlapped, filling the air with the market's particular energy. Jinhwa did not head for the vegetable stall. Instead, he looked around first — walking slowly, weaving through the crowd.

Hagun…

A tall young man. A bright face. He searched for that figure.

He had been circling for some time when he spotted it.

Far ahead, in front of a fruit stall, a familiar back came into view. Broad shoulders, a tall frame, and a young man in a light-colored dopo, picking through fruit. Jinhwa's pace quickened. As he drew closer, he heard the voice.

"How much is this one?"

"Three pun."

"Can you give me a deal? I'm a regular!"

"No. They're fresh. You won't find better apples anywhere."

It was Hagun.

Jinhwa stood quietly behind him and spoke.

"…Hagun."

Hagun turned slowly.

The moment he recognized Jinhwa, his eyes went wide, and a smile broke across his entire face. The fruit seller was saying something, but Hagun didn't seem to hear — he set the apple in his hand back down and came straight to Jinhwa.

"Hyungnim!"

He seized Jinhwa's hand. His grip was hot.

"What are you doing here?"

"…Running an errand."

"Me too! My father sent me to buy fruit!"

The excitement in Hagun's voice was unmistakable.

He held Jinhwa's hand and did not let go. People nearby began to glance over. Jinhwa managed a thin smile.

"…My hand."

"Oh — sorry!"

Hagun released it in a hurry. His face reddened slightly.

"I was just so happy to see you… I felt bad about parting so quickly last time."

"…Me too."

Hagun went back to the fruit stall and bought the apples.

He paid three pun and received five. They were red and plump, their skins gleaming smooth. Hagun held one out to Jinhwa.

"Hyungnim, have one!"

"…Thank you."

Jinhwa took the apple.

It was heavy. In his hand it felt firm and cool. He bit into it — a crisp, sharp crunch — and sweet juice flooded his mouth. Cool and refreshing.

Good.

Hagun bit into his own apple.

The two stood side by side, chewing. Around them, merchants still called out their wares and passersby bumped shoulders in the crowd. But inside that noise, a small space seemed to open — one that belonged only to the two of them.

Hagun took another bite and spoke.

"Hyungnim, do you have some time?"

"…A little."

"Then let's walk around together. The errand can wait, right?"

Jinhwa hesitated.

He still needed to buy the radishes and green onions Jang Ikho had asked for. But the market stayed open until sundown. A little late wouldn't matter.

"…Sure."

Hagun's face brightened further.

"Let's go!"

Walking the Streets

The two walked through the market at an easy pace.

Hagun talked without stopping. His voice was bright and light.

"Hyungnim, I'm really grateful for last time. The only reason I didn't get swindled was because of you."

"…Don't mention it."

"No, really! A hundred nyang is a fortune! If I'd lost that, my father would have killed me."

Hagun scratched his head with a sheepish grin.

"I was about to fall for it like a complete fool. If it weren't for you, it would've been a disaster."

"…You should be careful. There are a lot of bad people in the world."

"I know! I'll be careful from now on! I need to learn to read people the way you do, hyungnim."

Jinhwa asked.

"You said you're… in trade?"

"Yeah! My father runs a small merchant group."

Hagun said it proudly. Affection seeped through his voice.

"What kind of goods?"

"Mostly cloth and sundries. A bit of silk, too — and lately we've started dealing in tea. Good tea from the south, shipped up north."

"…I see."

Hagun added:

"I'm still learning. Running errands for my father, picking up the trade as I go. Someday I'll have to take over the business."

"How long have you been at it?"

"Hm… about three years? I started properly when I was fourteen."

Hagun looked at Jinhwa.

"Hyungnim, you said you work at an inn?"

"Yes."

"How long have you been doing that?"

"…About four years."

Hagun's eyes went wide.

"Four years? So since you were thirteen?"

"…Yes."

"That's a lot of hardship from a young age."

Jinhwa said nothing.

Hagun didn't press further. Instead, he walked alongside Jinhwa and stole a quiet glance at his expression.

He knows when to stop.

They reached the far end of the market.

The sun was tilting west. Shadows were stretching longer, and the merchants' voices had begun to thin. Some were already setting up for the evening trade; others were packing their wares away.

Hagun stopped and turned to Jinhwa.

"Hyungnim, I… kind of want a drink."

"…A drink?"

"Yeah! Work's been tough lately, and I want to unwind. Come have one with me!"

Jinhwa hesitated.

"I'm… not much of a drinker."

"It's fine! Just a little! Drinking alone is no fun."

Hagun tugged lightly at Jinhwa's arm.

"There's a decent tavern this way! Come on!"

"…But…"

"It's fine! I'm not saying we drink until we drop. Just a cup or two!"

Jinhwa let himself be led.

This person… is quietly stubborn.

But he didn't mind. If anything, the forwardness put him at ease. Jinhwa had always been alone, and the experience of someone reaching out first, offering a hand — he had almost none of it.

All right.

The Tavern

The place Hagun led him to was a small drinking spot tucked inside an alley at the edge of the market.

A worn awning had been strung up over five or six wooden benches — a street stall, really. Smoke curled out between the folds of the canvas, and the smell of makgeolli and frying oil filled the alley. A few customers were already seated, tilting cups, easing the weight of the day.

"The drinks here are solid!"

"…Are they?"

"Yeah! The makgeolli is rich, and the buchimgae is great!"

They sat on a bench.

The wood was old and creaked beneath them. Hagun called to the owner in a loud voice.

"A jug of makgeolli and some buchimgae, please!"

A booming voice answered from inside.

"Sure! Coming right up!"

Before long, the owner appeared with a tray.

A jug of makgeolli, two cups, and a plate of buchimgae still breathing steam — all set down on the bench. A pale wisp of vapor rose from the jug's mouth, and the sour, earthy tang of makgeolli reached his nose.

The buchimgae had just come off the pan. Oil still sizzled on its surface. It was thick with green onions, and its edges had been fried crisp to a golden brown.

Smells good.

Hagun poured the makgeolli.

White, cloudy liquor filled the cups to the brim. Tiny bubbles rose and popped along the surface.

Jinhwa watched the bubbles break.

"Hyungnim, drink up!"

"…All right."

Jinhwa lifted the cup slowly and brought it to his lips.

It was not his first time. At the inn, he had occasionally tasted what guests left behind. But sitting down properly to drink like this — that was a first.

He took a sip.

Thick and rough, and his throat burned. The liquor traced a hot line down his gullet and settled warm in his stomach.

But it wasn't bad.

Strong. Different from sneaking leftover dregs.

Hagun raised his cup and drained it in one go.

"Puah—!"

He set the cup down with a satisfied exhale. His face was already starting to flush.

"…You drink fast."

"That's how you're supposed to drink! Down it quick, and the weight comes right off!"

Hagun poured himself another and emptied it again. Jinhwa drank slowly.

This man… can hold his liquor.

He picked up a piece of buchimgae.

Crisp. The battered crust crunched at the edges, and the inside was soft. Salty and savory. The green onion spread its flavor through his mouth, cutting the heaviness of the makgeolli.

Good.

Is this why people drink?

Jinhwa took another bite and thought.

This was a first. Sitting across from someone his own age, sharing a drink and food.

At Mount Hua, he had eaten with his classmates. But that had been part of training. Mealtimes were set, and conversation was limited.

This was different.

Free. Easy.

I've never felt anything like this.

Confiding

Hagun bit into a piece of buchimgae and spoke.

"Hyungnim, I… actually have something weighing on me."

"…What is it?"

"Yeah."

Hagun drank another cup.

His face grew steadily redder. His eyes had begun to lose their focus.

"My father wants to hand the business down to me."

"…Isn't that a good thing?"

"But… I don't think I have any talent for trade."

Hagun let out a long sigh.

Something heavy was packed inside that breath. Jinhwa watched him quietly.

"I keep making mistakes. Losing money… My father gets frustrated. When he says, 'Can't you even do this?' — honestly… I want to die."

"…I see."

"Almost getting swindled the other day — that's exactly it. I don't know how the world works. I trust people too easily."

Jinhwa ate a piece of buchimgae and then spoke.

"…But you can learn."

"I know, but… I have no confidence. No matter how much I try, it feels like I'm not improving."

Hagun turned his makgeolli cup in his hands, murmuring.

"Hyungnim… are you confident? In what you do?"

Jinhwa thought for a moment.

Confidence…

No.

The inn work was familiar. But familiarity was not the same as confidence. He was simply getting through each day. Drawing water, sweeping the yard, washing dishes, serving guests. All of it was a scramble to survive.

Confidence? That was a luxury.

Jinhwa spoke.

"…No."

"You too, hyungnim?"

"Yes. I'm just… living day by day."

Hagun nodded.

"I see… you too…"

Neither spoke for a while.

Only the cups passed back and forth in the quiet. Around them, laughter and conversation drifted from other benches, but over their table a stillness hung.

Hagun spoke again.

"Hyungnim, how did you end up working at an inn?"

"…"

Jinhwa hesitated.

Should he tell the story of Mount Hua? The story of being called a prodigy and turning out ordinary. The diagnosis of blocked meridians, the demotion to the general class. Leaving the mountain and becoming a drifter.

But the words wouldn't come.

Do I really… need to say it?

Jinhwa kept it simple.

"…I left home."

"Home?"

"Yes. I left when I was young."

Hagun asked carefully.

"…Did you not get along with your family?"

"No. I just… left on my own."

Hagun didn't push.

Instead, he filled Jinhwa's cup. The makgeolli rose to the brim, bubbles threatening to spill over.

"That must have been really hard."

"…It was what it was."

Jinhwa picked up the cup and drained it.

In one go. The way Hagun did.

His throat burned. His head swam.

It was hard.

But he did not say it.

The memories of Mount Hua. The years of being ordinary. The pitying looks from classmates. His master's disappointed face. The drifting life after leaving the mountain. The cold, hungry nights.

None of it left his mouth.

Saying it… won't change anything.

Hagun spoke.

"I… sometimes want to leave home too."

"…Why?"

"My father's expectations are too heavy. Having to be good at trade… having to take over the merchant group…"

Hagun smiled bitterly.

"But I don't have the courage to leave. I don't think I could survive on my own. I'm not strong like you, hyungnim."

"…I'm not strong."

"Yes, you are."

Hagun looked Jinhwa straight in the eyes.

They were the eyes of a man deep in his cups, but sincerity shone through them.

"Hyungnim… you're strong. You left home at thirteen and made it all the way here on your own."

"…"

"I'm not… as strong as you."

Jinhwa could not answer.

Strong…

He had never once thought of himself that way. He had simply endured to survive. He had walked because there was no other choice.

Was that strength?

He wasn't sure.

When Jinhwa thought of strength, the first word that came to mind was martial arts.

And whatever Hagun meant by strength — he wondered about that for a moment, too.

Friends

The jug of makgeolli was empty.

Hagun's face had gone completely red. Jinhwa was a little drunk himself. His head was fuzzy, and the world seemed to tilt slightly.

Hagun spoke.

"Hyungnim… do you have many friends?"

"…No."

"Me neither."

Hagun looked down at the empty jug and smiled.

It was a lonely smile. His lips curved up, but his eyes did not follow.

"Everyone in trade pretends to be your friend… but nobody really is."

"…"

"They all come around because of what they can get. Not from me — from my father's merchant group. When people are nice to me, it's always about business."

Jinhwa nodded.

"…I understand."

"Hyungnim… do you need a friend?"

Jinhwa thought.

Last spring. The festival he had walked alone. Standing by himself in the middle of a bustling crowd. Watching people laugh and talk, and the ache that had filled him.

I wish I had a friend.

Jinhwa spoke.

"…I do."

"Me too."

Hagun raised his cup.

It was empty. He looked at it and let out a short laugh, then picked up the jug and shook it. A thin slosh of makgeolli remained at the bottom. He poured what was left into his own cup.

"Hyungnim… should we be friends?"

"…Friends?"

"Yeah. Real friends."

Hagun's face turned serious.

He was drunk, but his voice was clear.

"Friends who don't measure profit. Just… friends who drink together and talk. Who comfort each other when things are hard, and laugh together when things are good."

"…"

"You need that too… don't you, hyungnim?"

Jinhwa looked at Hagun.

A flushed face. Slightly unfocused eyes. But behind them, something earnest.

Jinhwa nodded.

"…Yes."

"Then let's be friends!"

Hagun called to the owner.

"One more jug of makgeolli, please!"

"Sure thing!"

A fresh jug arrived.

Steam curled from its mouth. Hagun poured Jinhwa's cup full. The makgeolli rose nearly to the rim.

"Here — drink up! We're friends now!"

"…All right."

The two touched their cups together.

Clink.

A clear, bright sound. It rang through the little tavern.

And something rang through Jinhwa's chest, too — light, and just as clear.

Whether it was the liquor, or Hagun, or both — it didn't matter.

Jinhwa drank.

Hagun drank.

Both drained their cups in one go.

Hagun laughed.

Bright. Wide.

"We're friends now!"

"…Yes."

"Let's meet often! When things are hard, we talk it out — when things are good, we laugh together!"

"…I'd like that."

Jinhwa smiled too.

It had been a long time. Since he had smiled and meant it.

Since leaving Mount Hua — no, even at Mount Hua, he wasn't sure he had ever smiled quite like this. A warmth spread through one side of his chest.

I have… a friend now.

It was the feeling of something being filled.

The empty space that had been there since last spring was slowly closing. The cold drained away, and warmth took its place.

Something long frozen was beginning to thaw.

Hagun bit into a piece of buchimgae and spoke.

"Hyungnim, I… come to this market about once a week."

"…Do you?"

"Yeah! For my father's errands. Same day every time."

"When?"

"Three days from now. Let's meet then! It's a promise!"

Jinhwa nodded.

"…All right."

"You have to come! I'll be upset if you don't!"

"…I'll be there."

"Really?"

"…Yes."

Hagun held out his little finger.

"Then promise!"

Jinhwa looked at the outstretched hand, then glanced around — half worried someone might see. It was a little embarrassing, honestly. But he slowly extended his own little finger. The two hooked together.

"Promise!"

Hagun said it with a grin.

Jinhwa smiled too, small and quiet.

A promise… it's been a long time since I've made one of these.

The two kept drinking.

They talked. Hagun told stories about the merchant group; Jinhwa told stories about the inn. Nothing deep. Just ordinary, small things.

But that was enough.

Being able to share small, ordinary things with someone. That alone was more than enough.

Parting

Time passed, and the sun was gone entirely.

The sky had darkened, and stars had appeared, one by one. The moon rose too — a crescent, thin and pale, casting a faint light.

Hagun stood up, swaying.

"Whew… the drink's hitting me."

"…Are you all right?"

"Yeah! I'm fine! This much is nothing!"

Hagun paid the owner.

Five pun. The owner took the coins and spoke.

"Get home safe, you two."

"Thank you!"

The two stepped out of the tavern.

Outside, full darkness had settled. Lanterns were being lit along the street, and people drifted homeward one by one.

A wind blew. The autumn night air was cool. Some of the haze in his head cleared.

Hagun spoke.

"Hyungnim, I need to go this way."

He pointed east.

"…Right. I should head back too."

Jinhwa pointed west.

"Today was really great. I'm so glad I ran into you, hyungnim."

"…Me too."

Hagun clapped Jinhwa on the shoulder.

The hand was heavy. But warm.

"Hyungnim, I'll see you in three days!"

"…Yes."

"You have to come! We promised!"

"…I will."

Hagun waved.

"Take care!"

Jinhwa raised a hand.

"…Get home safe."

Hagun walked a few steps, then stopped.

He turned and looked at Jinhwa. Jinhwa was still looking at him.

Hagun shouted.

"Hyungnim!"

"…Yes?"

"Next time, let's drop the formalities! And I'm not your little brother — we're the same age!"

Jinhwa blinked, eyes wide.

"…The same age? And you're the one who started calling me hyungnim."

"Doesn't matter! I'm seventeen this year too! So let's talk like equals!"

Hagun waved, grinning.

"See you next time!"

Hagun turned and walked away.

He swayed a little with each step, but his stride was broad and sure. Jinhwa watched the retreating back for a long while.

So we really are the same age.

Jinhwa laughed.

All this time, Hagun had been calling him hyungnim and using formal speech — and it turned out they were the same age.

Then next time… I should talk comfortably.

The Return

Jinhwa hurried to finish the errand Jang Ikho had given him.

The stalls were closing, but the vegetable vendor said she had set the goods aside just in case — knowing Jinhwa usually came around this time.

Carried by the liquor, he thanked her more profusely than usual, then headed for the inn.

The buzz still lingered. His head was fuzzy and his steps drifted slightly. But his mood was bright.

It's been a long time… since I felt like this.

He looked up at the sky.

Stars scattered thickly across it. The Milky Way cut a pale river overhead. Moonlight fell soft on the road.

The autumn night sky was clear and beautiful.

Pretty.

When he reached the inn, Jang Ikho was standing in the yard.

He had a lantern going and was tidying something. He looked up when Jinhwa appeared.

"Jinhwa — just getting back?"

"…I'm sorry. I'm late."

"It's fine. But… is that liquor I smell?"

Jinhwa scratched the back of his head.

"…I had a little."

Jang Ikho smirked.

"Good. A young man ought to drink now and then. Did you make a friend?"

"…Yes."

"Yeah? Good for you. Go on in and rest. Early start tomorrow."

"Yes. I'm sorry."

Jinhwa went to his room.

A small room. Barely enough space to lay out a blanket. But tonight it seemed wider.

Maybe because… my heart feels wider.

He spread the blanket.

Lay down.

Stared at the ceiling. The wooden boards were old, hairline cracks running through them here and there.

Hagun's face came back to him.

The bright smile. The clear eyes. The way he laughed with his whole face.

I've never been this comfortable with someone.

At Mount Hua, he'd had companions.

Bang Dal. Yuhwa. But there had always been a distance. They practiced martial arts; Jinhwa could not. An invisible wall stood between them.

Hagun was different.

He had nothing to do with martial arts. They had simply met — person to person.

This is the kind of friend I needed.

Jinhwa closed his eyes.

He was tired. From the drink, partly. And partly because, for the first time in a long time, his heart was at ease.

Three days from now… I'll see him again.

Sleep came.

His awareness blurred and softened.

For the first time — a friend made not through martial arts, not through status, not through the past.

Just one person meeting another.

With that thought, Jinhwa smiled faintly, just before sleep took him.

The corners of his mouth lifted.

His chest was warm.

A feeling he had not known in a very long time.

[End of Chapter 22]