The Eternal Flower Beggar King Chapter 88 – Left Alone

 The Eternal Flower Beggar King Chapter 88 – Left Alone

After hanging his name on the signboard above the gate, Jinhwa locked it shut.

Slowly. Quietly. Having sent away the last person who remained, having shed everything that had defined him —

leaving only the name Oh Jinhwa.

The estate behind its closed gate

was silence.

Complete silence.

Even the cicadas seemed to have stopped. No wind blew. Every sound in the world seemed to have vanished.

Jinhwa opened his eyes.

He looked at the yard.

Empty.

No one was there. Nothing moved. Only the evening sun stretched long across the ground. Jinhwa walked slowly into the yard and stood in the middle and looked around.

The great hall was empty too.

The study. The side hall. The practice room.

All empty.

Alone.

Truly… alone.

Jinhwa sank down where he stood. He touched the ground. He laughed.

Silently. Bleakly. Wretchedly.

Days passed.

He could not say how many. He was only faintly aware of the sun rising and setting. Jinhwa drifted through the estate.

He went to the study.

He opened the door. He went inside. He saw Heungnoe.

Dust had gathered.

On the strings. On the body. On the tuning pegs.

Jinhwa sat beside Heungnoe. He reached out. He wiped the dust. It clung to his fingers, rising white, and Jinhwa looked at it and laughed.

Then he turned Heungnoe over and looked at the characters carved on its back.

Geumsoo Eulsaeng.

The name that had vanished from Jinhwa was still engraved on Heungnoe, clear as ever.

The days when he had been called by that name.

Every time he played the geomungo, people cheered. They applauded. Silver piled up.

Now…

Jinhwa touched the strings, reddened with dried blood.

Tong.

A sound.

Clear. Bleak. Lonely.

Jinhwa withdrew his hand. He stood. He left the study.

Staggering, he went to the practice room.

He opened the door. He went inside. He saw the empty space.

Only the instrument stands remained.

The daegeum, the pipa, the haegeum — all taken. Nothing was left but dust.

Jinhwa stood in the center of the practice room.

He listened.

He thought he could hear them.

"Gakju-nim, what piece shall we perform next?"

Cheongpung's voice.

"Gakju, let's have a drink!"

Cheolsan's laughter.

"Gakju-nim, have some tea."

Yeona's gentle voice.

Jinhwa turned around.

No one was there.

Only the empty practice room. Only dust drifting. Only sunlight seeping in.

Was he hearing things.

Jinhwa laughed.

Was he going mad.

He left the practice room.

Looking back, the days of rehearsing with the members had been truly happy.

The process of merging many different sounds into one had been a profound experience — for Jinhwa and for the members alike.

Thinking this, he went to the side hall.

He walked slowly. He opened the door. He went inside.

A bed.

Blankets still unmade. A pillow. Jinhwa looked at them.

A scent seemed to drift up.

Medicinal herbs.

The scent the physician had used.

Jinhwa's nostrils flared. He looked around. He shook his head.

Nothing.

A hallucination.

He sat on the bed.

He touched the blanket with his hands. Touched the pillow. Buried his face in it.

"Do you know my name?"

He thought he could hear the physician's voice.

Jinhwa hurled the pillow.

"I don't know!"

He shouted. His breathing turned ragged. His hands shook.

Only silence answered.

Jinhwa lay down on the bed. He stared at the ceiling. He closed his eyes.

Perhaps the reason he had never wanted to learn the women's names was his fear of responsibility — and because he had looked at the women only as a means to fill his own emptiness.

These thoughts came flooding in and Jinhwa could not bear them. He left the side hall and

went to the garden.

He walked between the trees. He stood at the edge of the pond. He looked at the water.

This was the path he had walked with the yeohyeop.

"I missed you."

She had said.

He had walked here with the writer's daughter too.

"You are still Geumsoo Eulsaeng, Gakju-nim."

She had said.

Jinhwa looked at his reflection in the pond.

The surface rippled. His face distorted. He could not tell who it was.

Geumsoo Eulsaeng…

Jinhwa laughed.

He picked up a stone and threw it into the pond.

Splash.

Water flew. Ripples spread. His face vanished completely.

Perhaps he missed the name Geumsoo Eulsaeng, yet did not want to acknowledge the wrongs he had committed under it.

The sun rose and set. Rose and set again. He could not tell how many days had passed. Jinhwa simply drifted through the estate.

He lay in the great hall. Sat in the study. Walked the yard. Returned to the great hall.

He did not know whether he was hungry. Did not know whether he was thirsty. He simply wandered.

It was an afternoon.

Or so it seemed.

The sun came from the west, so it must have been afternoon.

Jinhwa was in the study. He raised his head on impulse. He saw the mirror hanging on the wall.

The mirror.

When had he hung it.

He could not remember.

Jinhwa rose slowly and stood before the mirror.

And looked.

At himself in the glass.

A gaunt face.

Cheeks sunken deep. Eyes bloodshot. Black shadows pooled beneath them.

His hair was a tangle.

He had not washed it in longer than he could remember. Had not combed it. Greasy, matted strands jutted in every direction.

His beard was overgrown.

It covered his chin, his cheeks, down to his neck. It was filthy. He looked like a beggar.

His clothes were crumpled.

Stained. Dusty. He had worn the same ones for days.

Is this…

me?

Jinhwa stepped closer to the mirror. He peered at his own face. He laughed.

Wretchedly. Bleakly. In bitter self-mockery.

How did it come to this?

When did it start?

Jinhwa closed his eyes.

And remembered.

The yeohyeop's face.

Fierce eyes. A strong body. A warrior's spirit.

The physician's face.

A gentle smile. White robes. The scent of herbs.

The merchant lord's daughter's face.

Fine silk. Gold ornaments. A haughty poise.

The writer's daughter's face.

An intelligent gaze. Simple clothing. A calm voice.

He had wanted them.

He had fallen for them.

He had spent nights with them.

Because of them…

Jinhwa opened his eyes.

He looked at himself in the mirror. With a trembling hand he touched the glass. He bit his lip.

Women.

All of this… was because of women.

When he left the Hwasan Sect it had been the meridian deficiency. When the clothing shop collapsed it had been greed. When Pungnyu-gak fell…

It had been women.

Jinhwa clenched his fist.

He tried to strike the mirror. Tried to shatter it. He raised his hand.

But.

He stopped.

He had no strength. No courage. He simply lowered his fist.

Women…

had been his weakness.

Jinhwa sank down before the mirror. He covered his face. He laughed.

It was the next day.

Or so it seemed.

Jinhwa went down to the cellar.

Dark. Damp. Cold.

Wine jars sat along one wall.

Bought during the Pungnyu-gak days. Meant to be shared with the members. Now only Jinhwa remained.

Jinhwa opened a jar. He scooped the wine. He drank it down in one gulp.

Bitter. Sharp. It burned his throat.

He coughed. Tears came. He drank again.

He filled the cup. Emptied it. Filled it again.

One cup. Two. Three.

The drunkenness rose.

His head spun. His legs buckled. The world swayed.

Jinhwa carried the jar upstairs. He sank down in the great hall. He kept drinking.

The sun climbed to its peak.

Jinhwa was drunk.

He lay sprawled on the great hall floor. The wine jar had tipped onto its side. Wine pooled on the ground.

"Haha…"

Laughter came.

"Women… because of women…"

He muttered. Drank again. Felt as though he might retch.

"My weakness… haha…"

He tried to rise but could not. He lay back down. He stared at the ceiling.

The ceiling spun.

Jinhwa closed his eyes.

He sank into the dark.

The sun set and rose. Set and rose again. He could not tell how many days had passed.

Jinhwa drank himself into stupor and woke. Slept and woke. Staggered through the estate.

He could not tell day from night. Did not know whether he was hungry. He only drank.

It was a night.

Or so it seemed.

Moonlight came in, so it must have been night.

Jinhwa rose from the study and walked the corridor. He staggered. He struck the wall.

Books fell to the floor.

Thud. Thud. Thud.

Jinhwa did not care. He kept walking. He headed for the great hall.

A chair stood in his path.

He kicked it.

The chair toppled. It rolled across the floor. It made a sound.

Jinhwa laughed.

"None of it matters…"

He muttered. He went out to the yard. He looked up at the sky.

The moon hung there.

Bright. Cold. Lonely.

"I'm… alone like that too…"

Jinhwa sank down in the yard. He pressed his hands to the ground. He bowed his head.

He could not tell what was real and what was dream.

He could not tell what was past and what was present.

He simply drifted through the estate. Drunk. Alone.

It was dawn on some day.

Jinhwa lay collapsed in the yard, drunk.

He was staring up at the sky. He could see the stars. His mind was blank.

Cold.

The ground was cold. The wind was cold. His whole body was cold.

Am I… going to die like this?

The thought came unbidden.

Lying here like this. Without anyone knowing. Dying quietly.

He should have been frightened but was not. He should have been sad but was not. He was simply empty.

I am… finished.

Nothing remains.

Not Pungnyu-gak. Not Geumsoo Eulsaeng. Not the members. Not the women.

All gone.

What remained was only the name Oh Jinhwa.

A name that no one would remember even that.

Jinhwa closed his eyes.

Tears fell. They ran down his cheeks. They dropped to the earth.

A cry burst from him.

"Aaaah…"

He wept aloud. He struck the ground. He screamed at the sky.

"Why… why can't I…"

His voice gave out. His breath choked. Still he wept.

"Why does nothing ever work for me…"

It had not worked at the Hwasan Sect. Had not worked at the clothing shop. Had not worked at Pungnyu-gak.

Not a single thing had gone right. He had failed at everything. Now he was alone.

Women.

It had been because of women.

That was what had destroyed him.

Jinhwa wept for a long time. Until his voice was gone. He clawed at the earth.

And stopped.

No more tears would come. No voice would come. He simply looked at the sky.

The stars were shining.

Cold. Lonely. Beautiful.

Jinhwa reached out his hand.

As if to catch a star. Toward the sky. With a trembling hand.

But nothing was caught. Nothing was reached. He only clawed at empty air.

He lowered his hand.

[End of Chapter 88]