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The night was dark and still as the boy ran through the streets, looking for the man he’d been sent to find.
“Ajusshi! Ajusshi! Please! It’s my sister, she’s sick!”
The elderly shaman tucked the talismans he was working on under his bedroll and grabbed his robe and pack.
“Lead the way,” he said gently.
The house the boy brought him to was little more than a shack. The likelihood that he would get paid for his services appeared dim, but he spied the young girl in the corner and wasted no time getting to work.
The sun was just rising when he emerged from the house, energy depleted and muscles aching.
The children’s mother pressed a small bag of rice into his hands, her eyes still wet with tears.
“No,” he said gently, pushing her hands back, “keep it for her. She'll need it to restore her strength when she wakes up.”
He stepped out onto the street. His heart still pounded, racing a thousand beats per minute.
All around the world, I’ve been searching for you.
His brain replayed the words from the vision. He stared at his trembling hands.
Why now?
It had been years, decades really, since the dragon had come to him like this. Before, it had always brought words of warning, prompting him to pack up and move in the middle of the night, keeping him one step ahead of those who would destroy him.
But this time it was different. The dragon’s eyes full of sadness, his words conveying a message of love, longing, but also acceptance.
It had sounded like a goodbye.
He pushed the ache down. It wouldn’t do to dwell on past love. He wasn’t a young man anymore. That time in his life was long gone, and he had other things to worry about.
The pounding of his heart morphed into something seemingly audible, filling his head with rhythmic percussion and spawning a rapidly worsening headache. He hurried through the city gates. He had no time to waste. He recognized the signs all too well and would prefer to be at home among friends than be taken in the middle of the street. His skin felt on fire, and his stomach churned as he finally reached the house.
“Jaeyoon!”
Hweseung’s alarmed exclamation went unnoticed as Jaeyoon stumbled past to the room in the back, his vision dimming.
With shaking hands, he lit the brazier in front of the alter and dropped a rolled fragment of white paper. As smoke filled the room, he felt his senses leave until all that remained was the sound of distant drums.
‘Is he worth it?’
Mother’s question swirled through the haze of incense as he focused on clearing his mind. He was weak from fasting and meditating, but he knew no other option. Only the gods could reverse fate.
‘Yes.’
‘Is he worth it?’
Blows rained down upon his bare buttocks and thighs. He could see the tears glistening in the eyes of his love, being forced to watch. He wanted to tell him it was okay, but all that could come from his mouth were cries of pain.
‘Yes.’
‘Is he worth it?’
He held his sister’s hand one last time through the wooden slats of the prison. His clothes provided little protection against the elements.
‘Yes.’
‘Is he worth it?’
The blisters on his feet had long since broken, reformed, and broken again until the calluses formed thick soles as he wandered from village to village, trying to find a place that would accept him.
‘Yes.’
‘Am I worth it?’
The self-doubt crept into his mind even as he lay in his lover’s arms. Their lives were complete opposites, and he knew the other had so much more to lose by continuing their relationship.
‘What is this?’ the soft hand that contrasted his own calluses caressed the worry lines on his forehead, ‘You are worth everything. You are like an echo that reveals my truth. You will always be a part of me. You perfect me.’
“Hope you feel the same with me, cause you’re my echo.”
“Echoooo”
“Good one”
“You can’t have a song about echos without imitating an echo.”
“True,” laughter rang through the house.
Jaeyoon looked around, confused.
“Hey, welcome back,” Dongsung smiled at him, “you hungry?”
“What’s that?” Jaeyoon gestured towards the other room where Seunghyub and Hweseung could be heard riffing on a melody.
“It’s a poem we picked up in the city. Seunghyub is turning it into a song.”
Jaeyoon’s heart flipped in his chest as the musician helped him to his feet. Could it be one of his? It had to be. The timing of the visions would be too great a coincidence.
“I need to hear it. The poem. The whole thing.”
There was no doubt about it.
Tears filled Jaeyoon’s eyes as Juho’s words washed over him. If he closed his eyes, he could almost transport himself back to their sanctuary in the forest, a place of fantasy where anything seemed possible in their naïve minds. What had happened to them? Was Juho really still in love with him?
He looked at words on the page as Seunghyub read them aloud. How strange to hear something so personal and intimate from his past come from another’s mouth. There had to be a reason why Juho had written this now.
“I have to go see him,” he said as the poem ended.
Five pairs of eyes stared at him.
“Who?” Jaehyun broached.
Who?
Who was Juho to him? A wave of emotion crashed into him the way the ocean battered the fishing vessels back home. They’d only been together for such a short time, yet time and space seemed to have done nothing to lessen the grip he had on his heart. He wasn’t good with words himself, but Juho’s rang true.
“My Dragon,” Jaeyoon said softly, “There must be a reason why he would write this now. He needs me.” He looked up at the others, “Would you be able to come with me to Hanyang?”
Jaeyoon’s heart pounded as the walls of the capital grew larger in front of him. His eagerness to arrive was being rapidly replaced by an apprehension of what awaited him. He’d had plenty of time to anticipate this moment on the week-long journey punctuated by stops at nearly every town and village as his companions shared their music along the way.
The words Juho had written replayed in his head. He had memorized them that first night, and they now served to comfort him whenever he felt anxious.
Wherever, whenever
My story will still be here
Wherever, whenever
I can begin again with you
“Are you okay Jaeyoon,” Hun asked noted his faltering steps as they approached the gate.
Jaeyoon fingered his hopae nervously and bit his lip.
“Breathe,” Hun reminded him, “and act confident. You belong here.”
Jaeyoon nodded, squared his shoulders and moved forward.
“What brings you here?” the guard asked.
“Traveling musicians,” Seunghyub gestured to the instruments they were carrying.
The guard checked their identification and waved them through one at a time.
“Not you.” A heavy hand pressed against Jaeyoon’s chest. His heart sank.
“There’s no business for shamans here in Hanyang,” the guard told him, “Much less one who is in exile from his home.”
Jaeyoon swallowed hard. “I’m just here to see an old friend. I have no intention of practicing my trade within the city walls.”
“Hmph,” the guard scowled, “Wait here.”
Jaeyoon watched as the man went to consult another. He’d been in this position plenty of times before and it rarely ended in his favor. He couldn’t blame them. If he were in their shoes, he wouldn’t want a condemned criminal wandering about his city, even if the grounds for his banishment were preposterous.
His friends were waiting for him just beyond the entrance. And Juho. He couldn’t fail him now. Not when he was so close.
“You can find him for me, right?” Jaeyoon asked them, “Let him know that I’m here?”
“Are you sure?”
“I'll wait. Now go before they change their minds about letting you in.”
Seunghyub nodded in understanding.
Jaeyoon breathed a sigh of relief as his friends disappeared into the city before the guards returned to tell him that he was absolutely not welcome.
He spent the rest of the day waiting outside the city, close enough to keep an eye on the gates but far enough to avoid angering the guards with his loitering. They were planning on spending a few days in the city, so he knew not to expect them back so soon, but Jaeyoon’s nerves were on edge. Something felt wrong.
As the days passed with no news, Jaeyoon steeled himself for disappointment. It was hard to guess how long it should take to find Juho in the busy capital city, but he hadn’t felt good since their arrival.
“He’s gone.”
As much as he thought he’d been prepared for it, the news pierced his heart like an arrow.
“Is he dead?” he hardly dared to ask the question aloud.
“We don't know. As far as anyone could tell us, he left the city nearly a month ago and gave no indication that he planned to return. From the sound of it, he was not in good health when he left.”
A solemn mood overtook the journey home.
Jaeyoon’s companions did what they could to allay his guilt. He couldn’t help but feel that he had wasted valuable time by not properly consulting the gods for direction, so when they reached their shared home, Jaeyoon wordlessly collected a few supplies and headed straight to his mountain.
The spiritual energy that flowed from Gyeryong-san had been a key factor that influenced his settling in the area, and he had made many such pilgrimages to commune with the spirits.
For hours he climbed in silence, listening for direction from the mountain gods until the chaos in his soul gave way to peace.
He built a shrine near the water and lit the candles before attending to his own shelter. He would wait as long as was necessary to understand the will of the gods. They had never led him wrong.
Time lost all meaning as the shaman meditated and let himself become a part of the mountain.
Gyeryong-san provided all that he could need in the wild plants, roots, and mushrooms that grew on her slopes. At times she led the occasional pilgrim by his location, leaving a portion of food or spare clothing for the silent man on the mountain.
She spoke to him through the wind that rustled through the leaves of her trees and the waterfall that refreshed the pool that sustained him. He wasn’t alone. He was loved. He had value. He had a purpose. Someone was waiting for him. But who? He drifted back into the trance.
“Jaeyoon! Jaeyoon... Jaeyoon...”
The echo bounced from rock formations and boulders reaching the shaman’s ears and shattering the spell that bound him to his mountain.
The man who approached looked familiar. He was known to this man, but he couldn’t place him. He dipped a cup into the clear pool and offered the water to his guest.
“Hyung.” The man dropped into a low bow, “Forgive me? I know you did not want me to marry your sister.”
“Taeyang?” Jaeyoon’s eyes widened in recognition. Of all the people he could have expected to see, he never would have thought of him. Regardless, it was good to see someone from home. He pulled the man up and into a hug, “What are you doing here?”
“Your sister. She told me to bring you home.”
Home.
He may not be permitted within the boundaries of his hometown, but that was not really home.
Home was the sister who met him outside the walls and her three beautiful daughters that he met for the first time.
With tears running down their faces, his sister revealed the true reason for calling him back.
“He's by the cliffs. Your dragon.”
He hardly dared to believe it, even as he caught sight of his one love. Juho had aged, but so had he. No matter how much time they had lost, no matter how much time they had left, he would give it all to this man.
As his family maintained a respectful distance in the forest, he approached the man seated on the edge of the cliff overlooking the ocean.
He could see Juho’s shoulders begin to tremble, as he reached his side.
He studied the profile of the face he had only dreamed of for years and noted the tears in his eyes. How much had he longed for this moment?
The poet’s words filled his mind. “All around the world?” he asked.
“I’ve been searching for you,” Juho confirmed with a whisper.
Jaeyoon’s heart swelled with emotion. He had never stopped loving him, and the gods had seen fit to bring them back together. He reached out and gently turned Juho’s face towards his own. He needed him to know.
“I love you too, my dragon.”