Taesu lowered himself near the bed and spoke loudly without letting anything show.
“Elder, it’s me, Taesu.”
“Huuuuh… the trouble… those brats…?”
“They’ve all gone out.”
“…Huuuh. Good… then… that’s fine.”
Finding that sense of relief strange, Taesu asked loudly.
“Wouldn’t it be better for your younger brothers to be here?”
“Don’t want… huuh… I’ve got… pride.”
At the utterly unexpected answer, Taesu let out a laugh before he realized it.
“Pff, haha… Ahem. I’m sorry.”
“Huuuh… Laugh… laugh… It’s a good day…”
“A good day?”
Taesu’s gaze turned toward the window.
As if it understood the hearts of the villagers, the sky was overcast.
Then Elder Wang’s thin voice came to him.
“…I feel light, ahem. Huuuh… light…”
“What feels light?”
“My children… will… from now on… huuh, live… better.”
“……”
Even at the very end, he was worrying about the villagers.
For a moment, Taesu thought that perhaps Elder Wang’s death had come because he had finally let go of a tension he had held for so long.
The timing fit so well that it could not simply be dismissed as forced reasoning.
While Taesu was thinking, Elder Wang’s voice came again.
“…You lot, huuh… when are… you going?”
“Pardon? What do you… We still have a long way to go. It isn’t even in sight.”
When Taesu jumped in alarm, a faint smile appeared at the corners of Elder Wang’s mouth.
“Huh, huhuh… What a… load of crap.”
“That was my small revenge for making me laugh earlier.”
“Huuum… Good grief… holding a grudge…”
Srrrk.
Elder Wang’s eyes turned toward Taesu.
They were unfocused, but it seemed he had turned his gaze once, following the sound of his voice.
It was then.
Thud.
Taesu sat on the edge of the bed and held Elder Wang’s hand.
“I’m holding your hand. Can you feel it?”
“…A little.”
“After you leave, and once this place settles down… I’m thinking of leaving then.”
“Huuuh… Someday… one day… if you pass by… stop in…”
His words came in fragments, but Taesu pieced them together by instinct and answered.
“Yes. Someday, if I pass by, I’ll be sure to stop in and look around. I’ll have to come see if my hospital is safe too.”
“…You should… huuh, khhk. Haa…”
Elder Wang’s breathing, which had been answering faintly, suddenly wavered.
Taesu instinctively knew there was not much time left.
So he asked.
“Is there any other request you have, or anything you want to leave behind?”
“Tears… no… work…”
“Don’t waste tears, and go do the work that needs doing?”
“Huh… yes…”
Elder Wang seemed pleased that Taesu had understood.
Even then, his eyes were growing fainter and fainter.
Taesu pressed him a little more.
“Is there nothing else you want to say?”
“…What?”
“Something else. Anything else.”
Taesu’s voice grew even louder.
Only then did Elder Wang seem to understand, and the corners of his mouth trembled faintly. Then, moving his lips thinly, he spoke.
“Tha… nk… you, Dr. Choi Tae… su.”
“……”
The moment he understood, Taesu’s eyes trembled.
—Thank you, Dr. Choi Taesu.
It was the first time.
The name he had never once heard from him was only spoken now, at the very end.
Only then did tears lightly gather in Taesu’s eyes as well.
“I’m grateful too. And this time, it’s a long journey, so please take care of yourself.”
“…Huh, huh… later… again…”
The thin voice that had been flowing out slowly disappeared.
And then.
Srrrk.
Elder Wang’s eyelids lowered, and his head turned slightly to the side.
He had left.
Taesu, who was holding his hand, could no longer feel his heartbeat.
At Elder Wang’s lips hung a faint smile.
It was a smile that carried the lightness of having cast everything off.
Taesu let go of his hand and rose from the bed.
Then he bowed deeply twice and murmured in a low voice.
“You’ve worked hard. Time of death…”
Elder Wang’s death was announced at once.
All the villagers who had been waiting lined up across the yard.
Then, in a solemn atmosphere, they bowed.
Once, and then twice…
The second bow could not be completed.
Everyone remained prostrate and began to wail.
“Aigo, aigo.”
In that way, with one voice, they all grieved the sorrow of the village’s great tree having departed.
No separate mortuary altar was prepared for Elder Wang.
It was because, while he was alive, everyone had seen his face and said their farewells.
The work of preparing the grave site and coffin also proceeded smoothly. All of it was done according to the deceased’s wishes.
And before the sun set, Elder Wang left his home.
All the villagers headed to the mountain to see him off.
In Elder Wang’s now-empty house, only Taesu remained.
Jeong Minsu and Kim Hyeokgwon had said they would rest a bit at the hospital.
Taesu slowly looked around the house and murmured.
“The owner’s gone, and the house already looks like it’s about to fall apart.”
At that thought, he grew slightly gloomy.
Then Taesu’s gaze turned toward the bed.
For no reason, Elder Wang, who had been lying there until just a moment ago, appeared before his eyes.
To the end, they had not known each other’s full names.
As he was looking around like that—
Taesu’s eyes flashed slightly as they fell on the bed.
“The space under the bed?”
As that memory came back to him, Taesu found his gaze continually drawn there.
Soon, his body moved in that direction.
Sasak.
He flattened his posture and looked.
There seemed to be a space, but it was dark, so he could not see inside.
“Is it not?”
He was feeling around here and there without much thought.
Thump.
Something caught in his hand.
It was a thin cord.
Puzzled, Taesu slowly pulled on it.
Grrrng.
A faint sound was heard, and soon a wooden box was dragged out. It was a little larger than the span of both hands spread wide.
“This isn’t for me… but still?”
Taesu, who had put his conscience forward, stealthily looked around.
Naturally, there was no one there.
Twitch.
Raising his eyebrows broadly, Taesu carefully opened the wooden box.
The thick layer of dust piled on top poured down. But the inside was clean, as if not even a single breeze had entered.
The only thing inside was a neatly folded cloth.
“This is…”
Flutter.
Taesu carefully unfolded the cloth.
As it gradually spread open, its identity began to reveal itself.
Recognizing it at a glance, Taesu’s eyes widened sharply.
“Ah.”
A single exclamation barely escaped him.
And Taesu could only stare at that cloth for a long while.
The picture drawn on the cloth was none other than the Taegeukgi.
It was undoubtedly the national flag of the Republic of Korea.
Its shape was the same, but there was one slightly different part.
It was a handprint.
A handprint missing one joint from the fourth finger.
Taesu stared at it in silence.
“……”
It was something he had expected and guessed from the beginning, so he accepted it calmly.
But the more he looked at it, the heavier his heart became.
What was this, really?
The people who had devoted themselves to protecting this flag were living like this.
Many thoughts passed through him.
Taesu himself broke that stretch of time.
Awakening from his thoughts, Taesu carefully folded the Taegeukgi again.
And then.
Srrk.
He returned it beneath the bed, to its original place.
The trio of old men—or if not them, then someone else—would find it again.
Taesu left not a single trace of lingering attachment.
It was not his.
It was the pride and dignity that these people had preserved, even while resenting it.
But why had Elder Wang told him about this?
He did not think it meant they wanted to be recognized.
Nor did he think of it as a gift.
Whatever Elder Wang’s thoughts had been, it reached Taesu differently.
Could it have meant that, of all people, Taesu alone should understand them properly, when no one else had recognized them?
It was purely Taesu’s own thought.
It was far too difficult to guess Elder Wang’s true intention.
However, Taesu made one vow in his heart.
‘Someday…’
He hid even that resolve from himself.
It was still too early to speak of it.
The day after Elder Wang left.
Thud, thump. Tak, tak.
The village construction resumed all at once.
Another day began, exactly the same as if nothing had happened.
But that was a great misunderstanding.
This very sight was what it meant to honor Elder Wang’s wishes.
He had left while envisioning a prosperous village.
For that sight, the villagers were moving their hands, shedding sweat, and making it reality.
And a few days later.
It was still early dawn.
The world was filled with pitch-black darkness.
Creak.
The front door opened, and Taesu and the other two came outside. The three people standing side by side in the yard were looking in one direction.
Whoooosh.
It was cold weather, with a chilly wind blowing.
Though they were dressed thickly, it felt as if the cold were burrowing into their bodies.
Taesu lightly wrapped both arms around himself and said,
“Ugh. It really is cold.”
“It’s the middle of winter, so of course it’s cold.”
“……”
Unlike the two of them, Kim Hyeokgwon did not join the conversation. Even while all of them complained about the cold, none of them went back inside, and they remained standing there.
Not long after that—
The sky slowly began to brighten.
And far off, above the mountain ridge, the sun slowly rose.
The first sun.
The first sunrise of the new year.
Looking at that sun, Taesu said quietly,
“I hope the new year brings only good things for everyone.”
“May you get a ton of blessings.”
“Happy New Year.”
Together, they exchanged well-wishes while watching the first sunrise of the new year.
Each of them also made personal wishes while looking at the sun.
Among them, Taesu showed a bit of regret.
‘It would’ve been better if we could have seen it together.’
He was thinking of Elder Wang.
In the end, he had left without seeing the new year with his own eyes. And Taesu also thought of the many people who had departed in his hands.
Lastly, he added one more phrase to his personal wish.
‘May this be a year where we improve a little more.’
It was a wish that applied not only to himself, but also to Jeong Minsu and Kim Hyeokgwon.
That calm time lasted only briefly.
Sensing the quiet atmosphere beginning to break, Taesu asked lightly,
“Did you all finish making your wishes?”
“Yep.”
“I did.”
The moment the two answered, Taesu quickly turned and spoke fast.
“Let’s hurry inside. Ugh, it’s cold.”
“Wait for me.”
“If the year has changed, let’s at least mature a little.”
Kim Hyeokgwon scolded them, but his footsteps were just as nimble as Taesu’s and Jeong Minsu’s.
At times like this, they were all much the same.
The new year dawned, and a month passed.
Taesu was slowly climbing the hill on the right side of the village. Beside him, Lee Changgyu was walking carefully with the aid of crutches.
Crunch, crunch.
It was the moment he had left the bed where he had stayed for so long.
But the snow that had fallen before had not completely melted, so it remained piled here and there.
Lee Changgyu’s expression as he walked that path was not dark.
He was in the process of overcoming his trauma.