Dreamer || Jongho (A Treasure Tale)

Mermaid Song

It would have been preferable to bring a coat with him, but instead Jongho tried to run along the cliff face, hoping some overhanging rock would shield him from the bulk of the rain.

Under the tents in town he received some respite, and, shivering, counted out his coins to pay the rice merchant with and prepared to haul the stuffed bags home with no wagon and without letting them be soaked.

"Do you think it will let up soon?" He asked the seller with a small grain of hope.

The man shook his head and pulled his own cloak closer. "My bones tell me it'll rain all day and most of the next."

Frowning, Jongho shouldered the bag and sprinted back out into the storm. To make up for the rice weighing him down, he picked up the pace and ran faster, a decision he regretted as soon as his foot caught on a loose rock and he came crashing down face first.

Scrubbing away pained tears, he grit his teeth and rose to his feet again, thankful that the bag had not leaked and returning to the path in the hopes of arriving soon.

He had made a decision and he'd have to live with it. There was no sneaking in through the back this time, front door thrown open and rice bag deposited in the kitchen.

Father was sitting at the table and scowled when he saw his son soaking wet and dripping rain in the entryway, but his expression eased as he took notice of what had been brought.

Wordlessly, he rose to open the bag and cook some of the rice, adding it to the meat he'd already grilled while his son was out and Jongho waited patiently for the verdict.

Father may not be speaking to him at the moment, but he would address him soon, Jongho could tell.

When Father sat himself down with a steaming bowl and finished the long awaited first bite, he finally looked up at his son, still dripping in the doorway.

"Thank you," he said simply, and Jongho's eyes filled with happy tears.

Hurriedly he blinked them away and bowed his head respectfully before returning to his room to look for a towel.

There weren't any clean ones. The housekeeping lady was still visiting the archipelago until next week.

Feeling the afternoon lull take him over with a sudden warmth, Jongho dropped his soaking clothes in a pile on the floor and wrapped himself in blankets instead, holding his eyes open as long as he could but inevitably drifting into sleep as his shivers subsided.

It was nearly nightfall when he awoke from what felt like a very well earned rest. Hungry and craving some attention, Jongho dressed in dry clothes and ventured into the main room to see a sight that spiked his sleep-addled brain into full awareness.

Father was sitting at the table with a scowl again, the bottle in his hand. An empty bottle.

It was too late to reconsider, so Jongho crept forward until those darkening eyes landed on him and narrowed.

"Where have you been all afternoon?" Father snapped, motioning to a bowl of stew that sat, uneaten, on the other end of the table. "I rang the bell for supper and you did not come. Is this how you treat your Father?"

Jongho's mouth fell open as he glanced at the bowl, and he didn't know what to say in his defence.

He had made him supper. Father hadn't done that in months.

"I was... asleep..."

Father scoffed.

"Asleep? I thought to be merciful and show you forgiveness but here you are dragging your feet when you should be thanking me."