By Zephyria 
Yoon Tae-hee, suffering from a fever, had a mouth that was surprisingly hot.
The two of them shared their heat, their tongues intertwining for a long while. Then, at some point, as Jae-gyeom slowly pulled his lips away, Yoon Tae-hee—who had been quietly keeping his eyes closed until then—slowly lifted his eyelids and gazed blankly at Jae-gyeom with fever-flushed eyes. Jae-gyeom gently stroked Yoon Tae-hee’s hair.
I should bring the fever down first.
Jae-gyeom sprang up and headed to the bathroom. After filling a basin with cold water, he soaked a towel in it and returned to the room. When he wrung out the towel and placed it on Tae-hee’s forehead, Yoon Tae-hee blinked and looked up at him.
“Just stay here for a moment.”
Jae-gyeom stood up.
Since Tae-hee had said he hadn’t eaten anything all day, it was now time to feed him something.
“Hmm…”
After pondering for a moment over what to make, he decided to cook rice in a pot. He felt confident in at least cooking rice. It might not be as good as rice cooked in a cast-iron pot over an open fire, but he figured it would be close enough.
There was a food he always ate whenever he was sick as a child. It was scorched rice porridge with seasoned salted shrimp. Whenever Jae-gyeom coughed or suffered from a fever, Myo-jeong would go out somewhere to obtain white rice. He would then cook the rice and boil it into a scorched rice porridge. It was a time when white rice was very precious, and barley rice was the staple.
Scorched rice porridge made from white rice was a special treat reserved only for when he was sick. When the porridge was boiled down until it was almost like a thin gruel and eaten with salted shrimp, it was a true delicacy. Later, in his childish heart, he even tried to pretend to be sick or intentionally played in the snow hoping to catch a cold, only to be severely scolded by Myo-jeong.
As the steaming hot scorched rice porridge released its savory aroma, Jae-gyeom would take a spoonful and blow on it. Then, Myo-jeong, sitting cross-legged right beside him, would use chopsticks to pick up small bits of seasoned salted shrimp and place them on top.
‘Eat slowly. You’ll get indigestion.’
He loved it when Myo-jeong watched him eat, and he dearly loved having his side dishes served to him.
He wanted Yoon Tae-hee to know that taste as well.
Once the rice was finished and scooped out, the thin layer of scorched rice at the bottom of the pot revealed itself. He tore off a corner and tasted it; it was crispy and perfectly cooked without any burnt spots. Jae-gyeom nodded with a satisfied expression.
With that, he poured water into the pot and decided to boil it thoroughly.
While the scorched rice was boiling, he took out the salted shrimp from the freezer. After rinsing away some of the saltiness, he added chili powder and minced garlic, mixing it all together. As he tossed it, it felt as though that old taste was returning. Jae-gyeom placed the salted shrimp in a small soy sauce dish, placed it on a tray along with the finished scorched rice porridge, and headed toward Yoon Tae-hee’s room.
Yoon Tae-hee, who had been lying in bed, sat up and asked.
“What is this?”
“It’s boiled scorched rice and salted shrimp. Have you ever had it?”
“No, I haven’t…”
Yoon Tae-hee asked, tilting his head.
“You eat salted shrimp just like that? As a side dish?”
“Yeah. I know you don’t like fishy things, but try it anyway.”
Jae-gyeom shrugged and spoke.
“This is the food your father used to make for me whenever I was sick as a child.”
At those words, Yoon Tae-hee paused and looked at Jae-gyeom.
“…I see.”
Nodding, Yoon Tae-hee picked up the spoon without a word. He took a spoonful of the scorched rice porridge and blew on it. Seeing this, Jae-gyeom, who was sitting on the edge of the bed, picked up his chopsticks. Just as Myo-jeong had once done for him, he picked up a tiny bit of salted shrimp and placed it on top of the porridge. Yoon Tae-hee slowly brought the spoon to his mouth.
“How is it?”
After a moment, Yoon Tae-hee looked down and gave a faint smile.
“It’s delicious.”
At that, Jae-gyeom beamed.
“Really? I’m glad.”
Watching him, Yoon Tae-hee spoke with a smile still on his lips.
“When I was sick as a child, my Grandfather used to give me white soy-milk soup with plenty of sugar mixed in. That was incredibly delicious… I remember the kids I lived with were desperate to get even one bite of it…”
Yoon Tae-hee closed his eyes and continued in a voice tinged with laughter.
“They would all huddle around me and watch me eat, and they even fought over who got to clear the bowl. I used to intentionally leave a little bit of the soy-milk soup so the kids could eat it. Every time I did, my Grandfather would scold me. Eventually, we all had to stand in a line with our hands raised.”
Haha, Jae-gyeom laughed out loud.
“It seems we both got scolded in the same way.”
“I guess so.”
The two of them giggled, looking into each other’s faces like mischievous young boys.
“Then next time I’m sick, mix sugar into some soy-milk soup for me, just like your Grandfather did for you.”
“Okay.”
“I want to know how much your Grandfather loved you, too.”
The taste of soy-milk soup filled with sugar must be a cool and sweet taste—the taste of a grandfather who deeply cherished and loved his only grandson. The taste of bland scorched rice porridge topped with salted shrimp is a taste that resembles tears.
“Yeah. I think I know. How much Myo-jeong loved you.”
Speaking with a quiet smile, Yoon Tae-hee set down his spoon and said.
“There’s something I want to show you.”
“What is it?”
“Do you want to come here for a second?”
Yoon Tae-hee rose from the bed and headed toward the study. Jae-gyeom followed closely behind. Upon entering the study, something that hadn’t been there before caught his eye. In one corner of the room, there was a frame covered with a white cloth.
Jae-gyeom asked Yoon Tae-hee, who had stopped in front of the frame.
“What is this?”
Without a word, Yoon Tae-hee lightly lifted the cloth.
As the hidden object was revealed, Jae-gyeom’s eyes gradually widened.
“This is…”
The painting inside the large frame depicted six figures.
Jae-gyeom and Yoon Tae-hee, Jeong-ju and Mesan. And Myo-jeong and Hwirim.
Tae-hee, Jae-gyeom, and Jeong-ju were sitting in a wide chair in that order, and Mesani was sitting on Jae-gyeom’s lap, smiling brightly. Yu Nam-saeng was sprawled over Mesani’s head, and Myo-jeong and Hwirim stood behind the three people sitting in the chair. Myo-jeong was dressed in a black robe embroidered with green leaves, and Hwirim, just as he had looked the last time Jae-gyeom saw him, had short hair and a gentle smile.
It was an incredibly exquisite painting.
Myo-jeong and Hwirim looked exactly as they remained in Jae-gyeom’s memories. They looked so vivid, as if they had been pulled directly from his mind. Jae-gyeom froze, his mouth half-open like someone who had forgotten how to speak.
His heart pounded violently.
“H-how… did this happen?”
Jae-gyeom looked at Yoon Tae-hee with a bewildered face.
“This is a painting by the peach blossom ghost.”
At those words, Jae-gyeom’s eyes flew open.
The peach blossom ghost…
A being he had forgotten.
The painting before his eyes was the work of the peach blossom ghost. The peach blossom ghost was a minor spirit who had stayed at Daeryung High School, and he had once received help from him while being bullied by Lee Ju-yeol. At one point, he had misunderstood and thought the peach blossom ghost was the culprit, but after seeing the painting the spirit drew, he realized that Lee Ju-yeol was the one who had bullied him.
“The peach blossom ghost? You met him too?”
“Yeah, I saw him often while passing by during my time as a librarian.”
Yoon Tae-hee nodded. Yoon Tae-hee had also realized early on that there was a group of minor spirits settled at Daeryung High School. He would occasionally peek at the minor spirits playing in the corners, and when no one was around, he had spoken to them a few times.
“But how did the peach blossom ghost… this…”
“I asked him. I asked him to paint it.”
Covering his mouth in surprise, Jae-gyeom murmured blankly.
“B-but as far as I know, the peach blossom ghost can only paint things he has seen personally…”
“Yeah. So I showed him.”
“Showed him… how?”
When Jae-gyeom asked, his brow furrowing slightly, Yoon Tae-hee answered briefly.
“Through a dream.”
“A dream?”
“Yeah. I had Heuk-je and Saero help me.”
Once, Yoon Tae-hee and Jae-gyeom had seen the past in a dream through the abilities of Heuk-je and Saero.
Similarly this time, Yoon Tae-hee had Heuk-je manipulate the peach blossom ghost’s dreams, showing him specific scenes multiple times. The result of the peach blossom ghost painting those scenes exactly as they were was this painting.
It took about a month to complete the painting.
Yoon Tae-hee had taken the peach blossom ghost to the Exorcist Order’s pavilion. He prepared all the materials and art supplies the spirit wanted and even provided a folding screen, which made the spirit’s eyes sparkle. When he told him he could come and paint here as much as he liked, the spirit sniffled and nodded.
The peach blossom ghost used a very fine brush, pouring his heart and soul into the painting. Thanks to that, the facial features were incredibly delicate, and because it was fully colored, the resulting painting was so realistic that it looked like a photograph from a distance.
Yoon Tae-hee looked into Jae-gyeom’s face and asked.
“How is it? Do you like it?”
Jae-gyeom stared at the painting with a dazed expression.
“…”
He had truly never imagined such a thing.
Forgetting to even answer, Jae-gyeom lightly touched the painting with his fingertips.
Because Yoon Tae-hee had placed the painting in a frame, he could only feel the glass surface, but he jerked his hand back as if burned, before slowly and carefully stroking Myo-jeong’s sleeve again. He touched Hwirim’s face once, then moved through Jeong-ju to touch Mesani.
Only at this moment could Jae-gyeom finally understand.
Joy and sorrow are one body.
This is my joy, and this is my sorrow.