The Scent of Myrrh and Sage

5. Rosemary and Sage

The schedule of Seonghwa's days shifted to accommodate more time for Hongjoong and soon, his mother noticed. Seonghwa got up early in the mornings to do all his work and returned late at night, utterly exhausted. Several times, he lost his orientation within their small home because he was so tired and one time; he started boiling water when they agreed to have bread and cheese in the evening.

Since she liked the permanent smile on his features that lifted the woeful gloom of the dying village, she didn't push him to sleep more. Whenever he came home and saw her waiting for him, he lit up and told her magnificent stories of his adventures. By now, he knew the mountains well, and he was unafraid of the graveyard. He even wanted to explain to the priest how the souls of the dead were nothing to fear and could be bartered with.

A few days after Hongjoong touched his nape so unexpectedly, Seonghwa's mind still kept returning to that moment, their peculiar conversation. He was scared to take the collar off suddenly after wearing it for so long. Believed it might be protecting him from the disease and that he would fall deathly ill upon removing it.

Or worse, that it had truly grown into his flesh and tugging on it would peel his skin off.

So, after spending another day touching his nape absent-mindedly and pondering on his path home from planting fresh flowers with Hongjoong, Seonghwa finally gathered his courage. He sat by their stew, stirring the leftovers of the prior day for their dinner, when the unyielding thoughts finally found their outlet.

"Mother... Why do I always wear this collar? From when I was a child, I never took it off. What does it mean? Others are well equipped without one," he mumbled, not looking up.

Yes, it would be best to ask his mother first. She would know. If she passed before Seonghwa ever asked, he might never take it off and the leather would become part of him.

A beat of silence passed. Usually, the breathing of his mother was so ragged, so the sudden stillness was so deafening, Seonghwa believed to hear the snowflakes settle on the roof. He bit his lip, didn't stop stirring. He was sorry to question her, but it became inevitable to wonder as he got older. Wooyoung mentioned he felt warm without a collar, too. What if Seonghwa only wore it if he went outside?

"Why bring it up, Seonghwa?"

Since she was brittle with her age and her inherent weakness of body, Seonghwa heard no rage in her voice. But he knew she was nervous. Felt her motherly nag.

"I... I just wondered. I always wear it, day and night. Wooyoung never had one. I was fearing it might grow into my flesh."

Seonghwa was a poor liar. And she knew. She had known him all his life.

"Did your new friend bring this up?"

Right, who else? No one in the village questioned it as they grew up to Seonghwa wearing it at all times. In winter, everyone often forgot since it was hidden under his scarves and coats. For the longest time, Seonghwa had also forgotten.

Hongjoong's cold touch lingered on his skin. Made him shudder when he thought back on it.

"He was curious about it, but he didn't ask me to take it off. Only to be careful."

"It won't grow into you," his mother whispered, and her voice was firm. Sure of herself, or convinced she was right?

After a beat of silence, Seonghwa just hummed. Was it so bad to take it off once to check? Or was she afraid he would make it a habit? Was whatever it protected him from such an imminent threat?

Now that the mystery was still unsolved, even though he had become an adult, the topic became uncomfortable. Seonghwa should know about himself and about what he wanted, no? He knew his parents looked out for him, but wasn't his worry also relevant?