So does not believe it, when coach Park mentions that Miss Oh has treated him when he was young. But now he wonders why he even doubted to begin with. Something stirs within the mask of serenity that the woman wears with so much ease, a flicker of unease that she worries he might notice in her eyes, a tremble in her fingers when she touches him, a hitch in her breath, a twitch in her mouth.

She remembers him and she is disgusted.

It takes him no time to work it out, after all it is an expression his mother has perfected over the time. Monster - she calls him; the defected baby that brought her lifelong disgrace. He briefly wonders if Miss Oh had felt the same when she had cared for him as an infant, would she recoil and shudder just the same?

However the woman is more poise and elegance, only a flicker of unease in her practiced movements - just a fraction of a hesitation before she finally touches him. He puffs out a breath he has been unconsciously holding, when the physiotherapist moves to assess his recovery.

It is not only a debt of a lifetime between them. He thinks as the memories settle on his world weary shoulders like a fresh weight. They had both tried to protect the same girl - to lengths each could go to. He still remembered how the burden of being spared at the cost of her life had crushed Soo underneath its implications. She had never recovered from the loss of court lady Oh. It feels like a cruel joke, how they all circled the abyss to end up positioned as chess pieces awaiting a catastrophe.

Coach Park is still speaking talking about the surgeries and the PRP therapy that followed.

She turns away with a flinch and lips pressed in a sigh, scribbling something about swellings and inflammation. A routine of how they would go on with physical and manual therapy.

“We’ll begin with some basic stretches and move to restrained ones.” She comes to him once more. “But you’ll need manual therapy in the first week before the exercises -”

“Does it bother you Doc?” The woman jumps at his sudden question and her eyes snap into his. Her eyes are silvery warm like a gray dawn and he regrets the flicker of pain at his words. “Do I disgust you?”

“You are mistaken,” her voice sounds so polite, but he notes the stain, the suppressed shudder. “It is my normal day’s work.”

“Oh but you’d rather not be reminded of how pathetic I might have looked. I can practically see you swallowing the memory -” His tone is cold and for some reason he presses on, the words ooze out of him like puss from a wound. “You’d rather not take on this case - you’d rather see me leave.”

“So!” Coach Park warns him in a scathing tone and the woman flinches again. Her pale face whitens a bit more, and she squeezes her eyes shut, gripping the edge of the table with a white knuckled hand. “You will stay where you are and shut your mouth if you want me to coach you any longer…” the threat in his voice is real, but So has no eyes for him. He takes a good look at Miss Oh and he cannot tolerate anymore.

“I won’t do manual therapy. Give me the exercise schedule and I’ll do it. Have a good day!” He says as unfazed as he could manage and stumbles out before either of them could stop him.

At least she has a choice, unlike his mother. There is no point in pressing this woman to relive the worst times of her life when she had to take care of a disfigured infant. At least her, he can spare from what is to come; this time.

His chest tightens with the need of air and he limps away from the main compound, towards the open greenery and the rolling green gray of a water body. The stiff leg frustrates him on the top of every other depressing thought that tightens around his airway just a bit tighter.

Then, he sees her.

The familiarity of the vision chokes him. The lake, the sun and the elfin woman standing at the center of his vision as well as his entire existence, finding her way back to him again and again over the tides of fate.

She has cut off her long hair, he notes drinking her vision in. The long sheet of glossy black replaced with shorter locks of sunny brown, tickling the top of her ears and the base of her neck, leaving the softest skin beneath enticingly visible. He remembers running his hands through her hair - how thick and soft they were, their fragrance of crushed roses wafting when they tumbled around them in curtains.

It takes him a moment to pull himself from that particular train of thought and his heart leaps in horror to find her slipping towards the water, eyes transfixed in unseeing distance.

For one horrifyingly slow moment he watches her fall and feels the helplessness settle in before his body acts on its own. The need to save her numbs him to the obvious pain that spikes up his leg, or the weary throb that settles on his shoulders, So starts to feel his heart only after her palm is pressed against it.

The immediate solace he feels frightens him in its intensity and he finds himself drowning in her wide eyed stare. She is cold from the dewy breeze, and the tips of her fingers brush against his face. The need for her that stirs within him is violent enough to shatter him; the closer she presses her softness to his rigid frame the closer he comes to lose his sanity.

He wants nothing more than to collapse into her and let her hold him for a while, let her shield him for a while as exhaustion claims him. I’ve found you - he yearns to say,you are safe. But So knows that road leads to despair and he could do without the memories flooding in.

“ You’ll ruin them all in the end! ” Her shrill tone echoes in his mind and he tastes the fear and the salt of her tears. No, not again - he holds her wrist and drags those tempest fingers away and tension coils in him as the need throbs against his pulse.

“You didn’t listen to me -”

The light dims in her eyes, they glitter like dying stars, he lets it slip when her hand falls away. The distance burns and he yearns for her touch, but then, then there is that look in her eyes.

So knows the moment she notices the injury, sees the speculation in her eyes, the pity, the disappointment. It won’t take time for disgust to replace those bitter emotions. He feels pathetic, weak and helpless - naked and crawling, skin branded with all his sins the moment she steps back he snaps.

‘So!” She calls after him, but he cannot find strength in him to stop, to look into those eyes and see that look in them. He amuses himself darkly at his own hypocrisy.

One woman he would not have touching him- another he would not have stepping away.

Don’t follow me - he wishes in the tortured silence. Don’t take my hand. Let me care from a distance.

**

Night before

Wood and paper and generations of history, Haes enjoy the luxury of their linage by the subtle show of culture and tradition. Stone walls and high gates almost keep the time at bar just outside the well manicured 10 thcentury themed lawns. So had only been there once and the memory was still as bitter as the tea Hae Hong Ha Jin prefers.

The old man is more silver than in his memory, his gray eyes a faded steel and with smile as sharp as the edge of a blade. He sits behind a low table, set with smoking teapot and cups for two, glittering bejewelled fingers stroking his peppery beard.  

“Welcome Hwang So Ssi, I was wondering when I would see you -” his voice is full of smiles like a circus master who revels in the confidence that all goes according to his programme. This man keeps Jung hidden within his folds, each day dragging him a bit deeper into the pit of shadows. He knows, so does Yo but there is little either of them could do.

Even some of their strings are tangled with these wrinkled knotty fingers, So thinks with a frown as his eyes takes in the photographs sorted to resemble a fan underneath the tea cup.

“Funny how a mugshot of my niece gets you out of your sickbed on short notice -” the old man shakes his head, gesturing him to take the seat opposite. As he does so, he considers his stiff leg with creases of concern on his forehead.

“What do you want?”

“You know some wise man had said - you should make your demands from those who can fulfill them,” he replies elusively, poring the intensively fragrant liquid into the cups. “Orange blossoms with a hint of chamomile and thyme - rather relaxing at the end of a demanding day.”

He offers So a cup which he does not move to touch. The old man smiles again.

“Even though she claims to have recovered her memories strangely or most foolishly my niece believes I am unable to find out where she is - I’m sure you are also aware where she is - no - how unfortunate.” 

The man contents himself to his silence and stirs a spoon of honey into his teacup and a thoughtful pause follows.  

“Why did you want to meet me?” So tries to grip the last strings of his patience with effort. He had dealt with this man before and knew the moment he loses his cool - the elder of Haes will have the upper hand.

“I know you tried to get her away - knowing that she remembers - that I will come to know that she remembers.”

“She knows nothing.”

“That is for me to decide my dear young man. It is ever changing - which grain of truth is more important than the other. What you know… What she knows… What you both think you know…” he shakes his head eyes closed and voice trailing off. “I haven’t made a decision as to how I’m going to deal with her just yet. Then there is your brother - and my hopes pinned on him. ”

“You want to make another Tae with Jung.”

“You have an insight that is almost lost on you.” His tone is sad and so is his expression. “I’d have loved to collect you Hwang So Ssi.” He takes a tentative sip and sets his cup down. It clicks against the saucer. “There why don’t we think about it?”

“Even for you Mr. Hae that demand has expired a long ago.”

“Oh you’ve had your fun fleeing my call. How many years has it been? In the meantime I’ve invested a lot in your baby brother - enough, not to have you blowing at my cards once more.”

“Are you afraid for Jung?” So tastes the surprise in his words and lets it show arching an eyebrow.

“Jung?” chuckles the old man. “I’m worried about so many of your family - your eldest brother, your twin - your father... all depending on one testimony from my niece..”

“You won’t hurt her!”

“As long as she remains oblivious to what she knows…but where is the guarantee? Nothing is certain; nothing ever is certain!” He sounds indifferent and tilts his head. “Where cameras can go guns follow.”

So curls and uncurls his fist, his heart picking up speed and throbbing against his ribs painfully. He thinks of the days he had spent on the edge looking high and low for Ha Jin. Still the claws of Haes had reached her before he could tuck her into safety. The foolish girl who had blown her safety cover in front of his mother trying to protect him.

In danger because of him - once again.

“Then again what she doesn’t know won’t hurt her. Who is to remind her of what she knows?” As he tortures himself over their twisted fate Hong Ha Jin continues to speak.

“What would you have me do?”

The smile of the man in response says that So has finally arrived where he had intended to bring him. The man offers him the smoking cup once more, the intense fragrance of its vapor suffocating him.

“Perhaps a triple toast like they did in ancient times?”