Work Text:
A boy with soft pink-coloured eyes.
His unruly hair was the colour of ink, uncared for as were his clothes. More so rags than anything proper, as if he could find something of the sort. His pretty face covered in dirt, wild eyes hid away by long bangs. His arms were thin, all skin and bones; what could one expect from a beggar?
Brought up by others his age, in similar circumstances, with barely any more experience than he had. They took him in, provided whatever housing they had to spare for another orphan child. He was given a name: Cho Sam, very rudimentary, and as poor as he was. One would hold some meaning to what they were named, but to him, it was just another thing to call him by. He was designated some work: going out to beg; what other work was a poor boy to do? Beg and get food or some money for it, and maybe listen in on local rumours and gossip. Not as if he would be able to get anything important, or worthwhile. Just getting enough to get by the day was enough.
But even that was much wasn't it? He was young, very lively and unimpressed by his situation. Why would he care about some beggars, just because he lived with them? And it was not as if he could just get up and leave to live better. So he stayed, and begged, and lived. Getting by day-by-day, sleeping in and doing the least he needed to, so as not to get scolded or beaten. He was rather smart about it, maintaining the status quo and hiding away from any responsibility or inconvenience.
One of the other beggars, who helped him regularly to get out of trouble, thought that all his laziness would catch up to him someday.
And then it did.
A day like any other, but he slept in, and the oldest got to him with a scolding. He was fuming, and even the other beggar didn't bother helping out the poor boy.
It was all his own fault, wasn't it? That was what he got for lazing around, but…
Something seemed to have changed in him.
Cho Sam seemed different, no, he was different after he got beaten.
His attitude and demeanour roughened, his posture carried even more arrogance and disdain. But he held himself surprisingly well, it was truly bizarre for such a change to occur so suddenly. Even his previously soft pink eyes looked as if they were bathed in blood with how red they were.
He appeared to have forgotten some things, or he simply never cared before to get to know about them, with what he asked about. But he did seem to have gained confidence, a strong determination with how resolute his words resounded after he came to some conclusion after hearing everything he wanted to know.
"I'm going to Mount Hua."
These words left his mouth with a great resolution and a very delighted tone. The name of the sect spoken so dearly, so lovingly as if he had waited for years to hear it again.
…The look on the other beggar's face showed clear disbelief.
"Remember the name of Cheong Myeong from Mount Hua!"
He shouted while leaving, sounding more alive than ever before.
Rather contradictory, but what was to stop him now?
Cheong Myeong tightened his fist, a beaming smile graced his lips.
"To Mount Hua."