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It was a clear and cool autumn day when I realized something was wrong with me.

While I cannot remember his name clearly, for the time that has passed since I left Milwon was long enough for mulberry fields to turn into turquoise seas, I had a close friend who had lopsided ears and cheerful spirit. His father's estate was renowned for a huge and old jujube tree in its courtyard. It was usually forbidden for little children to pick its fruits, as they were for the ceremonies in Mid-autumn Festival and New Year. That year, however, the tree bore abundant than usual, and in that particular day my friend's father was feeling quite generous after receiving the news of his eldest son's promotion in his governmental position; thus he allowed us to pick a basket of jujubes. We decided to pick them ourselves, as all the servants in the household were busy out in the paddies harvesting rice. As my friend's father never stated anything about the size of the basket, we took the largest basket we could find in the storeroom, and since the tree was tall, a ladder along with it. My friend held the basket and I carried the ladder, for I was larger and stronger than my friend despite being a year younger. To think of it now, I really should have been suspicious about this fact, but- well, let's continue this story first.

When we arrived to the tree, my friend decided to climb the ladder, for we both were worried that spindly branches of jujube tree might not stand my weight. As I saw my friend up in the tree picking jujubes without effort, I could not but wonder, for I could not fathom how easily he could distinguish fruits from the leaves and, ripe fruits from unripe ones. So when we were finally satisfied with the amount we picked and began our walk back to the storage, I could not but ask my friend about his peculiar talent.

He was quite confused. He asked me if I was joking. When I insisted I wasn't, and after he became convinced of my sincerity, with a bemused face he paused walking and asked how one could not distinguish the color of leaves from the color of jujubes. But wasn't it more odd to be able to distinguish objects with mere different shade of same color when they are mingled with each other?

So have I thought.

When I came back home with half of the jujubes, I immediately headed to my father. As always, he was sitting in his study, translating those new books imported from the western realms, beyond the influence of Celestial Empire. When he saw the jujubes, he gently smiled with a mischievous glint in his eyes, his mouth ready to throw a clever jest. But when I proceeded to ask about the incident with my friend, there no longer was even a hint of smile on his muzzle. With ears dropped and eyes no longer gleaming, he suddenly thrusted his left hand towards the cockscombs blooming in the yard, pointing them, and barked at me to describe their colors to him. I was afraid. Some of them were yellow, but most of them were blue. But I could sense that that was not the answer that would relieve my father of his sudden distress. My muzzle froze and I could not answer. My father was silent and calm, yet cold. After some time he waved his hand in dismissal with a long sigh, and it was only then that I could move my feet and make egress hastily. I could not understand the reason behind his sudden change of manner then.

I was to know why soon enough, however.

It was a habit of my father to visit my room every evening, with books such as "The Minor Learning (??)" or "The Concise Histories (??)" in his hand, for examining what I have learnt or wrote during the day. That day, expectably, he did not make that visit. No visit occurred in the next day as well. Same was the day after that. Uneasiness and fear began to creep into my mind. Finally, I made the difficult decision of visiting my father's study myself.

When I slid the door, he was writing something, perhaps a letter. I feared that he might lash out for daring to interrupt him, but surprisingly, he did not express any discomfort or irritation on my visit, at least outwardly. But that did not mean that abnormality of the situation dissolved. He was still cold, keeping his distance from me. His answers for my questions on texts were simple and short, containing only what was necessary. He no longer offered further explanations, or recommended readings. As usual, he pointed out flaws from my poems and essays, yet he did not dispense any advices on fixing and honing them further. However, I was afraid to inquire the reason behind this, lest I offended him again.

As days like this continued, I came to notice that I had become a source of gossip between servants of the household, who began to whisper with each other whenever I passed by. I desperately tried to dig any information from them, though it turned out to be a futile effort; regardless of how ugly the tantrums I threw or loud the threats I shouted at them, every single one of them held their tongue as tightly as wisteria bound with kudzu, even my nanny. Although things were calm superficially, it was obvious that something was festering beneath it, and a maddening unrest continued to gnaw at my heart.

It was my uncle's visit that shattered this interlude. He was my mother's younger brother. As the phrase ???? imply, tie between a woman and her clan loosens once she marries, and thus he had no reason to visit my house, especially after the connection between his clan and my father's clan weakened as my mother passed away due to complications from my birth. Despite that, or perhaps, because of that, he visited my house rather frequently, and was very kind to me; often bringing presents such as boxes of confectioneries or imported fine brushes and rare paints purchased from the capital city. Hence it was natural for me to regard him as my favorite among my relatives. On the moment of receiving the news of his visit, I abandoned the book I was reading and flung out of my room to greet him, as usual. Though this time, instead of the gifts he might have brought, I was more interested in the prospect that he might be able to solve this situation, or at least provide an explanation for all this.

I couldn't find him at the entrance gates when I reached there. So I followed his scent, and noticed that he headed towards my father's pavilion. I wondered if I should wait outside the courtyard gate, but my uncle's scent hinted that he was in great distress. Being unable to contain my curiosity and concern, I decided to enter the courtyard. I approached quietly towards the wooden terrace and sat in silence beside the door; I knew I should not eavesdrop, yet fiery tone of my uncle's voice that could be heard even in the courtyard made it irresistible.

I still wonder if it would have been better if I never did that.

My uncle was fervently arguing that since his clan had some northerner blood in its lineage, it was normal, while admittedly uncommon, for some offspring of his clan to have traits such as colorblindness and banded coat or display greater strength and physique compared to others of their age. However, when my father replied in his characteristic gentle voice, though with an edge hidden within this time, my uncle began to falter in his speech. I could not fully understand his reply then, as to understand it, one had to know that trichromacy in our species, a mutation common among diurnal, agrarian populations of south, manifests due to two different mutations that occurs separately on X and Y chromosome, and while my paternal grandmother had colorblindness, both my parents didn't.

Nonetheless, I still could sense the dreadful implications lurking under those incomprehensible technicalities. It became further clearer when my father, who finally could no longer contain his emotions, cried out that he should have noticed this treachery when my mother's last words were not words of concern for her child, but an apology for him, and lamented how he could not let go of her for all these years, only to be repaid by this. My memory is rather vague after that, filled with a chaotic haze of dread and sorrow; I think I was eventually found sitting motionless on the terrace, and someone carried me back to my room on his or her back, though I am not so certain about that. I am still unsure whether my brain is incapable of remembering what happened, or is refusing to do so.

Nevertheless, I can recall with more lucidness what happened in the early morning next day. A servant woke me up and delivered a 'fortunate news', that while it has been decided by the clan elders to disown me, my uncle has graciously volunteered to take care of me instead. My clothes, books, and other petty things were already packed and loaded on a mule, and I was led to the gates where my uncle stood. He gave me a look of pity as I watched with silence some housemaids carrying bottles of camphor oil towards the pavilion where my room was, perhaps to cleanse the building of the last evidence that I resided there. Feeling blank and stunned, I obediently rode the donkey as the servants urged me to. My uncle took seat on the saddle of his horse at last, and the party followed as his servant led the beast towards the destination. Behind us, the gates were closed loud and tight, no one giving farewell to our departure.

As our group went past the bare paddies and reached the banks of family dam, I turned my gaze to look at the pavilion that held my father's- no, Sir Min's study room. Morning rays shone bright on the jet black tiles of the elegantly curved roof, enhancing the contrast it had with the walls plastered white. Glass panels of western style windows scattered light as the opulent branches of persimmon gently waved in front of them. So serene those windows were, yet not one of them was open; all closed securely and curtained thick without exception. It was only after I noticed this that tears began to stain my cloths drop by drop. Crisp morning air blew across the dam and stirred the water surface; and as my vision went white from glittering lights filling the water, I started to sob.

And this was how my life in Sir Min's estate in the outskirt of the citadel of Milwon, the place I shall forever long and yearn to return, has ended for good.