Crossing the threshold, Yi Sun-sin removes his campaign cloak.
The air inside is calm, filled with the faint scent of oil lamps.
His son, still clinging to his hand, babbles with laughter.
In the main room, the table is already set. A few simple dishes — warm rice, grilled fish, pickled vegetables. Nothing ostentatious, yet prepared with care.
His wife steps forward, takes the cloak he has removed, and hangs it herself. Her gaze, serene and tender, never leaves him. Then, with a discreet gesture, she invites him to sit.
He eats in silence, as always. But this time, his son climbs awkwardly onto his lap, grasping the spoon with tiny hands. Yi freezes, startled. His wife stifles a quiet laugh.
For a fleeting moment, the scene feels like any ordinary home — a father, a mother, a child. Yet the general's face remains closed, too rigid to admit that he has missed this peace.
Outside, silence reigns.
Inside the house, at last, the rock has come home.