Chapter 10
Awakened from his thoughts, Gyohum glared coldly at Jaegwan behind him.
“No matter what the rumors say, she’s my superior’s wife. Show some respect.”
“Respect? Ah, yes, of course. I mean, not that—but while you’re staying at that house, madam…”
“Are we not there yet?”
Under Gyohum’s prompting, Jaegwan quickly looked around and pointed at a shop with his finger.
“Ah, we’re here. Right over there.”
Gyohum scanned the surroundings with his eyes. It was an ordinary fabric shop among the street stalls. The only unusual thing was that, unlike the other shops, this one’s door was closed.
“Report in detail.”
“Yes.”
Jaegwan, worried that another book might be seized again, opened his mouth with a serious expression.
“Last night, a patrol officer saw that the shop’s door was open and found it strange, so he peeked inside. At first, he didn’t see anything, but as he went further in, he found a body lying on the floor. At first, he thought the person was just asleep from drinking.”
He paused briefly, then opened the closed door.
The shop was larger than it appeared from outside. Piles of fabrics of various kinds were stacked here and there.
Jaegwan went in first.
“The body didn’t move at all. Only then did he realize it was a corpse and hurried to call his colleagues. That was the scene.”
He pointed to the spot where Gyohum was standing.
Though the corpse had been taken away to the local authorities, dried brown blood stains proved the horrific incident had occurred the day before. Next to it, a lantern lay toppled. Oil had spilled from the broken lamp onto the floor.
“How long did they say it had been dead?”
“They said it didn’t seem long. The body hadn’t cooled completely yet.”
Jaegwan continued, staring seriously at the bloodstains.
“We immediately searched the area, but we didn’t find any suspicious individuals. This isn’t a residential area, just a cluster of shops, and at night it gets deserted. That’s why there aren’t any reliable witnesses either.”
Gyohum looked around without responding. On the opposite side of the entrance was a wooden door.
Seeing this, Jaegwan quickly spoke again.
“Ah, that’s the storage room. They keep fabrics stacked there.”
“Seems like they run quite a large business.”
Gyohum walked toward the piles of fabric inside the shop.
“Yes.”
Jaegwan carefully moved through the narrow path, avoiding the haphazardly stacked fabrics.
“This fabric shop is fairly well-known in the area. It’s licensed by the authorities and rumored to belong to a wealthy family.”
“Were the fabrics always piled like this?”
“Oh, my.”
Jaegwan quickly reached out as a precarious stack almost collapsed, restacking the fabrics and moving carefully through the narrow maze.
“Yes. I warned them firmly not to touch anything until you arrived.”
He straightened his shoulders, trying to appear proud.
“As you can see, the fabrics were stacked haphazardly, and when moving the body, a few stacks were knocked over. But I restored everything to its original state. So nothing has changed… well, almost nothing.”
Jaegwan waited for praise, but Gyohum didn’t respond. With a bitter click of his tongue, he added:
“I asked the clerk, and apparently a shipment arrived the day before yesterday, so it was more crowded than usual. It’s rare to see fabrics piled this way.”
“Yet they couldn’t even figure out who the culprit was?”
“Excuse me?”
Jaegwan let out a low groan under Gyohum’s scornful gaze. Wherever Gyohum looked, Jaegwan felt a sting on his skin.
“The answer was right there, but no one noticed. Do they carry their brains around as decoration?”
“Answer… was right there?”
“Not even pretty enough? Just throw it away.”
Chilled by those words, Jaegwan unconsciously rubbed the back of his neck. His palm quickly became damp.
Gyohum, as if his business here was finished, began walking. Taller than Jaegwan, he skillfully maneuvered through the narrow passage.
“C-come along, sir,” Jaegwan stammered, following him quickly.
Outside, the early spring cold nipped at their ears, yet somehow it felt warmer than inside the shop.
Yes, his superior was a man colder than the harshest wind. Jaegwan shivered all over at the realization.
“Why are you looking at me like that? Is the food not to your liking?”
“Eh? Ah, no.”
Soran quickly shook her head as she glanced over the side dishes on the dinner table.
How could it not be pleasing? Though not extravagant, each dish was prepared with care: steamed rice, meat soup, three types of seasoned vegetables, and a slice of pan-fried beef.
However…
“….”
Her eyes sank momentarily as Gyohum spoke gently.
“It seems that’s not the case. If you want any particular food, just tell the servants. Though my salary as a junior official doesn’t match the middle minister’s, I can at least have the dishes you want prepared.”
It was a teasing remark, implying that she had lived in comfort at her family’s house. Yet Soran didn’t notice.
“It’s just… there’s no pork.”
Gyohum raised one eyebrow as he looked at the beef pan-fried slices.
“So you prefer pork over beef. I will have pork prepared tomorrow.”
“It’s not that…”
Soran shook her hands again and let out a resigned sigh. She hadn’t realized how frustrating it was to be at a loss for words.
Then, with a curious look, she raised her head. She still found Gyohum difficult to read. Despite his kind expression, he carried a bitter medicinal scent. But today, mixed faintly with it, was the smell of dust—or rather, not exactly dust.
“Did you visit a fabric shop?”
“How did you know?”
“My nose is just a bit sharp.”
“I see.”
Gyohum lifted his sleeve and sniffed. He smelled nothing. Naturally—what scent could a fabric shop leave behind? It was not a fish market or a funeral home.
“Yes.”
Soran quietly lowered her gaze. In truth, her sense of smell was far beyond ordinary. She could detect odors that others could not, like emotions—hatred, contempt, disgust, and scorn.
Because of this, she had always lived surrounded by foul odors. At times, the stench was so oppressive she had felt like vomiting.
“!”
Suddenly, she raised her head. Here, breathing felt easier.
“Oh.”
She realized why. The foul smell that had always clung to her was absent. Though Gyohum disliked her, the air around him was not spoiled like Lady Munhyun’s. The servants, Mo Jin-pyeong, and Lady Jami also had no offensive smell—just a moderate, indifferent kindness.
Soran’s eyes softened. She liked this house. She felt guilty toward Gyohum, yet even if he disliked her, she wanted to stay as long as possible.
I’m sorry. Shameless, but I’ll pretend a little longer.
To do so, she needed to prove her usefulness.
Useless. What can you do? A worm that just eats the rice.
Lady Munhyun had always found her usefulness.
So Soran woke up at dawn and worked without rest, to stay in that household.
But how could she prove her usefulness here? She couldn’t cook rice or sweep the yard—what could she possibly contribute?
“….”
Gyohum watched Soran as she stared at the pan-fried beef. Her smile looked like a cry—like delicate lily of the valley. Was it necessary to make such a face just because there was no pork?
“Even if the side dishes aren’t perfect, take a bite. Tomorrow I’ll instruct them to pay more attention.”
“No, really. This is more than enough. I don’t know where to start.”
“….”
Gyohum narrowed his eyes at her words. He thought she was mocking the lack of side dishes, but Soran was already scanning the dishes with sparkling eyes.
After pondering for a while, she first picked up a slice of beef pan-fry and swallowed it in one bite. Her lips moved busily, and even that tiny portion made her cheeks puff out.
Soran closed her eyes, wearing a happy expression—over just one slice of beef.
“….”
Is this beef pan-fry? Gyohum took one slice and tasted it, slightly nutty and savory—but was it enough to justify such a joyful expression? Well, maybe not.
