UN 14

Chapter 14

At first, I thought she was just going to the outhouse. But it took longer than I expected.
What could she be doing? Could it be that she’s secretly collaborating with someone sent by the Minister of the Central Secretariat? While waiting for her return, a thousand thoughts flashed through my mind.
If that were the case, what might she have told the servant?
No, even before that—what does the Minister want to find out from me? Why push this wedding forward?

Just as Gyohum was about to lose patience and get up, the door opened again, and the commotion returned.
So, pretending to sleep, he tensed at her presence.

“Hah… ah… hah… ah…”

She exhaled in small, measured breaths.
Cautiously, she slipped under the covers, and, as she had at first, clung to the edge of the bed and closed her eyes.

“?”

Sniff. Gyohum quietly twitched his nose. She smelled faintly acrid.
Suddenly, her words to Lady Yeonsan came to mind:

“I won’t even let the ember go out, so don’t worry and go.”

Ember. Gyohum didn’t understand the importance of an ember.
He didn’t know that the maid dug through the hearth every morning to keep it alive.

“….”

Yet how did she know? Looking back, there were countless puzzling things.

As Gyohum stared at the wall, lost in thought, Soran moved.
He closed his eyes again. For a moment, it felt as if the air around him shifted. It was a strange, almost magical sensation.
His senses sharpened, and every movement behind him became vividly clear.

As Soran approached, the air pushed forward, and Gyohum’s muscles tensed.
What is she trying to do? Just as suspicion rooted in his mind…

Swish.

“….”

Soran pulled the blanket from around his waist.
Covering herself up to her neck, she pressed the edges to block out the cold and then stepped back.

“Ugh, it’s cold.”

A small, muttered complaint reached him. Indeed, she smelled of the chilly dawn air.

Gyohum lay still, pretending to be dead, and only turned slowly once Soran’s breathing became steady.
Curled up, Soran had only half the blanket over her. They lay at opposite ends of the bed, and one of them couldn’t cover fully.

“Ugh, it’s cold,” Soran murmured, eventually letting him have the blanket. Not to please him—he was still pretending to sleep.

Then why?

…Well. He sighed softly and moved toward the middle of the bed.
The distance between them shortened, leaving enough blanket to share.
Gyohum passed the blanket toward her side and closed his eyes again. His mind was clear; sleep seemed unlikely.
But listening to Soran’s steady breathing, he gradually drifted off—into a sweet, pleasant dream.

Spark.

Soran opened her eyes. It was before the first crow of the rooster.
She lifted her hand in front of her, but in the darkened room, she could barely see it.
Pulling back the blanket, she quietly stepped down from the bed.
Fixing her messy hair and draping her jacket over her shoulders, she headed for the kitchen.

Just one last check on the embers.
By the time the first rooster crows, Lady Yeonsan would arrive—she had to make sure the fire didn’t go out.

“Ugh…”

As soon as she stepped out, the cool air made the back of her neck tingle.
Opening the wooden door, she felt warm air greet her. Her tense body gradually relaxed.
Hurrying along with arms folded, Soran widened her half-closed eyes.

“Ah, good. It hasn’t gone out yet.”

Rummaging through the blackened firewood, she spotted the reddish embers.
Soran poked at them with kindling, tossed in thin straw, and took a deep breath, cheeks puffed out.
Bending over the hearth, she pressed her face close and blew with all her strength.

“Fuuu!”

The flames roared back to life.

“My skills aren’t lost yet.”

Soran, shrugging and grinning, added a few more logs to the hearth.

“Now, there’s nothing to worry about until Lady Yeonsan arrives…”

Creak. At that moment, the kitchen door opened. Soran, turning with a proud expression, widened her eyes.

“Uh…”

Lady Yeonsan stood there.
Blinking slowly, Soran peeked past her shoulder. The sky was still pitch dark, not even a hint of dawn.
Rising slowly, Soran placed her hands on her hips and put on a stern expression.

“Why have you come already?”

“Came to check the fire, have you?”

Soran, as if showing off her skill, stepped aside slightly, revealing the blazing hearth.
Yet Lady Yeonsan’s expression remained solemn. Soran asked cautiously:

“Is the youngest one doing better?”

“There’s no need to worry anymore.”

“Really?”

Soran’s face brightened. That was a welcome reply.
As she took a step toward Lady Yeonsan:

“This dawn, he finally passed away.”

“!”

Soran froze mid-step. Smiling, she stiffened, only her eyes moving to look at Lady Yeonsan.

“What… did you just say…?”

“Thanks to the young lady, he had some beef porridge, so he went in peace. The child who couldn’t even swallow gruel finished the whole bowl.”

“Th-That’s…”

“They say ghosts who die after eating well are beautiful, don’t they? He must be crossing the river now with a gentle face.”

“Ah…”

Lady Yeonsan’s faint smile made it all the more surreal for Soran. A mother smiling after losing a child.

Lady Yeonsan slowly bowed toward her.

“Thank you, young lady.”

Thud.
Soran’s gaze fell.

Thud.
A round spot appeared at her feet, slowly swelling.

“Huh… huh…”

Tears finally spilled from Soran’s clenched teeth. The round drops fell without being wiped. She didn’t even know why she was crying—perhaps because Lady Yeonsan wasn’t crying.

“Huh…”

Lady Yeonsan slowly lifted her head and looked at her kindly.
Her eyes trembled slightly. She had so much she wanted to say, but in the end, she said nothing.
The damp air seemed to saturate everything. Soran felt soaked to the bone.

Ah. Only then did she realize—Lady Yeonsan wasn’t not crying; she couldn’t cry.
A mother who lost her child was too grief-stricken to shed tears.

“But… why… are you here? The one who should conduct the child’s funeral… why here?”

Soran’s voice trembled with grief as she spoke haltingly. Lady Yeonsan entered the kitchen, lifted the lid of the cauldron, and poured water.

“Isn’t there something more important than that?”

Something more important.
—All meals the young lady eats are prepared by Lady Yeonsan.

Soran bit her lower lip. More important than burying her child—the duty of a servant.

“Not eating one meal won’t kill anyone.”

Unconsciously, Soran raised her voice.

“Even without you, there are plenty of maids to prepare breakfast.”

“…Exactly.”

Lady Yeonsan looked at Soran as she poured water.

“There are enough maids to do my work, so you mustn’t leave your post lightly. Otherwise, my place would disappear.”

“!”

Soran’s eyes widened, tears streaming down. Lady Yeonsan smiled warmly at her.

“Thank you for your care, young lady.”

“I…”

“Better return to your room before anyone sees you.”

She couldn’t refuse. She didn’t want to burden Lady Yeonsan further.
Soran finally turned obediently.

“I will never forget this kindness, young lady.”

Standing in front of the kitchen door, Soran wiped her eyes with her sleeve. Tears continued to flow uncontrollably.

Then, a familiar voice landed beside her:

“Madam?”

Without looking up, she knew who it was. Not because of the voice—but the bitter herb smell he had carried all the way here.

“What is it? Did the smoke bother you?”

Gyohum frowned faintly and approached her. The distance between them shortened, and the bitter smell faded.
It was strange.

“Sir!”

So Soran grabbed his arm tightly. The bitter smell was faint now.

“….”

Eyebrows raised, Gyohum looked at her hand, then at her face.
Her eyes, shining like wet pebbles, had lost their light. Her plump cheeks, which had devoured meat greedily, were hollowed.
Tears fell endlessly from her eyelashes, and her clenched lips trembled helplessly.

“What is it?”

Gyohum’s voice lowered.