TDLWFJ 12

Chapter 12

Hari did not believe in men’s unmotivated kindness.

Family members might be kind without reason, but when other men acted kindly, there was always a purpose behind it.

Even within family, such as brothers or fathers, men often exploited women under the guise of kindness.

‘Money is the sin.’

Hari recalled a junior colleague from her days as a top prosecutor in Seocho-dong who had once been very kind to her.

“Senior, did you eat dinner? I thought you might not have, so I brought lunch boxes. Let’s eat together.”

The junior who used to take care of Hari’s meals every day eventually asked to borrow money one day.

“My mother needs surgery, but we’re short on the cost…”

She didn’t believe him. But Hari didn’t want to deal with the hassle, so she gave him the money. Then she said:

“Don’t come anymore. And change your side dish shop. Your lunchboxes are terrible.”

The junior insisted he hadn’t bought them, that he made them himself, and that he didn’t even need money—but Hari scoffed and cut him off.

Beyond that, Hari had experienced and heard from clients about men who disguised their desires as love and affection.

Money, bodies, power, children, honor, reputation—men wanted many things from women.

Would men in the Joseon era be any different?

She told herself not to be deceived by Woon’s kindness.

With that resolve, Hari returned the handkerchief to Woon.

“Your hands are more beautiful than mine, milady.”

From that moment on, Hari silently began searching for evidence.

Woon, who hadn’t expected the handkerchief to be returned, let out a hollow sigh and began helping her.

“Helping” was the word, but if one looked closely, it was mostly menial labor.

He removed dangerous sickles and plows, carried broken jars, and when she kept squinting, he even opened windows for her.

While he followed her around like that—

“I found it!”

Hari shouted while rummaging through a mountain of junk piled in a corner.

“Muwonrok (無怨錄).”

On the book, the characters “do not hold resentment” were neatly written.

As she read it aloud, a sharp thrill ran down her spine.

“Miss, did you stay up all night again? The dark circles under your eyes are terrible.”

Mal-dong, who had placed down a washbasin, looked at her worriedly.

Hari quickly closed her yawning mouth and dipped her hands into the water.

If it were cold water, she would’ve snapped awake, but it was just warm enough that the yawn she had been holding back slipped out again.

“Haahm, I slept.”

“Don’t lie. Your skin will be ruined. What on earth are you looking at every night? Are you studying for the civil service exam?”

Hari perked up.

“Can women take the civil service exam?”

Well, it’s a pseudo-Joseon world—maybe it’s possible?

“No, they can’t! I was just saying that because it’s frustrating. You know that, don’t you? Are you teasing me?”

What a pity.

Hari shook her head.

“If you keep not sleeping when you should, I’ll tell the master.”

“So disloyal?”

“Your health comes before loyalty, miss. So don’t make me the disloyal one and please sleep at night.”

“I’ll do that today. Yesterday I couldn’t help it. I had something I needed to read.”

Muwonrok.

It was a diary found in the abandoned shed of the Choi household.

The owner of the diary was the second son of the Choi household, Choi Ki-gu.

The content was exactly as Hari had expected.

The diary, which contained fragments of his five years before death, was filled with traces of horrific violence.

The level of violence far exceeded her expectations.

It wasn’t just simple beating or confinement.

The elder brother who drove Choi Ki-gu to death treated violence as entertainment, enjoying Ki-gu’s suffering as amusement.

When she closed her eyes, she could picture Ki-gu curled up in the shed, writing through torture-like violence.

Even while calmly describing the abuse, Ki-gu contained not a single trace of resentment.

He believed he deserved to be beaten and only hoped for morning to come.

As Hari read that part, a bitter feeling rose deep in her throat.

Ki-gu’s resignation resembled her mother’s self-blame.

“My dear Hari, I must’ve deserved to be hit. Your father hates it when I put tuna in kimchi stew… I must’ve forgotten again.”

Because of that, Hari read the short diary all night.

She couldn’t put it down. It felt like letting go of it would be like letting go of her mother’s hand.

There were dark reddish-brown bloodstains scattered throughout the pages.

As if to prove that the contents were not fiction.

“Oh right, about the task you asked me yesterday. I looked into it.”

While Hari was doing various things at the Choi household, Mal-dong had investigated Choi Ki-man, the eldest son.

“I heard it from a peddler who visits Hwangnyeon Pavilion. His hands are apparently very bad. They say he used to buy a lot of erotic paintings and cosmetics to cover the bruises from being beaten by that household’s young master.”

“Is that so?”

If it leaks inside, it won’t stay contained outside either.

“Anything else?”

“They say he’s been banned from entering Hwangnyeon Pavilion. Something happened, but they were tight-lipped about it. Maybe they don’t even know.”

It wasn’t a particularly prestigious household, but it was wealthy.

‘If they’re big spenders, getting banned means something serious happened.’

Hari sketched and erased various hypotheses in the air.

Watching her, Mal-dong carefully spoke up.

“Should I investigate more?”

“Can you?”

“Yes. But it would be faster to request the Wind’s Chamber instead.”

Hari naturally thought of Woon.

Yesterday, she had stepped on Woon’s back three times—when meeting Nahi at dawn, when climbing the shed window, and when leaving the Choi residence.

And Woon had knelt as if it were natural.

Although it was a paid request, what he did far exceeded what she had paid.

‘If it weren’t for him, I would’ve suffered greatly.’

Hari was someone who knew how to repay debts.

If she owed something, she would repay it.

“Prepare writing materials.”

She immediately spread out paper and began writing.

She wrote two letters.

One was headed to the Wind’s Chamber, and the other was thrown over the wall of the Choi residence.

“Did you coat your face in gold? Meeting my younger brother is this difficult?”

As soon as Woon entered Gangeongjeon, a rebuke flew at him.

Woon smiled calmly and bowed to his elder brother, Lee Gwang, who had long suffered in Shenyang and now sat on the throne.

“It’s been a while, Your Majesty. No news is good news, as they say. Especially, you probably wouldn’t want to hear news about me.”

“Hah! You really can’t stop talking.”

“I’m not wrong, am I?”

Lee Gwang pressed his lips together and said nothing.

Gwang was unusually weak against Woon. Partly because, despite having different mothers, Woon had always been especially close and affectionate toward him.

The second reason was guilt.

After the Manchu invasion, Gwang, then crown prince, Woon, a prince, and Princess Seon were taken as hostages to Shenyang.

Among them, Woon suffered the most.

While Qing officials treated Gwang as crown prince and showed consideration to Seon as a woman, they were harsh toward fourteen-year-old Woon.

Whenever Gwang tried to protest, Woon—mature beyond his age—would stop him.

“If I endure it, that will be enough. I cannot trouble the people of Shenyang just to ease my discomfort.”

The Qing officials were cruel whenever given the slightest opportunity.

Violence always falls upon the weak, so Woon’s words were not mere concern.

Woon spent six years in Shenyang.

That was two years longer than Gwang, who returned abruptly after the king’s sudden death.

Princess Seon also returned with Gwang, so one could only imagine how lonely those two extra years must have been for Woon alone.

“Why do you look at me like that? I’m eating well and living well. While Your Majesty deals with lectures, councils, and memorials that give you headaches just thinking about them, I’m just relaxing.”

Seeing his gloomy brother, Woon joked lightly.

For a long time, he rambled about his leisurely life—sleeping until noon, frequenting Hwangnyeon Pavilion, praising performers…

To hear it, he sounded like a complete loafer.

But Gwang knew.

“Are you still doing that work?”

At Gwang’s sharp question, Woon’s smile vanished instantly.