Chapter 20
Nahee placed the case file on the table and began reading aloud.
“Wang Eunyoung, age ten, married a month ago. She’s young, sure, but stories like this aren’t rare. You know, during the chaos of the Byeongja year, everyone rushed to marry off their daughters so they wouldn’t be taken away.”
Since Nahee often rambled like this, Hari simply crossed her arms and watched her quietly.
Sometimes, like a blind cow backing up and catching a mouse, Nahee would unexpectedly stumble upon a clue to solve the case.
“After that, the custom of early marriage spread, huh? And it’s still happening. But ten years old is just too much.”
Hari already knew this well.
Parents struggling desperately to prevent their daughters from being taken to Qing.
Some even hid their daughters in dung pits so they wouldn’t be discovered.
How could anyone blame or condemn a custom born out of such desperation?
But this case was different.
“Finish reading first,” Hari said.
Nahee read to the end—and then shrieked.
“The husband—what? Seventy? Seventy years old?! Does that make any sense? Has he lost his mind?!”
Nahee flung the paper onto the desk as if she had seen something filthy.
Hari calmly picked up the record and straightened it out.
“An Hari, aren’t you even angry? A ten-year-old can’t even cook rice properly! And she’s married off to a seventy-year-old man who’s practically at death’s door?!”
Seeing Nahee rage like this, Hari realized that even in Joseon, this wasn’t considered normal.
She had been so furious she felt dizzy after hearing the story—but watching Nahee shout and rage made her strangely calmer.
“An Oejibu, you’re going to help Eunyoung, right?”
“Of course.”
That was why she had carefully organized the consultation notes and sat for hours reviewing them until her back ached.
“Then we should immediately write that thing you submit to Hanseongbu—what was it—yes, a petition!”
They say if a dog stays at a village school for three years, it can recite poetry—having gone through the divorce process herself and watched Hari closely, Nahee had become something of a semi-expert.
Hari also wanted to draft the petition right away.
She had already outlined everything in her head—it would take less than an hour once she picked up the brush.
But there was a problem.
“The child is only ten, so a male adult from her family has to declare the intent to file the lawsuit.”
The woman who came to Hari, though dressed in worn clothes, was a yangban.
Originally, in yangban divorce cases, regardless of age, a woman could not initiate the lawsuit. It had to be started by a male adult from the family.
Just in case, Hari had sent Maldong to Hanseongbu.
He returned with a disappointing answer.
“It’s not allowed.”
Then how had Nahee been able to file a lawsuit?
Because adult women being allowed to file directly was a “novelistic exception.”
‘Nahee was just lucky.’
Resting her chin on her hand, Hari let out a long sigh.
“We can just persuade Eunyoung’s father! This is clearly coercion. There’s no way a father would marry off his ten-year-old daughter to a seventy-year-old man.”
“Do you really think so?”
Hari looked at Nahee intently.
It was strange—Nahee herself had been forced into an unwanted marriage by her father, yet she was interpreting this situation optimistically.
Nahee flinched and puffed her cheeks.
“Hey! Don’t look at me like that. I know too. My father’s a bad person. But I was sixteen—and she’s ten! This makes no sense. Even animals wouldn’t do this. Wait… is it really true?”
As Hari stayed silent, Nahee reached the conclusion on her own and her mouth fell open.
“That bastard.”
She finally spat out a curse.
As if she wanted to start a zoo, Nahee threw around every kind of animal-related insult.
Hari half-listened and rubbed her forehead.
“So does that mean Eunyoung has to live with that seventy-year-old geezer? He’ll probably die before she even becomes an adult!”
If that happened, it would almost be fortunate.
Hari’s gaze darkened.
Eunyoung might instead spend over a decade nursing him with her tiny hands.
After all, bad people tend to live long, drawn-out lives.
“There’s really no way? You’re the best oejibu in Hanyang!”
She hadn’t reached that level of fame yet, but to Nahee, Hari was the best.
“If it’s money you need, I’ll pay.”
As expected, Nahee knew how to spend money.
“It’s not about money.”
“Then you’re not confident you can win?”
“As if that’s the problem.”
The issue was that there was no adult male from the Wang family willing to step forward for Eunyoung.
What should she do?
Hari grabbed her head in frustration.
Then—
“Ah!”
Nahee suddenly exclaimed.
“Why? Did you think of something?”
Maybe Nahee, who had grown up in Joseon, knew some clever workaround.
Hari’s eyes lit up.
“Relatives can file, right?”
“That’s right.”
“It doesn’t have to be someone from the Wang family, does it?”
“…What?”
Hari tilted her head.
“We can just say they’re relatives from the maternal side.”
“Ah… so you’re saying we make up a relative that doesn’t exist?”
“Yes!”
Nahee nodded vigorously.
Would that actually work?
‘If it were a problem, Nahee wouldn’t suggest it… right? This is Joseon, after all.’
In the late Joseon period, even family registries were bought and sold—adding one name to a genealogy didn’t seem like a big deal.
“Thanks, Nahee. I know where to go now!”
Grabbing her veil, Hari rushed out of the room.
“I’ll come too—oh, she’s gone.”
Nahee hurried after her, but the yard was already empty.
Through the closing gate, she caught a glimpse of Maldong’s skirt disappearing.
“They’re both so fast.”
If she wanted to keep up with Hari, maybe she needed to start practicing running.
“Never mind. Have a safe trip, both of you.”
Nahee quickly gave up. Some things just couldn’t be improved with effort—and for her, running was one of them.
The place Hari went to was Pungui-bang.
“Miss, what brings you here?”
Chilbok greeted Hari and Maldong. By now, he was no longer surprised by her sudden appearances.
This wasn’t the first time.
“Is the master of Pungui-bang inside?”
“I’m sorry, but he’s not here today. It’s unfortunate you came all this way—perhaps you should make an appointment and return later.”
“Will he not return at all today?”
“That’s not it, but we don’t know when he’ll return.”
“Where did he go?”
Instead of answering, Chilbok simply smiled. It seemed difficult to explain.
“Then can I meet him tomorrow?”
“He’ll likely be unavailable tomorrow as well—he has business out of town.”
In truth, he was going to the palace, but either way, he wouldn’t be at Pungui-bang all day.
Hari let out a disappointed sigh and said,
“I’ll wait.”
“…Pardon? We don’t know when he’ll return.”
“It’s urgent. I’ll stay out of the way, so don’t mind me. May I sit over there?”
Hari pointed to the wooden veranda.
“You may, but…”
Thinking of such an esteemed guest sitting on the cold floor indefinitely made Chilbok uneasy.
“If you must wait, please come inside.”
“It’s improper to enter someone’s room without the host present. I’ll stay here.”
Sitting comfortably on the veranda, Hari smiled brightly, as if she were in her own home.
As a tall figure entered the southern village, Chilbok ran toward him in a hurry.
“You said you’d return soon—what took you so long?”
“So the first thing you do upon seeing me is complain?”
Woon frowned slightly, though his gentle gaze softened the expression.
“There’s a guest waiting.”
“A guest?”
Most of Pungui-bang’s cases came through Hongju of Hongyeon-gak—especially the profitable ones.
Pungui-bang in Namchon existed so Woon could quietly observe and help the lives of common people—not as a place for clients to come and go.
Yet someone had come and was waiting despite the owner being absent.
That piqued his curiosity.
He even had a feeling he knew who it was.
And he hoped he was right.
“It’s Oejibu An Hari.”
“Ah…”
Woon let out a low chuckle.
Like a sky clearing after a sudden rain, his expression brightened instantly.
From behind, Siyoung narrowed his eyes as he observed.
Just moments ago, Woon had been surrounded by a gloomy aura.
More precisely, ever since meeting his younger sister, Seon.
His expression had been so serious that Siyoung hadn’t even dared to ask what troubled him.
Yet the moment he heard the name An Hari, everything changed.
‘Could it be… that he has feelings for her? That wouldn’t be good.’
As Siyoung pondered, Chilbok followed behind Woon and asked,
“Are you uncomfortable with Oejibu An Hari?”
“What?”
“The moment you heard she was waiting, your eyes changed.”
“….”
“Please don’t be too harsh on someone who works so hard.”
Siyoung, listening nearby, frowned.
Of all people, Chilbok might be the most oblivious person in the world.
Meanwhile, Woon was so dumbfounded he simply kept his mouth shut.
