Chapter 02
The first tragedy was the suicide of Sahum, the eldest son who had carried all of Mojinpyeong’s expectations.
No one knew the reason.
Unlike Gyohum, who ignored his studies and constantly worried their parents, his older brother was a man as upright as if he had stepped straight out of a book. After passing the military service examination, he rose smoothly through the ranks, eventually attaining the position of vice commander in the Naegeumbu, the unit responsible for guarding the palace. Everyone praised him in unison, saying he would surpass his father and become an even greater military officer.
And yet, one day, he hanged himself from a beam.
Some said he had taken responsibility for the fire that broke out in the palace. Others claimed he must have been burdened by troubles he never shared with anyone.
Nonsense.
All of it was absurd rubbish.
Gyohum knew that his brother was not the sort of man who would choose death for such trivial reasons. There had to be a reason no one knew—something even Gyohum himself did not know.
For instance, that he had been murdered by someone.
—Brother.
On the morning Sahum hanged himself, Gyohum happened to run into him on his way to court. Gyohum was just returning home after drinking with friends all night.
—You’re only coming in now?
Those words instantly sobered him up. His slouched posture straightened, and focus returned to his bleary eyes.
—You’re heading to court earlier than usual.
A few days earlier, he had heard talk that Sahum was being held responsible for the palace fire. Several palace attendants had died, and someone had to take the blame.
In the midst of all that, Gyohum had been out drinking and wandering about, which made him feel oddly ashamed to face his brother.
But Sahum did not scold him.
Whenever their father reproached Gyohum, Sahum would defend him, saying, “When the time comes, he’ll move on his own. Gyohum is wiser than I am.”
Their father dismissed it as nonsense, but Sahum never lost faith in his younger brother.
That was why Gyohum, who was endlessly defiant toward his father, could not so much as twitch in front of his brother.
—I’m in a hurry because I have someone to meet.
—Someone to meet? At this hour?
Gyohum glanced around at the sky, where the sun had not yet risen.
Sahum, who had been looking at him with thoughtful eyes, slowly nodded.
—I’m meeting the Chief State Councilor.
—For what reason?
Gyohum frowned and waited for an answer, but Sahum seemed to have no intention of explaining further and changed the subject.
—We’ll talk when I get back. Father will be heading to court soon, so go inside quickly before you run into him.
—…Yes.
Scratching the back of his head, Gyohum greeted him with a, “Safe travels.”
That was the last time.
The news that followed was that Sahum had hanged himself from a beam in his office. They added that since funeral rites had to be performed, a servant should be sent to retrieve the body.
After that, Mojinpyeong collapsed. Never rising from his sickbed, he relinquished his post as general and remained ill to this day.
And that was not all. Their mother shut herself away in her room, entrusting even the household affairs to servants and refusing to see anyone.
Sahum’s wife and child returned to her natal home and showed no sign of coming back to the capital.
The house felt like a temple, and their parents like living corpses.
The only person who could break this situation was Gyohum.
So he became a different person overnight. He cut ties with his drinking companions and devoted himself to study. After passing the military examination, he was appointed as a nangjang in the Sunguembu, the unit responsible for maintaining order in the capital.
“A marriage with the Chief State Councilor’s illegitimate daughter… So he killed my brother, forced my father out of office, and now it seems it’s my turn.”
Mojinpyeong faintly knit his brows.
“Are you still saying that? The Chief State Councilor has nothing to do with Sahum’s death. Sahum… took his own life.”
As he spoke, Mojinpyeong looked as though he were tearing out his own organs one by one.
“Then why did my brother tell me that morning that he was going to meet the Chief State Councilor? He was never one to say such things. Didn’t he sense something ominous and leave me a warning?”
“That’s mere speculation. And besides, this is not the Chief State Councilor’s will, but His Majesty’s. The one who delivered the letter was His Majesty’s eunuch.”
“Is there anyone who doesn’t know who pulls the strings behind His Majesty? Isn’t it the Chief State Councilor—the man said to be able to bring down even birds flying in the sky?”
“If, as you say, he can bring down birds from the sky, why would he want a marriage alliance with our family? What would he gain from it?”
“His illegitimate daughter is said to have been born at eight months, isn’t she? And she’s not even the lawful wife’s child. Who would step forward to marry such a woman?”
“Gyohum.”
Mojinpyeong called his son with an uneasy expression.
Gyohum pulled up the corners of his lips and smiled brightly. That smile was all the more ominous.
“If the Chief State Councilor intends to humiliate me, then let him. However—”
He narrowed his eyes as if amused.
“One day, I will repay every bit of this debt. I will remember every insult he has given me and return them twofold, threefold.”
Mojinpyeong finally closed his eyes. As if he understood his father’s worries, Gyohum added in a softened voice,
“Do not worry. I have no intention of standing tall and facing the wind head-on like my brother did.”
“……”
“No matter how nobly one endures, doesn’t that only mean being the first to be cut down?”
The edges of Gyohum’s smile grew cold.
“If necessary, I will lie with a smile. I will deceive others with a shameless face and calculate shrewdly. If I must bow my head, I will bow even to a passing dog. And in doing so, I will seize power with my own two hands—the very power you and my brother were so wary of.”
“Hum.”
“Did you say it was a marriage to the Chief State Councilor’s illegitimate daughter?”
Gyohum slowly rose from his seat. Mojinpyeong, craning his neck to look up at his tall son, struck the teacup with the back of his hand.
The pale green tea inside rippled gently.
“It seems the Chief State Councilor has underestimated me. If he throws his eight-month-born illegitimate daughter at me, I will use her as a game piece to bring him down. I will make him regret today’s decision. I look forward to seeing which of us will emerge victorious. Please rest.”
Gyohum bowed and turned his back, leaving the room. Only then did Mojinpyeong release the breath he had been holding.
“Hum…”
His son’s name slipped out like a sigh.
“The world does not bend to one’s will so easily.”
Bang.
The door rattled. Soran, startled, lifted her head.
Her pitch-black eyes trembled, half with tension, half with expectation.
Her lips, dry like a parched rice paddy, would not moisten no matter how much she licked them.
“…It’s just the wind.”
Instead of looking disappointed, Soran let out an awkward, bashful smile.
In truth, there was nothing to be disappointed about. She hadn’t expected anything in the first place.
At that moment, a musty odor rose from herself.
“That’s a lie.”
It seemed she had, in fact, been hoping.
That Gyohum would open the door and come in. That he would scratch the back of his head awkwardly and apologize for leaving his bride alone on their wedding night.
—Marriage? You mean… me?
At her question, Lady Munhyeon snapped sharply,
—You’re called slow-witted again and again, and now you’ve gone deaf as well? How many times must I repeat myself?
—Ah, n-no.
Whenever Soran stood before Lady Munhyeon, her body shriveled up like a squid roasted over fire. An involuntary, weak smile slipped out.
—Judging by that smile, you seem eager for marriage, even though you’re so small and shameless. Truly the blood of a vulgar woman who seduced her master’s husband.
Lady Munhyeon made no attempt to hide her disgust. Her words became a thousand needles, stabbing into Soran.
It hurts.
As Soran silently swallowed the pain, Lady Munhyeon put on airs.
—Think about it. Who else is as kind as I am? I feed you, clothe you, give you a place to sleep. And now, I’m even arranging a marriage for you.
—……
—And yet you can’t even say a single word of thanks. You’re shameless, just like your mother.
—Th-thank you.
Soran bowed her head with a wide, ingratiating smile.
Though fear lingered at the corners of her smile, Lady Munhyeon was too busy scowling to notice.
Lowering her gaze to the floor, Soran blinked her large eyes.
She had been too busy surviving each day to ever imagine her future. She had never harbored even the faintest hope of escaping this place. She accepted that her life was to endure menial labor forever, bearing the scorn of Lady Munhyeon and Sehwa.
Marriage.
As Soran murmured the word, a trace of hope flickered across her face.
No matter how cruel her reputation, she at least knew what marriage meant.
It meant gaining a new family.
Family.
Her heart suddenly began to pound. And in that instant, a fragment of memory from the past flashed through her mind.
It was probably from the year Soran turned ten.
