Chapter 05
“Madam?”
Startled back to herself, Soran hurriedly shook her head. The round back of her head moved busily from side to side.
“I’ve never gone hungry. Really.”
“I see.”
As if that was all he had been asking, Gyohum sat down in his chair with an unconcerned expression.
It hadn’t been a particularly serious question to begin with. Surely the Jungseoryeong wouldn’t have starved his own daughter.
No matter that she was born of a concubine, no matter that she was rumored to be an eight-months baby—she was still the Jungseoryeong’s daughter. There wouldn’t be a servant bold enough to let her starve.
Having heard nothing about Soran beyond the rumors that she was dull and an eight-months baby, Gyohum quietly observed her.
Hesitating, Soran added one more word.
“It’s true.”
“Yes, I understand.”
Still uneasy, Soran kept glancing at Gyohum, watching his reaction.
A scent like a cold winter wind clung to him. She had smelled something similar before—from the Jungseoryeong, when they first met.
It was the smell of utter indifference.
“……”
A gloomy look crept into Soran’s eyes.
Of course he wouldn’t like me. What husband in the world would like a wife rumored to be dull and an eight-months baby?
You already knew that. So there’s no need to be disappointed.
“You must be tired.”
Gyohum asked in a gentle tone. Soran looked at him with unreadable eyes.
If he disliked her, why did he wear such a kind expression?
“……”
Not knowing the reason only made her more confused. People who disliked her were usually unkind.
Lady Munhyeon made her displeasure obvious, Sehwa snapped at her, and Yeonhwa tormented her away from others’ eyes.
The servants were no different. They didn’t care that she was the Jungseoryeong’s daughter by a concubine and treated her like a menial whenever they pleased.
Their expressions were all the same—scowling, glaring sidelong.
But Gyohum smiled at her warmly, like a spring breeze, even as he carried the scent of a desolate winter wind.
The gap between his manner and that scent felt strangely unsettling.
“Why are you looking at me like that?”
“……It’s nothing.”
At his question, Soran awkwardly tugged the corners of her mouth upward. She didn’t know why he was smiling, but since he smiled, she smiled too.
Gyohum soon stood up, brushing off his seat, and looked down at her from his tall height.
Once again, she was keenly aware of how large he was—like a mountain.
“You must be exhausted after preparing for the wedding since dawn. Rest comfortably by yourself tonight.”
“Pardon?”
Soran’s eyes widened.
Only then did Gyohum click his tongue. There was a faint barb in his words.
I should have been more careful.
If he meant to use Soran as a chess piece, he needed to win her favor. There was nothing easier to manipulate than a woman in love.
Besides, it was their first night. Even if they didn’t consummate the marriage, perhaps it would be better to at least sleep in the same room.
But every time he reminded himself that Soran was the Jungseoryeong’s daughter, a fury like a blazing fire surged up within him.
Sleeping skin to skin with her? With the Jungseoryeong’s illegitimate daughter?
Not yet. At least not until the boiling rage in his gut subsided.
“W-what I meant was—”
Just as Gyohum was about to make an excuse, Soran spoke first. Lowering her gaze shyly, she spoke haltingly.
“Uh, um… thank you.”
“……”
Gyohum closed his parted lips and stared at her intently.
Soran, who had been cautiously lifting her head, met his eyes and then broke into a bashful smile.
Ha. A soundless sigh slipped through Gyohum’s teeth.
Thank you? Just how much had the Jungseoryeong coddled her for her to be this oblivious? No wonder people called her dull.
Anger flared up again. That’s what happens when someone grows up pampered, never knowing hardship.
Harsh words hovered at the tip of his tongue. Swallowing the venom with difficulty, Gyohum cloaked his voice in politeness and spoke with a hint of mockery.
“Finish your meal. You still seem hungry.”
“Is that all right?”
Soran’s eyes grew even rounder. What sparkled in her dark pupils was pure goodwill.
She failed to notice the rebuke hidden in his words—can you really eat at a time like this?—and only made Gyohum look foolish instead.
Deflated, he replied to Soran, who kept deflecting his barbs without meaning to.
“I’ll tell the maid to warm some food. Please wait a moment.”
“No, it’s late. There’s no need to go that far. I’ll just finish what’s left quickly. I’m more or less full anyway.”
Once again, Gyohum studied her face closely.
He had thought she might be immature, but seeing her consideration for the maid, that didn’t seem to be the case.
Just what kind of person is she? A flicker of curiosity rose within him. Soon, however, he shook his head.
No matter what kind of woman Soran was, it was none of his concern. The fact that she was the Jungseoryeong’s daughter would never change.
“Then have a good night. I’ll see you in the morning.”
“Oh!”
As if something had just occurred to her, Soran spoke up. Gyohum, who had been turning away, looked back at her.
Her cheeks were puffed out, and her small mouth worked busily as she chewed.
Each time she swallowed with a gulp, her eyes squeezed shut, then opened again.
Gyohum found himself watching her with nothing better to do.
After finally swallowing everything in her mouth, Soran asked carefully, as though it were a matter of great importance.
“What time do we go to pay our morning respects tomorrow?”
“Morning respects?”
“Yes. I heard that no matter what, one must greet properly.”
From Paju-daek.
Swallowing the last words, Soran hesitated, chopsticks hovering over the cold chicken.
—I don’t know much about etiquette. What if I get scolded for being ignorant?
—There’s nothing to worry about. Just put on a face that says you were raised too dearly to know such things. Aren’t you the daughter of the great Jungseoryeong, who can knock birds out of the sky? Everyone will let it slide.
—But…
Still uneasy, Soran had looked anxious. Then Paju-daek leaned in and whispered meaningfully, as if revealing a secret weapon.
—If you greet them properly, you’re already halfway there.
—A greeting?
—The morning greeting. If you do that well, you’ve done your duty, miss.
Only then did Soran clench her fist with a determined expression.
At least greetings were something she was confident about. Thanks to Sehwa, who always found fault with her for not greeting properly, she had plenty of practice.
—And for the other half, just smile. Haven’t you heard the saying—you can’t spit at a smiling face?
Soran’s eyes had widened. Then she curved them into a silent smile.
—Oh, that’s a relief. I’m actually good at both of those.
“Tomorrow morning, I’ll come get you when the first rooster crows.”
“Yes.”
Letting out a sigh of relief, Soran resumed eating the rest of her meal.
Gyohum subtly furrowed his brow.
The more he looked at her, the less he understood. She seemed lacking in some ways, yet overflowing in others.
“……”
Shaking his head at last, he opened the door and stepped out. Pitch-black darkness awaited him.
The night was deep, the surroundings silent.
Somewhere, an impatient frog burst into a shrill croak—a cry that awakened spring.
Sensing his presence, Kkeutsun emerged from the darkness.
Gyohum descended the stone steps, walking indifferently.
“The madam is in the middle of her meal. Go in shortly to clear the table and see to her bedding.”
“Yes.”
Then, as if something occurred to him, he stopped with an “Ah.” Turning with a faint smile, he spoke again.
Kkeutsun, who had straightened halfway, bent at the waist once more.
“Tomorrow morning, don’t wake the madam. She must be tired, so it would be better to let her sleep well.”
…But the morning greeting?
Kkeutsun looked at Gyohum with a puzzled expression. It was her first day at her husband’s family home—was it really all right to skip the formal greeting?
Seeing Gyohum’s gentle smile, Kkeutsun eventually nodded.
“Yes.”
He must already be completely taken with the young madam. Such bliss, in the height of affection.
Kkeutsun’s shoulders trembled slightly as she turned away. Crunch, crunch—the sound of grass being stepped on faded into the distance.
At the same time, Gyohum’s gaze, which had been soft just moments ago, turned cold. Staring into the darkness, he slowly began to walk.
“It should be quite a sight—her oversleeping and rushing about in a panic.”
***
Changing his clothes, Gyohum looked out at the pitch-dark window. The first rooster had not yet crowed.
There had been a time when he returned home at this hour. Yet before he knew it, greeting the dawn with a clear mind had become familiar.
Suddenly, Sahum came to mind—the man who always rose at a fixed time, straightened his robes, and prepared to attend court.
Without realizing it, he seemed to be growing more like his elder brother. If his brother saw him now, what would he say?
Who knows. He was as sparing with praise as he was with slander—perhaps he wouldn’t say much at all.
“…….”
Shaking his head to brush away the bitter thought, Gyohum stepped out of his room.
Cold air heavy with dew slipped through his collar. The path he had walked over dry grass the night before was now damp enough to soak his trouser hems.
Standing before Soran’s quarters, Gyohum paused.
Is she awake? Probably not.
Without being woken, the only people up at this hour were servants with far too much work to do.
