Chapter 07
Joke or not, Gyoheum, who had accidentally ended up giving a compliment, shook his head wearily.
He began walking again, and Soran followed him, glancing around cautiously.
The building was divided into the main house and an annex, and the space where she and Gyoheum were staying was the annex.
“The annex was originally used by my elder brother and his wife.”
His voice was as heavy as his steps, and Soran’s gaze drifted slowly.
The shadow of the wall stretched over Gyoheum’s face, making it impossible to read his expression.
“His wife is currently staying at her parental home with her nephew.”
“Ah…”
—I think it was last summer when I heard that the eldest son of that household had taken his own life under unfortunate circumstances.
Soran recalled the clicking tongue of Lady Paju. She unconsciously lowered her gaze.
Reading her tense expression, Gyoheum added in a flat tone:
“My brother hanged himself in the office of the palace, not in the annex. So there’s no need to worry about ghosts.”
“That’s not it!”
“……”
“No, I mean…”
Soran tried to explain, but she ultimately couldn’t continue and looked down at her feet again.
She hadn’t learned what to say in moments like this.
She wished she could comfort someone skillfully, to take even a scoop of their grief away.
“It’s a joke.”
Gyoheum gave a half-hearted smile and picked up the pace he had slowed.
Soran walked quickly, keeping her eyes on his heels.
The house of Chief Munhyeon, reflecting his wife’s taste, was stunningly extravagant.
Every pillar and eave was beautifully carved, as far as the eye could see.
And somewhere in the mansion, construction was always ongoing—sometimes a pavilion was being built, sometimes an annex was being added.
The house, reflecting the latest trends, made every visitor gasp in admiration.
And when that happened, Lady Munhyeon would hide her satisfaction behind a modest demeanor.
By contrast, Gyoheum’s house was elegant and tranquil. Decorations were minimal, but the space did not feel shabby.
Soran quickly realized why: every corner of the house reflected careful, loving attention.
The polished wooden floors, the flawless roof tiles, the unwrinkled paper on the sliding doors, the branches that didn’t intrude on each other’s space—all spoke of meticulous care.
“……”
Her eyes softened unexpectedly.
She didn’t know whose taste shaped this house, but it was far more to her liking than the cluttered palace of the Chief.
At that moment, Gyoheum, who had been walking ahead, stopped abruptly.
Soran, who managed not to trip over, looked up with a proud expression.
Gyoheum raised his voice toward the closed door:
“Father, it’s me. I’ve come to pay my respects along with my wife.”
“Come in.”
Soran swallowed dryly, unseen by anyone.
Her heart, which had just relaxed, suddenly tightened.
Lady Paju had said it was enough to just greet properly, but greetings had their own etiquette, which Soran had never learned.
She could read a little, but she had never received the education a young lady of a noble household was supposed to have. There was no time for it—her days were filled entirely with work from the moment she woke to the moment she slept.
She wanted to do well, but didn’t know how.
She feared that even a few words might reveal her inexperience.
She didn’t want to be disliked here either. The more she tried to do well, the more her mind became tangled, and her heart raced.
So she followed Gyoheum’s words and actions carefully, imitating him. If he bowed his head, she did the same. If he sat, she sat.
Gyoheum cast an intimate glance toward his father across the table.
Soran clenched her fists and focused nervously on the table.
“Did you sleep well last night?”
“Did you sleep well?”
Determined not to make a mistake, she repeated his words with intense focus. That way, at least she would be halfway there.
Gyoheum glanced at her, but Soran was so fixated on the table she didn’t notice.
Finally, she lifted her eyes briefly to sneak a glance at Mo Jinpyeong.
Her father-in-law’s sharp eyes and thick eyebrows gave him the fearsome appearance of a guardian statue.
“!”
Afraid their eyes might meet, she quickly bowed her head again, then stole another glance.
His gaunt face, frail frame, and clear signs of illness softened the intimidating aura. He looked weak, like a tiger with its teeth gone.
Coughing dryly, Mo Jinpyeong asked them:
“Did you sleep well too?”
“Yes.”
“Yes.”
A constant rattling sound came from his throat.
“Today, being the first day, you may greet me, but from tomorrow, there’s no need to come for greetings.”
“!”
Soran’s eyes widened. She had been told proper greetings counted for half the work—but what if they weren’t allowed to greet?
Her gaze darted anxiously between Mo Jinpyeong and Gyoheum.
Noticing her tension, Gyoheum added casually:
“My father’s health is poor. His physician advised against exposure to cold air, so please don’t worry.”
Though his tone was casual, his gaze was sharper than ever.
See with your own eyes, wife. See what your father has done. How he ruined a family.
“……”
Gyoheum smiled faintly, hiding his thoughts. Soran tilted her head in confusion.
The kind smile carried the chill of a winter morning—the cold wind that even touched the heart.
Hesitant, she slowly nodded.
“…Yes.”
“You may leave now.”
The two left Mo Jinpyeong’s room and headed straight to Lady Jami’s quarters.
Soran couldn’t help sneaking glances at Gyoheum’s back.
The wind scent that had clung to him moments ago had disappeared. His previously kind face had turned impassive.
It was strange. A kind person should smell sweet like syrup, a cold wind should come from an indifferent face.
Yet Gyoheum carried the scent of cold wind with a kind expression, and sweetness with an indifferent face.
Soran couldn’t take her eyes off him—not knowing his true intentions.
“Shall we enter?”
“Yes.”
The three sat across from each other at the table, sharing a brief silence. It wasn’t uncomfortable.
Lady Jami neither glared nor reproached Soran, simply observing her calmly.
Gyoheum spoke first:
“Mother, did you sleep well last night?”
“Did you sleep well?”
Soran mimicked him immediately.
“Yes, was everything fine for you two last night?”
“You’ve said you’ve had restless dreams these past few nights. Did you have a good dream today?”
“Did you?”
“……”
Finally, Gyoheum narrowed his eyes.
So this is how it will be? He tilted his mouth wryly.
Seems she’s decided to mock me. Well, a daughter of the Chief should be that cunning—too obvious would be boring.
But he had no intention of losing to her. As he considered how to retaliate, Lady Jami’s gaze fixed on him.
“I heard you two slept in separate rooms yesterday.”
Which careless maid had already spilled the news? Gyoheum replied lightly as if it were nothing:
“My wife and I were both exhausted from the wedding, so we used separate rooms to get a proper rest.”
“You know one thing, but not the other.”
Lady Jami scolded him severely.
Soran rolled her eyes subtly, gauging the interaction.
“You came here alone, without a maid. You have no one but him to rely on, and people will think badly if you sleep separately on the first night. Even the maids would mock their mistress, wouldn’t they?”
Though that had been exactly his intention, Gyoheum feigned ignorance.
“I was thoughtless and didn’t consider that.”
He looked at Soran and said, “If I caused you any discomfort, I apologize.”
Soran shook her hands in surprise.
“No, not at all. Thanks to that, I had the wide bed to myself and slept comfortably.”
“……”
Ah, so that’s how you play at subtlety—pretending to compliment while sneering. Impressive.
“I’m glad you slept well,” Lady Jami said with a gentle smile.
Sniff. Suddenly, Soran’s nose twitched like a dog catching a new scent.
At the same time, her dark eyes widened to their limit.
“!”
Her cheeks slowly turned pink, almost as if her eyes might pop out.
