Chapter 6

Soran had spent the entire previous day going through the wedding ceremonies.
She was surely still buried under her blankets.

“Young master.”

Ggeutsun, coming out from the kitchen, spotted Gyohum and hurried over to bow.
Then she tilted her head in confusion.

He had told her not to wake the new mistress…
So why was he here already, fully dressed and groomed?

“Shall I wake the young madam?”

“No need. I’ll do it myself.”

“Yes.”

Gyohum gestured for her to step back, then walked quietly toward Soran’s room.

He deliberately made no sound as he reached for the door handle.

How would the Minister’s daughter react once she realized she overslept?
Would she look apologetic?
Or pretend nothing was wrong?

Either way was fine.
He would learn exactly what kind of person the Minister’s daughter was.

If she felt guilty, he would gain the upper hand.
If she acted shamelessly, he could repay her with equal shamelessness.

Gyohum pulled open the door with a blank face—then froze mid-step.

“…”

A dark shape sat inside the pitch-black room.

His body tensed instantly… until he finally recognized that the shadow was very small—like a squirrel hoarding too many nuts.

“Madam…?”

He called out in a doubtful tone.

The shadow twitched.

“Yes. Good morning to you.”

Her voice was clear—no trace of sleepiness at all.

His plan had obviously failed.
Had she somehow sensed his intentions?
If so… she was sharper than he expected.

Gyohum stepped inside, frowning as he looked around the dark room.

“Why are you sitting here without lighting the lamp?”

“It’s not like I’m sewing or anything… candles are expensive so I—”

Soran abruptly slapped both hands over her mouth.

At the Minister’s home, she never dared light candles freely.
The moment she did, Madam Munhyeon’s voice would come flying like a thrown dagger.

— You don’t earn a single coin and dare use expensive candles? Just like your shameless mother!

— But I have sewing work to finish…

— What were you doing all day that you’re sewing at midnight? Moving slowly is nothing to brag about!

Her hands weren’t slow—she’d simply been busy doing all the chores during the day.
But no excuse worked on Madam Munhyeon.

So Soran lowered her head and silently endured the hurtful jabs.

Auntie… I really can’t pretend to be someone who grew up pampered. How do you even do that…?

“When did you wake up?” Gyohum asked.

“Just a moment ago…”

She trailed off.
She suddenly remembered how Sehwa and Yeonhwa barely woke after sunrise.

“Just a moment ago?”

“Y-yes…”

In the familiar darkness he stared straight at her, his eyes narrowing slightly.

Soran was already fully dressed.
If she had truly just woken up, she wouldn’t have had time to do her hair and change clothes.

She must have woken earlier than he did.

“You must not have slept well.”

“No, I slept very well!”
Soran waved both hands.

Gyohum wondered why they were even having this conversation in the dark, yet he stood and observed quietly.

“The maid who prepared your bedding must be very thoughtful. She placed the fire brazier right beside your bed. You must’ve been warm for the first time in a long while.”

For the first time in a long while?
Gyohum’s eyes sharpened.

Everything about her made less and less sense.

Then Soran suddenly stood.

Seeing his opportunity slip away, Gyohum pretended nothing was wrong and stepped out first.

The pitch-black night sky had begun turning faintly blue.
The sun must be hovering just below the horizon.

He glanced to the side.
Soran followed one step behind.

In the pale early light, she looked like a completely different person from the girl who tore into a chicken leg last night.

A breeze brushed across her round forehead, making a few stray hairs flutter softly.

She rubbed one eye as if dust had gotten in.

Does she resemble the Minister at all?
Gyohum studied her face in the dim light.

A small round face.
Even rounder eyes.
Neat, delicate features.
A tiny frame.

“…”

This wasn’t the wife he wanted.
The marriage had been forced on him—almost as if meant to insult him.

He had made her spend the first night alone out of sheer resentment.
Yet she hadn’t shown one sign of displeasure.

“You ate heavy food late at night. Does your stomach feel alright?”

Soran gave an awkward smile.

Her soft brows curved halfway and trembled uncertainly at the ends of her lips.

Gyohum frowned faintly.
Did she even know what her face was doing right now?

“Y-yes, I am fine.”

“Good.”

He looked away calmly.

Soran breathed out with relief and scurried behind him.

In truth, this early hour wasn’t unusual for her.

Quiet. Still.
At the Minister’s house she woke even earlier—to dig at the dying fire in the kitchen, fetch water, help with meals, sweep the yard…

Busier than a servant.
Yet Madam Munhyeon constantly called her an ungrateful brat who didn’t appreciate anything.

“…”

Soran lifted her head slowly.

The sky was glowing faint blue, the grass heavy with dew.
Birds perched on branches, watching her.
The breeze rolled dried leaves playfully across the path.

She realized she hadn’t admired scenery like this in a long time.

She had forgotten that the sky could feel high, that trees smelled sweet.

And she still couldn’t fully believe it—that she was walking peacefully instead of tending to fires and hauling water.

A faint fear fluttered in her chest.
As if this peace might shatter at any moment.

“Just a day ago, I was heating water for Sehwa…”

Lost in thought, Soran failed to notice Gyohum had stopped walking.

She bumped right into his back.

“Ow—”

She rubbed her nose and stared up at him with wide eyes.

Gyohum turned with an unreadable expression.

Embarrassed, Soran straightened her posture and spoke seriously:

“I’m sorry. I wasn’t paying attention.”

“I’m relieved,” he replied.

“…Pardon?”

“I was worried you might have trouble adjusting after suddenly moving somewhere unfamiliar.
But you have enough free mind to daydream already.
You are braver than you look.”

Her cheeks flushed pink.

It had been a long time since someone praised her.
She could only smile shyly in response.

Soran didn’t dislike Gyohum.
Even knowing he disliked her—she didn’t dislike him.

Madam Munhyeon made her feel worthless.
The other family members weren’t much better.

Over time, even the servants began treating her like she was nothing.
When they realized no one punished them for it, they only grew bolder.

Her life had become harder, lonelier, smaller.

No one saw her as the minister’s daughter—not even Soran herself.

But that wasn’t what hurt her.
She had simply become used to a tiring life where even a piece of scorched rice could make her happy.

And if she could wish for one more thing… she hoped to one day find solid ground to plant her roots.

A place where storms couldn’t wash her away.

“…”

But Gyohum was different.