Chapter 10
Coming out of his thoughts, Gyoheum shot a cold look at Jaegwan, who stood behind him.
“Whatever rumors are going around, she is my superior’s wife. Show proper respect.”
“Ah—yes, of course. I didn’t mean otherwise. I only meant… while the lady was staying at that house…”
“Are we not there yet?”
Pressed by Gyoheum, Jaegwan looked around urgently and pointed to a nearby shop.
“Ah, we’re here. Right over there.”
Gyoheum swept his eyes across the area. It was an ordinary fabric shop, the kind you find in any busy market street.
The only unusual thing was that—unlike the other shops that had already opened for business—this one’s door was closed.
“Report in detail.”
“Yes, sir.”
Jaegwan spoke with a stiff, serious face, clearly afraid of being scolded again.
“Last night, during patrol, a night watchman noticed the shop door slightly open and peeked inside because it looked suspicious. At first he didn’t see anything, but when he stepped in a bit further, he found a body lying on the floor. He thought it was someone passed out drunk at first.”
He stopped speaking for a moment and opened the shop door.
The inside was larger than it looked from outside. Piles of fabrics in all colors were stacked everywhere.
Jaegwan stepped inside first.
“He wasn’t moving at all. Only then did they realize he was dead. Panicking, they ran out to call another officer. That right there—where you’re standing—that’s where the body was found.”
The corpse was already taken to the government office, but the dried brown bloodstains remained, proving something terrible had happened.
Beside the stain, a lamp had fallen over. The oil from the cracked lamp had soaked into the floor.
“How long do they think he’d been dead?”
“Not long, they said. The body hadn’t gone cold yet.”
Jaegwan explained while staring grimly at the stain.
“They searched the area immediately, but found no suspicious people. This place is a cluster of shops, not a residential area, so the streets empty out at night. That’s why there were no witnesses.”
Gyoheum didn’t reply. Instead, he looked around. On the opposite side of the entrance stood a wooden door.
Seeing his interest, Jaegwan hurried to explain.
“Oh—that’s the storage room. They keep fabrics in there.”
“Looks like they ran a pretty large business.”
“Yes.”
Jaegwan carefully stepped around the unstable stacks of cloth.
“This shop is quite famous around here. They even have official approval from the government. People say they’re very well-off.”
“These fabric piles—were they always like this?”
“Oof—”
Jaegwan almost knocked over a pile of cloth and quickly grabbed it, stacking the fabric back in place with care.
“Yes. I specifically warned everyone not to touch anything until you came, sir.”
He puffed up his chest proudly.
“As you can see, the fabrics are stacked all over the place, so when they carried the body out, they accidentally knocked some over. But they put everything back exactly as it was. So nothing has changed. Well… almost nothing.”
He waited for praise.
But Gyoheum said nothing.
Jaegwan cleared his throat awkwardly and continued.
“According to the shop clerk, a cargo ship arrived two days ago, so they were unusually busy. They normally don’t have this much stock piled up.”
“And yet no one has any idea who killed him?”
“P-pardon?”
Under Gyoheum’s disappointed stare, Jaegwan shrank into himself. His skin prickled everywhere Gyoheum’s eyes passed.
“The answer is already there, but none of you noticed. Are your heads only for decoration?”
“T-the answer… is already there?”
“If it’s not pretty, you should just rip it off.”
The chilling remark made Jaegwan reflexively grab the back of his neck. His palm dampened with sweat.
Gyoheum turned and walked away, done with the inspection. He navigated the narrow aisles easily despite his large frame.
“W-wait for me, sir!”
Jaegwan scrambled after him. Outside, the early spring cold still stung the ears, yet somehow, it felt warmer than inside the shop.
Right—his superior was a man colder than any winter wind.
Realizing that again, Jaegwan shivered from head to toe.
* * *
“Why do you look at the food like that? You don’t like it?”
“What? Oh—no, that’s not it.”
Soran snapped out of her thoughts and quickly shook her head. She had been staring too long at the dinner table.
There was no reason to dislike any of it. The meal wasn’t luxurious, but everything was prepared with care—steamed rice, beef soup, meat pancakes, and three vegetable sides.
However—
“….”
Seeing her expression sink, Gyoheum asked gently,
“It doesn’t look like that’s the truth. If there’s something you’d rather eat, tell the servants anytime. I may not earn as much as the Chief Minister, but feeding my wife what she wants is hardly beyond me.”
A remark implying she was spoiled by her birth family and now acting picky.
But Soran didn’t notice.
“It’s not that… I just didn’t see any pork.”
Gyoheum, who had been looking at the beef pancakes, raised an eyebrow.
“So you prefer pork over beef? I’ll tell them to prepare pork tomorrow.”
“No, that’s not what I meant…”
Soran waved her hands again, then sighed in defeat. She wasn’t good with words, and moments like this made her painfully aware of it.
She looked at him strangely.
She still found Gyoheum intimidating. Despite his gentle expression, he always smelled strongly of bitter herbal medicine.
But today, mixed into that herbal scent was something faint—dust. Or rather… not dust exactly—
“Did you visit a fabric shop today?”
“…How did you know?”
“My nose is a bit sharp, that’s all.”
“Is that so?”
Gyoheum lifted his sleeve and sniffed it. He didn’t notice anything.
Of course he didn’t. What scent could possibly cling to him from a fabric shop? It wasn’t a fish market or a funeral hall.
“Yes.”
Soran lowered her gaze. The truth was, her sense of smell wasn’t just “a bit sharp.”
She could smell things other people could not—like the scent of people’s emotions.
Because of that, Soran lived constantly surrounded by awful odors—hate, contempt, disgust, scorn.
Sometimes it was so suffocating she nearly gagged.
“!”
Thinking of that, Soran suddenly looked up.
She realized something.
Here, in this house… she could breathe easily.
Ah.
At last, she understood why.
The foul smells that clung to her like air—they didn’t exist here.
Even though Gyoheum disliked her, his scent wasn’t rotten or decayed like Lady Munhyeon’s.
The servants, too, didn’t give off foul emotional stench. Even Lady Jamui and Officer Mojin only carried the light smell of distant, indifferent politeness.
Soran’s eyes softened.
She liked this house.
And because she liked it, she felt sorry toward Gyoheum. Even if he disliked her, she wanted to stay here as long as she could.
I’m sorry. It’s shameless… but please let me pretend not to know just a little longer.
To stay here, she had to prove her “usefulness.”
—Useless thing. What are you even good for? All you do is waste food.
Lady Munhyeon always demanded to know her worth.
So Soran woke at dawn every day to work nonstop—because that was the only way to be allowed to remain in that household.
How could she prove her usefulness here? She couldn’t cook, she couldn’t sweep the yard… what was she good for?
“….”
Gyoheum watched her study the beef pancake. Her smile looked like she might cry. Like a fragile lily-of-the-valley.
Was pork really that important?
“Even if the side dishes aren’t to your liking, try a bite. I’ll tell them to try harder tomorrow.”
“No, it’s really more than enough. I’m just wondering what to eat first because everything looks so good.”
“….”
Gyoheum narrowed his eyes.
Was that sarcasm? Was she hinting nothing looked appetizing?
But Soran’s eyes gleamed as she studied the dishes one by one.
After a long moment of consideration, she picked up a single beef pancake. She placed it in her mouth in one bite. Her cheeks puffed with the effort of chewing.
Closing her eyes gently, Soran looked genuinely happy—over just one small pancake.
“….”
Was it really that good?
Suspicious, Gyoheum also picked up a beef pancake and took a bite.
It tasted savory and pleasant enough… But was it really worth that kind of happy expression?
He couldn’t help doubting it.
