Chapter – 11
After that, it was always the same.
Soran ate as though she were someone encountering such a meal for the first time in her life, her eyes widening with every spoonful. Even when she ate plain rice, she did the same. Her cheeks flushed red, and little exclamations of delight kept slipping through her teeth.
Her pitch-black eyes sparkled like pebbles soaked in water, and her small lips never stopped moving.
All of a sudden, Gyoheum felt the tension drain out of him. Whether she was the Chief Councillor’s daughter or an instrument of revenge—it all somehow stopped mattering.
She seemed to possess a strange talent for leaving people utterly disarmed.
Gyoheum lifted a spoonful of rice to his mouth. Chewing for a long while without any side dishes, he tasted a faint sweetness.
Still, no matter how he thought about it, it wasn’t something worthy of admiration. White rice was an ordinary, everyday food—something eaten daily.
And yet, despite thinking that, he emptied his bowl faster than usual.
Just moments ago, his appetite had been ruined by his incompetent subordinates, but for some reason, the food went down effortlessly now.
Just how did the Chief Councillor raise his daughter? He blamed the unfortunate man as he took a sip of warm scorched rice water.
In the meantime, Soran smiled brightly, clearing one dish after another from the table.
Suddenly, Gyoheum raised one eyebrow. He couldn’t help wondering where all that food fit inside such a small body.
The more he watched her, the less he could understand her.
She was a truly inscrutable woman.
Soran crossed the courtyard with a troubled expression. Her heavy steps betrayed hesitation she could not conceal.
What should I do? No—before that, do I even have the right to intervene?
Lost deep in thought, she failed to notice the shadow some distance away, or the voice calling, “Madam?”
Stopping in front of the kitchen, Soran slowly lifted her head. Inside, she heard the clatter of dishes being put away.
Once washed, the dishes needed to be wiped dry and returned to their places so they could be used easily again tomorrow.
This was work Soran usually did at this hour. Tending the fire so it wouldn’t go out was always her responsibility as well.
So, at dawn, she would wrap her collar tight and poke about the stove. It had only been a few days ago, yet it felt strangely distant, as if from long ago.
Creeeak. When she applied a bit of force, the wooden door let out a shrill cry. The woman arranging the dishes startled and turned around.
When she saw Soran, her expression shifted to one of even greater confusion.
“Do you need something, Little Madam?”
It was the woman she had seen during the day—Yeonsan-daek.
“You didn’t call for Geutsuni.”
As the gaze lingered, Yeonsan-daek wiped her hands on her apron and stood up. Even then, Soran had not yet reached a decision.
“Little Madam?”
Do I truly have the right to step in?
Once, Pajudaek had clicked her tongue and said this:
—Some salt went missing from the storage today.
—Salt? Why?
—Why else would it be? Someone took it without the mistress knowing. And it’s obvious who did.
Unsure what to say, Soran hesitated, and Pajudaek lowered her voice.
—If the lady of the house doesn’t keep an eye on things, the servants grow clever about taking their share. They’re quick-witted in matters like that. Today it’s a measure of salt, but later they’ll pull out the very foundation beams.
—Oh, come on. Surely not.
—It’s no “surely.” A needle thief becomes a cow thief. If someone steals a measure of salt and gets away with it, tomorrow it’ll be two, and the next day three. But what’s even more frightening is—
—Even more frightening?
—One person becomes two. Two become three. And then the lady of the house loses all authority. They may bow their heads in front of her, but behind her back, they’ll laugh at her. What do you think happens to a household then?
—Ah…
—That’s why the lady of the house matters. She can’t be too lax, nor can she be too harsh. She must hold the balance between the two. Politics isn’t only for men.
“Little Madam?”
Soran’s face, devoid of all humor, looked like that of another person entirely. At last, she opened her mouth.
“There was no pork on the lunch table today.”
“…Pardon?”
Caught off guard, Yeonsan-daek blinked. Before she could recover, Soran continued.
“And there was no pork on the dinner table either.”
Only then did Yeonsan-daek smile, wrinkles forming at the corners of her eyes.
“Were you craving pork? I’ll make sure it’s served at lunch tomorrow—”
“That’s not it.”
Soran slowly shook her head. The smile gradually vanished from Yeonsan-daek’s face.
“This afternoon, you took a chunk of pork, saying you were preparing the meal.”
“!”
Soran’s voice was calm, her pace unhurried. Yet Yeonsan-daek looked as though she had been shouted at.
“But there was no pork on either the lunch or dinner table.”
“Th-that’s because… I thought beef would be better. I put the pork back and took beef instead. The meat pancakes at dinner were made from it.”
At that moment, Soran smelled rotten pork.
So she took a gamble. Normally, she would not have stepped forward—but she was responsible for this household’s management.
“I stopped by the storage myself on the way here. The pork you took wasn’t there. The amount was exactly the same as before lunch.”
“Hk!”
Yeonsan-daek sharply sucked in a breath. Seeing her reaction, Soran became certain her suspicion was correct.
Yeonsan-daek had not returned the pork. It was a blatant lie.
Thud. As though her legs had given out, Yeonsan-daek collapsed to the floor. She looked up at Soran, utterly dazed, before lowering her head.
Her shoulders trembled. Between her ragged breaths came quiet sobs.
Soran watched her silently. Her mouth felt dry and bitter, like chewing on salt.
“Please forgive me, Little Madam. If I’m thrown out of this house, I have nowhere to go. I’ll replace the pork I took. Please, just this once, pretend you didn’t know—”
“What happened?”
“…What?”
Yeonsan-daek lifted her tear-soaked face in confusion.
She had stolen only a single piece of pork. It wasn’t a lie large enough to reek of decay.
And yet, the stench was so strong it nearly numbed the nose.
Which meant Yeonsan-daek’s guilt was immense.
Why? Over a mere piece of pork.
“Is this the first time?”
That was why Soran asked. Yeonsan-daek’s eyes widened, and she nodded frantically.
“Yes. It’s my first time. Please believe me.”
She did believe her. The smell of rot was gone.
Instead, there was now the scent of the rainy season—damp, stale, like laundry that refused to dry.
Soran knew that smell.
It was the smell of deep, saturated sorrow.
“Why did you steal the pork?”
Soran asked again. The head that had been lifted fell weakly forward.
At last, Yeonsan-daek spoke, as though resigned.
“My youngest… is dying.”
Soran quietly drew in a breath.
“He’s been weak since birth—couldn’t even nurse properly. We thought he wouldn’t last ten days, but somehow he lived to three years old. I thought maybe we’d be all right now… but a few days ago, he came down with a high fever…”
Tears poured from Yeonsan-daek’s eyes as she spoke in a flat murmur. They fell without pause, without order—
Like the monsoon rains.
“He drifts in and out of consciousness. Anyone can see it’s serious. He can’t even swallow gruel, but this morning, when he briefly came to, he said he wanted to eat meat… But where would the money come from? So even though I knew it was wrong… please forgive me, Little Madam.”
“….”
“I hid the pork behind the kitchen. I’ll put it back in the storage. Please, just forgive me this once. If I’m thrown out, I truly have nowhere to go.”
Soran clenched her fist. Very slowly, her throat bobbed. Swallowing back her tears, she asked in a trembling voice,
“But why pork?”
“…Pardon?”
“Why was it only pork that you stole?”
“How could I dare steal beef?”
“!”
Soran bit down hard on her lower lip. She swallowed her sobs and breathed in the damp, heavy scent deep into her chest.
It was pitiful. The heart of a mother forced to steal meat for her dying child—yet still unable to bring herself to steal beef.
That shabby, wretched restraint.
“Little Madam, I swear I’ll never do it again. Please—”
“Get up and go home.”
“Madam!”
