Chapter – 21
Gyohum recalled the flustered look on Soran’s face as she had held it out to him.
After returning home, she carefully wrapped it in hanji, then placed it into Gyohum’s hand with a proud expression.
But no matter how prettily it was wrapped, the contents themselves did not change.
“Please take it to Mother.”
“This… you mean this?”
Gyohum stared at her in disbelief.
His face clearly said Why am I the one being asked to do this?, but she didn’t seem to notice.
“Yes.”
“You mean… this?”
Still hoping he’d misunderstood, Gyohum asked again. Soran nodded firmly, her eyes sparkling.
“Yes.”
Left with no choice, Gyohum accepted it. Soran tugged faintly at the corner of her lips.
“She’ll be happier if it’s given by you rather than me, Commander.”
“What is this?”
As if it would be faster for her to see it herself, Gyohum merely nodded once.
Lady Jami, wearing a puzzled expression, untied the rolled cord and slowly unfolded the hanji.
“This is…”
Her eyes widened in an instant. Then, as if she had lost the ability to speak, she stared blankly at what lay on the paper.
Gyohum scratched the end of his eyebrow, as though he’d expected this.
“I don’t know why she told me to bring this to you, Mother, but I don’t think she meant anything ill—”
He stopped mid-sentence.
Lady Jami was smiling brightly—for once.
Fine wrinkles formed at the corners of her eyes, and her lips curved softly upward.
In a distant, almost wistful voice, she murmured,
“Taffy.”
Yes. It was taffy.
Gyohum cast a suspicious glance at what was in her hand, half-wondering if it might somehow be something else.
Surely his mother wouldn’t be this pleased over a single piece of taffy. And as far as he knew, she disliked sweets.
She had little appetite to begin with and no particular favorite foods, but if anything, she preferred bland dishes.
Yet at that moment, Lady Jami’s narrowed eyes shone with longing.
He didn’t know what she was thinking, but one thing was certain—her mind was no longer here.
“Would you like to try some?”
Pulled from her reverie, Lady Jami nodded.
Snap.
Gyohum broke one strip of taffy into five small pieces and handed one to his mother.
She popped it into her mouth.
“It’s sweet.”
Of course it is—it’s taffy. So many people were stating the obvious today.
Gyohum swallowed the words that rose to his throat and merely nodded. Lady Jami met his eyes and smiled shyly.
That, too, was unexpected. Gyohum’s eyebrow twitched.
As she looked at the single strip of taffy remaining on the white paper, she suddenly spoke.
“Could you take this to the next room?”
“To Father?”
Lady Jami neatly wrapped the remaining four pieces again. As she handed them to Gyohum, she shook her head.
“No. I’ll give it to him myself.”
“…Yes.”
No matter how he thought about it, he couldn’t understand. Why did she look at a mere piece of taffy as though it were something precious?
As though the matter were finished, Gyohum rose from his seat.
Just before leaving, he finally voiced the question that had been bothering him.
“Did you always like taffy, Mother?”
At that, Lady Jami let out a light laugh.
“!”
This time, Gyohum’s eyes widened.
How long had it been since he’d heard her laugh?
Since Sahum’s death, hadn’t she avoided people and remained shut away? Lady Jami, clutching the taffy with both hands, looked up at him.
“I’ve stayed in my room far too long. I even neglected the main household. At this rate, the very pillars could rot, and I wouldn’t notice.”
“……”
“Now that there’s a new daughter-in-law, I should take charge of the household myself again.”
Gyohum blinked rapidly.
The woman who had been drowning in grief after losing her eldest son was declaring she would come out of seclusion. Why?
“I should also write a letter to my eldest child at her parents’ home. I was so consumed with my own sorrow that I was negligent toward her.”
“…Yes.”
A bitter smile passed over Lady Jami’s face, faint wrinkles forming at her eyes.
“Tell the younger one I’m grateful.”
“…Yes.”
Gyohum nodded without thinking.
What did she mean by that?
Could it be… that all of this was thanks to her? Because of a single piece of taffy?
“Then please rest.”
As he turned to leave, Lady Jami added one last remark, her voice tinged with a gentle smile.
“She says you’re not indifferent.”
“Pardon?”
“The younger one. She told me you take very good care of her.”
“Did she?”
Gyohum asked, his expression complicated.
—You can tell, you know. That the Commander dislikes me.
Hearing that, his heart had inexplicably dropped.
Perhaps he’d been worried his plans would be disrupted. Otherwise, there was no reason for his heart to sink like that.
Yet she’d told Lady Jami he wasn’t indifferent.
Gyohum frowned faintly, recalling the inscrutable Soran.
When he thought her impertinent, she was innocent.
When he thought her bold, she was timid.
When he thought her cold, she was warm.
When he thought he could see through her, she became unfathomable.
Just who are you, exactly?
He hurled the sharp question at the absent Soran.
But the woman who held the answer said nothing.
***
Gyohum stopped short as he opened the door and stepped inside.
Soran, seated on a chair, sensed his presence and lifted her head.
Her cheeks were puffed out.
“……”
This was different from when she ate meals.
Both sides of her cheeks jutted out sharply, as though she’d stuffed a long stick into her mouth.
It seemed she had eaten half of the taffy that Lady Jami had divided into five pieces.
Gyohum pretended not to see anything and went to sit down. Soran stared solemnly at the table.
Trying to look serious with puffed cheeks lent her not an ounce of dignity—but she seemed utterly unaware of that fact.
“What happened?”
At Gyohum’s question, Soran widened her eyes as if she didn’t understand.
“Whab do you mean?”
She asked back, looking rather grave.
“Did you know my mother liked taffy?”
“Ahh.”
Only then did Soran seem to understand. She nodded—still with pointed cheeks.
“After Mother married Father, she went to the market. They shared taffy there.”
“Are you saying my parents went to the market after they married and shared taffy together?”
Gyohum asked dubiously.
Soran nodded vigorously. Perhaps because of that, her taut cheeks seemed to loosen slightly.
Or maybe the taffy had simply melted a bit.
“I thought you liked taffy, Madam. Since you gave it to both my parents, you must be disappointed. There must be only one piece left for you.”
Soran shook her head as if to say it was fine.
“This is enough.”
Enough? That was a surprisingly modest statement for the concubine-born daughter of the Chief State Councilor.
Then again, what use would such a woman have for craving taffy? Whenever she spoke, lavish delicacies must have been laid out before her.
Perhaps that was why she had no greed. Having never known lack, there was no need for desire.
Or perhaps she was trying to lower his guard.
Just as he was pretending to be a considerate husband, perhaps she was pretending to be a woman without wants.
Whichever was true, the fact remained that she was the Chief State Councilor’s daughter.
Gyohum steeled his softening resolve and looked at her.
At that moment, a shadow flickered outside the door. Checking the time, Gyohum stood up.
“It’s already time for supper—”
At the same time—
“The funeral went well.”
The door opened, and the usually halting voice of Kkeutsunrang out.
She bowed halfway toward them.
And Gyohum realized where the other half of the taffy had gone.
Soran was not the only greedy squirrel who’d swallowed a long stick.
Once again, Gyohum pretended not to notice and walked calmly forward.
“Let’s go.”
“Yes.”
Soran stepped forward with the solemn resolve of someone about to undertake the most important task in the world.
Kkeutsun followed behind her with the same grave determination.
Gyohum shook his head and glanced sideways at Soran’s face—the woman who had shared the last piece of taffy with her maid.
His brow furrowed once more.
Just what kind of person are you?
He swallowed the question that rose to his throat.
At the same time, Soran swallowed the sweet saliva pooling in her mouth.
Caw, caw, caw.
Somewhere, an inconsiderate crow cried noisily.
Gyohum felt like shouting just like that crow.
Perhaps then, this suffocating feeling would ease a little.
***
A shadow passed by the door, and soon a familiar voice followed.
“Young Madam.”
Recognizing the speaker, Soran rose from her seat and said, “Come in.”
Yeonsan-daek entered the room and bowed her head to Soran.
“Thanks to your concern, we completed the funeral safely and returned. Though, to be honest, it hardly qualified as a funeral at all.”
