Chapter 4: The Ideal Partner (3)
The kitten crouched, eyes locked on the bird. Its body lowered, ready to spring—every motion perfectly catlike. The brightly colored bird seemed to taunt the kitten, tilting its head provocatively.
Crouch… and leap!
Flap.
By a hair’s breadth, the bird flew away, leaving the kitten frustrated and unsure what to do next.
Watching this, Seohyo giggled and shook a toy adorned with fake feathers. The kitten’s eyes sparkled once more, drawn to a new point of focus.
“So cute,” she whispered.
Mirang, observing from beside her, smiled with shining eyes.
“Do you play with the spirits like this every day?”
“Not when I’m busy, but I usually check in on them, even if just for a little while.”
Every time Seohyo waved the rod with the feather, the kitten’s head snapped sharply to follow it.
“This is all I can do for them,” she admitted.
“But waiting for their owner can’t be so hard, right?”
Mirang smiled as she looked at the bird spirit perched on her finger.
“Because you take care of them, Seohyo. I’m glad you’re their goddess of lost things.”
Seohyo forced a small smile at Mirang’s words.
Cha-eon had once said something similar. His tone was less gentle than Mirang’s, but the message was the same.
Whenever Seohyo lamented that all she could do for the children was this, he reminded her that things could have been much worse.
If someone else had held her position, if they had treated their duty lightly, fulfilling only the bare minimum… countless ownerless spirits would have been trapped in medicine chests, living lonely lives before disappearing entirely.
They would have felt utterly abandoned, sinking further into darkness.
“So don’t devalue the actions you’re taking right now,” he said.
It wasn’t perfect comfort, but Cha-eon’s words often became a steady support for Seohyo’s sometimes overwhelmingly sad heart.
“I haven’t stayed long, but I like the atmosphere here,” Mirang continued, playing with the bird spirit perched on her finger.
“Quiet yet cozy, with days passing without incident—that’s how it feels.”
“That’s true,” Seohyo agreed.
“And there are so many adorable spirits!”
Mirang laughed brightly, stroking the bird’s feathers. Perhaps because she was still young, she seemed to genuinely enjoy playing with animals like herself.
“Actually, it could be a little livelier. Back home at Baekogang, there are lots of fish, people come to the river, boats pass by… Oh, and we have a festival once a year! Floating lanterns on the river at night, making wishes—it’s breathtaking.”
Mirang’s face glowed as she spoke of her hometown.
Then she imagined herself standing there with Cha-eon.
Her cheeks flushed with happiness at the thought.
“I thought Cha-eon might like to come to Baekogang since he’s lonely and sad,” she added.
There it was again.
Lonely and sad Cha-eon.
Seohyo tilted her head, unsettled by the words she could never quite get used to. Mirang’s image of Cha-eon had been consistent from day one.
“I imagined cooking for him, reading to him, walking hand in hand along the river… wouldn’t he gradually become happy too? That’s the kind of married life I dream of.”
The bird flitted to another spot.
Mirang, her cheeks still flushed, followed its movements with her eyes before turning to Seohyo, her expression brimming with innocent enthusiasm.
Was it wrong to feel a little overwhelmed?
Mirang spoke of a future with Cha-eon beside her, laying out what she wished for—so much hope and so many dreams, born from the long time she had carried someone in her heart.
In her story, the whole world shone in rainbow colors, endlessly beautiful.
Seohyo’s own presence seemed absent from that world entirely.
Even if a twinge of jealousy or possessiveness over Cha-eon might have been reasonable, Seohyo’s chest felt heavy instead.
Heavy. Strange.
It felt like something was stuck, maybe like an upset stomach.
No, even that didn’t quite capture it.
Every time she saw how Mirang didn’t even consider other possibilities, Seohyo felt an inexplicable discomfort.
“Well, this is my ideal,” Mirang said, suddenly realizing she had talked too much and biting her tongue with a small, bright laugh.
“I’ve been talking too much about myself.”
“Oh, not at all. Your story is interesting,” Seohyo reassured her.
“You really are kind,” Mirang said, looking at her with the admiration one might have for an older sister. Then she tilted her head slightly, turning to a new question in her clear, endless voice.
“What about your ideal, Seohyo? I heard you’ve been waiting a long time for marriage.”
“Ah…”
“You must have thought about what kind of person would be the right partner for you, right?”
It was an unexpected question.
And one that left Seohyo completely flustered.
Because she couldn’t really answer it.
What kind of person had she dreamed of marrying? She had thought often. Someone like Cha-eon, who wouldn’t nag her every morning, letting her wake up on her own.
Someone kind and patient.
Someone who wouldn’t get angry easily, since she hated fights.
Still, strong enough not to be intimidated by a manly butler.
Phew… Cha-eon occasionally teased her, so her husband would probably scold her sometimes, too.
That was about it.
All vague dreams, mere daydreams, nothing concrete.
“Well, I guess… I want to be happy.”
A vague ideal, indeed.
“Just… happy together, for a long time, joyfully…”
Seohyo’s expression darkened.
“I want to live like that.”
“You feel the same way as me!”
Mirang smiled brightly, identifying herself with Seohyo. That should have been pleasant, but for Seohyo, the feeling was complicated.
She couldn’t even protest that it wasn’t the same.
It was an unsettling experience.
I will marry this year. I will, no matter what.
Seohyo remembered her past determination, silently vowing to marry.
Had she been no different from Mirang all along? From the outside, someone might see her as just a young girl with vague dreams, like Mirang.
She recalled Cha-eon shaking his head, saying she still hadn’t come to her senses.
“Um, Mirang,” Seohyo finally said.
“Aren’t you worried?”
“Excuse me? About what?” Mirang’s eyes widened.
“About your dreams not coming true.”
Seohyo’s question came from her own sudden fear. Not about marriage or happiness, but the subtle cracking of something she had always trusted.
The ground she thought solid had suddenly seemed to vanish.
“You’ve liked Cha-eon for twenty years… what if he rejects you completely?”
Her voice trembled faintly.
“Wouldn’t that hurt?”
Wasn’t Mirang afraid her dreams would shatter?
Seohyo didn’t know, but she imagined it must feel similar. Mirang considered her words, her expression revealing the answer before she spoke.
“Right now…”
A clear, calm female voice was interrupted by a firm, middle-low voice.
“Have you finished playing and done the laundry?”
Seohyo looked up to see Cha-eon staring down at them. More precisely, at her. His eyes were the gaze of someone dealing with a persistent troublemaker.
“No work, no lunch,” he said, ignoring Mirang, his words leaving a chill in the air as he walked away.
A most dependable butler.
Of course, Seohyo couldn’t indulge in deep anxieties here.
She glared in the direction Cha-eon had gone.
Her mood shattered completely.
“Ugh…”
But then, a small, animal-like whimper reached her ears.
“Seohyo-niim…”
It was Mirang, trembling beside her.
“Aren’t you scared?”
“Huh?”
A ridiculous little voice escaped her.
“I’m more afraid of Cha-eon’s expression than anything else.”
So Mirang was saying that the immediate fear of Cha-eon’s expression was worse than her fears of an unfulfilled confession?
“Cha-eon… scary?”
“Yes, so, so scary.” Mirang nodded desperately.
“Sometimes when he smiles, it’s blissful, but when he scolds like that, my guts feel like they shrink…”
It was genuine. Mirang’s large eyes glistened with tears.
“That wasn’t scolding, it was nagging,” Seohyo reassured her, patting her back.
“I hear it hundreds of times a day. You get used to it.”
“Ah… I don’t think I could get used to it. I’ve never been scolded like that before.”
A sheltered young lady indeed.
Someone who had been raised seventy years without harsh scolding or anger—surely the god of Baekogang had misassigned their duties. Perhaps they were meant to be a god of childcare rather than of rivers.
“Hahaha.”
It was fine, truly.
Since the first meeting, Seohyo had never found Cha-eon scary. She soothed Mirang while joking about Cha-eon’s nagging to reassure her.
As Mirang’s tension finally eased, she looked at Seohyo with amazement.
“Seohyo, you’re really comfortable with Cha-eon, aren’t you?”
“I suppose I am,” she admitted.
“Wow…”
Mirang sighed with admiration, recounting what she’d heard from her father.
“You should marry someone like that. Exciting love is nice, but a comfortable partner with whom you can grow old—that’s ideal.”
“Hmm.” Seohyo paused at those words.
It made sense, yet there was something strange about applying that logic.
Seohyo and Cha-eon had already been living exactly that life.
Already—for 151 years and one day!
Living together with a comfort so extreme, it was almost unbearable.
Clearing her throat, Seohyo reminded herself that even great river gods sometimes misspeak.
Stepping into the yard, Seohyo was greeted by vibrant fabrics.
From pale blue silk adorned with cloud patterns to delicate floral silk, to lively green cotton, the traveling merchant’s goods were plentiful and varied.
But he didn’t stop at fabrics.
Tiny pearl earrings, jade, crystal, lapis lazuli jewelry, floral shoes, cosmetics—all laid out on the yard’s tables.
It was a stark contrast to the tranquil apothecary.
Seohyo, having just delivered medicine to an infirm patient, stared in awe at the bustling yard.
Had the merchant been here half an hour? The house already looked completely different.
“Seohyo!”
It was Mirang, bright as ever, calling to her.
She sat across from the merchant, exploring everything eagerly.
It seemed she was the one who invited the merchant in.
“Come, there are so many beautiful things.”
“Indeed,” Seohyo said, hesitantly approaching. Everything she saw seemed to gather all the prettiness in the world.
The merchant’s items were no ordinary trinkets. Even the smallest rings were finely crafted treasures. He had likely sold to wealthy families or noble houses before. He treated Seohyo with the same care he gave Mirang.
“Do you have things brides use?”
“Oh, you’re like a blooming peach flower, and you’re already preparing for your wedding?”
He flattered her while opening a large box.
“Usually we don’t bring these out, but today happens to have some.”
On the white cloth lay bridal crowns and red veils. The girls’ eyes widened at the intricate, luxurious ornaments.
“Wow.”
“So pretty.”
“These are samples. If you place an order, we’ll provide brand-new ones.”
Mirang immediately tried on her favorite crown. The merchant slid a large mirror in front of her without hesitation, as he had surely done for many young ladies before.
White with sky-blue and gold accents, the crown was gorgeous.
“So pretty…”
Seohyo, having only seen market stalls in the castle, handled the items cautiously, mesmerized for a long while.
“Seohyo, what do you think? This one or that one?”
Mirang’s expression showed deep indecision. Both crowns were equally beautiful to Seohyo.
Wait—already preparing for a wedding?
“Mirang, has Cha-eon given his answer yet?”
“Not yet. Why?”
Hmm. She understood the girl’s excitement, but there should be an order to things.
“I don’t want to upset you, but maybe seeing the bridal items first…”
“Oh, I like this one too!”
Mirang picked up another crown and, without hesitation, placed it on Seohyo’s head.
“Ah, uh—?”
Seohyo tried to remove it, but Mirang insisted, saying it was easier to judge by seeing someone else wear it first. The merchant agreed.
So Seohyo awkwardly sat with the crown on her head.
The gold floral decorations were dotted with red cornelian beads, and pearl ornaments hung along the sides. It was especially beautiful.
“I think this one’s the prettiest,” Mirang said, and the merchant nodded enthusiastically, likely an expensive choice.
“Um, Mirang… can I take it off now? It feels awkward.”
“Wait a moment,” she replied, calling out to Cha-eon, who happened to be passing by.
Seohyo turned her head.
“Cha-eon, come here! She’s choosing a crown!”
Cha-eon, seemingly reading, held a rolled-up book, looking their way. His gaze landed on Seohyo wearing the crown.
She expected him to comment, tease her for preparing a wedding without anyone else present.
But he said nothing, quietly observing her.
Was that surprise freezing his expression?
“Which looks best to you, Cha-eon?”
Normally, he might ignore her, but this time he approached.
After briefly scanning the jewelry on the table, he looked back at Seohyo with the crown.
“Normally…”
He picked up a red veil from the table and placed it over Seohyo’s crown.
Immediately, her view was tinted red.
“To hide the bride’s face, the crown and veil should be chosen together,” he explained.
“Ah, yes. That makes sense,” she agreed.
Depending on the veil’s transparency, patterns, and borders, several variations existed.
The three conversed while Seohyo remained veiled. Feeling like an unnecessary straw sack, she tried to lift the veil.
“I want to see other things too.”
“Wait,” Cha-eon said briefly, blocking her hand.
“You don’t remove it yourself.”
Then, slowly, he lifted the red veil.
A bright light poured into the red-tinted world. Below the lifted veil, Seohyo and Cha-eon’s eyes met.
It was a fleeting moment.
Brief, but it resonated deeply.
“Ah…”
For a moment, Seohyo felt as if she had truly become Cha-eon’s bride.
Her cheeks burned, and she quickly lowered her gaze, fearing he might see into her heart.
Her chest tingled, as if something soft and fluffy had just begun to bloom inside.
