chapter 19
“The number of prospective crown princess candidates has been cut in half recently.”
My uncle started with a bombshell.
“How sudden—and strange.”
Grandmother’s brow furrowed.
“As far as I know, the candidate pool was twenty-two. Have that many families already arranged marriages in the meantime?”
“They say eight households have already confirmed by letter.”
“Huh?”
“The betrothals between the families themselves haven’t happened yet, but it seems unlikely they’ll be broken.”
Here’s the situation.
In the past few years there had been frequent disasters—droughts, floods—across the country. Families with solid household reserves and preparations for emergencies managed to get through, but those without suffered heavy losses.
“It looks like many houses that had been surviving on a knife-edge of finances were pinning their hopes on the autumn harvest’s income… and failed.”
“That makes sense.”
Grandmother cut my uncle off like a blade.
“Even though this year’s harvest was good, it wasn’t nearly enough to make up for the losses piled up over the last few years. That’s why those families staggered. They were slow to do the math.”
“Lady head of the house.”
“You don’t need to call me that. We have to put out the fires at our feet first. Those heads of households are giving up the chance to become in-laws of the royal family.”
“It would have been easy to find a match who’d offer help.”
“Girls are scarce these days—wait.”
Grandmother made a small sound and spoke up.
“Don’t tell me this information came from matchmakers?”
“Yes.”
Matchmakers who controlled the flow of marriage rumors across the land. Their sources were faster than most intelligence agencies. News that the number of unmarriageable daughters from prestigious houses had suddenly halved spread like wildfire.
Frightened families scrambling to secure brides pooled money and connections to gather information. The result: they’d set their sights on me—the one who seemed least likely to connect to the royal house.
“This is a disaster. There aren’t nearly enough girls left.”
The adults’ faces turned serious.
Mine did too. My nose felt dry; I licked my lips.
“Have you identified the names and families of all the girls whose matches haven’t been arranged yet?”
“It’s here.”
My uncle pulled a small scroll from inside his robe and handed it to Grandmother. As she unfurled it, Father slipped up behind her, peered at the list, and muttered.
“If we remove the two girls who are too close in age to the crown prince, the number of strong candidates is single-digit.”
“We need to rule out two more here.”
“Oh, right. That family had a recently disgraced high official, didn’t they?”
Cut this and cut that, and the count of brides dropped terrifyingly. Father’s face went stone.
A chill ran down my spine. My clever little Haetae brain already predicted what came next.
“If this keeps up, won’t our daughter end up being considered as a candidate for crown princess?” Father asked, very worried.
“Eeek—!”
Ouch. That stung.
I screeched the moment Father said it.
In short, the problem was that I was a puppy born with a big, gleaming silver spoon in my mouth.
I was the only granddaughter of the head of the Hyeon family—one of the Five Great Houses. Because I happened to be the child of the second son rather than the eldest, there was no obvious condition for officials in the court to object because of an overreaching maternal clan.
The family head—my grandmother—was a retired general. Two of our direct line were serving as military officers, and many others in the clan worked in the military. If the crown prince married me, he would easily gain powerful military allies.
“Hasn’t the family head’s influence waned since retirement?” Father asked.
“Military families intermarry within the same units a lot, so they’re tightly bound by marital ties. Influence may have dropped to only about eighty percent of what it was, but it’s still strong.”
Except for the convenient lie that I was frail, my lineage was dazzling and excessive. If we’d been a modest family we might have used the excuse of finding a son-in-law to be taken as a husband, but we weren’t—we had more than enough sons and relatives.
But I am Hyeon. Becoming crown princess—forced to live my whole life in the palace—was impossible for me.
“If she’s sent there, I guarantee you—Hyeon will end up crooked-nosed.”
It was because of high officials.
The palace is full of high officials with murky motives, the sort who might want to get rid of someone like Haetae. The idea of sending me among them made my skin crawl.
“The palace would be worse than a cesspit for Hyeon.”
If I entered that place, I might suffocate in the stench. Or my true nature could be discovered and I’d be cut down. Either way, the worst outcome.
“What does Hyeon think?” Grandmother asked.
“I don’t want the palace!” I shouted, immediately reverting to human voice.
“I can’t live breathing that smell all the time! I might want to beat everyone up!”
“What?”
I meant it. Maybe it was Haetae instinct, but just imagining the smell made my whole body itch. I showed the adults my clenched fist, and Father’s face, standing right behind Grandmother, slowly crumpled.
I was still serious though. I could feel Haetae’s power gathering in that small fist.
To think that imagining a bad person could make me like this—Haetae was definitely a dangerous creature.
I spoke to the adults with as much feeling as I could.
“This might get out of control.”
I was serious, but—
“Cough.”
“There’s the risk you’ll be hated by your own daughter.”
Father completely collapsed behind Grandmother.
Until then, everyone except Father had been fine.
Growl.
“……”
“……”
Right before my stomach made a loud sound.
After that, the tense atmosphere deflated everywhere. It was good the stiffness eased, but my lips puckered into a duckbill.
We decided to take a short break.
Using your brain too hard on an empty stomach makes you hungry. The adults exhaled as they ate the elegantly prepared snacks.
“Eat plenty too, Hyeon.”
“Yes!”
I eagerly grabbed little treats.
I devoured three small honey tteokcakes, a piece of candied apple with a pleasantly sour-sweet bite, and two crispy, savory sheets of gim-bugak. Once my hunger eased, my head cleared.
“My baby—have some tea.”
“All right.”
Mom handed me tea so I wouldn’t choke. The tea was a strong brew of job’s tears (yulmu). It was nutty and rich; one cup made my belly round.
“There’s only one way to repel the marriage proposals that might be sent down from the royal house.”
Grandmother, also eating, reached the same conclusion.
“Whether fake or real, find a match and place them by Hyeon’s side.”
That was all—she drove the point home.
She even said it had to be arranged before I turned six. The crown prince would seriously start seeking a partner at twelve. I had to become someone’s already-taken puppy quickly.
“And if you fail?”
“If we let things go, the palace will come and examine compatibility.”
Father squeezed his eyes shut.
I closed mine too. The darkness felt like my future.
“But no matter how desperate, we can’t stand anyone next to our baby.”
Mom added her opinion.
When I opened my eyes, Grandmother was nodding at Mother’s words.
“It’s always been impossible to choose just anyone. The family we accept must be someone whose match the palace and the families proposing would both find acceptable.”
“Mother, that sounds like you’re saying it’ll be hard to find a match.”
“Do you want to hear something scarier? The match must be someone who can keep Hyeon’s true nature secret and protect her.”
“If we kept it secret… that wouldn’t work, would it?”
Father sank again.
I guessed why and groaned. If betrothals are made, families attend each other’s events—being together so often increases the risk of my identity being discovered. Better to be honest from the start and ask for help than to be shamed later for a half-hearted deception.
Luckily, it wasn’t all bad.
“Maybe the postponement of the marriage ban is a stroke of luck.”
“……!”
Mother snapped her head up.
Grandmother was right. If we’d gone ahead and put a marriage ban in place at Chuseok as scheduled, even if we’d found a match, they would have had to be told I was Haetae to get consent, and that would have made cooperation impossible.
We’d have to either deceive them or wait three years and find someone later. Either was problematic; if we waited, I’d only be seven—too risky.
“It’s a blessing in disguise. Fortune’s on our side.”
“……thank you.”
Mother’s heavy face lightened.
I winked at Grandmother in thanks; she answered with a small lift of one brow.
Only one thing remained.
“Open those stacked scrolls. Lay them out again.”
We hurried to hunt for my match.
I hadn’t expected the very marriage proposals I had turned down to be unfurled again and treated as precious.
Between the distracted adults, I glanced at the portraits that had come along with the proposal letters.
The portraits here showed people in both human and animal form. I could see drawings of all sorts of baby animals: familiar puppies, pretty little mice, cute foxes, feisty weasels, a languid-looking raccoon, and more. A variety of animals held my attention.
“Do you like any of them?”
I shook my head. They were cute, but that was all.
And maybe because I was small, I thought I’d prefer a groom who was larger in build.
“You have a definite taste.”
Grandmother chuckled and then, tapping her knee, suddenly said there might be a suitable son from a fitting family.
“Why didn’t you say so earlier?”
“The conditions are good—but whether it’ll work, I don’t know.”
The family Grandmother mentioned was the Baek (White) family—centered on tiger kin—one of the Five Great Houses. They were also the only house that hadn’t already proposed to me.
But as soon as Grandmother said that, Uncle pressed his brows together.
“Lady head. As far as I know, the Baek family currently has only one unmarried child left.”
“It’s the child you’re thinking of, Do-kyung.”
“If we pursue it…”
My uncle asked as if his head truly hurt.
“You’re suggesting we propose a match to the Baek family’s heir now?”
“If possible.”
“Lady head.”
“It’s a clash of dragon and tiger.”
Grandmother said it coolly, as if there was no problem at all.
If one needs to subdue a dragon, wouldn’t you need a tiger?
Dragon or tiger. I’d suddenly become the little dog caught between a dragon and a tiger.
