chapter 50
The next day, His Majesty returned to the capital early.
“He’s gone.”
Baeksan murmured calmly as he watched the Azure Dragon flying through the breaking storm clouds. Surprisingly, he looked better than expected, and I think I understood why.
Baeksan’s usually wild, untamed hair was unusually neat and orderly.
Who could have combed it like that?
It was obvious that His Majesty had spent the night smoothing Baeksan’s hair and calming him.
“What is that?”
And others were affected by the aftermath.
“Did the sun rise from the west today?”
“I can’t tell because of the rain clouds…”
Everyone rubbed their eyes in disbelief. It was understandable—the sight of Baeksan with his silver hair neatly falling down was utterly unfamiliar.
Even his attire looked carefully arranged, as if His Majesty had dressed him himself. With his long hair draped over one shoulder, he appeared, unbelievably, as pure as a lily of the valley.
“Huireok.”
“Yes.”
Standing side by side with Sobaeksan, he looked even more alike than usual.
“I’ll leave first. You come slowly tomorrow.”
“Yes!”
“Did you enjoy spending one more day with your fiancée that much?”
Baeksan smiled faintly, stroked Sobaeksan’s head once, and left.
When the huge White Tiger departed from Hyeonga, people finally dismissed their visions as illusions.
I reconsidered my perception and evaluation of Baeksan once again.
Whoosh—
The spring rain continued without pause. It didn’t pour all at once but seeped into the ground, like a gentle drizzle.
The dragon and tiger that brought this rain had also left. Perhaps our household’s mission was finally over.
“Additional patient with a cold!”
“This is a high fever!”
“They seem extremely weak. I’ll prescribe a tonic first.”
The shamans collapsed onto the floor.
Despite the freshening earth from the spring rain, the shamans who had summoned that life energy were groaning in exhaustion. At this point, even the unharmed figures of His Majesty and Baeksan seemed all the more extraordinary.
I wasn’t the only one feeling this way; the shamans grumbled too.
“Why must we, poor souls, suffer alongside such calamities? Cough! They tie us as high-level shamans! Just as they say—cough! The greatest shamans of all ages, cough! Curse them, cough-cough!”
“Wicked… tiger…!”
“Screeeech…”
“Elder Gakjeong, please lie down again. You’re not fully recovered.”
Though everyone ground their teeth and shivered, it wasn’t admiration for Baeksan’s strength.
Sobaeksan wasn’t completely fine either. Baeksan hadn’t left his son behind for no reason.
He had seemed okay yesterday, but today, when I touched his smooth forehead, he had a slight fever.
So I took him to a separate room and shoved him onto a heated floor.
“I’m fine.”
“I’m not fine.”
He obediently followed as I spread a thick blanket.
I untied my fiancé’s hair, which I had carefully tied up since early morning. It flowed through my fingers like long strands of silver.
The hair itself was cool, but the floor was scorching.
So much firewood had been added that the heat rose right through the mats!
“Isn’t it hot?”
“A little?”
“Tell me!”
I jumped up and opened the window.
Whoooosh—
Cool, damp air clung to my cheeks. The refreshing scent of rain slowly cooled the furnace-like room. I left the window open and returned to Sobaeksan.
But my fiancé was smiling quietly with his eyes closed.
“Why are you smiling?”
“Yesterday felt like a dream.”
I placed my hand on his forehead. The warmth rose, either from his slight fever or the heated floor.
“Yesterday, all the people I love were there.”
Sobaeksan mumbled as if intoxicated by heat.
“And I was happy.”
Last night, Sobaeksan had finally met both his mother and father at the same time after so long. My heart tightened, and I paused while stroking his forehead.
One family member was missing.
“What about your younger sibling?”
“Hmm.”
A shallow crease formed between his brow.
“Hyeon, most siblings… brothers and sisters… anyway, blood relatives with the same parents are all competitors.”
“Yes.”
“So I don’t really need to see them. They’ll manage themselves.”
“When we go to the capital, we’ll meet anyway.”
Since high-level shamans must visit the royal palace, Sobaeksan mumbled that they would see each other there. He seemed drowsy.
“Haaam.”
I, too, grew sleepy and snuggled against his side.
The blanket was warm, but the air brushing our noses was cool.
Snore…
Zzz…
We fell asleep side by side, wrapped around each other.
Sobaeksan was to go to the capital on his birthday. I made a bunch of hair ties for him before he left.
“We need to announce everywhere that Sobaeksan is my fiancé.”
“Mm-hmm.”
“Absolutely. Don’t let your hair down for even a moment.”
“I will.”
My tiger, almost fourteen, was dazzling. His bright silver hair sparkled like sunlight on a stream, and his deep blue eyes were indistinguishable from the sky.
Tall and well-built, with sharp features that seemed dreamlike.
All I could do, worried about having such a perfect fiancé, was loudly proclaim that this tiger was mine.
Thankfully, in this country, you could show your engagement through your hairstyle—otherwise, I might have even written “Property of Hyeon Hyeon” on Sobaeksan’s forehead.
“My fiancé is too beautiful, what should I do…!”
“Our baby inherited that from you.”
“Me?”
Dad, who had been quiet, was startled by Mom’s words.
“You always shout ‘beautiful, beautiful,’ and get restless, just like you.”
Dad tilted his head at that observation.
“But you are beautiful, after all.”
“….”
“Not a single day goes by that you aren’t beautiful. Always elegant, always smart and wise. Anyone would be jealous of the partner you have, and it’s natural to feel uneasy.”
“Listen, prospective son-in-law. This will be your everyday life from now on.”
“I’m happy.”
Mom nodded at Sobaeksan’s bright face.
“You found the right match, our baby.”
“Hehe.”
After finally sending Sobaeksan off, some time passed.
The scenery of Seolgokdo, freed from drought, was vibrant and colorful.
Spring flowers were in full bloom. I struggled to find the camellias in the book, as in reality they had already started to fade.
I began searching the Hyun family library.
Even though the Hyun family had no noble title, as one of the top five households in the country, their collection was considerable.
Checking only the main house’s books took a long time.
The publication date didn’t matter; my only criterion was camellia motifs. Any book with camellia patterns or seals was gathered together.
While diligently reviewing the selected books, I discovered a suspicious one.
It was an ordinary poetry book stamped with a camellia seal.
What surprised me after starting this search was that many poetry collections contained camellias. Flowers, butterflies, and nature were popular themes for poetry.
Plum blossoms, bamboo, pine, chrysanthemums, and water lilies were common; camellias followed closely behind.
So, I opened one without expectation.
“Huh?”
A pretty colored sheet attached behind the cover caught my eye.
The pattern on the sheet seemed oddly familiar. Squinting at it, I realized, oh my…
Bonjour…?
It was French!
Why was it here?
I rubbed my eyes and looked again. No mistake—it was French, written in calligraphy.
The problem was, I didn’t understand French. I barely read “Bonjour.”
“Huh.”
What was going on?
I rifled through the book and found more writing in French, but sadly, I couldn’t read it.
Why? Because it was French—and I had been born in Korea in my previous life!
“What did I just see?”
After a moment of denial, I managed to spot “Merci” and read it aloud, smacking my forehead.
I had suspected it all along: every Haetae was reincarnated.
Think about it. No baby is born smart. Unless, like me, they retained memories of a past life.
Moreover, the world held many traces of reincarnators: the white wind flag, the abacus, the mirror, the more stable carriage…
All the precious everyday items crafted by senior reincarnators were made by Haetae.
The unexpected truth moved me deeply.
I wasn’t the only one remembering a past life.
And the senior reincarnators were from Earth, like me. I was overjoyed.
But…
“I can’t read this…!”
Why must they be French? I don’t know French!
I clutched the poetry book, struggling with its tantalizing content.
It was serious.
If my assumption was correct, Haetae senior’s nationalities would vary widely.
If I luckily found a record in German, Arabic, Sanskrit, etc., I couldn’t read it.
In short, to get useful information, I had to find records left by Korean Haetae.
Next best: North Korean.
After that: American, Japanese, or Chinese.
Even though I knew many languages from my past life, it felt overwhelming. Rare Haetae texts were already a gamble.
“What should I do now?”
I sighed, holding the book.
I couldn’t read it, but I couldn’t discard it either. I had no choice but to treasure it carefully.
