Chapter 16
A Shift in Thinking
‘The problem wasn’t that it couldn’t be seen—it was that it was too obvious.’
Miyu quietly rejoiced.
“Have you found the answer?”
Byeon Hayeon asked.
Miyu nodded with confidence, an irrepressible smile tugging at her lips.
“Really?”
Hwang Hui looked surprised.
“Just a moment.”
Miyu raised both palms, pausing to buy a little time. She had only one shot at this and needed to be sure. Closing her eyes, she carefully turned the answer over in her mind.
When she opened them again, her thoughts were clear and her gaze shone. Her face was bright with energy.
The men around her stared with growing curiosity. Ignoring their looks, Miyu drew out the moment.
“The answer is…”
Like an awards host at a year-end ceremony, she let the suspense hang.
Byeon Hayeon swallowed hard, and Yi-un leaned a little closer.
“Horses,” she said.
“Horses?”
“Horses?”
Byeon Hayeon and Hwang Hui both turned to Yi-un almost in unison.
Yi-un feigned surprise but hid his thoughts behind a faint smile.
A face that revealed nothing was how a young prince survived in a palace without shields. In that sense, his perfectly drawn smile was a weapon.
“That’s correct. They were smuggling horses across the border,” Yi-un explained.
Byeon Hayeon tilted his head back, lips parting.
“Good grief, why didn’t I think of that?”
“Of course—that’s how it was.”
Hwang Hui slapped his knee.
“They took old horses across to sell for meat, then brought back strong steppe horses to sell here for a high price,” Yi-un added, meeting Miyu’s eyes.
‘Smarter than she looks,’ he thought.
Miyu lifted her chin proudly and looked at the three men with a knowing smile.
“Oh no, we’re in trouble now,” Byeon Hayeon said, pretending to shiver. “I can already feel my knees shaking at whatever favor Lady Miyu is going to demand.”
“No need to tremble. It’s nothing big,” Miyu said.
Yi-un folded his arms, expressionless, waiting to hear this “nothing.” Hwang Hui scowled silently.
“Just work a half-day at our vegetable shop.”
Though she said it lightly, a chill fell over the room.
“That’s not acceptable,” Yi-un murmured, shaking his head.
That opened the floodgates.
“What grudge do you have against us?” Byeon Hayeon protested.
“You want us to be vegetable-stand clerks?” Hwang Hui added.
Their resistance was stronger than Miyu expected.
“Impossible! I’m a constable of the capital police—how can I peddle vegetables?”
“I’m an interpreter, the richest man in Joseon. What will people say if I sell greens? My family would be scandalized!”
“Even though I’m just a court painter… selling vegetables? Out of the question!” Yi-un raised his voice, shuddering.
By rank, a painter wasn’t far from a shop clerk, so Hwang Hui and Byeon Hayeon’s outrage was predictable. But Yi-un, a painter in name, had little excuse to break a promise—yet he certainly couldn’t reveal his true identity. He was unsettled.
To sell things! For a grand prince, it was unthinkable.
“I’m the richest man in Joseon. I’ll buy all the vegetables in Princess Miyu’s shop. Name your price,” Byeon Hayeon offered.
“That’s a fine idea,” Yi-un quickly added.
Surely a merchant would grab such an offer.
“It’s not something money can fix!” Miyu cut them off.
‘Ha, just as much pushback as I expected. But I’m not backing down.’
This was her chance to earn the funds to buy a Joseon painting and return to the 21st century.
Yi-un’s expression chilled.
‘There’s something more here,’ he thought.
A merchant refusing money?
Who exactly was this woman?
“You said earlier it just couldn’t be immoral, dangerous, or take more than half a day. A man’s word is worth a thousand pieces of gold—are you going back on yours?” Miyu prodded their pride. The men’s faces stiffened.
“Remember today’s toast? Imjeon muteo—never retreat in battle. Same for me. I won’t back down,” she declared, arms crossed and solemn.
Silence weighed on the small tavern.
Byeon Hayeon finally tilted his head back, sighed, and said, “A promise is a promise. When have I ever cared for propriety? Fine. I’ll work the vegetable stand.”
“Always so decisive,” Miyu said with a bright smile. “Constable Hwang, surely you won’t break your word either?”
Hwang Hui recalled his father’s teaching: even if the sky splits, keep your promise.
“Tell me the day in advance,” he sighed. “I’ll need to get leave from the office.”
“Will four days from now work?”
“Understood.”
Miyu turned to Yi-un, the last holdout. A painter couldn’t plead status, yet she sensed a stubborn wall.
Yi-un kept his eyes closed, silent.
His mind raced. If the Grand Queen Mother found out, he’d face a thunderous scolding and likely be banned from leaving the palace. But he couldn’t break the promise alone. Somehow he had to evade the formidable Miyu. And the court official who “guarded horses” would never keep this juicy story secret.
“Why so quiet?” she asked.
“Ahem.” Yi-un cleared his throat, flustered.
Something about him struck Miyu as odd.
Though distantly royal, if he was truly a painter his family must have fallen on hard times. Even King Cheoljong had farmed before becoming king. So why hesitate when the others had already agreed?
‘Does he have a trauma about selling things?’
At last Yi-un broke his silence with a resigned, short answer.
“Fine.”
Miyu beamed and filled everyone’s empty cups with soju-beer mix.
“Alright, then—Imjeon muteo!” she cried, toasting before downing her drink.
“So how did you figure out the answer?” Hwang Hui asked.
“It was nothing special. I just broke free of fixed ideas. I flipped the assumption that the contraband must be small. If it couldn’t be hidden, it had to be something big yet ordinary,” she explained.
“And?”
“If it’s big and obvious but goes unnoticed, it must be something people see every day crossing the border—either people or horses. It could only be horses.”
“Oho, a farmer wouldn’t sell himself, so horses it is!” Byeon Hayeon exclaimed, tapping the table.
Despite the ridiculous wager, the drinking party grew lively.
Byeon Hayeon shared stories from his trips to Japan as an interpreter. Hwang Hui spoke of police cases he’d solved. Even Yi-un, after some prodding, told tales of the land and people of Joseon.
To Miyu, still new to this era, every story was fascinating—living history rather than something from a book. It felt like she was a blue-eyed foreigner visiting the “Land of the Morning Calm” in its final days.
The night wore on until it was time to leave.
“Mind if I take the leftover side dishes? I have to feed Woo-yu.”
The table still held plenty of food. She planned to rinse the salt off and give it to her dog, Woo-yu, since there was no special pet food or treats and he needed a balanced diet while growing.
Thinking of him, Miyu happily packed the food.
Watching her, Yi-un’s face darkened like a gathering storm.
‘What is your true purpose?’ he wondered.
The next day, at a pavilion by the Songpa riverside.
Surrounded by musicians and courtesans, Byeon Hayeon enjoyed the riverside scenery. Two gisaeng danced to the sound of the geomungo zither.
Their swaying waists were like willow branches, their sweeping hands like scattering petals.
“How do you find it?”
Seated beside him, the head gisaeng Wol-ha poured him wine and asked softly.
Her cloud-like hair gleamed with camellia oil. Her skin was smooth, her eyes large and bright.
“The geomungo sounds heavenly, and the women’s dance is like petals fluttering in the wind. Enchanting, utterly enchanting,” Byeon Hayeon said, feeling a thousand springs stir in his chest.
“Heehee, I’m relieved. I feared that Wol-ha, finest gisaeng of Songpa, might not please the heir of the wealthiest interpreter family in Joseon.”
“Haha, as if Songpa’s finest could fail to please.”
A sailboat drifted lazily along the Songpa River. Namhansanseong Fortress rose like a folding screen around the water, pine trees atop its walls looking down on the scene.
Soon after, Byeon Hayeon dismissed the musicians and all but the head gisaeng.
He drew from his pouch a pendant made of three amber beads.
“This is for you.”
“Oh my, how lovely—a triple-amber norigae. Such a precious gift…”
A radiant smile bloomed on Wol-ha’s lips.
“So, did you find what I asked about?”
Byeon Hayeon’s expression turned serious as glass.
He had come to Songpa because of a crisis threatening the Byeon interpreter clan.
“I tracked the people who came through Songpa Ferry after the recent flood,” she said.
Byeon Hayeon’s face hardened with tension.
