Chapter 27
The Reason Love Cools
Miyu lay on her bedding, eyes wide, quietly staring up at the ceiling.
Her heart still pounded as if it might burst, replaying the vivid memory of running hand-in-hand with I-un.
Her body was exhausted and limp, yet her heartbeat thudded wildly.
The afterglow of that moment refused to fade.
Running in broad daylight—
in the Joseon era, no less—while holding a man’s hand.
It was absurd, almost laughable.
Ha ha, what a perfect young couple.
They suit each other so well.
A picture come to life.
The imagined voices of onlookers rang as clearly as a night bird’s call.
“Ahh, how embarrassing…”
Though no one could see her, Miyu hid her face with her hands, cheeks burning.
Beneath her palms bloomed the memory of another scene:
when a horse cart nearly struck, I-un had pulled her firmly into his arms—strong but gentle, wide and warm.
Maybe he’s kinder than he looks.
His grasp had been careful, protective, as if to keep her from shock or pain.
I’m sorry.
He’d spoken between heavy breaths after stopping their run.
He’d seemed indifferent at first, yet his pensive eyes were beautiful.
As they began walking again, the chill and aloofness of his expression softened, revealing a shy, boyish side.
What was he like as a child?
Her heart rippled like sunlight on water, something light and unknown rising like morning haze.
“Get a grip.”
Still lying down, Miyu shook her head and yanked the blanket over herself.
No, Jo Miyu, this isn’t the time for thoughts like that.
She threw the blanket off again, her eyes sharp in the darkness.
But how had I-un known that Kim Hong-do’s painting was a copy?
Even as a royal painter, surpassing her trained eye seemed unlikely.
Of course, he painted professionally, so his vision differed from ordinary people’s,
yet painting and appraising were different skills.
Miyu herself had studied art trading systematically, blessed with a natural sense for color and a keen eye nurtured since childhood alongside her mother.
As these thoughts spiraled, the memory of running with I-un resurfaced.
Why had he wanted to run?
And who was the grandmother who’d called his name?
Stop it, Jo Miyu! she scolded herself.
Focus only on buying a good painting and getting back.
But how could she return?
She trusted a way would appear, yet what if it didn’t?
Surely…I won’t be trapped in Joseon forever?
The more she thought, the more unease pressed on her chest.
To fight the creeping anxiety, she forced her mind toward something concrete:
What kind of business could I start?
Thanks to Uncle Mandol’s faith in her talents, she now had a stall at Songpa Market.
Rent would cost money, but the chance was rare.
She had to choose the right merchandise or risk ruin.
Songpa was one of the largest markets: individual shoppers mingled with small retailers and wholesalers from distant provinces.
Even wealthy noble families and landlords came to buy in bulk for their many dependents.
Customers overflowed—and so did the competition.
A single wrong choice of goods could mean a disastrous fall.
She resolved to spend her lunch hours scouting the market until she found the right items to sell.
Still…another restless night.
Since arriving in Joseon she hadn’t slept soundly once.
Even after exhausting days serving endless customers or drinking enough soju to feel tipsy, she would wake after only a few hours.
She could nap in the afternoon without much trouble, but the saying “sleep is the best medicine” rang true.
Ignoring insomnia was dangerous; strength and motivation came from a healthy body.
How did people in this era cope with insomnia or stress?
Was there some remedy?
I’ll ask Boksil tomorrow.
Morning came with the clucking of a mother hen leading her chicks.
The air was fresh and clean, clearing both body and mind with each breath.
Loose-leashed Milk the dog dashed across the yard, chasing the chicks.
Boksil was washing her face at a copper basin.
“Boksil, what do you do when you can’t sleep or feel uneasy?” Miyu asked.
“I pray to the moon,” Boksil said, drying her face. “I ask to sleep well and not feel anxious.”
“Oh!”
“Unni, are you having trouble sleeping?”
“Lately, yes.”
Miyu smiled, watching a yellow chick stumble after its mother.
“Then visit a shaman. There’s a famous one in Songpa—want me to introduce you?”
“No, that’s okay.”
“If you get really sick you could go to an apothecary, but medicine’s expensive. Only people with money can afford it.”
“It’ll pass with time,” Miyu said wryly.
“But unni, can you really make everything go well?” Boksil sat beside her.
“Of course not. Why? Is something wrong?”
“It’s not me. A friend is getting married…”
“Don’t meddle in other people’s love stories,” Miyu cut her off, shaking her head.
“That’s not it—it’s just strange.” Boksil tilted her freckled face.
“Strange how?”
“Her family was firmly opposed, but the couple swore they’d die without each other.
The parents finally gave in—there’s that saying you can’t win against your children.
The girl even nearly died from drinking poison.”
Romeo and Juliet, Miyu thought.
“But now, with the wedding next month, she suddenly says she doesn’t want to marry him.”
Miyu paused. “She changed her mind?”
“Yes. Both families are in an uproar, and the two of them barely meet now.”
“Well, you can’t force someone to marry. They have to live together for life. Right, Milk?”
She stroked the dog, who wagged his tail gently.
“True, but how could this happen? It’s a real mystery.”
“They even held a shaman ritual,” Boksil added.
“What use is that? Mostly it just calms the elders’ hearts,” Miyu said lightly.
“Maybe. But I think an evil spirit must have clung to them. Don’t you?”
“That’s too much. They’re simply mistaken.”
“Mistaken?” Boksil blinked.
“They confused feelings for love,” Miyu said firmly.
“Confused?”
“Yes. Parental opposition didn’t deepen their love—it deepened their obsession.
When everyone around you disapproves, you defy them and crave each other more.
But once that opposition disappears and the relationship is accepted,
the thrill fades and the illusion breaks.
They feel awkward because the excitement was never true love.”
She recalled a study of about 150 couples in Colorado:
parental interference often strengthened adolescent love and led to marriage,
but when interference lessened, affection cooled.
Love is often a kind of illusion.
What would Romeo and Juliet think if told their love was a psychological trick?
“So they were just…mistaken?” Boksil asked, shocked.
“If they want to know whether it’s real love, the test starts now,” Miyu said softly.
“Starts now?”
“They should meet again and face their true feelings.
Only then will they know if it’s love—or merely rebellious attachment.”
Boksil stared at her for a long moment. “Unni, how do you know all this?”
“It’s all in psychology books.”
“Psychology? What’s that?”
“Studying the mind.”
Boksil stretched her back and laughed. “You must have learned magic on the mountain!”
“Think what you like,” Miyu replied dryly.
“Jo Miyu!”
Just then Uncle Mandol appeared, shouting, his face flushed with anger.
“What’s wrong?” she asked.
“What on earth have you done?!” he bellowed.
