Chapter 4
Prince Seowon was speechless, as Min Chi-young’s dark intentions were painfully transparent. Min Chi-young opened his lips, a fishy smile lingering there.
“The other day, a tenant farmer brought a cart full of carrots, saying it was a bumper crop. He suggested I feed them to the horse raging in my stable. When I did, that horse tasted the carrots and became a most gentle, noble steed.”
Prince Seowon’s brow furrowed in a grimace.
“I shall visit the Prince’s manor soon with some carrots. They will be quite useful in taming the wild horse of your household.”
It was a blatant declaration that he would soon come with a scheme to break Hwi’s spirit. Min Chi-young chuckled heartily as he withdrew from the palace hall. Prince Seowon clenched his fists. He prayed that the wind soon to blow through the court would not reek of blood, and that the tyrannical sword would somehow spare his family.
As the sound of her mother’s breathing beside her became steady, Ga-heun snapped her eyes open. Having successfully snuck out of the house, she covered her mouth with both hands and laughed silently.
“It hasn’t started already, has it?”
Today was the day of the Julbul-nori (falling fire festival). Soe-dol, the boy next door, bragged every year until his breath ran dry about how enchanting it was to watch the sparks travel along the ropes. Ga-heun had begged her mother to see it, but for some reason, her mother wouldn’t even let her mention the word. Since it was the first time her normally gentle mother had ever been so angry, Ga-heun never brought it up again—until now.
At ten years old, Ga-heun had learned the way to Kkot-nae, where the festival was held, all by her self.
‘No matter what, I’m going to Kkot-nae this year.’
But Ga-heun wanted something else entirely: the sky lanterns released after the fireworks. Every time she saw those lanterns rising into the dark sky, she would clasp her hands and pray for her father, who had been sent away for military duty, to return home safely. But her wish had gone unanswered every year.
“If I fly the lantern myself, the gods will surely listen.”
She had secretly saved money by running errands in the marketplace just for this night. After checking her pouch several times, she headed toward Kkot-nae. Despite the darkness, the path was swarming with people out to enjoy the festivities. Being smaller than others her age, Ga-heun struggled to push forward.
“I eat so well, so why am I so short?”
Anxious that she might miss the show, she ducked into a side path where there were fewer people. Just as she was about to break into a run—
“You wicked little thing!”
With a youthful voice, someone snatched Ga-heun by the scruff of her neck.
“Why—why are you doing this?!”
Confused, Ga-heun swung her arms and turned around. The person holding her was a young master who had just barely outgrown his childhood features. He looked about four or five years older than her. Despite being a boy, his skin was as fair as porcelain. With thick, well-defined eyebrows, sharp eyes, and a high bridge to his nose, he was strikingly handsome.
“Where did you learn such wicked behavior?!”
The young master leaned in close—so close she could feel his breath.
“I asked where a child like you learned such a foul trade.”
“What are you talking about?!” Ga-heun shouted back, undaunted. “Let go of me!”
She flailed her arms, but she couldn’t reach the sturdy arm holding her.
“Hand it over.”
“Hand over what, exactly?”
“You look like a little chestnut, yet you’re already doing such bad things.”
It was already a sore spot for Ga-heun that she didn’t inherit her mother’s fair skin. The village kids teased her for being round and brown like a chestnut, and hearing it from this stranger made her lose her temper.
“Why are you picking a fight with someone just passing by?! Let go!”
“Give back what you took. Then I’ll let you go and pretend this never happened.”
The boy held out an open palm in front of her. Ga-heun felt like she would go mad with the injustice of it.
“What do you think I took?!”
“Still denying it? Fine. Must I drag you to the magistrate’s office before you confess?”
“I’m the one who wants to go to the magistrate! I’ll ask them to punish a nobleman who bullies an innocent child!”
The boy’s thick eyebrows twitched at her defiance.
“You’re not just a skilled pickpocket; you’re a bold liar as well. What an insolent girl.”
Ga-heun’s eyes widened. “A pickpocket?”
“Yes! Did you not take my pouch?!”
“I did no such thing!”
She spoke firmly, but the handsome young master clearly didn’t believe her.
“You can search me if you like! All I have is… huh?”
Ga-heun reached for the money pouch tied to her waist, but her hand found nothing.
“Where did it go?”
Her face crumpled instantly. Seeing her frantic searching, the boy—Hwi—let go and watched her closely.
“That’s strange. I know I put my pouch right here…”
No matter where she felt, it was gone. It was a one-of-a-kind pouch her mother had made from scraps of leftover cloth, and Ga-heun cherished it dearly. The loss of the pouch, more than the money, brought tears to her eyes.
“It’s gone. My pouch is gone.”
As Ga-heun looked up at him tearfully, Hwi’s expression shifted.
“…Is it truly not your doing?”
His voice was softer, but suspicion remained.
“Must I strip off my clothes right here for you to believe me?! My own pouch was stolen too!” she screamed, wiping tears with her sleeve.
“You’ve got quite a set of lungs for someone the size of a chestnut.”
Finally convinced, Hwi took a step back.
“Sigh, where could I have dropped it?”
Ga-heun retraced her steps in her mind. There were so many people that it was impossible to know when or how she had lost it.
“My pouch… hic.”
She crouched on the ground and sobbed aloud. As she cried, she began to resent Hwi for stopping and accusing her. She looked up and glared at him.
“This is all your fault, Young Master!”
“I didn’t take your pouch, did I?”
“You suspected an innocent person and called me a thief!”
Even though she knew it was a stretch, she blamed him anyway.
“Take responsibility!”
“Me?”
“Find my pouch!”
“How can I find it when I didn’t take it? Besides, you don’t even know where you lost it. If you were pickpocketed like I was, it will be hard to get back.”
Infuriatingly, the boy was right. Ga-heun bit her lip in frustration.
“Was there much money in it?”
Ga-heun wiped her eyes and shook her head. “It’s not the money I’m sad about.”
“Then what are you so upset over?”
“My mother made that pouch by piecing together scraps of cloth.”
To Ga-heun, that pouch represented her mother’s hard work, and it was precious.
“If that’s the case, can’t you just ask her to make another?”
Ga-heun glared at him with such intensity that Hwi looked away for a moment. She pointed at his clothes.
“Your clothes are made of expensive silk. You clearly come from a rich house if you wear such fabric when you’re still growing so fast.”
“What is your point?”
“My mother makes a living by sewing for others. She made that pouch from tiny scraps that were meant to be thrown away. You don’t even know how much work goes into making one small pouch…”
Wiping away the tears that wouldn’t stop, she continued sharply.
“I can earn the money back by running errands, but that pouch was the only one of its kind in the world. Of course I care about it.”
Hwi found the girl’s audacity—scolding him while sniffling—rather bold. A faint smile touched his lips.
“Hearing you say it, it truly is a shame.”
Thinking she would never find it, Ga-heun slumped down.
“The ‘Wish-Granting Chestnut’ my mother gave me was inside too… hic.”
A wish-granting chestnut? Hwi wondered where on earth such a thing could exist.
