Chapter 15
Dancho, carrying a laundry basket, accidentally bumped into Yeonwon. The tip of the bat grazed his chest, and he instinctively bent forward, but Dancho merely glanced at him and kept walking.
“Are you all right?”
The question came belatedly as Yeonwon rubbed his chest.
When he looked back at her, there was a trace of concern in her face. That alone made him feel alive, and a smile brightened his expression.
“Yes. I’m fine.”
Dancho, after a brief glance, withdrew her attention as if nothing had happened and continued walking. Yeonwon hurried to follow her.
By the time they reached his quarters, the moon was already high in the sky.
⋆★⋆
Dancho’s shadow stretched across the wall beyond the lamp. After dinner, she had brought over a needle case and was taking in his clothes to adjust them.
She sat beside him, trying them on intermittently to ensure a proper fit, and hadn’t returned to her own room yet.
Next to him, a warm bowl of scorched rice water steamed. The floor was hotter than usual, so even sitting near the top of the room made his hips burn; they had to lay thick blankets to sit comfortably.
Though she didn’t say a word, it was clear she had been concerned about him earlier, chasing him all the way from the laundry in just a thin jacket. The hot soup from dinner and the warming tea she continually brought were probably for the same reason.
Part of him wanted her to speak instead of staying silent, but he felt guilty thinking his desire was excessive.
She must have been startled… she must have been very scared.
“……”
In truth, Yeonwon felt relieved that Dancho had stayed in the room. That she had clothes to adjust, and that she had decided to adjust them today, was more fortunate than he could say.
Had she simply closed the door and left, he feared it would leave scars in his heart that might never heal.
He didn’t know what form those scars would take, only that they would linger for a very long time.
“……”
Dancho set down the needle and unfolded the jacket. Yeonwon quickly stretched his arms, ready to try it on.
Without a word, she carefully examined the garment. Frowning and biting her lower lip, she adjusted the fit where it didn’t satisfy her.
Then silently, she shook the jacket open and spread the sleeves. Yeonwon slid his arms in, and she meticulously measured the fit again.
The sound of the fabric brushing replaced words.
A silent, unspoken understanding passed beneath the flickering lamp.
“……”
“……”
Dancho tugged on the jacket strings and smoothed the shoulders and collar. Her focused face moved closer and farther with intent.
Up close, her features were clear. Her large eyes, which had been sharp when squinting, were now gentle when lowered. Tonight, she seemed determined to finish the sewing, her strength focused.
Her eyelashes were thick and long, her eyelids slightly uneven. Her round nostrils moved as she examined the jacket—he now knew they turned red first in the cold.
Her sun-kissed cheeks had faint freckles, and her usually curt lips were surprisingly full and dark, inviting him, almost instinctively, to reach out and touch them.
“Ah… why won’t it work?”
A muttered complaint slipped from between her parted lips. Sitting on her knees, she leaned forward to check his back, and her breath brushed his nape, scattering his composure.
“……!”
He instinctively held his breath. His neck stiffened, unable to move; his eyes couldn’t shift, and he absorbed only her presence like a stone.
Dancho always carried the scent of sun-dried laundry. But now, closer by a mere span, her breath was unexpectedly sweet. Enough to stir something deep in the night.
“Master!”
The call pierced his ears, and Yeonwon blinked rapidly, as if pulled back from somewhere.
It took him a moment to gather himself. He hastily wiped his face and responded.
“My ears are going to fall off.”
Her large eyes fixed on him before glancing away. He asked again, noticing her silently tidying the needle case.
“Why call me and then stay silent?”
Dancho finally spoke after finishing picking up loose threads and folding the repaired pants.
“I wanted to ask you to take off your jacket.”
“……”
His anticipation felt anticlimactic. Feeling slightly disappointed, he removed the jacket.
She silently folded it neatly over the pants and slid it toward him.
“Wear this from tomorrow.”
“……Understood.”
“……Go to sleep.”
With that, Dancho stood. Yeonwon, staring at the garments she had placed, quickly turned his head.
“Wait.”
Dancho, closing the door, looked back at him, her clear eyes asking why.
“Bring me a dry cloth.”
That wasn’t what he really intended to say.
“For what?”
The words slipped out in haste.
“To polish the sword… I rubbed it roughly against my eyes earlier, so I need to clean it properly.”
“……”
No response came from her. Breathing in, she returned and sat down again. She retrieved a clean cloth, knelt, and took the sword lying beside him. Yeonwon quickly reached out.
“Why? I’ll do it. Give it here.”
“I’ll handle it. You must be tired. Just rest.”
“You’ll get hurt.”
“I use a sword every day.”
“You mean a kitchen knife?”
“What’s the difference?”
“Ha.”
Dancho pouted at his laugh. Their eyes met briefly, both grinning lightly. They realized this was the longest conversation they had shared since the day in the snow.
Embarrassed, they each looked away.
Dancho seated herself and held his sword with both hands. Though she had spoken confidently, her eyes hesitated before drawing it from the scabbard.
Yeonwon understood her hesitation. A sword that had struck a person—how could it not be frightening?
She steadied herself and drew the long, white steel from the sheath with a faint wail.
Cheng-
The flickering lamp trembled at the sound, and the room’s air quietly vibrated.
Watching her slightly trembling hands, Yeonwon spoke.
“Why don’t you ask?”
The cloth sliding down the blade paused briefly. Dancho swallowed hard and gripped it firmly.
“I am merely helping you recover, Master.”
The blade gleamed under her fingertips. There was no right answer to his question, yet he felt oddly unsettled.
“Does cleaning a man’s corpse and covering the blood help with recovery?”
Her hands stilled again, but when she moved, her voice was clearer.
“That is for you to know, Master.”
Seeing her respond eased him slightly.
“Aren’t you curious?”
Of course he was. But Dancho suppressed all curiosity. Instead, she said:
“If I get curious, I won’t get paid.”
Then, embarrassed by her own words, she glanced at him and added,
“I really need that money.”
It was a hard truth she revealed. Yeonwon smirked slightly and raised his eyebrows. Hesitant, she ended the statement lightly.
“So that sword of yours… it wasn’t all for show. At least I know that.”
He looked at her and finally laughed. The remaining awkward tension dissipated with that laugh.
Who was cheering whom up? Sometimes it felt mischievous.
Recalling how she had cried in fear, he thought he should reassure her.
“No one will come after me for that incident.”
“……”
“So you won’t be involved either.”
For some reason, her hands slowed. Yeonwon assumed she felt relieved.
“That’s fortunate. I don’t have to clean up after you at the government office as well.”
“You even prepared for prison labor?”
She pouted lightly at his faint smile.
“What choice do I have if I want to be paid? And what if you were flogged again?”
He leaned back, relaxed, and asked:
“How much is the money you’re supposed to receive?”
“……”
“I won’t reduce it. If anything, I’ll add to it.”
Perhaps prompted by that, she spoke softly.
“One hundred nyang.”
Then she averted her gaze. Yeonwon’s eyes narrowed briefly and then relaxed.
“Only that?”
“……Pardon?”
“I mean… cooking rice in cold water, thawing frozen water, washing clothes, gathering firewood, making medicine, boiling herbal decoctions—all that for a month and you earn only one hundred nyang?”
Dancho looked at him directly, surprised he had noticed all her efforts.
She felt oddly pleased that he called one hundred nyang ‘only,’ as if he recognized the toil behind her work.
“If you know how hard it is, don’t complain about side dishes.”
She muttered lightly, but it wasn’t meant maliciously. The stress of the day had subtly eased from her.
“Be careful, you’ll cut yourself holding it like that.”
His rebuke felt strangely comforting. Her lips lifted slightly in response.
“I’m being careful.”
“It’s heavy for you.”
“I’m strong.”
“Still different from that strength.”
“Are you my mother-in-law?”
