Chapter 09

Ggeutsun looked ready to follow her and asked, “Where are you going, my lady?”

Soran stepped down from the stone porch and replied,

“I’m getting lonely just staying in the room. I thought I’d walk around the detached wing once.”

“I’ll come with you.”

Ggeutsun wiped her hands on her skirt and hurried after her.
Soran turned around with a troubled expression.

“It’s alright. Continue your work.”

“Oh, no. I can wipe the pillars anytime. But you don’t know your way around yet—what if something happens? Please let me lead.”

“…Thank you.”

“Ahh, don’t say that. This is what I’m supposed to do.”

What I’m supposed to do.

Those words echoed again inside Soran’s mind.

Who decides such things?
What separated me from Ggeutsun?

She already knew the answer.

Because she was the daughter of the Minister of the Central Secretariat.

Even though that father had never once looked at her with affection,
just being his daughter meant she didn’t have to scrub pillars or fetch water here.

How strange.
In the Minister’s house, being his daughter forced her to work.
But here, being his daughter meant she must not do such things.

Whether she liked it or not, the Minister had always stirred her life violently, sweeping her around like a storm.

“Even though it’s called a detached wing,” Ggeutsun chattered, “it has everything one needs for daily life. You shouldn’t feel inconvenienced.”

Walking ahead, she eagerly introduced each part of the household.

“This is the kitchen, as you can see.”

“I see. Do Mother and Father’s meals also come from here?”

“No, my lady. Their tastes differ from Master Gyohum’s, so their meals are prepared separately. They usually eat mild rice porridge.”

Soran nodded.
Considering their condition, that made sense.

“And this is the tea room. It’s where you greet guests and serve tea.”

“Hmm.”

“When your guests come, please have them wait here. Would you like to look inside?”

Ggeutsun opened the door and stepped aside, inviting her in.

Soran… receiving guests?

She glanced inside anyway.

It was a simple, clean room.
A room she would probably never use in her old life.

“This used to be the First Lady’s tea room. You can redecorate it however you like.”

“No, it’s already quite nice.”

“Yes. And next to it—”

“The dining room, right? I ate there this morning.”

“That’s right!”

Skipping the dining room, Ggeutsun moved her hand further down the hallway.

“That room is where Young Master Gyohum works or reads.”

Soran turned her head.
A firmly closed door met her eyes.

“Next to that is his guest room, and beyond that is the room where he sleeps. Ah—”

Ggeutsun suddenly covered her mouth.

“We won’t need to clean that room anymore, will we? Since you’ll be sharing chambers with him from now on. Hehehe.”

Soran didn’t know what to say—she simply gave an awkward laugh.

Just then, someone walked out of the storage room.

A middle-aged woman wearing an apron stopped when she saw them.
Soran’s eyes immediately drifted toward the large piece of meat in her hands—pork.

Without being asked, Ggeutsun explained,

“That will be served for lunch today.”

At that moment, Soran smelled something rotten.

“…”

Her eyes fixed on the red slab of meat.
It was fresh—not a single spoiled spot.

Which meant the foul smell was not coming from the meat.

Her gaze shifted slowly to the woman’s face.
Her dark circles were sunken as if she hadn’t slept for days.

As soon as their eyes met, the woman looked away.

“That’s Yeonsan-daek,” Ggeutsun whispered.
“She cooks all the meals for you.”

“…It was delicious. You’re very skilled.”

“Thank you. I should get back to cooking—”

The woman bowed politely and almost fled into the kitchen.

Soran tore her eyes away and continued walking.

Past a small gate, she saw a young servant sweeping the courtyard.

“Good day, my lady.”

Soran’s attention moved to the broom in his hands,
then to the messy patterns left on the ground.

Her mouth itched to correct him.

Sweeping should move dust outward—not randomly.
Some said sweeping outward chases away good fortune, but that was just superstition.

The important thing was consistency,
otherwise broom marks would scatter everywhere—like now.

“…You’re working hard.”

“Thank you, my lady.”

Soran swallowed down the lecture rising to her tongue and walked faster.
If she stayed longer, she might start acting like she knew everything.

After circling the detached wing once, she found herself hungry.

Ridiculous—she hadn’t even worked, yet she was already hungry.

Trying to look unbothered, she casually walked past the kitchen but couldn’t resist glancing inside.

Through the half-open door, she saw a maid scraping the bottom of a cauldron.

Ah… scorched rice.

Crispy, delicious even plain, delicious boiled, delicious cold—
scorched rice.

“My lady?”

Ggeutsun tilted her head, watching Soran stare longingly into the kitchen.

“It’s nothing. I was raised delicately, so I’ve never eaten scorched rice. I definitely wasn’t staring because I wanted some.”

Soran jumped like a guilty thief and hurried her steps.

Ggeutsun glanced at Soran, then at the kitchen, then quickly ran after her.

“I want scorched rice,” Soran whispered under her breath—
but her voice scattered away with the fallen leaves, unheard by anyone.

✦✦✦

Gyohum walked in silence, but his expression looked displeased.

His deputy, Jaegwan, was quick to notice such things.
Sensing his superior’s foul mood, he straightened nervously.

“Is there a reason the culprit hasn’t been caught yet?”

“Well, that is…”

“You sit around doing nothing and still take the government’s money? Truly, is there an easier job? A leech sucking the people dry stands right before me.”

Each word stabbed Jaegwan’s heart like a thorn.

He rubbed his chest as if genuinely hurt.
He might actually have been.

“We’ve searched everywhere, sir, but we still haven’t identified the murderer. It happened in the middle of the night, and without witnesses, our investigation is difficult.”

“Difficult because there are no witnesses?”

“Yes…”

“And that is something a city patrolman dares say aloud?”

Gyohum’s voice was sharp as a blade.
Jaegwan gulped and straightened even more stiffly.

“A passing child could complain like that. But the patrol division responsible for the capital’s safety cannot.”

“Yes, sir!”

“If that small difficulty stops you from catching a murderer, perhaps you should find a different job. Something less wasteful of taxpayer money. I say this for your own good.”

“…My apologies.”

He expected a scolding,
but this was far worse.

While Jaegwan wore a miserable expression, Gyohum strode forward.

“I thought you would rest a few days, sir. Is it alright to return to work so soon? Won’t your lady be disappointed? It’s only been a day since the wedding…”

“My men failed to catch a killer. If they can’t do their jobs, I must. I’ll repay the wasted tax money myself.”

“…Yes, sir. My apologies.”

Jaegwan tried to shift the conversation, but that failed too.
He fell silent—

—until something clearly came to mind.

“You know how the capital is divided into districts around the palace—north, south, east, and west?”

Gyohum frowned as if wondering why he was stating the obvious.

“They’re called North Gate, South Gate, East Gate, and West Gate… but they’re actually quite far apart. So those of us in the North Gate rarely know what happens at the South Gate.”

Gyohum apparently found it unworthy of response.
He simply walked faster.

Jaegwan trotted after him like a sparrow chasing a crane.

“But while investigating the murder, I heard a strange rumor from a traveling merchant.”

“Strange rumor?”

“It’s about the lady you married. Since you’ve never been interested in such matters, I thought you might not have heard…”

“That’s enough.”

Gyohum cut him off immediately.

He already knew the rumors about Soran.

Simple-minded.
Born prematurely and lacking.

His brow tightened.

At first, he had assumed this marriage was simply meant to insult him—

But the real Soran was nothing like the rumors.