Chapter – 19
“—You said the answer is right in front of my eyes? Where exactly…?”
Jaegwan turned his head left and right, but all that stood before him was Gyohum, his face sharp and forbidding.
Gyohum let out a sigh.
“Something even a three-year-old would know—how is it that you alone do not?”
“No, but how would a three-year-old—”
Muttering under his breath, Jaegwan suddenly broke into a grin.
“So then, what is the answer?”
Unable to hide his exasperation, Gyohum tossed out his words as if throwing them away.
“It was a pitch-dark night.”
“I know that much.”
“The shop was piled high with bolts of cotton and silk, all in disarray.”
“I saw that too. My eyes aren’t just for decoration.”
As Jaegwan talked back so pointedly, Gyohum’s eyes narrowed further.
“There wasn’t a single window.”
“Was there not?”
“The lantern was thrown beside the corpse.”
“Yes, I remember. The lamp was broken and oil had spilled out.”
“And still you don’t see the answer?”
“Yes.”
“You’re awfully bold for someone asking to be fed.”
Jaegwan rolled his eyes, looking deeply wronged. At last, he hesitantly opened his mouth.
“If we’re eating anyway, perhaps a feast of delicacies—”
But at the sight of Gyohum’s expression—one that looked capable of beating a man to death—he promptly shut his mouth.
Gyohum continued in a resigned tone.
“The killer fled in a panic after committing murder, yet not a single bolt of silk was knocked loose. Even with the lamp shattered.”
“Oh!”
Only then did Jaegwan’s face light up as he slapped his knee.
“That means the culprit is someone who’s gone in and out of that shop countless times!”
Turning on his heel, he ran out of the room, shouting,
“I’ll have all related parties brought in at once!”
The men standing before them now were the ones he had dragged back.
Jaegwan leaned toward Gyohum, lowering his voice seriously.
“Both are clerks at the fabric shop. They could walk through that narrow place blindfolded. However—”
He paused, then turned to the men with a stern expression.
“Repeat what you told me earlier.”
The man with particularly thick eyebrows spoke first.
“Yes. That night, I went to bed early. We’d been unloading goods that arrived by boat without rest, so the moment my head touched the pillow, I fell dead asleep.”
The shorter man beside him nodded.
“We share a room. If either of us had gone missing, we’d have known immediately. But until morning, we could hear each other snoring the entire night.”
Jaegwan shot Gyohum a helpless look.
“They both insist they’re innocent. I don’t know what to do now…”
As he turned his head absentmindedly, he noticed a commotion beneath a tree. Jaegwan’s eyes widened.
“Who…?”
At the same time, Gyohum turned his head as well. He too had spotted the disturbance.
Only then did he remember his appointment with her, clicking his tongue softly. Because of his incompetent subordinate, he had nearly forgotten his promise to his wife.
“I should be going now. You can at least manage to eat on your own.”
“Ah—yes.”
Recognizing who the disturbance was, Jaegwan thumped his chest reassuringly.
“Go without worry. I’ll check whether anyone else was frequently coming and going from the shop.”
Paying him no mind, Gyohum walked toward Soran, putting on a deliberately gentle smile.
“Did I keep you waiting?”
But Soran’s gaze was fixed not on him, but on the two men. Instead, the soldier standing beside her stared as if he’d seen something he shouldn’t have.
“Madam?”
Gyohum called her again. Her unfocused eyes slowly came back to life.
At last, Soran looked up at him. Her lips parted as if she had something to say—then closed again.
Gyohum smiled faintly.
“Let’s go.”
“Yes.”
Soran followed him at a slow pace. As she glanced back unconsciously, her face darkened.
Jaegwan’s voice drifted over on the wind.
“You may go, but don’t wander too far.”
“Yes.”
As Jaegwan turned away, he suddenly clapped his hands as if something had just occurred to him.
“Ah, right. I forgot to mention that rumor again today. The one about the madam being mistreated at the Chancellor’s household… I’ll tell you tomorrow, then.”
He then glared daggers at his subordinates who stood frozen.
“What are you standing around for? Hurry up and find whoever treated that fabric shop like their own home!”
“Safe travels.”
“Good work.”
Leaving the salt shop, Gyohum cast a glance at Soran. She had been staring at the ground as if searching for dropped coins the entire time.
He could tell she was lost in thought. The problem was what she was thinking about.
Stopping in place, Gyohum turned toward her.
“What is going on?”
Soran stopped as well and looked up at him.
At some point they had entered a quiet alley. Far away, Kkeutsun was too absorbed in a peddler’s wares to pay them any mind.
Gyohum looked down at her with gentle eyes.
“What has you thinking so deeply?”
The bitter scent of medicinal decoction still clung to him. Not the sweet smell of syrup.
“Earlier…”
Soran began, then fell silent. She knew he wouldn’t believe her.
No—before that, she didn’t know how far she was allowed to intrude into his affairs.
Would the medicinal smell grow stronger? Would even his false kindness disappear? Would he look at her with disgust, like those people in that house?
“I don’t have anywhere else to go. I don’t want to return to that place.”
“Earlier?” Gyohum prompted lazily.
She shook her head quickly.
“It’s nothing.”
“It doesn’t look like nothing.”
“It really is nothing.”
“Madam.”
Gyohum’s voice dropped low. His smile deepened—and with it, the smell of medicine grew stronger.
Soran felt her heart drop. She hadn’t even said anything yet. Why was the scent intensifying?
Did he already dislike her? Just at the sight of her face?
“I have nowhere else to go.”
“Tell me what it is.”
There was an undeniable force in his words.
He didn’t raise his voice like Lady Munhyeon, nor snap irritably like Sehwa, yet he pressed down on her all the same.
Breathing became difficult. The air felt as though it weighed down on her shoulders.
Left with no choice, Soran opened her mouth carefully.
“Those two men from earlier…”
“The two men? Ah, the suspects in the murder?”
As he spoke, Gyohum’s gaze returned to her.
Small frame. Slender body. Large eyes.
Only then did he realize what she was thinking.
“It would have been better if you hadn’t seen them. The soldier must have carelessly led you there.”
She must have been frightened by the grim scene—half stunned.
But Soran shook her head as if that wasn’t it.
“Both of them were lying.”
“……”
Gyohum stared at her silently. Then suddenly asked,
“Do you know them?”
“No.”
Of course not. Where would she have seen them before?
Gyohum gazed past her shoulder, lost in thought.
Kkeutsun glanced their way, then, seeing the conversation continue, crouched down fully in front of the peddler.
“Then how can you be so certain?”
“B-Because…”
Her voice was barely audible. Without realizing it, Gyohum stepped closer.
Flinch.
Soran instinctively hunched her shoulders and stepped back.
Gyohum looked quite aggrieved. Had he ever spoken harshly to her? Was there a more considerate husband than him?
He was exercising the utmost patience toward the Chancellor’s illegitimate daughter—yet instead of gratitude, she looked terrified.
He asked again, gently,
“What did you say just now?”
Instead of answering, Soran bit down hard on her lower lip.
Because I have a keen sense of smell.
She knew how absurd it would sound.
—“What nonsense are you spouting? You can smell lies? We knew you were stupid, but this is truly something else. If you have time for that, go wash yourself. The stench is coming from you. You look filthy anyway.”
The cruel words Sehwa had thrown at her the first time she revealed her secret came flooding back.
Only then had she realized it wasn’t a normal ability.
After that, she never spoke of scent again to anyone.
But could she confess it to Gyohum?
She didn’t want to be hated more.
If possible, she wanted to stay in that house a little longer.
“Just…”
Her lips trembled.
And then Soran fell silent once more.
