Chapter – 20
The image of the two men letting out sighs of relief remained vivid.
But was it really all right? Would it truly be none of her concern if they were released?
Until now, disturbances had never strayed beyond the walls of the Jungseoryeong’s household.
At most, the lies she had sensed were those of a maid sneaking rice cakes, or Samdeok’s cloying flattery.
But murder—
Soran’s eyes sank heavily as she stared at the ground.
I don’t want anyone to find out that I’m different.
The scales in her mind tipped this way and that, unable to settle.
Watching her hesitate, Gyohum’s lips twitched. Faced with her prolonged indecision, his patience looked ready to snap at any moment.
Had she been his subordinate, sharp words would already have flown.
Summoning what felt like his umpteenth reserve of patience, he asked again in a deliberately gentle voice,
“Just… because?”
“I can tell. Just because.”
“Just because you can tell.”
Gyohum repeated her words. Soran noticed at once that his interest had cooled.
Just as Gyohum took a step forward—
“Just because I can tell. In fact, I can tell that you dislike me as well, Nangjang-nim.”
He froze.
Gyohum slowly set his foot back down and turned his head.
His gaze returned to Soran.
“……”
For a moment, he wore a blank expression, as if struck on the back of the head. Then, smoothly, he put on a practiced smile.
“You say I dislike you? Why would you think such a thing? Have I perhaps offended you?”
“No. You are always kind and considerate, Nangjang-nim.”
Of course. Gyohum nodded.
He prided himself on being gentle with Soran. To win her favor, he had spoken words he didn’t mean and worn a warm smile.
Even by his own standards, it was a decent performance.
Which only made it all the more unfair.
“Then why do you think I dislike you?”
“Just… I can tell. Just like I could tell that what those men said was a lie.”
Gyohum said nothing. He only stared straight at her, his eyes awkward, as though looking at a child stubbornly insisting on nonsense.
After a moment of thought, he spoke slowly.
“Both men were lying? Then are you saying they conspired together to kill the fabric shop owner? Or that they are protecting the real culprit?”
Soran quietly shook her head. With her hands clasped tightly, she answered in a calm voice.
“I don’t know that much. I only know that what they said was a lie.”
“I see.”
Gyohum nodded readily.
“I’ve heard of such people. Those who can tell truth from falsehood by watching expressions, movements, the way someone speaks.”
Soran kept her eyes lowered.
She wasn’t someone as impressive as Gyohum described. She was simply different—strange.
“I am not saying I believe you.”
“Yes.”
“There is no evidence to your words, no verified facts.”
“Yes.”
“All you have is a vague feeling that it seems that way.”
“Yes.”
As if she had expected no less, Soran nodded. Her clasped hands tightened.
Is this enough? Can I smile in peace, thinking I’ve done all I could?
Then Gyohum narrowed his eyes and smiled sweetly.
“But I will have someone look into it tomorrow.”
“!”
Soran’s eyes widened as she looked up at him.
Their gazes met. Gyohum suddenly thought it had been a long time since he had truly seen her eyes.
When had she started staring at the ground so often?
“Even if it hadn’t been you, I planned to investigate them anyway. The order has merely changed. I’ll interrogate them first thing tomorrow. So stop worrying, and for today, let’s enjoy the market.”
“Yes.”
Only then did Soran seem relieved, letting out a long breath. She looked up at him again with shining eyes—those familiar eyes like wet pebbles.
Gyohum continued cheerfully.
“I’ve already greeted all our associates. Is there anywhere you’d like to go? Or something you want to buy?”
“Something to buy…? Yes, there is! There is!”
Soran nodded vigorously. Her sudden change in demeanor made Gyohum chuckle in disbelief.
“What will you buy? Want to browse some trinkets?”
“No.”
They began walking side by side. As soon as they exited the alley, Soran looked around as if searching for someone.
“What are you looking for?”
If she kept twisting her head like that, she’d either snap her neck or lose it entirely before long.
“It should be here… Ah, there it is! Over there!”
Soran pointed somewhere. Gyohum didn’t follow her finger—he watched her sparkling eyes instead.
“Nangjang-nim?”
When no answer came, Soran turned to him with a puzzled look.
Their eyes met. As the silence stretched, Soran tilted her head.
Tilting.
Only then did Gyohum follow her pointing finger.
“Let’s see what you were so eager to—”
But before he could finish, Soran suddenly dashed forward.
“!”
Then she abruptly stopped and turned back.
Fidgeting as if she had something to say, she wriggled her fingers and smiled awkwardly.
Her lips trembled, unable to release the words hovering on her tongue.
What could she possibly be hesitating over? Gyohum watched her intently.
Just then, a couple passed by. The man walking ahead snapped at the woman behind him.
“Why are you so slow? At this rate, do you think we’ll make it before sunset?”
“I’m coming. I’m coming.”
“You’re unbearably slow.”
The woman, balancing a large basket on her head, panted as she hurried after the empty-handed man.
“Tch.”
Gyohum frowned.
“And that calls itself a man.”
Then, once again, he felt wronged. No matter how much he looked around the market, there was no husband more considerate than himself.
Matching his pace to his wife’s short legs, smiling warmly like a spring breeze—only he did such things.
And yet she thought he disliked her.
Just how did she notice?
Perhaps his acting had been poor. Or perhaps his resentment toward the Jungseoryeong had slipped through unintentionally.
I’ll need to be more careful from now on.
As Gyohum steeled himself internally, Soran—who had been watching him closely—spoke cautiously.
“Um…”
“Go on.”
“Perhaps…”
“Perhaps?”
Gyohum echoed lightly, his voice as gentle as a spring breeze. At last, Soran seemed to make up her mind and focused her gaze.
“Do you perhaps… have some money?”
“…Excuse me? What did you say?”
Gyohum asked blankly.
Surely the daughter of the all-powerful Jungseoryeong hadn’t just asked him if he had money?
“Please lend me some money.”
“How much?”
What on earth could she want to buy at the market that required borrowing money from him?
Gyohum slowly scanned his surroundings. Were they selling gold bars? Jewels?
But all he saw was the usual marketplace—busy, yet peaceful.
“Well…”
After pondering seriously, Soran whispered uncertainly,
“One nyang…?”
“……”
Just one nyang. She couldn’t possibly lack even that.
Then there must be a reason. Was she testing him? Gyohum’s thoughts raced faster than ever.
Testing him—for what? No matter how much he thought, he couldn’t find the answer.
At last, he spoke again.
“One nyang, you said?”
“If not… even half a nyang would do…”
Her voice trailed off. Watching her quietly, Gyohum reached into his robe and took out a pouch.
He pulled out one nyang and handed it to her.
Perhaps she was just one nyang short of buying a house. Or one nyang short of a jade ring.
With such absurd thoughts, Gyohum tugged at the corner of his mouth out of habit.
“Here you are.”
“Thank you!”
Soran beamed, clutching the coin tightly in both hands, then ran off toward somewhere.
Gyohum’s gaze followed her.
“What on earth is she buying—”
Suddenly, he fell silent.
As he watched the merchant she handed the money to, his brow slowly furrowed.
No matter how he thought about it, he couldn’t understand.
Gyohum stood there, rooted to the spot, unable to move until Soran returned.
“What is this?”
At Lady Jami’s question, Gyohum narrowed his eyes.
The words “That’s what I’d like to know” hovered on his tongue, but he swallowed them.
Instead, he raised his eyebrows slightly and said,
“My wife asked me to give it to you, Mother.”
“That child gave this to me?”
