Chapter 18: The Arrival of the Festival Goddess
Around noon, fresh news arrived at the apothecary.
Seohyo unfolded the paper absentmindedly—and immediately turned pale. Chaon, returning from outside errands, froze at the sight of her expression as he stepped into the shop.
Her hand, holding the paper, was trembling violently.
“What is it?”
Chaon’s voice instantly grew serious.
“…No.”
Seohyo shook her head and muttered.
This has to be a dream. This must be a dream. This can’t possibly be real, right?
She wished someone would tell her it was some cruel prank.
With trembling hands, she turned the side of the paper with the message toward Chaon.
“Ahee’s troupe is coming here.”
Even Chaon, who rarely flinched, had the corners of his eyes twitch faintly.
“This is a disaster.”
Ahee is the goddess of festivals. A newlywed goddess this year, she was always surrounded by jesters, entertainers, dancers, and theater performers to keep the festivities lively.
There was no doubt they were a loud and joyful crowd.
With them, even the bleakest, barren places could instantly turn into a festival. Everyone was cheerful, fond of alcohol and delicious food, and their eyes sparkled at the prospect of new games.
Normally, a day or two of this would be fine—but the problem was that they were in a festival mood all year round.
They never seemed to tire.
There’s a saying that a flower can bloom only three times. Enjoying lively moments with people is good, but everything has its limit.
Ahee’s troupe had no such limit.
Seohyo herself counted among the five brightest, most optimistic people, but her cheerfulness was a different kind from Ahee’s.
After spending a day with Ahee’s troupe, Seohyo would always feel sore all over.
And now—they were coming.
True to form, Ahee gave notice only half a day in advance.
“No one hates festivals!”
It felt as if that carefree voice was already echoing in her mind.
Meanwhile, Chaon surveyed the apothecary and the yard beyond the back door with a gaze tinged with cold cynicism.
He cleaned, swept, and organized this space every morning.
“They’ll be causing trouble again without a care.”
A smirk lifted his lips.
“All the dishes and plates will be stained with greasy food, glasses will break, the pile of dirty dishes will grow like a mountain, the singing will continue through the night, and we’ll end up seeing them off like defeated soldiers.”
“Our master always imagines the worst-case scenario.”
Seohyo’s reply was a strange mix of a smile and a grimace.
Fifty years ago, Ahee’s troupe had visited. They arrived abruptly, with no warning. It was the only year the couple who moved every ten years left the village before five years were up.
What had Ahee done back then?
As Seohyo tried to recall, a shiver ran down her shoulders. She didn’t remember exactly—but she definitely didn’t want to.
“You might want to take some restorative medicine in advance.”
Chaon glanced at the medicine cabinet, speaking with a tone that was far from a joke.
Seohyo didn’t take it as a joke either.
The sun set beyond the western hills.
The sunset that day was heartbreakingly beautiful.
It felt as though the sky itself was forewarning Seohyo of the trials ahead, offering consolation.
“I hope this isn’t the last sunset I see in this life.”
Seohyo prayed she could safely see tomorrow’s sun as well, as smoke from cooking fires drifted through the village.
To any unknowing observer, it was a scene of utter peace.
Half an hour later, sounds of flutes and singing came from the village entrance.
Seohyo had been considering adding Gansu to her cooking—a medicinal herb that helps digestion and flushes out accumulated toxins and fluids—when she heard it.
All medicine has side effects.
With the right dose, perhaps Ahee’s troupe would end up celebrating in the outhouse instead.
“…They’re not actually going to sing there too, are they?”
Even with sunken cheeks and dark circles under her eyes, Seohyo shuddered imagining herself desperately humming along.
No.
If she collapsed from illness, they couldn’t stage their games immediately.
But if she stayed bedridden, they could linger for a month, maybe two.
If she had to endure it anyway, she might as well brace herself.
The only comfort was that Ahee’s troupe didn’t visit constantly. They traveled far and wide, so decades could pass before the next visit.
Seohyo took a deep breath to steel herself.
“They’re coming…”
She could feel the approaching sound of the group changing direction toward her.
The apothecary hadn’t been placed far from the village for nothing. Choosing an elderly, hard-of-hearing neighbor wasn’t an accident either.
But at this moment, all of it felt like a blessing.
They turned again, straight toward her.
They were coming.
Closer.
They would see the apothecary’s softly glowing lanterns and clap their hands in delight at having found it.
And then…
“Seohyooooo!”
Ahee’s voice, clearer than the sound of a lute, echoed through the shop. Her playmates followed behind, and the small apothecary was immediately filled with noise and chaos.
“Ahee.”
Seohyo smiled brightly as she greeted them.
Somehow, she already felt her energy draining.
Like wanting to retreat home before even stepping outside.
“Oh my! It’s been a while. You couldn’t come to the wedding, right? I was so disappointed! Seohyo, you should’ve attended the three-day-long celebration too. Fire-breathing, sword-swallowing, even a rainbow appeared at midnight! We had to lower it quickly before the Celestial Emperor got mad, but it was so much fun.”
That really did sound like something the Celestial Emperor might scold them for.
Seohyo stifled her words in front of Ahee’s laughing face. The sky itself rarely punished her.
They committed all sorts of outrageous acts for fun. Pointing it out would only make Ahee collapse in grief.
Apparently, if it’s harmless to humans, it’s fine.
Still… a rainbow at midnight. The royal court and astronomers would have been flabbergasted.
A discussion in panic must have followed.
“Please make a rainbow as a celebratory gift! It would be so exciting!”
Seohyo never imagined that such a command could come from the goddess standing right before her.
“I couldn’t leave my post daily, so I couldn’t come. Sorry.”
“It’s fine, it’s fine. That’s why we came here!”
Ahee laughed, and the troupe laughed along.
They laughed easily, and often.
Seohyo wondered if they ever cried.
“Don’t stand around—come inside. Uh, you’ll need to unpack, right? Sorry, we don’t have enough rooms, so only Ahee will get a private room. The rest will share the main room…”
The troupe included acrobats who could lift three children on their shoulders and delicate dancers alike.
Seohyo worried about comfort—but she seemed to be the only one concerned.
Everyone waved off such concerns and continued laughing and chatting as they entered.
When they were shown the yard, Ahee gasped.
In the yard, Seohyo and Chaon had prepared a feast throughout the afternoon.
“Stir-fried greens, steamed fish, seasoned jelly… wow.”
Ahee’s eyes widened.
“Chaon still insists on healthy vegetable dishes!”
“Haha.”
Vegetable dishes, indeed. An outsider would assume raw cabbage, crown daisy, and water parsley had been served as-is.
Seohyo loudly informed the group that grilled chicken with soy sauce was also ready.
“There’s grilled chicken too!”
A wave of joy and relief spread through the group.
“The chicken’s here!”
“Oh, chicken dishes!”
“Good, at least that’s safe. Hey, chicken’s coming.”
“Phew, that’s a relief.”
What was this overwhelming happiness?
Seohyo was bewildered. She remembered never letting them go hungry during past visits.
Chaon had worked like a slave, teeth clenched, while Seohyo helped occasionally and served drinks.
They’d provided enough food for a battalion.
“Still, more is better, right?”
Ahee clapped, and the nimble men carried the food trays from the room.
The trays were impressively large and heavy. They asked where the kitchen was and transported the trays themselves.
“They’ll have cooled off while bringing them. Can we reheat? The kids can do it too, but Chaon hates people entering his kitchen.”
As expected, the tray bearers rushed into the yard as if kicked. Chaon didn’t shout, but he did pause his knife work and glare.
Seohyo went to the kitchen after telling them to hold the food until hungry.
Chaon glared at the piled-up trays at the kitchen door, clenching his teeth.
He looked like he wanted to slit necks equal to the number of trays.
When Seohyo opened the first lid, her eyes went wide.
“When are we going to eat all this…?”
The trays were overflowing with fried and sautéed dishes, sticky rice cakes coated in honey and syrup, pastries, and fruit.
Reheating would be a hassle, and washing the grease-stained dishes even more so.
“I purposely prepared simple dishes.”
Chaon’s expression showed clear irritation.
“I’ll have to reheat and serve each dish as it empties. The faster the food is gone, the faster they leave.”
“Shall we?”
Seohyo replied uncertainly.
The noise outside was already escalating. At least tonight, there would be no rainbow—that was her only consolation.
What might appear instead, no one could know. A dragon made of fireworks, perhaps? Could the acrobats even make that?
“Ugh…”
No one could even imagine what might happen while Ahee’s troupe stayed. She could only hope they avoided shocking humans too severely.
A chill suddenly ran through Seohyo’s body, making her shiver.
