Chapter 26: The Lady’s Hidden Desire
Thunk.
A bowl of rice was set in front of Seohyo.
“Ugh!”
The lady’s mouth fell open. Her expression twisted, and her ears… if Seohyo had been a dog, one could almost see them drooping.
Where the glistening, oily white rice once sat, there was now plain barley rice.
It wasn’t rice mixed with barley for flavor—this was the harsh, no-nonsense barley rice eaten by households short on rice.
Thunk.
This time, the soup bowl.
The butler who never spared ingredients to make even a simple miso soup rich and flavorful was nowhere to be found. No radish, no green onions, no mushrooms, no seafood, no meat—nothing could be seen.
Just a pale, watery broth.
Hot water stirred with miso powder and served as soup.
“What is this?”
The side dishes that followed were only vegetables. Not even a fried egg in sight.
Meanwhile, in front of Chaon, the dishes were a lavish display: sweet-and-sour meatballs, colorful and aromatic side dishes straight from the royal cookbook Seohyo had lent.
Seohyo lifted her chopsticks to grab a meatball, but they were abruptly blocked.
“Don’t cross the line.”
“Don’t be petty over food.”
“Who’s being cowardly here? You attacked someone who wasn’t doing anything.”
Chaon gestured toward Seohyo’s chest. A plank tied into a necklace hung around her neck, bearing the sleek calligraphy words: “Kiss Thief.”
Chaon had made the necklace himself.
He had sternly warned her not to even think about taking it off until he gave permission.
The lady, guilty as charged, could only pout her lips.
Yet, no matter how she thought about it, there was some injustice. It felt unfair for Seohyo alone to be labeled a thief.
“All right, you attacked me first.”
“Why not boast about it to the whole village?”
“I did attack you… I was the one who attacked first, after all.”
Seohyo glared at Chaon with resentment.
“After that, the roles completely reversed. Chaon was holding me down, pressing me.”
“Don’t exaggerate.”
“Like a lunatic, sucking on my cheeks and neck.”
Thunk.
Chaon snatched one of the vegetable side dishes. It was blanched greens mixed with lightly salted tofu—edible at least.
“When was that?”
“Oh, come on. Are you calling me a liar? Huh? Want me to show you? There’s still a mark, right here, on your neck.”
Seohyo tried to pull down the collar of her blouse.
This time, the mushroom stir-fry sprinkled with sesame vanished in a flash. Only a bowl of cabbage greens remained before her.
“This is just… completely unfair.”
“Keep it up if you want me to take your barley rice and soup too. Oh, there’s still one side dish left.”
“This is abuse of authority. I’ll report you to the Celestial Realm!”
“By all means.”
Seohyo shivered, trembling with a mix of anger, injustice, irritation… and something else.
Even though she hadn’t drunk enough to lose her memory, the butler, acting like he did something but pretending not to remember, was utterly exasperating.
Seohyo ate while glancing warily across the table.
When she finished, she even dropped her empty bowls into the washing basin.
Chaon, knowing she had delayed tasks due to distraction, handed her three chores at once, pretending he had been waiting for her to finish eating.
It was a ploy to wear her out.
Ha! Did he really think she wouldn’t notice?
While working on the first task, Seohyo looked at the plank around her neck. Kiss thief. Who was calling whom a thief?
With ink on her brush, she drew a horizontal line across it, then wrote new words beneath it. Round, cute letters appeared on the plank.
“Perfect.”
After finishing the first task, they moved on to the second.
“Wait. Stop there.”
Chaon caught the new phrase with hawk-like eyes. His elegant brows arched. He clearly didn’t like it.
“Continue next time?”
“Tch.”
“Do you think this is some puppet show split into episodes? ‘Continue next time?’”
“I didn’t hear that.”
“No chance.”
Chaon made Seohyo stay put as he drew over the plank again, completely obscuring the previous writing. Then he wrote a new warning below:
No Approaching.
This time, he even used red ink.
How pitiful—no beast or plague could be so relentlessly marked.
“You enjoyed it too, didn’t you?”
“Now, go do your work.”
“Are you saying you attacked me because you liked it?”
“Watch your words. Where do you get off saying I attacked you?”
“Hmph, such a coy liar.”
Not satisfied, Chaon warned her against using words like smooch, soft, tender, lips—any words that could remind them of that act.
But Seohyo was not one to be intimidated by such trivial threats.
Lick, lick.
“Ah, stop.”
Chaon held his forehead, probably dizzy from trying to ignore her teasing.
Seohyo imagined someone overhearing and thinking: You’re not in a position to be saying that.
“Admit it, Chaon. Admit it—you really liked it.”
“Haa…”
The butler, frustrated, looked for cold water to calm himself.
“It’s easier if you admit it.”
Now, feeling it wasn’t even worth responding to, Chaon went to the well, drew a bucket of clear, cold water, and drank it straight from the pail.
Trailing behind, Seohyo said something unexpected:
“I swear, stars flew out of my eyes.”
“Pfft!”
Chaon spat the water spectacularly, coughing violently—the first time in 150 years someone had seen him choke like that.
He glared too sharply for her to even pat his back.
“Chaon.”
Chaon stiffened at the clear voice outside the door.
“…Are you awake?”
“It’s the third watch of the night, Lady.”
A growl escaped. Muscles beneath his crimson robe twitched. Don’t mind it. You’re not the one to mess with—just stay put.
A low warning went out toward the heat simmering within him.
Seohyo couldn’t break the locked door. Not with her size, anyway.
So she would just linger outside until he gave up. A minor nuisance, nothing more.
The real problem wasn’t Seohyo—it was always Chaon himself.
“I won rock-paper-scissors earlier.”
That’s right. Seohyo had suggested rock-paper-scissors as an excuse to determine who did the evening chores, with the winner’s wish as a reward.
Chaon had never lost a game of chance to her. She didn’t know deceit; she relied on boldness.
‘Can’t hear. Not doing it. Ahhh, I can’t hear.’
She covered her ears and feigned ignorance, thrusting her belly toward him.
Yet somehow, he lost.
Three rounds, three losses. This was it—time to leave this world. Chaon couldn’t even laugh at the absurdity.
Seohyo, thrilled at her unexpected victory, squealed with delight. Her wish?
“Once a day—how about that?”
With that bright, cheerful voice, she effectively held his life in her hands.
Everyone knew what she meant without saying it.
The kiss. The dreadful, irresistible kiss, haunting even dreams.
“Three times a day is too much. Two times is too much too, so once. How about that? Isn’t that reasonable?”
Reasonable? In what way?
Chaon began searching for anything to use as an earplug, thinking he’d rather die than listen to her nonsense.
His thoughts even strayed to things he never considered.
“Has something happened that I don’t know about?”
Seohyo always appreciated her minor role, yet desired more. Perhaps she requested a new post from the Celestial Emperor?
A new role… God of Temptation? God of Destruction? Or perhaps, unknowingly, the lost things’ deity had been handed to Chaon himself.
He felt a sudden urge to search the apothecary’s medicine cabinet.
If he could regain what he had lost there—self-restraint, or something like it, that would be perfect.
“Chaon, admit it.”
Seohyo teased him with a bell-like voice.
Chaon, still searching for a usable earplug, realized he had no cotton balls in the room. His habit of tidying up immediately now worked against him.
Seohyo gently tempted him again.
“I won’t ask for anything extra. No hugs, no lifting me up like last time. Just a kiss. Only once a day, just a kiss.”
“…If I give in to that, I’m a dog.”
Woof, woof!
Somewhere in the village, a dog barked.
Did anyone even have a dog here? And even if they did, why at this hour?
An ominous sign.
Suddenly, Chaon’s throat felt dry. Lately, he often felt thirsty.
He picked up the teapot from the table, but it was nearly empty—a tiny sip remained at the bottom.
No matter how he drank, it wasn’t enough to quench his thirst.
The dog barked again.
No water. Barking dogs. Seohyo chattering outside.
Welcome to Chaon’s personal hell.
“Ahee, a bird has brought a letter.”
At his subordinate’s words, Ahee’s eyes sparkled. The festival goddess came alive, already knowing who sent it.
There was only one place it could come from.
The subordinate unrolled the tiny paper tied to the white bird’s leg.
Ahee, forgetting the game she was about to start, took the letter.
“I’ll be in my room for a bit. You all play without me.”
“Huh? Already starting?”
“Not joining?”
“Go on ahead first!”
It was unusual for the festival goddess to refuse to play. Whatever the letter said must be special.
Everyone exchanged confused glances, though relieved it wasn’t bad news.
“Something exciting must have happened.”
“Did you hear anything?”
“Nothing in particular. But did you hear from Ahee?”
“I saw her writing a letter before, but I didn’t know the details…”
Leaving the dazed subordinates behind, Ahee ran to her room and closed the door, brimming with anticipation.
“The reply came surprisingly fast!”
Unrolling the letter, she saw the tiny, compact handwriting, cramming as much as possible onto the paper.
“Good. Excellent posture, Seohyo.”
Even before reading it, Ahee was delighted.
She nodded repeatedly and adjusted her posture as she read. Every sentence brought squeals of joy like a little girl.
Shy, pinkish.
The small paper seemed imbued with the fragrant scent of peach blossoms.
The scent of love just beginning to bloom.
“Ah, so ticklish.”
Ahee stomped her feet in delight, rereading and enjoying it over and over.
She wished she could retrace her steps to the apothecary and ask Seohyo all the tiny details.
But she knew better. She didn’t have the stamina to run a hundred miles in a day, and Chaon would turn aggressive toward anyone except his lady.
“Why are you here again?”
The icy butler appeared.
Seohyo and Ahee were longtime friends, and Seohyo cared deeply for Ahee. Without those facts, Chaon might have already flattened Ahee long ago.
They had heard the full story from Joongdal, two days after leaving the apothecary.
Scary, indeed.
Ah, Ahee wanted to enjoy her pleasure for a long time.
So returning to the apothecary wasn’t an option. They could only exchange letters for now.
“You must write a reply, right?”
Ahee quickly grabbed her writing tools, dipping her brush in ink and writing without hesitation.
She had so much to say that even a small paper filled quickly.
“I still have more questions… but I’ll write those next time.”
The cute bird carrying the letter would get tired otherwise.
“Come here.”
Ahee tied the letter to the bird’s leg. Stroking it gently, the white bird cooed in response.
“You’re a good bird. It’s hard, but could you deliver this reply to my friend?”
From Ahee’s hands, colorful energy gently bubbled up.
“This will give you strength. Now go.”
The bird nodded and took flight with strong, confident wingbeats.
Watching it soar, Ahee stomped her feet again, recalling the letter’s contents.
The young Seohyo had discovered the joy of playful mischief late—but better late than never!
“What will the next reply say? I’m already excited.”
How long could the butler’s defenses hold?
And how would the young lady counter him?
“This is more interesting than any festival performance!”
Ahee giggled, turning toward the lodging where she and her group had rented a large house since yesterday.
Sounds of the subordinates playing carried from beyond the fence.
She wanted to join in immediately.
Then…
“Huh?”
Ahee’s play-focused instincts reacted strangely.
Something rare.
Her gaze automatically shifted to a corner of the distant alley.
No one was there now—but someone had seemed to be there moments ago.
Ahee had seen something.
Or rather, someone.
“Did I… imagine it?”
She stared at the corner, feeling uneasy. A seemingly ordinary villager with grandchildren walked past. Then a couple.
Whatever she had sensed earlier was gone.
“Must’ve been my imagination. I heard he’s not around here right now.”
She tilted her head.
What was that strange, unsettling feeling?
“Ahee! What are you doing here?”
“Ah! You scared me.”
One subordinate had come outside, searching for Ahee who had said she’d be in her room but hadn’t appeared for some time.
“Everyone’s waiting for you, Ahee.”
“Mm, okay.”
“Your new game is no joke…”
Ahee listened half-heartedly, glancing one last time toward the corner. Perhaps she had been mistaken. She might be sleep-deprived from last night.
“Ahee, is there a problem?”
“Ah, no. Nothing.”
She waved her hand and forced a bright expression. Despite wanting to play first, she couldn’t let the others enjoy themselves without her. She’d go shake things up herself.
“Let’s go!”
“Yes, yes!”
Ahee lifted her skirt slightly and started running.
It must have been nothing.
