Chapter 31. I Am Proposing to You Right Now
A cold dawn breeze slipped in through the open window.
It was still a time when darkness lay deeply over the world.
Just before midnight, this hour—when dawn was about to break—was always the coldest. Beyond the window, the sky was a deep bluish-black.
A sigh escaped his lips, turning into a white mist that quickly scattered.
So it’s already this kind of weather.
With a coat draped over his shoulders, Cha-eon stared quietly at the fading breath in the air.
Time really did pass quickly. It flowed forward with astonishing indifference.
The pre-dawn hours, when even the roosters in each household were silent, were especially quiet. Leaning against the window frame, Cha-eon shifted his gaze back to the sky.
As he stood there still, the east gradually began to brighten.
It was as if someone had spilled white paint across only the eastern sky; the darkness thinned, and the deep blue was pushed aside.
Soon, a crimson glow began to spread from the horizon.
It was a scene he had seen every single day without fail. Yet each time, it made something in his chest ache faintly.
No one had told him to do it, but he had watched the sky every day without missing a single dawn—like someone waiting for a miracle alone.
He had kept watch over the transition from night to morning for so long.
But never once had the west brightened before the east.
Of course not.
A bitter smile slipped out.
He knew. Even if he stood there for a hundred years, a thousand years, it would never happen. And yet he had become someone foolishly longing for an impossible miracle.
He could strike lightning, could overturn the earth itself—but he could not touch the sun.
The movements of the sun, moon, and stars were not things even a celestial being could freely interfere with.
What a fair limitation.
Now the entire sky, east and west alike, had become bright. Cha-eon’s smile grew even more bitter.
And I, absurdly…
Self-inflicted bondage.
To be restricted by one’s own words and actions. Was that not exactly his current state? His self-mockery deepened.
Then, something in his hand came to mind.
He had briefly forgotten it while staring at the sky in silence.
Slowly, Cha-eon opened his palm. In it rested a hairpin set with jade.
It was a hairpin entangled with Gak Gongja’s story.
“Come to think of it… where did that bastard run off to? Did he sink into the ground, or fly up into the sky…?”
It was impossible for a mere human to escape his grasp.
A man of unknown origin was unpleasant to even think about. Cha-eon erased the traces of Gak Gongja that had filled his mind.
There were more important matters at hand.
“This time is different. This time.”
He tightened his grip on the hairpin.
As the world brightened, sounds of people beginning their day started to rise from the village. These were sounds Seo-hyo, who slept late, would normally never hear.
Another day had begun.
And the butler of Baekhwa Pharmacy, Cha-eon, was also about to begin his work.
“This time… just this once…”
Cha-eon placed the hairpin back into its original drawer.
His eyes had changed—firm, resolved.
Click.
The drawer closed.
He opened all the windows in the room and began airing it out for the morning.
“Where did he go without saying anything?”
Seo-hyo muttered as she looked around the empty pharmacy. She had only gone to her room briefly after closing the front gate, and the housekeeper had disappeared outside in that time.
Even if it was just crossing the street, they always informed each other—that was their agreement. So this sudden disappearance was strange.
Tilting her head, she cleaned up the room.
Warm sunset light spilled across the world.
You did well today.
The young lady of the pharmacy gently comforted herself.
As the weather grew colder, more patients were coming in with colds. From children with noses running like icicles to elderly men complaining that the medicine prescribed by doctors wasn’t working well enough.
Baekhwa Pharmacy had been overwhelmed with customers all day.
“More licorice, you say? This is already enough!”
“If you want something sweet, drink honey water instead of herbal medicine. This is medicine. No matter how much licorice you add, it won’t become less bitter.”
“You just have to endure it for five days.”
“We need to stop the coughing first, don’t we?”
It wasn’t a matter of serving customers one by one. It was more like barely finishing with one patient before the next arrived without pause.
Today, Seo-hyo had to deal with multiple patients demanding entirely different prescriptions all at once.
Cha-eon, beside her, silently wrapped herbs.
“You’ve been unusually quiet today.”
She tried to recall if anything had happened—but nothing came to mind.
Cleaning up finished faster than expected. The spirits inside the medicine cabinet had been asleep ever since the customers left.
No Cha-eon. No spirits talking.
Suddenly bored, Seo-hyo brewed tea and took a sip.
The warm floral aroma eased her fatigue.
Knock knock.
The gate was knocked on, then opened.
Thinking it was Cha-eon returning, Seo-hyo looked up—only to widen her eyes at the sight of two identical-looking girls.
“Why are you two here?”
They were the fox girls who had accompanied her when she visited Gak Gongja’s house.
“You didn’t even send word. Just here to play today?”
She laughed lightly while speaking, then suddenly burst out laughing again.
Her gaze landed on the girl on the right.
“No matter how late it is, you should hide your ears properly.”
“Ah!”
The girl quickly grabbed her head. Fox ears she had failed to hide perked up.
They must have walked side by side, yet no one had noticed.
Perhaps because they were not used to living among humans, no one found it strange even if their ears were exposed.
In fact, the girl on the left was giggling uncontrollably.
But beneath her skirt, a yellow-brown tail swayed.
“You should either lengthen your skirt or tuck your tail in.”
“Huh?”
“You’re laughing at her mistakes, but you’re the same.”
“What are you talking about? My tail isn’t visible!”
“People probably think your ears are accessories.”
“Idiot.”
Though inseparable, they really were just like human siblings—arguing loudly as if they might continue until morning.
“Alright, that’s enough.”
Seo-hyo handed them honey rice dumplings she had prepared for tea.
Foxes were weak to sweets and alcohol. Especially young ones.
The girls quickly brightened and accepted the treats.
If she hadn’t asked again why they came, they might have eaten and left, forgetting their purpose entirely.
“Right, I almost forgot.”
Their ears twitched again.
“Come here, Seo-hyo.”
“Hurry, hurry.”
They grabbed her hands and pulled her away. No explanation was given, no matter how much she asked. Even when she suggested leaving a note for Cha-eon, they only urged her forward.
She barely managed to lock the pharmacy door before being dragged away.
Seo-hyo followed them along the darkening road.
“…The back mountain?”
No one went up the mountain at night.
Freed from human eyes, the fox girls revealed their tails and ears openly. Their eyes sparkled in the darkness.
Their steps were light as they walked the forest path.
Seo-hyo didn’t stumble thanks to them, even though the path was hard to see.
“Why are we going up the mountain at night?”
“Hurry.”
“Let’s go, Seo-hyo.”
The girl on the right nudged the left one.
“You have to call her Lady Seo-hyo in front of Cha-eon. Or at least ‘young lady.’”
“He’s not here now.”
“Who knows? He might be watching from somewhere.”
“Eek, scary.”
At the mention of Cha-eon’s name, Seo-hyo reacted.
“Cha-eon? Did Cha-eon send you?”
Both girls flinched at once.
“You’re raising something scary.”
The left muttered.
“We’re not raising him.”
“…Are you picking a fight?”
It was Cha-eon. Definitely Cha-eon.
She concluded it without waiting for their answer. What on earth had he done to make them act like this?
They were timid, yes—but they didn’t usually fear people so openly.
“Arrived!”
The girls clapped proudly.
Seo-hyo caught her breath and looked around.
It had been over a year since she last came to the back mountain. The night made it feel even more unfamiliar.
The mountain felt taller and deeper than she remembered.
Following their direction, she saw an old pavilion.
“I didn’t know something like this was here.”
“It’s always been here.”
“People don’t know.”
“They don’t come here.”
“Wait here, Seo-hyo.”
They waved and prepared to leave.
Leaving me alone here?
She quickly grabbed them.
“Scared? It’s not dark. We left a lantern.”
Indeed, a lantern sat on the pavilion table, casting light.
It helped, but being alone in the dark mountain was still unsettling.
“The real scary thing is something else.”
“Stop mumbling. We’re leaving.”
And just like that, they disappeared.
Seo-hyo sighed and sat down.
Cha-eon had brought her here.
Then where was he?
Just as she stared at the lantern in thought, rustling came from the forest.
“I’m a bit late.”
At last, Cha-eon appeared.
His hair was neatly swept back, and he wore a richly embroidered deep crimson robe.
Compared to his usual attire at the pharmacy, he looked completely different.
Even on his birthday—or Seo-hyo’s—she had never seen him like this.
When she asked if today was special, he simply said it wasn’t.
“Then why did you bring me here?”
“If I had to say… I wanted to court you in a new place.”
Was that really all?
Her suspicious gaze meant nothing to him.
He smoothly changed the topic to the back mountain. Though he had lived in this area for ten years, it was her first time here, wasn’t it?
She nodded.
“I guess so.”
She used to come here once or twice a month, but she had never known about the pavilion.
Just moments ago, being alone in the dark made it feel eerie—but now, it felt calm and nostalgic.
Because of the person beside her.
Even slow-witted Seo-hyo understood that much.
“We should prepare to leave this place soon.”
Unlike normal humans, neither of them aged quickly, so they changed locations every ten years.
She had grown attached here. Where would they go next?
While they talked, Seo-hyo became quietly sentimental.
Then Cha-eon spoke.
“You may not remember, but… you once said you wanted to be proposed to in a place with fireflies.”
“I… did? I said that?”
She searched her memory. She had probably said many things about marriage over the years.
Fireflies… maybe she had said something like that.
But did she really?
Fireflies in a proposal… that did sound like something a sixteen-year-old girl would dream of.
How romantic—and embarrassing.
The current her definitely couldn’t have said something like that.
Especially not to Cha-eon.
“I figured you wouldn’t remember.”
He looked somewhat resigned.
“Of course. You can’t even remember yesterday’s dinner side dishes.”
“Who remembers side dishes from two days ago?”
“I do.”
“Except you.”
“Actually, I do.”
She quickly cut him off.
In any case, his memory was better than hers.
So the firefly proposal must have been real.
She must have been more girlish back then.
Now, she would probably be satisfied with something as simple as “let’s set a date.”
Though marriage proposals had long stopped coming her way anyway.
“As someone older than you…”
Cha-eon continued, his expression steadying.
“There is a place called Mangwol, at the far northwest edge, almost between heaven and earth. The fireflies there are said to be beautiful.”
A place she had never heard of caught her interest.
Where was that? Why didn’t I know about it?
She should have paid more attention to maps. If even Cha-eon knew of it, it must truly be beautiful.
“Mangwol…? Where is it? Should we live there next time?”
But he shook his head.
“We can’t go there now.”
“Why?”
“It’s been sealed off.”
Seo-hyo frowned.
“To be precise, the Celestial Emperor placed a barrier there. No one can enter.”
“Oh…”
So it belonged to the heavens.
Then there was nothing to do.
Her excitement faded.
“I heard the fireflies here in the back mountain are also beautiful… but it’s not the season anymore. Maybe next summer.”
And by next summer, they might not even be here.
Then why tell her at all?
She pouted and looked toward the dark trees.
Even if the idea of a firefly proposal was childish, she didn’t dislike fireflies themselves.
Crickets chirping.
Tiny glowing lights cutting through the darkness.
How beautiful that would be.
She regretted hearing it. Now she suddenly wanted to see fireflies, even though winter was almost here.
Maybe she should hang lanterns shaped like insects around the house.
“…Huh?”
Then it happened.
A small butterfly with pale green glowing wings fluttered toward her.
“So pretty…”
What is this? A butterfly she had never seen before. Not fireflies, yet glowing in the dark.
She slowly reached out, and it landed lightly on her fingertip.
A spirit.
It felt strangely like the striped cat spirit in the medicine cabinet.
Smiling softly, she moved her hand and the butterfly followed without falling.
“Look, Cha-eon! It’s so beautiful!”
She showed him, and he faintly smiled.
“Is it a spirit protected by the mountain god? It’s just like fireflies.”
Just as she moved it closer, the lantern suddenly went out.
The light that had been illuminating them vanished, leaving them in complete darkness.
At the same time, the butterfly flew away.
Following it with her eyes, Seo-hyo raised her hand to her lips.
More glowing butterflies were flying in from the distance.
“Wow…”
A breathtakingly beautiful sight.
The butterflies danced around her as if moving to music only they could hear.
“Actually… this is what I brought you here to see.”
Cha-eon spoke.
Still gazing at the butterflies, Seo-hyo smiled brightly.
“So pretty. Really so pretty. How did you do this? Where did you bring them from?”
“You’re enjoying it so much that I should probably say this again… this is a substitute for fireflies.”
Only then did she turn to him.
“This is a substitute for fireflies.”
And then it finally dawned on her.
The lantern-lit glow revealed Cha-eon’s serious expression.
He looked completely solemn.
“Lady Seo-hyo,” he said.
“I am proposing to you right now.”
