SMCM 19

Daom woke up well past noon. She was in the Mountain Lord’s chamber, lying face-down on the floor.

As she blinked blearily and looked around, she spotted a washbasin and towel beside her. Her face flushed as the memory of last night came flooding back — all her sobbing and clinging to the Mountain Lord before falling asleep.

She hurriedly got up and ran out of the bedchamber toward the side hall. The Mountain Lord’s shoes were neatly placed on the stone steps outside, which meant he was inside. Daom hesitated for a moment as she stared at them.

She knew she had to go in and apologize, but she didn’t know what to say first.

“Are you some kind of ghost that glows at night?”

A voice spoke behind her, and before she could react, the Mountain Lord nudged her lightly with his foot. Daom nearly jumped out of her skin.

“If you’re not trying to steal those, move aside.”

She quickly stepped out of the way. The Mountain Lord slipped on his shoes and walked past her.

“Why are you following me?”

“Because serving you is my duty as your attendant.”

He shook his head but didn’t stop her from tagging along.

The place he went to was a tall maple tree. With an effortless leap, he perched himself on one of its thick branches and lay back with his hands folded behind his head.

Daom quietly sat down against the tree trunk and watched him.

“Why don’t you chatter away like you did this morning?” he teased.

Her face turned red.

“Do you have mood swings or something?”

“No, my lord.”

“Then why are you sitting there tight-lipped like you swallowed honey?”

Daom lowered her gaze and spoke softly.

“I apologize.”

The Mountain Lord snorted. “Maybe I’ll be a servant in my next life. Looks so convenient. You just whine and everything gets fixed.”

Daom suddenly stood up and bowed deeply.

“That was never my intention. I did not cry to get something.”

Can’t even take a joke, can she?

The Mountain Lord thought, watching her pale face.

He decided not to mention that her crying had prompted him to personally go to the Imperial Palace and deal with Princess Soyoung himself.

“I meant I’ll work harder from now on, so please don’t misunderstand.”

“Yeah, yeah, fine.”

He waved her off lazily. After a good night’s rest, she’d reverted to being the humorless old soul she always was.

Daom cautiously sat back down against the tree.

“Do gods also have a next life?”

He gave a sharp, derisive laugh.

“If we did, we wouldn’t bother with all this suffering. We’d just die outright.”

Daom, being human, couldn’t quite understand.

“Wouldn’t it be a waste to give up the life of a god?”

“Do you even know what the life of a god is?”

Once, the Mountain Lord had treated his attendants like close friends — even family. He had given them affection, warmth, and trust. But after losing more attendants than he could count on his fingers, he stopped opening his heart to humans altogether.

“Short-lived creatures, dead in a few decades, yet somehow manage to leave wounds that last for centuries.”

The pain humans gave was small — a tiny hole in the heart. But that hole could never be filled. Some nights, it would ache so deeply it felt like his chest was splitting open.

“I cannot presume to understand a god’s life,” Daom said quietly, “but I think I understand the feeling.”

Her voice was calm but heavy.

“There are nights when I miss a mother I can’t even remember.”

The Mountain Lord didn’t respond. He just lay there silently before murmuring,

“If you’re about to cry again, stop right there.”

“I’m not!”

Just then, both of them felt a sharp chill — a freezing, cutting energy that ran down their spines like biting into ice. It was Onta’s presence.

“He’s here,” the Mountain Lord said with a languid, predatory smile.

“You remember, don’t you?” Daom asked, almost as if seeking his promise.

“No idea.”

He replied flatly and started toward the pavilion.

“Doesn’t seem like there’s much left here to take,” Onta said casually as he appeared. “Maybe I’ll just enjoy some tea today.”

He looked irritatingly smug. The Mountain Lord smiled lazily and climbed up to the pavilion.

“No need to pretend. Isn’t gambling at chess your favorite pastime?”

“Ah, this fellow only ever speaks the truth,” Onta chuckled, stroking his chin. “Now then, what should we wager this time?”

Almost everything of value in the Mountain Lord’s estate had already been lost to Onta in their endless games. There was hardly anything left worth betting.

The Mountain Lord gestured casually. “Go ahead. Pick whatever you want.”

“I know!” Onta slapped his knee. “How about your attendant?”

The air in the pavilion froze solid. Even the lotus flowers beneath them seemed to glaze over with ice.

“O–Onta, my lord…”

Bi-hyung, who was setting down a tea tray, trembled as he spoke. Onta alone seemed oblivious to the tension.

“What? I just meant the refreshments.”

He grinned as he looked at the Mountain Lord’s reddening face.

“Not forever — just for ten days. I’ve always wondered what it’s like to have a proper servant.”

Just… agree for now!

Daom frantically signaled to the Mountain Lord with her eyes.

It was just another of their daily games — losing for a day and winning it back the next was no big deal.

“There’s nothing left in this place worth wanting, anyway,” Onta went on, grinning at Daom, who was kneeling by the pavilion. “Wouldn’t you like to see another god’s palace for a change?”

He began setting up the chessboard himself, assuming the Mountain Lord would accept.

“In my palace, I’ll give you fine clothes, real food, and a proper room — not this collapsing shack.”

Just agree! When we reclaim everything later, we can get me back too!

Daom’s desperate eyes pleaded with him. If this bet went wrong, she’d be stuck sewing quilts for three days straight as punishment.

“My lord, perhaps…” Bi-hyung tried to defuse the situation, but Onta only dug the hole deeper.

“What’s wrong, Bi-hyung? You’ll come too, right? Let’s all go — leave the Mountain Lord here all alone!”

Before he even finished the sentence, the Mountain Lord shot to his feet and kicked the chessboard. It flew through the air and smacked Onta square in the head.

“Ugh!”

“Mountain Lord! Please, calm yourself!” Bi-hyung clung to his trousers, but the Mountain Lord’s fury was beyond control.

“Let go! I’ll tear that damn beast’s neck off and use it as a game piece!”

Daom pressed her palm to her forehead.

This is a disaster.

“What’s wrong with you?!” Onta barked back. “Got a temper fit again?”

Of course, he wasn’t the type to take a hit quietly. Gods or not, they had their rivalries too. Onta’s divine energy flared.

“Do you know how much it hurts to get hit by a chessboard?!”

The board that had fallen beside him rose back into the air and shot toward the Mountain Lord.

“Onta, please stop!”

Bi-hyung unleashed his own power before the board struck.

“You insulted someone who spends every day longing to return to Heaven!” he shouted.

“So throwing a chessboard is justified now? What, since we’re gods and can’t die, I should just let him beat me half to death?”

“Who said I’m lonely?!” the Mountain Lord roared. “Get out! All of you — out!”

“Wait, please!”

Daom finally couldn’t take it anymore. She stood and shouted.

“What if… we did this instead?”

While she spoke, Bi-hyung managed to catch the flying chessboard midair.

“My lord Onta,” Daom said clearly, “shouldn’t you also wager something equivalent — something that matches me and Bi-hyung?”

Onta blinked in surprise.

“That’s never been the rule. I don’t need to wager anything — I always win.”

He wasn’t trying to provoke; it was simply the truth. Onta had never once lost a game against the Mountain Lord.

But now, for some reason, it was Daom who felt her temper rising.

“Perhaps so,” she said steadily, “but you’ve never before demanded people as your prize.”

“That’s true,” he admitted.

“If Bi-hyung and I were to move to your palace, even for ten days, the Mountain Lord’s daily life would be in utter chaos.”

Oh, as if losing the help of a servant would cause chaos, Daom heard Princess Soyoung’s mocking laughter in her head, but she swallowed it down and went on.

“Such a large wager deserves something equal in return. Only then can the game truly be fair — and fun.”

Onta paused, thinking. Meanwhile, Bi-hyung fanned the fuming Mountain Lord, who still looked ready to explode.

“There’s no need for that! Send him away!” the Mountain Lord barked.

“Hm… no, this sounds fun.”

Onta grinned.

“All right. I’ll agree. Anything I have — name it, and it’s yours if you win.”

Perfect.

Daom smiled — a quiet, triumphant smile.