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Chapter 3 …
The moment An Jungho reached out his hand, Jung Hari’s memories burst forth and swallowed Hari’s consciousness.
The sound of a palm slicing through the air.
The dull impact against her head and back.
And the endless stream of verbal abuse.
Hari squeezed her eyes shut and froze.
It was the typical reaction of someone who had been exposed to prolonged abuse. But An Jungho, who had never struck anyone in his life, was shocked for an entirely different reason.
“Hari, did something get into your eye?”
An Jungho gently took hold of Hari’s hand.
The warmth of his large hand and his gentle voice slowly coaxed her eyes open.
Right in front of her, An Jungho was looking at her with eyes full of concern.
Seeing her reflection in the deep, dark eyes that looked so much like her own, Hari finally relaxed.
She was An Hari.
And An Jungho was her kind father.
The father who had beaten and screamed at Jung Hari did not exist in this world.
“Hari, are you feeling unwell? Tell Father. Shall I send for the physician immediately? Or would you rather lie down?”
An Jungho looked as though he might spring up at any moment and personally spread out bedding for her.
“No, Father. I’m fine. Just like you said… something got into my eye.”
“Where? A speck of dust got into those beautiful eyes? Your delicate eyes must have hurt terribly.”
Even though it was nothing more than a tiny speck of dust, An Jungho fussed over her as if some great disaster had occurred.
Seeing such a dignified-looking man fluster about so busily made Hari laugh before she even realized it.
Only then did An Jungho smile as well.
He sat beside her and gently patted her back.
“Hari, the mere thought of you giving up something tears this father’s heart apart. Don’t even think such thoughts. Do everything you wish to do.”
Hari turned toward him.
Father and daughter’s gazes intertwined.
“And do not worry about your father or your brothers. If the road before us is blocked because of something you choose to do, then that road was never meant to be ours in the first place.”
“…What?”
“If you wish to become an oejibu, then become one. If you wish to stand in court, then do so.”
Hari’s eyes grew as wide as saucers.
“But just a few days ago, you said it’d be better not to because it would ruin my marriage prospects.”
As Hari said, An Jungho had indeed worried that his daughter’s chances of marriage would disappear.
Hari had turned twenty that year.
Even considering that a great national crisis had delayed many marriages, she had long since passed what society considered the ideal marriageable age.
Moreover, this was Joseon, where a proper wife was expected to remain quietly inside the home, faithfully serve her parents-in-law, and devote herself to her husband and children.
Simply working outside the home was enough to make a woman unsuitable as a bride.
And what if that work involved breaking apart other people’s marriages?
What if such a bold woman happened to be the daughter of the Chief Inspector General (Daesagan)?
It would undoubtedly cause an enormous uproar.
An Jungho told Hari to think only of herself.
But reality was never that simple.
“Even a straw sandal has its matching pair. Would our beautiful Hari truly have none?”
An Jungho sincerely believed Hari was more beautiful than Xi Shi herself.
Her heart was gentler than silk, and calling her the smartest woman in Joseon was no exaggeration.
Surely, someday, someone worthy of her would appear.
Trying his best to remain optimistic, he said,
“But promise me one thing. Promise me you won’t do anything dangerous. And if anything should happen, promise you’ll come to me immediately.”
Hari was utterly dumbfounded.
It was only natural for a father to worry about, encourage, and support his daughter’s future.
But this was Joseon.
Even if this is a fictional Joseon from a novel… he’d really give permission this easily?
Could every household be like this?
Was the Joseon in Grudges actually a place where women’s rights were as advanced as those in South Korea?
No way.
I’ve seen and heard firsthand how difficult women’s lives are here.
Women who had lost their hearing after being beaten by their husbands.
Women whose property and children had been taken by concubines.
Women who became even sicker while caring for their mothers-in-law.
Not a single person protected them.
“You just endure it.”
“If your husband hits you, then you get hit. What else can you do?”
“What can you do? A woman’s fate is like a gourd floating wherever it’s tossed.”
The resignation they displayed wasn’t some personal trait.
It was something society had created.
This place was Joseon through and through.
And yet…
“Just don’t put yourself in danger, all right?”
For the sake of his daughter alone, An Jungho willingly accepted the criticism he would face and even anticipated hardships in his own official career.
Yet he still refused to stop her.
He gently stroked the back of Hari’s hand.
The love flowing through that warmth made the pit of Hari’s stomach tighten painfully.
This is strange…
She felt tears threatening to spill over.
* * *
Even someone who loves to play sometimes finds themselves unable to enjoy it once the stage has been set.
Hari was exactly like that.
Ever since An Jungho had told her, “Do whatever you want,” a few days ago, she found herself hesitating every time she was about to take action.
Was this what he intended?
Her old lawyer’s habit of analyzing every word and action—and doubting people’s motives first—had resurfaced.
But she soon shook her head.
She couldn’t explain it with words.
She simply knew.
Everything An Jungho had shown through both his actions and words was genuine.
“Is this… fatherly love? Ah, how would I know? I’d have had to receive it growing up.”
Muttering to herself, Hari flopped onto her back.
Even though she was bored, lazing around wasn’t so bad.
After all, she hadn’t become an oejibu because she had some grand ambition.
It had all started when she discovered that Damyang-daek, the woman who worked in the kitchen, had been beaten by her husband.
To Hari, Damyang-daek was her own personal royal court chef—the one person who had made her feel at home in Joseon.
The meals she prepared melted Hari’s frozen heart and soothed her sharp temper.
If Damyang-daek had been born during the reign of King Jeongjo, Hari was convinced she would have taken Jang Geum’s place.
She was just that talented.
And yet that precious pair of hands had been smashed by her husband.
The moment Hari saw Damyang-daek appear with her hands carelessly wrapped in plain cloth, rage welled up inside her.
She immediately went to confront Damyang-daek’s husband.
She was furious, but her lawyer’s rationality prevailed, and she tried to reason with him calmly.
But instead, the bastard had the nerve to act offended.
“Stay out of other people’s family affairs. I don’t care if you’re the young lady of the master’s house. You’re crossing the line.”
“Hawk—ptoo!”
The instant his spit landed near her feet, something inside Hari snapped.
She immediately persuaded Damyang-daek to divorce him.
Not only that, she drove the man out of the village.
Well…
More accurately, he fled on his own.
Hari uncovered evidence that he had been flirting with numerous women and spread the rumors.
Fearing retaliation from the village men, he ran away.
Damyang-daek worked for the Daesagan’s household.
She received steady wages.
She had a home.
She had no husband or children to support.
Day by day, the color returned to her face.
After that, people around Damyang-daek began looking for Hari.
Since they couldn’t directly approach the young lady of the Daesagan household, they quietly asked Damyang-daek or Maldong instead.
Hari would then arrange to “accidentally” meet them at the marketplace.
She would give consultations.
Write petitions for women who couldn’t read or write.
When they couldn’t afford to hire an oejibu, she even accompanied them to the Hanseong Office.
Before she knew it…
She had become an oejibu herself.
For a brief while, working as an oejibu had reminded her of her glamorous life as a lawyer in South Korea.
She had even thought that becoming the greatest divorce oejibu in Joseon wouldn’t be such a bad life.
But I guess it really isn’t possible in Joseon.
Just this morning, she had firmly resolved never to work as an oejibu again.
Yet somehow…
Her heart wouldn’t settle.
Then what am I supposed to do from now on?
Lying atop her blanket, Hari stared blankly at the ceiling.
What else?
Meet whichever man the matchmaker chose.
Spend the rest of her life trapped inside the house.
Bear children.
Serve her husband.
“Ahhh! I can’t live like that!”
Hari had no intention of marrying.
More precisely, she was a pessimist when it came to marriage.
She had seen countless couples who had once loved each other passionately become bitter enemies.
Their endings were always terrible.
There was no such thing as a good breakup.
No beautiful farewell.
No clean, mature parting.
Her own parents had been exactly the same.
As Hari imagined her future in Joseon, the color drained from her face.
She absolutely refused to live that kind of life.
She couldn’t even bear the thought of enduring the old saying about spending three years as though deaf after marriage.
Hari suddenly shot upright.
Was there any way for a noblewoman in Joseon to avoid marriage?
“There is.”
“You either go mad… or you die.”
Those were the worst possible options.
Hari clutched her head in frustration.
Then suddenly—
An idea struck her.
“I’ll destroy my own marriage prospects! That’s it!”
After all, marriage required someone willing to marry her.
“If I work as an oejibu, who would ever want to marry me? And if I’m going to live alone anyway, I’ll need the means to support myself.”
Hari bowed respectfully toward the direction of the men’s quarters.
“Father, I’m sorry… but I have to become an oejibu.”
“But I’ll become the greatest one in all of Joseon.”
Hari’s eyes gleamed sharply as she made her vow.
