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Chapter 18
“If you’ve committed a crime, then you must naturally accept the punishment.”
The hope that had filled Choe Eum-eup’s heart collapsed in an instant. The faint possibility of saving his son was snuffed out like a candle before the wind.
“Lord Minister! Please, spare him just this once. Have mercy on us!”
Choe Eum-eup repeatedly slammed his forehead against the floor as he begged.
“This is truly difficult. It is only because of the relationship we’ve shared over the years that I agreed to meet with you. Do not make this any harder for me. As you know, a charge of murder is something only His Majesty has the authority to judge.”
Jo Jajeom was the Left State Councillor, a man whose influence was so immense that people said even birds flying through the sky would fall at his command. Every official who drew a government salary knew that he held sway over the king himself.
That was why everyone bowed before him and offered him lavish gifts.
And yet… this was how he responded?
Rage welled up inside Choe Eum-eup, causing the flesh on his cheeks to tremble.
“Lord Minister… please…”
“Who’s outside?”
Jo Jajeom cut him off without a second thought.
Then he openly gave the order to dismiss his guest.
“Our guest is leaving. Escort him out. There’s no need to accompany him any farther.”
Choe Eum-eup desperately shook his head.
If he left now, everything would be over.
Choe Giman would surely die.
He himself would be dragged to the Ministry of Justice to face punishment.
Most of his fortune had already been exhausted paying compensation to the victim’s family. Whatever little remained would be confiscated as well.
His entire family would be destroyed.
“Lord Minister! Just this once, please save him! Please, Lord Minister!”
When Choe Eum-eup stubbornly refused to leave, two sturdy men entered the reception hall.
They were the private guards employed by Jo Jajeom.
The guards seized Choe Eum-eup by the arms and dragged him away.
His desperate cries echoed miserably through the estate, but not a single person paid any attention.
To Jo Jajeom, the frantic struggle of a man fighting for his life was no more irritating than the buzzing of a fly.
Choe Eum-eup’s voice gradually faded until it disappeared completely.
Clicking his tongue, Jo Jajeom rang a small bell.
A moment later, a man dressed in a blue dopo entered and knelt respectfully.
His name was Mirim.
A man whose name meant Beautiful Forest, Mirim was widely known as the Left State Councillor’s hunting dog.
“You summoned me, Lord Minister?”
“Find out how the son of Choe Champan ended up being taken to the Ministry of Justice.”
“Do you intend to save him?”
“What do you think? Is he someone worth saving?”
Jo Jajeom stared directly at Mirim.
It was a test.
Although Mirim had served him faithfully for years—like the tongue inside his mouth—and had brought him tremendous profits, Jo Jajeom occasionally tested his subordinate’s true loyalties.
He wanted to know whether Mirim used his brilliant mind for him alone.
“If I may speak frankly,” Mirim answered without hesitation, “he is not someone worth saving. A man who cannot even keep his own household under control cannot possibly handle greater responsibilities.”
“Well said. Then what should be done with him?”
The only reason Jo Jajeom had ever shared tea with Choe Eum-eup was because the man occasionally brought him a few trivial gifts.
Yet Choe Eum-eup had somehow mistaken that for a close relationship with the Left State Councillor.
He was an ignorant fool who knew neither his place, nor his own abilities, nor the future awaiting him.
“Ignorant men are sometimes the boldest.”
Jo Jajeom had no intention of leaving even the slightest uncertainty behind.
“I will make sure he understands.”
Satisfied with Mirim’s answer, Jo Jajeom picked up his brush once again.
“Investigate everything I told you to investigate. Thoroughly. There must never be mistakes in any matter.”
“Yes, Lord Minister.”
“You may leave.”
Mirim bowed deeply before quietly withdrawing.
Silence settled over the room once more.
Jo Jajeom calmly continued painting.
His brush never wavered as he completed the Mukrando, an ink painting of orchids.
02. The Little Bride
Inside the dim bridal chamber, illuminated by a single candle, shadows flickered across the walls.
As the flame danced, the painted pine trees and bamboo on the folding screen seemed to sway with it. The turtles, cranes, and deer depicted upon it looked almost alive beneath the shifting light.
In front of the screen, atop an ornate wedding bed embroidered with a pair of mandarin ducks, sat a ten-year-old bride.
Her round, babyish face and large, innocent eyes made her look far too young to be called a bride.
The expensive hwarot she wore was so oversized that it looked more like a blanket draped over her than clothing.
Wrapped inside it as though she were hidden beneath a sack, the little girl sniffled quietly.
“Hic… sniff… hic…”
Outside, the wedding guests laughed and celebrated the union of bride and groom.
Inside the bridal chamber, however, only sobs could be heard.
“Eunyeong, leave everything to your husband. Don’t cry. Understand? If you behave well, your father will live.”
But what exactly was she supposed to leave to her husband?
She remembered her father’s words before the wedding and tried to hold back her tears, but it was impossible.
There was only one thing Eunyeong wanted.
She wanted to take off this enormous, heavy hwarot and go home.
She wanted to bury her face against her mother’s chest, faintly scented with sweat from selling pumpkin taffy at the marketplace, and fall asleep.
Everyone had congratulated her.
“You’re marrying into a wealthy family.”
“Your fortunes have changed.”
That was what they all said.
But Eunyeong had never wished for a silver hairpin.
She had only wanted a pretty ribbon for her hair.
Tears streamed endlessly down her cheeks.
“I told you not to cry!”
It was as though she could hear her father’s angry voice.
Startled, Eunyeong hurriedly pulled her tiny hands out from beneath the red wedding robe.
Her father couldn’t possibly be here watching her, yet fear made her frantically wipe away her tears.
The rouge and decorative dots painted onto her tiny white face smeared into a complete mess.
“I miss Mom.”
In the end, the words her father had strictly forbidden her to say slipped from her lips.
“I want to go home…”
Sniffling uncontrollably, the ten-year-old bride broke into hiccupping sobs.
She cried for what felt like forever.
Gradually, the commotion outside died down.
The groom must be coming now.
Eunyeong took a deep breath and glanced nervously toward the door.
There was no anticipation in her eyes.
Only fear.
She had no idea how many anxious sighs escaped her before—
Creak.
The door slowly opened.
A gust of cold wind swept into the room, making the candle flame flicker wildly.
Startled, Eunyeong swallowed her sobs.
The groom had arrived.
Barely daring to breathe, she slowly raised her eyes toward him.
He has three legs…
Two legs.
And one cane.
Thump.
Thump.
The old man entered the room with his back bent, leaning heavily on his cane.
The tears she had barely managed to suppress forced their way back out.
His face was covered in deep wrinkles.
His teeth were yellow.
Dark age spots dotted his skin.
He looked exactly like the grandfather she had seen many years ago.
That’s… my husband?
She was terrified.
And confused.
She was still only a child with little learning, but even she knew that a marriage between a seventy-year-old man and a ten-year-old girl was not normal.
“Mom… Mommy…”
“Oh, my dear child, why are you crying?”
As Eunyeong burst into tears again, the old man set down his cane and gently stroked her cheek with his dry, weathered hand.
“Mom… hic… I miss my mom… Please… send me home…”
The old man looked at her with pity.
“This is your home now, child. Isn’t that jokduri uncomfortable? Let me take it off for you.”
“Ahhh!”
Screaming in terror, Eunyeong leaped to her feet and ran.
The old man reached out to catch her, but his movements were far too slow.
She escaped his grasp.
However, she never even made it to the doorway.
The long, cumbersome hwarot tangled around her feet.
She fell heavily onto the floor.
The old man shuffled forward, pushing himself along with slow movements until he reached her.
Unable even to think about getting back up, Eunyeong simply lay there sobbing.
“Did you hurt yourself? Let me see. Where are you injured? My dear child, your husband will kiss it better.”
His breathing, thick with phlegm, came closer and closer.
Still lying face down, Eunyeong desperately kicked and struggled.
“No! No! Mommy! Mommy!”
Frowning as though tired of listening to her cries, the old man grabbed one of her tiny feet.
At that very moment—
“No, my lord! You can’t! Not our Eunyeong!”
Eunyeong’s mother burst into the bridal chamber.
Morning sunlight streamed into the room.
A breakfast table had been prepared.
Freshly cooked white rice, clear beef and radish soup, and several neatly arranged side dishes covered the table.
The members of the Ahn family sat together around it.
There were Daesagan Ahn Jungho, his son Ahn Changgeun, and Hari, who had recently become well known in Hanyang as an oejibu, a private legal advocate.
Though each of them was busy with their own work, they always shared breakfast together once every seven days.
It was Ahn Jungho’s own way of caring for his grown children while still respecting their independence.
Their mealtime was somewhat different from that of most Joseon noble families.
Among the yangban, it was customary for men and women to eat separately.
But Ahn Jungho always insisted that Hari share the same table with them.
He carefully picked apart a piece of dried yellow corvina and placed the tender meat on top of Hari’s steaming bowl of rice.
“Father, you should eat it. I’m fine.”
“I’m fine as well.”
Hari’s nose tingled with emotion.
Her father was still carefully removing fish bones for his fully grown daughter.
Not to be outdone, her older brother, Ahn Changgeun, quietly slid the dish of braised radish—Hari’s favorite—closer to her.
Looking around, Hari suddenly realized that nearly every side dish had somehow gathered in front of her.
There was no way the table had originally been arranged like this.
While she had been eating, Jungho and Changgeun had secretly moved each dish a little closer to her until they had all ended up piled around her place.
The opposite side of the table now looked almost empty.
The sight was so ridiculous that Hari couldn’t help laughing.
“Pfft.”
