MOSC 2

On blinked like a foolish ox before slaughter, bewildered.

‘My, what in the world is this state of affairs…?’

White breath puffed from On’s mouth, agape in confusion.

‘Wasn’t he supposed to be the grandson of the great Hwanjo Minister…?’

Sim Wigyeom, the man slated to be the princess’s husband, was the grandson of Sim Yeongseon. This Sim Yeongseon had served three times as the Hwanjo Minister, a position of power in the Hwanjo Kingdom second only to the king. As a provincial governor, he had stabilized the lives of the common people, and as the Commander of Military Affairs, he had led four expeditions during times of war. He was a renowned and highly respected official.

His father, Sim Jung-geun, had also served as a Royal Guard Commander, managing both national defense and state affairs, leaving a legacy of achievements that were a model for the family.

And yet.

‘This is just too… poor, isn’t it?’

It wasn’t just a matter of being poor.

The Sim family was destitute.

For On, who had expected, if not a palace, then at least a six-chambered main hall befitting a prestigious noble family, the scene was utterly dumbfounding.

‘The Sim family is renowned for their integrity, but I never imagined it would be to this extent….’

An official of integrity was meant to be the ideal public servant, embodying virtues like incorruptibility, frugality, and morality. It was a title harder to receive than becoming the Hwanjo Minister for three generations and one that naturally earned the respect and praise of the people.

But this? A roof with clumps of dried mud that looked like they would wash away in a downpour, a floor heating system in shambles, and a shabby rear quarter where one would doubt there was even a place to lie down.

On was flabbergasted by the reality of the Sim family, a family she had heard praised to no end.

‘Isn’t this what you’d call destitution, not integrity…? No matter how much frugality and simplicity are the highest virtues of a high official, there should be a limit. A limit!’

Still, as a high official, his salary couldn’t have been small. If they had lived with a bit of flexibility, adapting to the world, they wouldn’t have ended up in such a state.

‘If only they had occasionally accepted bribes like everyone else, siphoned off some grain, and… huh?’

At this point, she couldn’t help but wonder what kind of man this Sim Wigyeom, the princess’s future husband, was.

‘H-How dare they… place our princess in a hovel worse than a palace stable….’

Even in a place that could very well become her own grave, On felt the back of her neck grow stiff. No matter how much of a pain the princess was, she was still the master On had served for half her life. There was no need to debate whether their bond was one of fondness or resentment; the princess was everything to On.

The task given to her by the Queen, whom she had faced with only her feet between them, was simply to spend one night with the princess’s future husband to confirm he had no physical or mental defects. It was not to inspect his financial situation. This made her feelings all the stronger.

But as for a first impression of his suitability as a husband for the princess she had served for ten years as if each day were the same, it was a resounding no. To think that a family that had produced a Hwanjo Minister could be so uninterested in accumulating wealth.

It was then.

“Are you from the palace?”

A middle-aged woman, dressed as shabbily as the thatched-roof hut before them, greeted On.

“Please, this way.”

The woman guided her into a room in the collapsing hut. From that moment, On’s legs began to tremble uncontrollably. She had steeled herself, but it couldn’t be helped.

‘I’m finally meeting him….’

The princess’s husband, and On’s own formal partner for the night.

On shuffled her legs, clutching the folds of her skirt, which was far too long for her, and waddled after the woman. As a court lady of the princess’s palace, she tried her best to maintain her dignity, but it wasn’t easy.

The inside of the room was no different from what she had seen outside. All that met her eyes was crushing poverty.

And yet, perhaps in an attempt to show courtesy to a visitor from the palace, a candlestick, a wine bottle, and a couple of gourd cups were arranged on a small dog-leg table to welcome her. On the table lay branches of pine and bamboo. A pair of wild geese wrapped in blue and red cloth were also no ordinary items.

‘These are things used in a nobleman’s wedding….’

Discovering this, beads of cold sweat formed on the bridge of On’s nose. She felt a strange wave of nausea. Didn’t the pine and bamboo symbolize a couple’s unwavering fidelity, and the pair of geese signify a wish for a long and happy life together?

‘What on earth could this mean?’

This night was meant to be a clandestine union, arranged by the Queen’s command. A carnal joining of a man and a woman without any formality or procedure. In other words, such objects had no place here.

‘His name is Sim Wigyeom, I was told.’

On had heard much about the abilities and character of the princess’s future husband. At the age of eighteen, his genius had already made him famous in the high-ranking official examinations of the Hwanjo Kingdom. As the grandson of the most powerful figure of his time, he was said to have the talent to master the eight styles of calligraphy with a brush and to be undefeated in a hundred battles with a sword—the perfect groom, accomplished in both literary and martial arts.

At the same time, he was known as a man of great integrity and upright character, a gentleman who would not lie for personal gain, who did not flatter, and who did not hesitate to speak his mind.

The King had specifically chosen Sim Wigyeom, a central figure in the political faction opposing Queen Min and her powerful clan, to be the royal son-in-law, thereby barring him from holding public office. In short, he was a sacrificial lamb to balance the two powers.

On was half out of her mind with fear that his wrath, whatever form it took, might be directed at her.

‘He’s a man whose wings have been clipped at a young age, despite having a brilliant career ahead of him. If I were him, I’d want to get rid of a bridal chamber court lady, no matter the pretext….’

Because of this, she couldn’t feel at ease even after seeing the prepared table. Men of rigid principles were often the most obstinate when their pride was wounded. What if he took out his anger toward the King, who had made him the royal son-in-law, on her, the bridal chamber court lady?

‘Oh, heavens and earth….’

Terrified, On began to pray to the heavens.

‘Please, I ask for nothing more and nothing less than for the Royal Son-in-Law’s temper to be exactly half as bad as Princess Bonghwa’s. That would be more than enough.’

She, On, had served that very Princess Bonghwa. If his temper was only half as bad, how could she fail to please such a celestial maiden—no, a celestial man?

‘No, not just the gods of heaven and earth, even a goblin would do. Any being with divine power, please help this poor court lady, no, this poor soul. Guanyin Bodhisattva, the Jade Emperor, the Three Goddesses of Childbirth, the Mountain Spirit, the Kitchen God, the Seven Stars, the Dragon King….’

Please, may just one of you who has a spare moment answer.

Just as On was urgently calling upon every folk deity in the world, whoosh.

The candle, which had been barely illuminating the room, was extinguished by a gust of wind. In that instant, as even the dim twilight vanished from the dark room, she finally heard a presence outside.

Rustle.

On, who had been praying, tensed up. With the room so dark, all her senses except sight became painfully sharp. The sound of clothing brushing against the worn floorboards approached, heavy and deliberate.

Presently, the paper-screen door slid open with a creak, and a massive, dark shadow fell over On’s small form, sitting rigidly in the middle of the room.

On’s heart hammered wildly in her chest.

‘He’s, he’s so… tall….’

The first thing she noticed was the man’s towering height, which seemed to pierce through the doorframe.

‘I heard he didn’t pass the military service examination….’

On felt a tension that made every hair on her body stand on end at the sight of his enormous frame, which required him to bend deeply just to enter such a cramped room.

‘Her Highness the Princess is about half a head taller than me, so he must be a good three or four handspans taller than I am.’

The next moment, the man who was to be the princess’s husband, and the master On would have to serve, sat cross-legged before her.

‘It’s too dark all around, I can’t see a thing. If only he would light the candle….’

Cold sweat trickled down On’s entire body. Her duty was to scrutinize the man before her with an eye sharp enough to catch light seeping through a millstone crack and report back in detail. But the room was so pitch-dark she couldn’t see a thing. The road ahead seemed long and arduous.

‘This is a disaster. I need some way to check if his eyes, nose, and mouth are in the right place, if he has all four limbs and twenty fingers and toes, and if any part of him is missing….’

All On could see was a colossal shadow. Naturally, she couldn’t discern whether his features were well-proportioned, if his eyes held a proper spirit, or if his face was as smooth as jade or as furrowed as a rice paddy.

…Far from it, she was so overwhelmed by the man’s imposing presence that she was on the verge of fainting herself.

‘If I were to be struck by someone of that size, I wouldn’t even be able to find my bones….’

…And yet, the man’s faintly visible stature was too extraordinary for her to feel at ease. Of course, it was unlikely that a scholar raised as a gentleman would strike a bridal chamber court lady sent from the palace.

‘Still, I might be the one to foam at the mouth and collapse first.’

She had never trembled this much, not even during the ritual where she symbolically became the King’s woman. She had never taken it lightly, but this was, after all, a hwachok—a bridal candle ceremony. To light the wedding candles in the princess’s stead and test the man who would be her husband.

There was no blare of trumpets announcing the groom’s arrival, no ceremonial robes, no palanquin embroidered with phoenixes.

But for On, it was her first night.

The first man in the life of Kim On, the court lady.

It was then.

“…You are the bridal chamber court lady sent from the palace, I presume.”

At last, the man’s tightly sealed lips parted.

On’s heart plummeted to the floor.

‘Ah….’

His voice was like the clear chime of a wind bell in midsummer. Refined, composed, and somehow… soothing.

‘Have I heard this voice somewhere before?’

For a moment, On felt a strange illusion, as if she already knew his character without truly knowing him at all.