MOSC 3

For a moment, she flinched and ducked her shoulders at the presence moving toward her.

Thud.

However, contrary to her expectations, the man’s hand did not reach for On. Instead, he simply straightened a wooden wild goose figurine that had been placed crookedly on the prepared table.

“I am Sim Wigyeom. Though this bond did not begin of my own will and is tied by power and circumstance, appearing as fleeting as the morning dew, I intend to uphold the honor of my family and fulfill my duties with righteousness alongside you.”

A voice as upright as his well-defined shadow. The straightforwardness in the man’s voice sharply scraped at On’s uncontrollably trembling heart.

‘…What is this?’

On came to her senses and hastily prostrated herself before Wigyeom.

“I… I am a humble servant who resides in the palace. Please, speak to me informally.”

But the voice that resonated sharply in her heart replied at once.

“No. You have earned the princess’s trust and served her long and well; how could I treat a woman who is now to become my own so lightly?”

The words “my own woman” made a heavy stone settle in her chest.

‘…Ah.’

Though it wasn’t untrue, On, who had been secretly dreading a harsh rejection from Sim Wigyeom, was overcome with a strange feeling at the man’s gentle response.

‘Why is he so good-natured?’

Why was he being so kind to a bridal chamber court lady? She would have been grateful even if he had shattered a bowl and chased her out. This was baffling in a completely different way.

But at that moment, another person in that place was also engulfed in a strange state of mind.

‘My wife. It is good to see you again.’

In the darkness, the eyes of the Royal Son-in-Law, Sim Wigyeom, glinted as he gazed at On.

Sim Wigyeom was a regressor.

In other words, this was Sim Wigyeom’s second life.

He was once the heir to a renowned family, noted for his mastery of both literary and martial arts. When he held a brush, he showed the insight to right the nation’s affairs, and when he discussed military strategy, even generals were impressed. He was hailed as an outstanding talent in both the royal court and the world at large, and people called him the man who would change a nation’s destiny.

But the Sim Wigyeom of today, having experienced all the tempests and trials a man could endure, was no ordinary human. In his previous life, he had borrowed the power of the most sacred tree in the Hwanjo Kingdom, the Yellow Lacquer Tree spirit beast, and was reborn. He was a half-human, half-demon, a man who had borrowed the power of a spirit.

“…My lord. Have you truly gone mad?”

Sim Wigyeom recalled the conversation he had just had with his trusted servant and family bondsman, Jo Gyesaeng.

“Of all the women in the world, why did it have to be Princess Bonghwa’s personal court lady?”

The servant burst into tears and snot as he revealed the secret behind this fiasco.

“This is unequivocally an act of fraud!”

It was more than just fraud. It was practically a crime.

Indeed. This entire affair surrounding the bridal chamber court lady was a scheme orchestrated by the Royal Son-in-Law, Sim Wigyeom, himself.

“And that’s not all. Do you have any idea how serious this is? To think you negotiated directly with the Queen herself, of all people, to bring out a court lady under the pretext of a bridal chamber ceremony. If His Majesty were to learn of this, having your head lopped off and displayed would be a mercy. Your family would be condemned to labor, building the palace stone walls for generations to come. Please, stop now. Otherwise, I’m telling you, our entire clan will face annihilation by bugwanchamsi…!”

Gyesaeng stuck out his tongue and mimed his own head being chopped off. It was a triple-layered conspiracy involving the Queen, Princess Bonghwa, and Sim Wigyeom. Upon learning that the mother of the nation was also entangled in this mess like a string of dried fish, Gyesaeng was on the verge of foaming at the mouth.

…Of course, Wigyeom couldn’t care less.

“No.”

At Wigyeom’s reply, Gyesaeng finally clutched the back of his neck and collapsed. He was about to faint from high blood pressure in his prime twenties. But Wigyeom didn’t bat an eye. What was he supposed to do? The truth was, nothing could stop him now.

“My lord. Are you truly possessed by a ghost?”

“Yes. I am. By a ghost.”

Wigyeom answered gravely.

In fact, Wigyeom was possessed. His body housed the spirit of the Yellow Lacquer Tree, which was worshiped as the sacred tree at Ohwang Temple, the nation’s grandest temple.

‘…My wife. I have come.’

Wigyeom blinked his eyes, which had deepened through two lifetimes, and reflected on his past life. After the death of his first wife, On, Sim Wigyeom had followed her, taking his own life by throwing himself off the cliffs of Ohwang Temple.

But when he opened his eyes, he had returned to the day after receiving the marriage proposal from Princess Bonghwa.

‘So, even though I took my own life, I was granted a second one.’

It was a twist of fate. A cruel whim of the gods. Was the fact that his self-ended life had begun anew the weight of his remaining sins? Instead of the end he so desired, a beginning awaited him.

From that day on, Sim Wigyeom made a vow to himself. He would live this life solely for his first wife, Kim On.

‘My wife, I will devote this life entirely to you. This new life must be a grace granted for me to use for you.’

A strange light flickered in Wigyeom’s eyes as he made his firm resolution. A man’s word is his bond. His tightly clenched fist trembled slightly.

Of course, the servant, who knew nothing of his master’s past life, was going mad.

‘…I must call a shaman and perform an exorcism.’

Gyesaeng sniffled. His master was clearly possessed by an evil spirit. Until the very day before he received the marriage proposal, Wigyeom had been a model of a prestigious family, personally practicing the four Confucian virtues and upholding propriety and duty. He might have been a tad—no, quite a bit—inflexible and stubborn, but he regarded women as mere stones and embodied the spirit of a gentleman who ruled with righteousness and etiquette.

…And now, such a man was suddenly obsessed with a woman, and not just any woman, but the court lady of his intended bride, the princess. For the servant, who was unaware of Wigyeom’s regression, it was enough to make him lose his mind.

‘How can a person change so much in a single day…!’

This was clearly not an earthly matter but something in the realm of shamanism, requiring talismans and rituals. Not just any shaman, but a manshin—a great shaman who could preside over a major rite for the nation.

‘Sob. The shock of being chosen as the princess’s husband and having his career path blocked must have been too great.’

Otherwise, this change, which made his master seem like a completely different person, couldn’t be explained. It was only natural. Having lived another life, he was, for all intents and purposes, a different person.

But Gyesaeng, still unaware of this fact, interpreted it thusly:

‘Sniffle. This trouble must have arisen because he was too upright and uncompromising. I tell you, if he had just submitted memorials to His Majesty in moderation and enjoyed himself with courtesans, getting drunk from time to time, none of this would have happened….’

The poor man. Gyesaeng mistakenly believed that the drastic change in Wigyeom’s personality was a side effect of him having lived too virtuously.

Shake, shake. Just as the servant’s eyes turned red with pity for his master, who was possessed by no ordinary evil spirit, Wigyeom spoke.

“Gye-ddong.”

Wigyeom raised an eyebrow.

“…Wipe that look off your face.”

“…Yes, sir.”

How dare you pity me?

Gye-ddong—no, Gyesaeng—quickly understood his master’s intent and changed his demeanor.

‘…He’s got a sixth sense for everything, I swear.’

Ugh.

‘And my name is Gyesaeng, not Gye-ddong. It’s been ages since I was freed from servitude and changed my name.’

The servant grumbled because his master would summon his name from his slave days, his one and only complex, just when he was about to forget it. Serving a master so unyieldingly upright that he knew no compromise, the only things that grew were his intuition and his wits.

‘If I ever get the chance, I’m leaving this house.’

The Sim family bondsman wiped his tears with a sleeve that hid a silk garment finer than his master’s and scurried off to carry out his orders.

Back in the bridal chamber, where the wedding candles were lit.

Currently, Wigyeom’s mind was focused entirely on On.

‘You are the same as ever, my wife.’

In truth, Sim Wigyeom was as good as dead. He wasn’t just possessed by a ghost; he himself was the ghost. A specter who had decided to live for, by, and of On—to live, breathe, and see the world through her.

‘Now that things have come to this, my life is no longer my own, my wife.’

Wigyeom had already resolved to die once. This life was nothing more than an extra, lived because the spirit of the Yellow Lacquer Tree had taken root in him. Wigyeom was burning with the fervor to dedicate his everything to On.

‘In my past life, I was like a sharp stone that gets worn down, not realizing that by only protecting my own position, I failed to protect what was most precious.’

He was straight as a bamboo but did not know how to bend. Trapped by laws and principles, he failed to see the world outside. But the Wigyeom of now was different.

‘My wife, I will change everything.’

Wigyeom’s eyes shone with unwavering resolve.

Of course, a resolution was a resolution, and a first night was a first night. The man had many things to do. But right now, Wigyeom couldn’t think straight about any of them. His emotions were too overwhelmingly intense.

…After a long and winding road, the wife he had finally met was right before his eyes.

‘D**n it, I knew she was beautiful, but to this extent.’

Wigyeom felt a sharp pang in his heart as he watched On, who, frightened, was squirming and scooting backward from where she sat. That was how happy he was to be reunited with On, his wife from his past life.

…And he was also aroused.

Especially physically.

Having regressed, Wigyeom’s body had been rejuvenated to his mid-twenties. On top of that, it was a body imbued with the sacred essence of the Yellow Lacquer Tree that had granted him this second chance. The virility and desire Wigyeom now possessed far surpassed that of an ordinary man.

In short, his passion for On was boiling over like porridge in a cauldron.