Chapter 136

“Have you come out, Your Ladyship?”

The guard, bowing his head, waited briefly before placing another pair of leather shoes neatly beside the aligned footwear.

“Will these be to Your Ladyship’s liking?”

It seemed he had mistaken the reason for not coming outside as being due to the shoes. Dori, more flustered by the title Your Ladyship than by the question itself, shrank back awkwardly.

“Uh, I—I’m fine with anything.”

“These will be more comfortable to walk in.”

The continued courteous treatment made Dori feel embarrassed, and an awkward smile spread across his face. Once again, a sharp wave of resentment toward Haban welled up inside him.

After falling into the water, when they had called for the uigwan¹ for treatment, he had no choice but to take on human form. Yet none of the guards had shown the slightest surprise. It was only then that he realized everyone already knew his true identity—how utterly mortifying it had been… They had seen him digging in the dirt in his original form until he was covered in soil, and rolling about on fallen leaves.

With his face stiff and only the corners of his mouth barely turned up in a forced smile, he was just about to say something agreeable when he suddenly sensed discomfort from the side. Turning his head, he found Haban leaning against the open doorframe in a slanted posture.

…Why?

When Dori mouthed the question, Haban, without warning, pressed his lips to his.

E-Everyone’s watching…!

One of the guards was even standing right in front of them, yet those lips clung to his, rubbing against his skin.

Caught off guard, Dori was momentarily dazed, and in that instant, his upper and lower lips were sucked on. Just as a damp tongue tried to force its way in, Dori stepped back in a hurry.

Covering his mouth with his sleeve, he saw Haban’s expression twist as though something precious had been taken from him.

“Was it that one?”

“Huh? Who?”

What was he suddenly talking about?

This house had several eunuchs and guards in plain clothes, hiding their true identities.

Puzzled, Dori looked around to see who he meant, but the onlookers who had been staring in a daze quickly averted their eyes.

One suddenly claimed there wasn’t enough firewood and began chopping logs; another pointlessly poked at the well-burning fire with a stick. Wherever Dori turned his head, people busied themselves with some task.

“…No one. Forget it.”

Only then did Haban put on his shoes first and step down into the yard, extending his hand to Dori.

I can do it myself…

When in his fox form, Dori had sat on Haban’s knee and eaten whatever was offered without hesitation, but now, transformed into a human, he couldn’t act so brazenly.

With a deep sigh, Dori took Haban’s hand and carefully stepped down. Now that he thought about it, every time they had gone out for a walk, Haban had carried him in his fox form, so he had never actually stepped into the yard himself.

Haban had always been truly kind.

If he admired a flower, Haban would pick it for him.

If he looked up longingly at some ripe fruit, Haban would pluck it for him.

Wherever Dori’s gaze landed, Haban’s hand would reach, always choosing the most beautiful, most enticing things and filling his arms with them.

So now, though it was merely crossing the yard, the fact that Haban had noticed Dori’s desire to walk hand-in-hand meant he had read his heart.

With his free hand, Dori absentmindedly touched his flushed ear tips.

“…How did you know?”

“Even when I told you to keep your eyes straight ahead, you kept looking up at my hand.”

“You could tell?”

“As much as your eyes burned holes into it, of course I could tell.”

“W-We’re outside!”

In the midst of their hushed conversation, Haban let slip a remark with a different, suggestive meaning, startling Dori into quickly letting go of his hand.

But Haban only laughed, half-covering his face with his hand, which annoyed Dori so much that he poked him in the side. A guard who had been laying down a cushion on the bench flinched and stepped back.

Is it proper to behave like this toward His Majesty?

That was what the guard’s eyes seemed to be saying.

Indeed, when in fox form, Dori could tug at Haban’s robes with his teeth or bat his nose with his paw without issue, but now in human form, it seemed the impression was entirely different.

So Dori walked the last few steps half-hidden behind Haban.

“…?”

Yet, even though there was a soft cushion set in the middle of the bench, Haban sat down on the edge.

Strange. Why would he?

When Dori tilted his head in puzzlement, Haban’s gaze cooled, and Dori quickly scooted over to press himself against his side. He had guessed right—Haban’s displeasure eased noticeably.

“Leave it there.”

At that order, the guard scratching his head set the carefully prepared cushion back down instead of taking it away, then stepped back a few paces with a confused look.

“Doing pointless things…”

Haban pulled one of the cushions toward him, patted it clean, and set Dori upon it. To think of placing the white peach he alone could savor in a spot touched by another man’s hand—Haban could never allow it.

Unaware of these dark thoughts, Dori sat on the bench and looked around the yard.

Beneath his feet, a hen strutted about proudly, her neck taut, followed closely by chicks that chirped loudly and flapped their tiny wings. They were covered in soft yellow down except for their small orange beaks, legs, and shiny black eyes—it was clear they had just hatched.

However, one chick lagged behind, wobbling before plopping down onto its bottom. Its plumage was slightly different. When it quickly got back up, the feathers at its tail were tinged red, likely stained from sitting on a fallen ripe persimmon or red berry.

Well, just as there was little difference between one chicken and another, it wasn’t unusual for a chick to walk clumsily—this one was no exception.

“Haban, is this house jaga²?”

“…Jaga?”

Haban’s brow faintly furrowed at the question.

But Dori, still lost in thought about the original hen and the chicks, and the chicks and the original hen—caught up in an endless loop—added without realizing whom he was speaking to,

“I mean, is this a house you bought?”

…A stifled chuckle escaped from several directions.

It was only then that Dori, shaken from his reverie, realized what he had said. The eavesdroppers, who had been listening in, quickly covered their mouths, but it was too late—Haban had heard everything.

“…Hoo.”

It was a long sigh.

“Of course it is! Just how lawless do you take me to be…!”

“Sorry, I— I was just asking.”

Even after that, Haban seemed to flare up, raising his voice. Dori frantically whispered apologies, stammering.

Reassured that, unlike the original, this was not an abandoned house but one owned by Haban, Dori entirely forgot about the red-tailed chick that had scurried off to hide among its siblings.

As the sky turned red, the sun dipped completely behind the mountain. In the yard, bonfires burned on both sides, fed by gathered fallen leaves that crackled and blazed brightly.

But what caught Dori’s attention, after having his forehead and cheeks repeatedly kissed as punishment by Haban, was not the lively flames, but a spot where only embers remained. Someone raked away the ashes and gently rolled out sweet potatoes from within.

Soon, without a word, roasted sweet potatoes, cool goat’s milk, and a few side dishes to offset the sweet potatoes were laid out on a small table.

“Wow…”

Who had it been earlier that claimed they didn’t want snacks?

“Ow, hot!”

Dori tried to pick one up with his bare hands but quickly dropped it—it was so hot it felt like plunging his hands into fire.

Haban’s thick brows furrowed, but instead of scolding, he picked up the hot, ash-covered sweet potato, split it in half, and peeled off the skin. Steam curled up, making Dori’s mouth water.

Turning it in his hands, Haban removed the skin completely, then tore off a piece of the steaming yellow flesh and held it out toward Dori’s mouth. Inevitably, all the guards’ eyes shifted toward them.

Could it be that Haban still saw him as a fox? In this atmosphere, how was he supposed to eat…?

When Dori reached out for it, Haban pulled his hand back, only to bring the sweet potato up to his mouth again. That only made the guards’ astonishment grow.

Squeezing his eyes shut, Dori took a bite.

…Incredible. Even though the palace offered many delicacies, sweet potatoes were best when roasted like this and eaten on the spot.

Halfway through the large roasted sweet potato, the aroma of sizzling fat drifted over. The guards, unwilling to waste the fire, were grilling thick cuts of meat.

Haban, who had granted the guards this free time to share a peaceful moment with Dori, found his dwindling patience tested when Dori’s attention was drawn to the meat.

“Do you want that?”

“Huh?”

Haban pressed a finger to the corner of Dori’s mouth, rubbing it sideways as though wiping something away.

A black streak, like a brushstroke of ink, ran across his pale, flawless face. Unaware, Dori assumed Haban was brushing away some stray sweet potato and smiled with his eyes.

“No, the sweet potato is delicious.”

Just then, Jipyeong approached Haban’s other side, set down two cups with a thunk, thunk, and sat heavily. Almost at the same time, he popped the cork from a bottle of liquor, releasing a deep fragrance into the breeze.

“Your Ladyship, are you certain you won’t have some? The meat is perfectly cooked—it will burst with juices the moment you bite into it.”

At that, Dori couldn’t help but glance at Haban. Though he said nothing, his silence was as good as permission.

“Really?”

“Just don’t eat too much. If you’re unwell, digestion will be difficult.”

“Okay!”

Dori quickly set the sweet potato aside and trotted off, his back radiating excitement. Haban’s gaze, however, turned cold toward Jipyeong.

¹ Uigwan (醫官) – A royal court physician in historical Korea.

² Jaga (自家) – Literally “one’s own home” or “one’s own household”; in context, Dori is asking if this is a house personally owned by Haban.