TCBW C6

Chapter 6

“If you’re worried about the dragon not showing Himself, please don’t let it trouble you. He will see everything from the heavens above.”

Since the dawn ritual had lasted from early morning and yet the dragon had still not appeared, Unhyo — who had lived his whole life as a servant — could not help but feel uneasy about the irregularity.

“It is said He usually descends in the form of an old man or a very young child, accepts the ritual table prepared with sincerity, and blesses the future… But perhaps He is very busy today.”

“I… truly am fine.”

Suhoe gave him a gentle smile.

In truth, there was a knot of unease in his own heart as well, but he repeated the words I’m fine again and again so that Unhyo might feel reassured enough to leave.

It was almost as if he was trying to convince himself first, and because of that, Unhyo could not bring himself to take a step away, lingering with worry in his eyes until he asked, one last time:

“You’re really fine?”

Feigning composure, Suhoe nodded.

Knowing exactly how his young master’s heart was burning from within, Unhyo left nonetheless, his steps heavy.

Even after he was gone, Suhoe kept a calm face, as though there were nothing whatsoever to feel disappointed about.

Something heavy twisted in his gut, pressing on his chest, but he endured it.

If he could just stay like this — unmoved, unaffected — a little longer, then perhaps it would truly become so.

He wanted to believe that. No — he had to.

So it was while he held onto that frozen smile, the last thing allowing him to endure, that it happened.

Before Suhoe could even steady his own heart, before he could gather himself, hurrying footsteps and familiar voices drew rapidly closer — as if intent on giving him no time at all.

“It was impossible from the start. I heard they’re marrying him off as aegbaji to the house that set the curse itself — why would the dragon descend in person?”

“Exactly. What was Lady Gye‑geum thinking, offering a ritual to ask the very dragon whose Yeouiju was stolen to preside over this wedding? Even if she used only the finest ingredients for the ritual table, it’s wasted effort.”

“All that happened is we’ve been dragged out since morning for nothing.”

Immediately, Suhoe knew. These were the servants who had never taken kindly to him, who had often cast sharp looks his way.

And when he realized that their discussion’s topic was him, his heart seemed to drop straight to the floor with a thud.

As the blood drained from his face, his frantic eyes searched desperately for some place to hide.

Dragging his encumbered body, he slipped quickly behind a thick pillar, praying the servants would just pass by.

But his hopes were in vain — their footsteps stopped dead, right nearby.

“Just bear with it a little longer. After today, our job looking after that pitiful young master will finally be over. What a relief.”

“Still, from what I heard, he’s being married off to some old rich man who could die any day from the curse. Don’t you think that’s sad?”

“Well… yes, I suppose that part is a bit…”

As the words of cheap, familiar pity — words he had heard so often they had grown like thorns in his ears — followed, Suhoe’s body involuntarily shrank.

Pitiful. Poor thing.

The murmurs between their teeth, masked as pity, carried only the embedded sting of hidden contempt.

He had heard such barbed remarks countless times before, but today they seemed to pierce that much deeper.

Then one of the servants pointed sharply at something.

“Hey, look at that — isn’t that snake back again?”

“Oh, you’re right. It’s been lurking around that tree for a while now, and now it’s back again?”

Following their fingers without thinking, Suhoe’s gaze went over the wall, toward the peach tree in the shrine’s rear garden.

From where he hid — much farther away than the servants — he had to squint to see properly. Between the dry, black branches, something dark and sinuous was shifting.

With gleaming black scales catching the light, a massive snake — or perhaps a serpent — was soundlessly coiling its body up the tree.

“Looks like only unfeathered chicks are in there… they’re going to be eaten.”

“Poor things.”

“Don’t touch them, no matter how sorry you feel. If you harm a spiritual creature, it brings major trouble.”

With that, the servants clicked their tongues in showy sympathy, but just as quickly hurried away, as though the matter no longer concerned them.

Once their footsteps had completely left the yard, Suhoe stepped down into it, dragging his heavy-clad body without hesitation — not even flinching at the cold earth beneath his stockinged feet.

Scanning the corners of the yard, he found a long, thick fallen branch beneath a large juniper tree, picked it up, and approached the wall.

Then he swung it hard, aiming to strike the snake.

But the wall was taller than he’d accounted for; even reaching up with his arm fully extended, he could only flail the branch ineffectively far below the nest.

And while his attacks met only empty air, the snake climbed swiftly, slithering upward along the branch without pause.

From the nest above came the faint, fragile chirping of the chicks, and that sound only dried his lips further with anxiety.

Casting around again for anything he could stand on, his gaze fell on a dented, rusted bucket lying in a corner of the yard. Taking it, he set it by the wall and stepped up.

The moment his hands touched the edge of the wall for balance, the snake thrust its head into the nest — a sight utterly chilling to behold.

Determined to stop whatever gruesome scene would follow, Suhoe lunged forward from atop the bucket — and lost his balance entirely, pitching headlong over the wall.

“Ah!”

A short cry escaped him.

The many heavy layers of wedding clothes dragged him down.

In that split instant, he felt the dizzying sensation of the world spinning upside down — and an uncanny slowing of all motion around him.

Dowoon narrowed his eyes, looking down at the bundle in his arms.

Black hair matted slightly with leaves, yet showing the traces of careful grooming; the hem of a red silk garment, embroidered in fine though worn thread —

Hanbok? No… perhaps the proper term was wedding robe.

He didn’t know the precise term, but the attire alone told him enough about the person he was holding.

A dull throb began in his temples.

The situation was… extremely inconvenient. Not just the uproar and unexpectedness of such a first meeting, but — more vexing still — the fact that this “aegbaji” looked absurdly young.

Since producing a child would ultimately be required, he had naturally assumed his father would choose someone roughly his own age — perhaps with prior experience in childbirth.

But that prediction had been wholly wrong.

Beneath thick powder, the eyes squeezed shut in fear could not hide their youth. Twenty‑four? Or perhaps even younger.

And then there was this scent — neither wholly grass nor wholly wood. Pheromones.

It was like the freshness of grass sprouting in a winter mountain of nothing but dirt and bare branches. It meant a carrier of a secondary gender trait.

Likely startled by the fall, the youth had released pheromones. And this kind of lapse, failing to control one’s scent, was something usually seen in children younger than ten.

You’d best be careful.

The warning came back to him now — what his father had said as Dowoon was leaving after they’d struck their deal, words that had put a grim finality on the meeting.

Don’t get too taken in. The one Mount Unbang gives you will be very beautiful.

And this — this was what that had meant?

Right now, he wanted to march straight back to his father and demand an explanation.

How could he possibly “fall” for such a child?

And did his father even know the “partner” was this young?

“…Hmph.”

Still, that wasn’t the priority right now.

Never mind the youth — first he needed to know why this child had jumped from a wall.

Lowering his head toward Suhoe, he asked, rather bluntly:

“Were you trying to escape from traffickers or something?”

But the terrified Suhoe seemed unable to hear him, too shaken to regain his senses.

Judging communication impossible for the moment, Dowoon instead glanced up toward the roof tiles.

Sure enough, in one spot the snow atop the tiles had been swept aside — clear evidence someone had been sitting there recently. Undoubtedly, Suhoe had been doing something there.

And his posture when he fell didn’t suggest he had been trying to scale the wall in earnest.

Just then, a small bird — strangely silent — flitted over his head.

Dowoon’s gaze followed, up into the tree not far from the wall.

There was a nest.