Work Text:
Han Joowon is twenty six years old when the letter of betrothal arrives on his father’s desk.
“You’ve evaded this for long enough,” Han Kihwan had told him harshly, brandishing the letter like it was one of his ornamental decorative swords displayed like trophies in his office. “It’s time we found a family to join in arms with. At least now the Han Clan will no longer have a source of shame,” he looks at Joowon with disdain. Joowon’s long learned how to cope with his father’s tirades with a distant, glazed expression.
Times were uncertain, and it was said the country was on the verge of being plunged into full-on war. Han Kihwan was a prideful man, and a paranoid man, weaponizing everything he could get his hands on and control. Even his own flesh and blood, his firstborn and only progeny was not exempt.
He would weaponize marriage, and he could as he pleased.
The seal on the letter is faded, a bit worn. But the name is an old one. Joowon can make out the characters to be of the Lee Clan from Manyang - an old house, rivaling possibly the Hans’.
“I will write back to the Lee Clan elders, tell them that we accept their proposal,” Han Kihwan says, turning in his chair to gaze out the window.
Joowon looks down at his hands, fiddling with the skin beneath his fingernails. “Would I at least know who I am to marry, Father?” he asks, and he knows his father will answer this question, for once not deriding anything he said to be foolish.
Han Kihwan’s answering smile is both mocking and amused. “Why, boy, haven’t you heard of the Monster of Manyang?”
Joowon’s eyes widen as he swallows back a gulp. He’d heard the household staff whisper about this fabled figure, the stuff of legends, nightmares and warnings to children who wandered at night. A terror of a beast-man who could traverse far and wide in search of souls to feed on. The most oft told story was how his sister was not spared.
And you would agree to send me there, Joowon thinks, feeling dread creep beneath his skin. Of course you would. It is not beneath you. You let Mother disappear, after all.
“Joowon, do you think I even care for stupid superstitious tales like this?” Han Kihwan lets out a cynical cackle. It echoes in the cold, empty study. “He could be severely deformed or missing limbs for all I care, but he is of the Lee Clan. Their magic is old, and powerful. No one dares tap on it, but I will, with the familial rights,” he folds his hands together schemingly.
Joowon brushes aside his father’s insensitivity like how one might try to crush a fly, pursing his lips. He knew he could not stop his father when he was dead set on a decision.
The Lee Clan responds within a matter of mere days with a pleased letter from one of the clan elders. This time, Han Kihwan does not even bother having an audience with his son, instead sending Kwon Hyuk, his young assistant to speak to Joowon on his behalf.
“Young Master,” Kwon Hyuk bows. Perhaps now once I am out of Father’s crosshairs, he can truly have a son, he thinks cynically. Han Kihwan only ever spoke highly of Kwon Hyuk when the both of them were in his presence. How Kwon Hyuk had achieved so much.
“Kwon Hyuk,” Joowon nods curtly. “On with it.” He does not care in the slightest that he sounds brash.
Kwon Hyuk to his credit is used to the Young Master’s moods, as he deems it. “The Lee Clan is requesting that you move into the family property within the week. To help ease the betrothal and everything.”
Joowon nods slowly. “That’s quick,” he says more to himself. The Lee Clan seemed very eager for their prospective son-in-law to move in and integrate into clan life. Then again, Joowon thinks sourly, perhaps it would be for the better. Living in the Han Clan residence was like living in a collective of empty, dark caves, haunted by shadows of memories and souls long past and forgotten.
Perhaps a new life in another if not more haunted house might be a reprieve to this half-life he’d lived as Han Kihwan’s son.
“When do I need to leave?” he asks Kwon Hyuk with a wry, catlike smile, eerily mirroring that of his father’s for a fleeting moment, as Kwon Hyuk narrates the finer details to him.
Packing to leave for his matrimonial home is surprisingly a far easier process than he thought. To begin with, Han Joowon does not have too many of what people would deem as personal possessions, despite what most people perceived the heir of a highly distinguished clan to be.
He does not need to worry about clothes, because his new clan will prepare new robes for him to signify the union. Joowon wonders if he should feel guilt for being relieved that soon he would be free of sharing Han Kihwan’s last name.
There are a few books which he decides to take along with him. It’s the last few keepsakes with traces of his mother’s memory, before she vanished from his life. Han Kihwan would try to poison it, but it never worked. Joowon still holds on to the vignettes of his childhood memories of his mother reading old folktales to him as he lay beneath soft covers, her voice like a naiad’s song carrying him to sleep.
He remembers one of the stories, of a young woman and a beastly feral creature under a curse. It does not escape his notice how it resembles the story of the Monster of Manyang - rather, his betrothed.
Should I be more afraid than I am, Mother? Joowon thinks as he traces a hand over the worn leather cover of the book. I am to wed what they say is a monster. Yet, you always told me monsters were never the most frightening.
“Humans are capable of far greater evils, Joowon-ah,” Lee Suyeon had told him once, as they stood outside the house beneath the morning sun. “So you must remember to choose the good.”
At least, Joowon thinks as he carefully places the book into his bag like a cherished treasure, he thinks he should treat his betrothed with a modicum of kindness. Perhaps it was what the both of them needed and had in common.
The last dinner officially as a Han in the main house is silent, as it always was after Lee Suyeon vanished. Joowon eats quietly, avoiding eye contact with his father.
“Do you have everything you need?” Han Kihwan asks.
Does it matter? Joowon thinks as he bites on a piece of meat. “Yes, Father,” he says stiffly.
“Let me know if there’s anything you need. If the Lee Clan requests for anything at all, write to me immediately and we will give.” On the surface, Han Kihwan seemed like any other head of household. However, Joowon knows that this is but one of his father’s strategic moves.
Joowon is not a bride, but a planted mole. He wonders what the Lee Clan holds that his father wants - no, needs so desperately that he’s willing to part with some of his own for it. Sooner or later, he supposes, he will find out. And it won’t surprise him if his father will start writing to him more, to monitor him under the guise of inquiring after his well-being. He knows Han Kihwan well enough.
“Yes, Father,” Joowon replies.
Han Kihwan leans back, looking pleased as he sets his fork on the table. “Glory will come to us again,” he says. Joowon does not even bother.
That night, he dreams of shadowy corridors, whispers and a dreadful, wailing song.
By carriage, it takes half a day to get from the Han Clan residence to Manyang. Kwon Hyuk accompanies him for the journey, as there are things that need formalizing and signing. Han Kihwan does not follow his son, because he deems it unnecessary. Besides, the few hours alone in the carriage with nothing but themselves and the view of sprawling fields would be torturous.
“I wonder what the Lee Clan is like,” Kwon Hyuk remarks offhandedly as they make the crossing over from the mainland to the province where Manyang was. The signs of autumn are clear with the colors of the leaf litter on the ground, trees baring themselves for the coming winter.
“So many fables,” Joowon sighs, brushing his hands across his lap. “Perhaps I will now find out the truth.”
Kwon Hyuk clears his throat. “Young Master… what if - what if the rumors are true?”
Joowon raises an eyebrow. “Which part - the haunting part? The monster part? The fact that they say I am marrying a terrible monster?”
Kwon Hyuk bows his head regretfully. “I am sorry, Young Master if I sounded…brusque. I am merely concerned for your well-being. There are far too many whispers coming from that direction of the country for it to be mere coincidence.”
“I can be the judge of that,” Joowon replies coolly, a bit too relaxed for Kwon Hyuk’s liking. Kwon Hyuk wonders what Joowon had truly been through back at his birth home for him to take all of this in stride.
Kwon Hyuk is about to open his mouth to reply when the carriage comes to an abrupt halt. There is the sound of muffled arguments outside, and Kwon Hyuk swiftly bows to Joowon, excusing himself to check what happened outside.
“Turn back,” the voice of an elderly woman scolds the carriage driver. “If you know what is good for you, turn back now and never come back.”
That’s quite ominous, Joowon thinks as he listens in. The carriage driver is about to rebut in protest when Kwon Hyuk raises a hand in front of his face.
“Ma’am, this carriage means to cross into Manyang, and it must do so today. So may I kindly ask for you to step aside. It is dangerous to block the road like this.”
The old woman shakes her head vigorously. “I have seen too many carriages like these come and go into the gates of Manyang. You will find nothing but desolation, curses and death. Heed my warning, young man, and leave while you can.”
Kwon Hyuk sighs, his patience growing thin. “Well, this carriage is carrying the Young Master Han, intended betrothed of the Lee Clan’s eldest son. Will you now let us pass, madam?”
The old woman goes pale at Kwon Hyuk’s revelation. “No, not another one,” she trembles.
“Another one?” Kwon Hyuk parrots. He flinches when the old woman grips his forearms, fear written all over her wrinkled face.
She nods grimly. “Many a bride have passed through these roads. And nary return.” Kwon Hyuk’s pragmatic mind is tempted to dash that down as an impossibility, until she gestures to the side of the road with a trembling hand.
Rocks, lining the grass. Grave markers. Unnamed. How many were there? Kwon Hyuk stopped counting after the fourth.
“His family is of old magic,” Kwon Hyuk said to the old lady.
“There are other things to fear than just another clan’s old magic,” she says, stepping to the side of the road, knowing she was defeated.
As the carriage passes her and Joowon meets her eyes, it does not escape him how genuinely pitiful she looked.
Manyang is not far from how the fables have described it.
It’s old - dilapidated, even. Time seems to have stopped for Manyang, while everyone else moved on. The evening sun casts shadows on the buildings, and the silence is deafening considering it was only early evening.
Passing along old roads, Joowon takes in the surroundings of what will make up part of his new home. He does not turn his nose up at it - he knows if Han Kihwan were here, he would. No matter what pride the old magic could bring a clan, there was still the rest left to be desired.
Kwon Hyuk tugs at his collar, his own nerves unconcealed. “This place…” he mutters, and Joowon can easily finish his sentence for him.
“Looks like this will be home,” Joowon says shortly. Kwon Hyuk looks back at him piteously, and Joowon really, really wishes Kwon Hyuk would not look at him like that.
Going up a dirt hill, the carriage bounces up and down lightly with the uneven terrain. At last, they reach the gate that marks the exterior of the Lee Clan’s residence. The carriage pulls to a halt, and there is the sound of a cheery young man’s voice.
Kwon Hyuk clears his throat, dusting his hands on his pants as he gestures for Joowon to alight the carriage. Joowon won’t deny that it’s not at all a bad feeling to be greeted by a smiling face, considering how much doom and gloom surrounded the Lee Clan.
“You must be our new Young Master,” the young footman beams. “My name is Oh Jihoon, sir. Please call me Jihoon. I am the footman and stablehand of the household.”
Joowon nods, bowing cordially at him. “Pleased to meet you as well, Jihoon.”
Jihoon extends a hand. “Would you kindly follow me inside?” He leads the way, Joowon trailing closely behind him.
The front door creaks open, a heavy, old thing. But Joowon can’t help but feel a sense of trust at how long the door must have stood, like a sort of old guardian.
Surprisingly, the interior does not resemble a haunted, decrepit house in the slightest. In fact, it’s evident that great care had been put into the upkeep of the house. There are potted flowers on the drawers, and the portraits are maintained in good condition as well.
Joowon shifts his gaze to the portraits lining the front hall of the Lee Clan main house. He can infer who were the elders, the patriarchs and matriarchs, until he stops in front of what must be the present day inhabitants of the house.
Two portraits. A young woman gazing distantly, and the other - well, Joowon cannot make it out because it’s the most damaged looking, more distorted than even the oldest of all the portraits.
This must be him, Joowon thinks. My betrothed. Part of him had hoped he could gain an early clue on how his betrothed might look like, but if the front hall was already like this, he stood little chance of finding another portrait of the man elsewhere.
“Seems like you have met the family,” a curt, stern voice cuts through Joowon’s thoughts. He turns, meeting eyes with a woman who looks to be slightly older than he is. Her short hair is neatly tucked behind her ears, and her appearance makes Joowon think of a falcon watching from a tree, perhaps waiting to strike at the opportune time.
“Welcome, Young Master, to the Lee Clan,” the woman tucks her hands at her waist and bows at an almost perfect angle. “I am Oh Jihwa, and I help with the daily running of the house.”
The main housekeeper, Joowon deduces, but there’s something about the air about her that Joowon is starkly aware that she is likely a lot more than that, and he ought not to cross her.
“Miss Oh,” Joowon bows. “Thank you for the welcome.”
She looks at him, appearing expressionless but Joowon feels awfully perceived under her watchful gaze. “I should show you around the house.”
“Will we be able to meet -” Kwon Hyuk asks and Jihwa looks at him wordlessly. He was obviously wondering if Joowon’s still elusive betrothed would make an appearance to sign and place the family stamp on the engagement documents.
Jihwa shakes her head, and not daring to probe the matter any further, Kwon Hyuk follows the two of them deeper into the house.
Joowon takes his time to take in the surroundings of the house, while Jihwa briefs him on the history of the clan, and some important events. Nothing out of the ordinary.
“If there’s something you’re looking to uncover, you will not find it here, Young Master Han,” Jihwa says sharply.
“There’s nothing at all, Miss Oh,” Joowon answers with a sincere smile. “It is a beautiful home.”
At the display of his honesty, there is the slightest of smiles on Jihwa’s face. “It was especially radiant when the Young Mistress was around,” she says wistfully. That young woman’s portrait that he’d seen on the wall, Joowon realizes. That must have been his future sister-in-law. Or would have been, considering she’d long passed on.
“Sounds like she brought a lot of joy into the home,” Joowon remarks as they cross the garden towards the annexe of the house. Jihwa freezes in her step, and her eyes look misty.
“Yes. Yes, she did. And the Master -” she stops herself, before muttering a rushed apology, her steps hastening as they cross the periphery into the building.
There is an aroma trailing from the kitchen, and Joowon’s stomach makes a noise at the smell of meat cooking. It is now approaching dinnertime, making Joowon wonder what they might be having tonight.
Jihwa leads them into the kitchen, where a young woman is busy inspecting a large hunk of meat roasting over the fire, while the other kitchen staff rush around frenetically.
“Jaeyi,” Jihwa calls and the woman spins round on her heel. She looks as if she’s about to voice some complaint, but restrains herself when she catches sight of Joowon.
The head of the kitchen - Jaeyi, bows to Joowon. “Young Master,” she says, pushing a stray hair from her face. “Welcome. Dinner will be ready shortly,” she smiles before resuming her work, shouting some instructions at the flustered kitchen staff.
“I should at least show you your quarters before dinner,” Jihwa says, as they clear the kitchen.
On the other side of the annexe are where the rooms are located. There is a room specially prepared for Joowon, as they do not expect him to share his quarters with his betrothed before their arrangement is made official.
The furnishings are befitting of a nobleman’s son, with a folding screen, ornate drawers and vases on the perimeter of the room. The bed looks freshly made, and nothing is out of place.
“Thank you for the hospitality towards our young master,” Kwon Hyuk says to Jihwa as Jihwa escorts him towards the exit. Han Kihwan will be expecting him back to give him a report over dinner on Joowon’s first day at the Lee Clan’s home, and whether there was anything he needed to know.
“He will be well taken care of,” Jihwa gives him a slight nod as he boards the carriage. “We will see you for the signing,” she bows, and the carriage leaves. Joowon will not see him again until the engagement is made official.
Joowon is asked to wait in his room until he is summoned for dinner. He decides to unpack his things, placing the books by the window. He notices an interesting piece of decoration - a pair of mandarin ducks, probably hand carved and painted by a master craftsman, looking at the level of detail. It was befitting for an impending wedding.
He decides to step out onto the small balcony, gazing at the trees billowing in the breeze, lining the border of the property. Joowon’s eyes land on a far corner of the corridor, where there is another room, the door seemingly sealed shut.
Is that where… he thinks, leaning to get a closer look. He must be in there, Joowon thinks.
He is about to take a step closer, when one of the servants knocks on his door, calling him to the dining room for dinner. He would have to sate his curiosity later.
Dinner is a solemn affair, for Joowon is the only one at the table, the other servants and house staff standing around him. Even back home, it was never this quiet, because his father would usually have some things to say.
Joowon takes a scoop of rice, glancing around at the array of dishes set before him, fit for royalty. It was a bit more than he was accustomed to back home, as this must have been a welcome meal.
Jihwa pours tea for him. “On behalf of the Master, I apologize that he is unable to join you for dinner tonight,” she says. Sensing his concern, she reassures him, “Dinner will be sent directly to his quarters. Though the Master isn’t the sort to eat much, these days.”
Joowon thinks of a solitary figure shunned by the world, eating alone.
“It seems that you haven’t bought into the stories, Young Master Han,” Jihwa remarks as she serves him some tea cookies, bright and colorful.
“What makes you say that, Miss Oh?” Joowon says, taking a bite of one of the flower shaped cookies. It’s good, he thinks. He wonders if his betrothed has a sweet tooth, or what he liked.
Jihwa hands over the almost empty pot to one of the servants, who takes it back to the kitchen. “You’re the most calm person I've seen step into this house.”
Joowon wipes his hand with the napkin. “I’m not one for believing in folktales, Miss Oh,” Joowon says simply. “I prefer to see the truths for myself.”
The corner of Jihwa’s lips curls upward.
Full from the feast earlier, Joowon decides to take a walk around the house, thinking it best to learn the layout of the house since it would become home, eventually.
He, however, had received a rather ominous warning from Jihwa earlier, which was to not step into the garden behind the furthest side of the annexe. Do not, under any circumstances, enter that place, Jihwa had said.
Instead, he decides to visit the other rooms, such as the library which was full of old books. It seemed as if no one had stepped into it for a long time, for a layer of thick grey dust had formed on the top of the books.
With some cleaning, Joowon thinks it could be one of the places he could see himself spending time in. He would ask Jihwa in the morning to attain permission from his betrothed, if someone could be sent to help clear the dust from the place.
He’s drawn to one of the books in particular, one with a painting of a tiger on the cover. Just as he’s about to flip it open, there is the unmistakable sound of something else moving around in the room, near where he stood. Joowon turns sharply on his heel, but there’s nothing there. Odd, he thinks. He could swear he heard something. Almost like footsteps.
There’s a loud clattering, and when Joowon turns toward the direction of the noise, a book rests on the floor. He picks it up, dusting it off gently before placing it back carefully on the shelf.
Maybe his fatigue was getting the better of him. Perhaps he ought to turn in for the night.
He dreams again, this time of a young woman looking forlorn, sitting by his window.
Joowon wakes just after sunrise, feeling as if he’d slept very lightly. Breakfast might help him feel better after the sleep he had the night before.
As he settles at his seat at the table for breakfast, Joowon motions to Jihwa.
“May I make a request to my betrothed, Miss Oh?” he asks and she raises an eyebrow curiously at him.
“It’s about the library,” he says with a slight smile. “I’m wondering if it can be cleaned up. I would like to spend some time in the day there, if I can.”
Jihwa looks visibly confused, and to that, Joowon continues. “It would not be well-mannered of me to impose my will. This isn’t my home, after all.”
Jihwa considers for a moment, before nodding. “I will see to it that it is done.” She lowers her head, concealing the smile spreading on her face from Joowon.
When Joowon lived at his birth home, he would go for walks when he could to clear his head, especially after particularly exhausting interactions with his father. Near the entrance to the Lee Clan house is a garden - different from the one that Jihwa had forbade him from stepping foot into.
The flowers are flourishing, likely in part due to old magic, it being almost winter - and there is a small pond with some carp swimming around. Joowon smiles when he sees one of the yellow blooms.
“Good morning, Young Master,” Jihoon’s cheerful lilt greets him. “I hope your first night was a peaceful one.”
Joowon nods. “Yes, thank you, Jihoon. Did you grow all these?” he turns around, looking impressed. Jihoon chuckles, shaking his head. “It was my father, actually,” he says, sheepishly rubbing the back of his head.
“Your father?” Joowon asks.
“Yes. My father had worked these gardens, until he grew too frail to help with their upkeep.”
Seeing Joowon’s curious expression, Jihoon continues. “Most of those who work here, our families worked here too. The Lee Clan are a loyal bunch,” he says, his provincial accent making an appearance. “They don’t forget who helped them.”
“Then, the stories -”
“Please pardon my language, Young Master, but the stories people spread about this place are a load of bull,” Jihoon says with a frown. “Made up by people who don’t know any better.”
An idea pops into Joowon’s head. “Then - have you met the master of the house, Jihoon?”
At that mention, Jihoon visibly freezes. “No - as a matter of fact, I have not, Young Master. My father did speak of him, but not much. Seems like the Master became somewhat of a recluse, ever since, well -”
His sister, Joowon finishes the thought on his own. Of course.
“I understand,” Joowon says shortly before deciding to change the subject. “You do a good job of the flowers,” he smiles and Jihoon’s cheeks flush.
Nearby, a flower pot falls loudly to the ground. Strange, for there was no wind, only the warm mid-morning air.
“Oh dear, I better pick that up,” Jihoon mutters, rushing over. Thankfully, the pot had not broken to pieces after the fall, but some of the soil had spilled out and Jihoon would have to scoop it back carefully into the pot.
Joowon watches Jihoon work for a while, before he continues on his exploration of the property.
He finds himself back in the library once more. And to his surprise and satisfaction, it’s cleaned up and good as new.
Joowon swells with happiness as he walks around to examine the books. His betrothed heeded the request. Somehow, the thought made his heart pick up several paces. So there was some kindness in him, he thinks.
Another idea flashes into his mind. In the corner of the library is a single desk, with some ink and paper placed atop.
He picks up the pen, dips the nib into the ink, and begins to write. Dear Master Lee… Later, he passes it to one of the servants who was on her way to the other side of the house with some food on a tray - it must be for him.
Joowon does not get a reply to his letter. But no matter, he thinks, as long as his sentiment was conveyed to his betrothed, he was content. Somehow, there was something in him that wanted to make sure he got this right. If he was going to spend his life with this person, mysterious as he was, he should do his part to build a good foundation too.
He thinks of his father and his mother. He would not make the same mistakes Han Kihwan did, he was sure of it.
There are plenty of things Joowon is curious about at this point. He hopes that soon, he could meet his betrothed and have his questions answered. After his conversation with Jihoon, he doubts that the other house staff would be able to answer him, sensing how reclusive his betrothed was being.
He decides perhaps he should write more letters. For a fleeting moment, he ponders if his betrothed was a lonely person.
It is on a cloudy evening where things take another turn.
Joowon decides to take a nightly stroll on the grounds after dinner, the breeze pleasant and cooling to the touch. He closes his eyes, when he hears it. A song, gentle, calling to him.
He decides to follow.
Foolish, something at the back of his mind gnaws at him. But he goes against it, and follows.
He should not have been surprised in the slightest that it led him to the one place in the property that he should never have gone to.
The back garden.
It is a stark contrast to the garden that Jihoon takes such care to maintain its beauty. This fact only makes Joowon more curious - what was the difference between this garden and the one in front?
At the center stands a solitary willow tree, imposing and hauntingly beautiful in front of Joowon. Around it, the plants are either dying or mostly already dead - the smell filling Joowon’s nostrils as he takes a glance around.
So much death, Joowon can sense. What on earth could have happened here?
He cannot help but be drawn to the willow tree. Something pulls him, calls to him - that singing voice - and in the corner of his eye, a silhouette of a young woman, nearly translucent like a will o’ the wisp.
Then a feral shout pierces the night air. Joowon falls to the ground, legs crumbling from the shock.
YOU WERE TOLD NEVER TO COME HERE, the voice snarls. Joowon shields his head with his hands, a meaningless show of defense. He feels himself being tugged roughly up by the hand to stand, and he comes face to face with -
Oh. This is no beast. Even in the chaos of his mind, fuelled by pure adrenaline, Joowon is able to distinguish that this figure that had a deathly grip on him was no fearsome monster at all.
The man is almost his height, and from his disheveled appearance Joowon can make a few suppositions: the man was older than him, he had not seen daylight perhaps in a long time, but he also understood at last why people called him the Monster of Manyang. His hair is long and unkempt, going below his shoulders, and in the moonlight Joowon can make out the traces of scars on his skin.
So was his betrothed, the one they called a beast, terror of many. And the person Joowon would be spending the rest of his life with.
“I-I am sorry,” Joowon stutters, glancing away from the man. “I am so very sorry.”
“Leave,” the man snarls. “If I see you here again, you will go home to Clan Leader Han in a box.”
Joowon gulps, collecting himself before walking slowly away. He thinks he can hear the echoes of soft sobs as he finds his way back to the main house.
He barely sleeps, tossing and turning almost the entire night.
“I see you’ve met the Master,” Jihwa remarks dryly as she pours Joowon coffee at breakfast. She thinks he probably needs something stronger, considering the ordeal he’d been through the night before.
For a moment, Jihwa wonders, how would she know, but then it dawns on him that out of everyone in the house, she’s probably the one to have the most contact with the Master.
“I did,” Joowon admits. “I did the one thing I wasn’t supposed to do,” he says almost as if he’s confessing some heinous offense. Jihwa, however, does not look very fazed.
“You are barely the first,” she sighs, folding her arms. “But you are lucky. The others had it worse. And the next day, they left.”
So that’s where the stories of disappearances came from, thinks Joowon as he takes a long sip of the strong coffee. The others before him had been equally unable to resist the urge, and fled the place.
Joowon, however, was not so inclined.
“Yet, you remain, Young Master Han,” she muses, almost as if singing a song. “Yet you stayed.”
“Indeed what I saw last night was quite a… display, but I do not intend to leave, if that is what you are wondering, Miss Oh,” Joowon replies gravely as he continues to take his breakfast in silence.
What have you seen, or been through, Young Master, Jihwa ponders as she watches him eat, that you are willing to stay here?
Joowon decides it is probably time for him to find out more, since the day of signing the engagement papers were drawing near. He thinks it wise to not wander into the back garden any more, in fear that his betrothed might withdraw from the arrangement.
He starts by asking some of the servants, at least those he can sense might be more willing to divulge, about the late Young Mistress. It is then that some of the pieces are clearer to him. Her name was Lee Yuyeon, and she was the delight of the house, and of the Master no less. The apple of his eye, the light of their darkened days ever since their mother had taken ill and needed to be admitted to a sanatorium.
Joowon thinks it impolite to barge straight to her quarters, although the servants have told him where he might find it, but there are other clues she’s left behind. In one of the rooms is a gayageum that she was so fond of playing, especially for her brother. There are musical scores on yellowed paper left behind.
There is one that captures Joowon’s attention - Song of Mandarin Ducks, and from the title, Joowon deduces that Yuyeon must have composed this with the intention of hopefully playing it when her brother got married. A lump forms in Joowon’s throat at the thought.
She never got to. She was snatched away, most of the servants had said. But exactly by what, no one had a clue. The one person who did may also be the most reluctant.
He puts back the score in its original place, whispering a hope that Yuyeon was at peace.
The soft song begins again, like a murmur in his ear, soft as the wind blowing by the willow.
Yuyeon? he wonders, and the song ends as quickly as it began.
It is a chilly morning on the day Kwon Hyuk is supposed to arrive again for the signing of the betrothal document. Joowon decides to coop himself inside the library, distracting his thoughts with some light reading.
There was still so much he wanted to know. What happened to Yuyeon, what happened to the house, and most of all, his betrothed remained the biggest enigma in the house to him. At least now he knew what the man looked like.
Since the encounter that night in the back garden, Joowon had not seen him again. He knew he probably wouldn’t catch sight of him today either.
A knock on the door makes Joowon slam his book shut abruptly.
“Young Master Han, it is time.”
The engagement is done as quickly as Joowon signs his name on the paper. The Lee Clan’s seal is already there, making it official.
So this is it, Joowon thinks. The first few steps leading into a lifetime.
As for the wedding, it will be some time before the ceremony, Jihwa informs Kwon Hyuk, who nods solemnly. He conveys to her about the ceremonial dowry that the Han Clan will provide generously. Han Kihwan clearly wanted to convey his level of generosity as patriarch to his new family.
Before Kwon Hyuk leaves, he hands Joowon a letter in private - sealed with the Han’s family crest in navy blue. It’s evident who it’s from, and Joowon frowns as he sits at the desk in the library to open it.
His father doesn’t even begin with any salutation. “The old man wastes no time,” Joowon mutters to himself dryly.
I hear that things are going without much hassle in the Lee Clan house. I trust you know what to do, moving forward. If you hear - or see anything of note, you must let me know at once.
Joowon wants to burn the paper until it is nothing but a pile of ash. He tears up the letter, tucking the fragments into the pocket of his outer cloak, before storming out of the library. Maybe it would find better use as fertilizer for the plants in Jihoon’s garden.
Jaeyi, sensing the Young Master in a foul mood, invites him into the kitchen.
“Young Master, are you busy today? If you aren’t busy with wedding preparations, I do need some help with the buns I am baking, if you do not mind getting your hands a little bit dirty.”
Joowon stares down at the table covered in floor, baking tools at the ready, and nods. Perhaps a distraction would do him good. He observes as she makes the dough with deft, skilled movements.
“Half of these will have red bean filling, while the other will have meat,” she smiles as she rolls the soft dough into nearly perfect round balls. “The Master likes the red bean type.”
Joowon’s ears perk up at that. So there is something he likes, he thinks.
Jaeyi casts a glance at Joowon, who is so distracted that he’s almost making an oval shape rather than a sphere. She chuckles. “Yes, the Master enjoys red bean. Was that something you’ve been trying to find out, Young Master Han?”
Joowon feels his cheeks heat up, unable to muster up a response to Jaeyi, who grins at him. “I’m not surprised. Both of you are now engaged, after all. Of course you would want to know about your fiance, and it’s difficult considering he’s, well -” she drops her voice, “an absolute hermit.”
Joowon chooses to say nothing, continuing to make work of the dough Jaeyi had cut. “If I were to be so bold, Young Master, I’m frankly surprised you’ve stuck through this long.”
He clicks his tongue. “So I’ve been told by a few.”
Jaeyi furrows her brow as she stares at him. “Then, why stay?”
He swallows. “Because anywhere else is better than home.”
Jaeyi’s expression fades into one of sympathy. “I see,” she whispers, taking the rolled up dough balls from him to put onto another tray. “I am sorry for intruding.”
He shakes his head. “No, not at all, Jaeyi. You aren’t being impolite.”
Jaeyi sighs as she carries the tray to another side table so that the dough can rest until it was ready for baking. “Still, if I were in your shoes, it would be very difficult for me to accept such a request. Marrying someone I didn’t know, and whose face I’d never seen.”
She makes sense, Joowon thinks. Though their families were of noble circles and there had been a high chance of them meeting in the past, Joowon had never seen his fiance’s face until recently.
“Come,” Jaeyi says. “Help me load these into the oven. And don’t drop any, if not your fiance might get cross and then I’ll be in bigger trouble than if I were to step into the garden,” she jests, eliciting a laugh from Joowon.
The next few weeks involve a lot of meetings between Jihwa and Joowon, mainly on the arrangements for the wedding. It was odd to be making some of these decisions alone without his soon to be husband.
Husband. The word had an odd taste on Joowon’s tongue. Growing up, he’d never thought much about who he might be married to, let alone the concept of it. His father only spoke of it when he meant it as some kind of mechanism to be weaponized.
A funny thought lands in Joowon’s head. He hopes that his soon to be husband would get a haircut before the wedding day, if not he would not look so nice in a robe. Joowon catches himself, his cheeks burning. Why was he wondering what his husband-to-be would look good in?
Also, it was quite amusing that besides some of the more bold servants coming up to him saying how brave he was in the garden on that particular night, the others were whispering about it. Yes, it had frightened him, but was it that strange that he was not completely overcome by fear? He was admittedly treading more lightly since then, but it was also out of consideration, too.
Well trained by Han Kihwan, that same gnawing voice bites. Joowon ignores it.
After the wedding, maybe then he could have a new start. A new life, free of Han Kihwan’s voice or a voice that had taken form in Joowon’s mind, existing to parrot him. Maybe that was why the thought of being married to an elusive figure didn’t daunt him as much.
Later, when Joowon thinks back on it in hindsight, Jaeyi had helped kicked things further into motion.
“Here, can you help me take this to the Master? It’s his favorite red bean buns. I’m sorry, I’ve got to get started on lunch so I can’t,” she sounds apologetic as she shoves the tray into a stunned Joowon’s hands. “His room is the last one on the left, I think you’ve figured it out by now. Thank you, Young Master. I owe you!” she calls, almost forcing him out of the kitchen.
“Weird,” Joowon thinks as he walks along the corridor, to the front of the Master’s door. He sets the tray down, knocking three times.
“I brought you red bean buns,” Joowon says. “You should take them, while they’re still warm.”
He gets up from the ground, turning around to leave without another word, forcing down the urge in case he incurs the Master’s fury again. That would prove to be an inconvenience although things had been moving at a glacial pace at best between them.
Just after he’s taken his dinner, he is quite pleased when one of the servants, looking a bit flustered, hands him a carefully folded up note.
Written in hurried script are but two simple words: Thank you. Yet, they are more than adequate.
Joowon cannot help the silly grin forming on his face. At last, his husband-to-be had given him a reply. He thinks of the small stack of letters he’d probably sent to him, wondering where they might be.
Jaeyi, strangely, makes it a semi-regular habit for Joowon to bring various food items to the Master’s room. Joowon decides to add brief notes to put on the tray to give to the Master.
One evening, he is emboldened with a new idea. Jihwa is stunned when she receives the request - for two trays of food to be brought outside the Master’s room at dinner.
When Jaeyi reaches the door, her lips curl into a smirk when she sees Joowon sitting outside the door. She swiftly adjusts her expression, clearing her throat to get Joowon’s notice. He takes the tray from her hands, nodding in thanks.
As she leaves, she pauses just at the point of the corridor where she’s far enough to evade Joowon’s notice but close enough to hear.
“Here’s your dinner,” Joowon says with three taps to the door. “I’ll turn around, if you don’t want me to see,” he says simply, no trace of fear in his voice.
Jaeyi freezes when she hears the door slide open and the noise of cutlery clattering as the Master takes his tray. True to his word, Joowon does not turn around, only turning back when he hears the door close with a sharp thud.
Joowon does not move, instead whispering a soft thank you for the food before he begins to eat. He’s sure that the Master can hear him from behind the door. Joowon chooses not to say much, letting a companionable silence pass between them.
It is as if he's wordlessly saying, I’m here, if it ever feels lonely.
In return, Joowon receives small gifts, reminiscent of how a magpie would act. Sometimes, it is the strangest of objects, like a random stone. Sometimes, it is a book, which Joowon cherishes.
He continues to spend his evenings dining with his betrothed, even if it isn’t the most conventional of arrangements, sitting outside his door. Yet Joowon does not mind, for it is better than trying to force niceties and conversations.
When Joowon manages to pluck up the courage one evening, he begins to share more about himself, about his life growing up. What it was like in his home, the kinds of plants that were kept there. His father was allergic to pollen, so there were hardly any flowers.
One evening where he’s had a bit too much fruit wine, he shares about his mother. How she vanished, and how his father had stood in front of him one morning and declared that he would never see her again. How he cried for days after. Joowon wipes at his cheek, babbling an apology when he feels his cheeks dampen.
Then, the door slides open. Joowon looks up slowly, vision a little blurred from the tears, then he realizes he’s face to face with his betrothed.
Wow, he actually bothered to comb his hair, Joowon thinks with mild amusement. For once, he could make out all of the other man’s features.
“I’m sorry,” the Master blurts, clearly unsure what else to say as he extends a handkerchief towards Joowon, who accepts the gesture.
“Thank you,” he whispers, dabbing at his face.
The Master looks curiously at Joowon, who is tidying up his utensils and getting ready to retire for the night.
“I should go. I’m sorry too, for bothering you,” Joowon’s voice is so soft like a gentle breeze, barely there.
When Joowon leaves, the Master wonders if it’s a trick of his mind when he hears, You should have asked him to stay, a voice with a playful lilt, one he had not heard in so long.
“Yuyeon,” he whispers into the night air, like a prayer.
The Master is the next to make his move, as he sends a note summoning Jihwa to his quarters. Jihwa wonders what might be the matter, up till the point she’s standing outside his door.
“You sent for me, Master?” The door opens with a swift movement, and she enters still feeling rather confused.
The Master sits at his desk, tapping impatiently on the wood. “I need to have dinner with him.”
Jihwa narrows her eyes. “Who is the he you are referring to -”
“Him. The - My betrothed.” Jihwa would laugh at the way he says the word, sounding so foreign to him like he’s tasting how it feels for the first time on his tongue. She wisely does not react.
“But sir, if you do not mind me saying, have you not been dining with him for most of your evenings now?” she says, leaning closer.
He looks up at her with a withered expression. “Most of those times, I was sitting inside here, while he sat outside to eat alone. Does that seem remotely proper to you, considering the arrangement?”
Jihwa wonders if she needs to slap herself awake. Was this a dream?
“So what would you like me to do for you, sir?”
The Master tugs at a lock of his own hair, looking a bit pained. “I don’t know, you tell me. Can I sit in the dining room and face him like, well, this?”
Jihwa has to hold back a snort which is threatening to escape. The Master, for the first time, was so concerned about his appearance. Where did he learn that from?
That Young Master Han Joowon, she thinks. What sort of power does he have, to render the Master like this?
“I will ask the servants to help draw you a bath. And help you into the appropriate attire, if you need. When would you like this to be done, so that I can inform the Young Master?” she can barely conceal how pleased she feels at this development of events.
“Tonight,” he says gruffly.
“It will be done, sir,” she says with a bow, turning on her heels. If she were allowed to, she would actually skip back to the main annexe.
Jihoon is the one to break the news to Joowon. Apparently, all the servants in the house were clamoring to be the one to inform Joowon that his betrothed was going to dine with him tonight in the dining room. Jihoon had won the rapid game of go which they’d used to decide the winner.
Joowon blinks at Jihoon, and Jihoon wonders for a moment if the news has broken him somehow.
The next thing Joowon does is rise to his feet so quickly that he nearly falls over. “I need to get ready,” he says dazedly.
“I will send for the servants, sir,” Jihoon grins, rushing out of the room.
It is a team effort to help the Master of the house get ready for the evening’s events. After he has spent enough time in the bath, they scour the wardrobe to find a robe which is fitting for him to wear for dinner.
Eventually, they decide on a dark blue piece, and for his hair, it is neatly pinned back with an ornate pin with jade.
The Master glances down, looking nervous for perhaps the first time in a very long time, the servants think.
“You look very nice, Sir,” Jihoon says with a thumbs up. “I think the Young Master would be very pleased.” At that, the Master makes a choked noise, before brushing past them to head to the main house for dinner.
Joowon isn’t sure if he should take his seat just yet. He waits in the dining room, a thousand thoughts rushing through his mind at once. Would he show up? Was he already having regrets? Joowon grips a hand on one of the chairs to steady himself.
“The Master is here,” a voice calls from behind the door, and shortly after, it slides open to reveal the Master of the Lee Clan.
To say he was stunned is a severe understatement. Joowon feels as if he’s about to have dinner with a completely different person altogether, compared to the one he’d seen in the garden all that time ago.
He dares say he looks handsome even.
“Have a seat,” the Master gestures and Joowon does as he’s told. Jihwa glances between the two of them, before signaling to the servants to begin serving dinner.
Joowon can’t help but feel as if someone was watching him during dinner. When he looks up from his meal, the Master is busy eating, or at least he looks like he’s occupied. Sensing Joowon looking at him, the Master looks back.
“Is the food to your liking?” the Master breaks his silence.
Joowon nods with a shy smile. “The food here is wonderful. Jaeyi is a very good cook.”
The Master makes a sound of agreement. “Indeed she is. She learned well from her mother before her.” The Lee Clan don’t forget who helped them, Joowon remembers Jihoon telling him once.
“It is very kind of you, to let them continue working for you and treating them well,” Joowon smiles, taking a sip of his drink.
At that, the Master coughs, shy at the sudden praise. “They’re good people,” he manages.
Joowon’s eyes soften. “That says a lot about you too, Master Lee,” he murmurs.
“Dongsik,” the other man says.
“I’m sorry?” Joowon blurts, trying to comprehend what he’d just revealed.
“That’s my name. You can call me that, considering we are,” he gestures around and the awkwardness of it makes Joowon actually chuckle.
“Dongsik,” Joowon says gently like he’s taking care to say it properly. After so long, he now knows his betrothed’s name.
“Joowon,” he points to himself. “Han Joowon.”
A pleased smile forms on Dongsik’s face, and it is quite a nice contrast from when they first met.
It seems that the newly gained knowledge of each other’s names helps to warm things up between them, the two of them easing into more casual conversation as they finish the meal.
After the meal, Dongsik tells Joowon he wishes to bring him somewhere. As they walk through the grounds, their arms bump against each other. Eventually, Joowon lets a rapid burst of courage overtake his own thoughts as he brushes a hand against Dongsik’s.
Dongsik gives in, resting their hands against each other in a slightly awkward way that is one step short of holding hands. He doubts his heart can take so much for now. Joowon does not seem to mind, letting Dongsik lead them to where he wants to bring him.
Eventually, to Joowon’s great surprise, he leads them to the back garden, pausing beneath the willow.
“I thought you didn’t want me here,” Joowon stutters.
Dongsik looks over at him, and Joowon wonders why they would call this man a monster. A monster who was not at all rude in the slightest to his house staff, who made sure that their families and children didn’t just have a living but a roof over their heads, who clearly adored his sister.
“There’s a story that I didn’t want every other person having knowledge of,” Dongsik confesses at last. Joowon brushes a thumb over Dongsik’s hand in what he hopes is a comforting gesture. “Long ago, my sister - the last place I saw her was here, in this very garden. The next day, she disappeared from my life, forever.”
Joowon rests his head on Dongsik’s shoulder, closing his eyes and taking in a deep breath. This must have been the most dreaded of Dongsik’s memories, and he will not take it for granted that Dongsik was sharing this with him. “I am truly sorry,” he whispers, and Dongsik leans to rest his chin on the top of Joowon’s head.
“I’ve been alone for a long time, Joowon,” Dongsik whispers into Joowon’s hair.
“I only hope my being here helps at least a little bit,” Joowon says, silence passing between them.
They share a moment’s reprieve, until one of the servants rushes over to them, bowing frantically and blurting repeated apologies.
“What’s the matter?” Dongsik says, and Joowon stands upright, not letting go of Dongsik’s hand.
“Young Master Han,” the servant says apologetically, “It’s a letter written by your father. I am not sure if he meant it for you, but it was sent here on urgent notice.”
Joowon swallows, taking the paper with him. He reads it, and a cold sensation rushes down his spine. The fool who leads the Lee clan, the letter reads. His relation, Lee Changjin, knows that his sister found out what I was doing on the border of Manyang. Han Joowon is useless as a pawn, he is acting too slowly for my liking, so we must move- here he forces himself to stop, breathing shallow. Dongsik snatches the letter, hands trembling as he reads the whole truth.
Dongsik’s sister. Yuyeon. Gone because of his father’s selfishness and lack of ability to face justice.
How cruel fate could be.
Joowon swallows. He’s not sure when it started pouring around them, as if the skies too were weeping for the two of them, and for Yuyeon. “Let me do it,” he grips Dongsik’s hands. “Let me get that Han Kihwan.”
Dongsik looks at Joowon with a blank expression. “How did this letter even reach here -”
“Someone connected to my clan and yours must have intercepted it. Someone who also wants Han Kihwan to fall as much as we do,” Joowon says with desperation. “So let me, Dongsik. I will drag him to the pits of hell. This - this will be my atonement.”
Dongsik glances at Joowon painfully. “Your father’s sins are not yours, Joowon-ah,” he says. “I won’t let you ruin yourself.”
Not like me, is what he does not say.
“We’re both not safe, we must -” and the loud sounds of horses and men on horseback grow louder and louder as a small army led by Han Kihwan infiltrates the gardens.
The servants, Joowon thinks frantically. Where were they, if Han Kihwan could enter like this? He hoped desperately that they were in safe places, or hiding.
“I’ve a betrayer in my midst,” Han Kihwan says through gritted teeth. “That damned disloyal dog, Kwon Hyuk.”
Kwon Hyuk, Joowon’s eyes widen. So he was the mole. And all this while, he thought Kwon Hyuk was nothing but another loyalist for his father to pull the strings of. Yet Kwon Hyuk had proved otherwise.
“None of that will matter after tonight, when both of you are gone,” Han Kihwan declares. “Then whatever power the Lee Clan has been concealing will belong to the Han Clan.”
Joowon stands in front of Dongsik, shielding him with his arms. “You will not touch my betrothed,” he raises his voice defiantly at his father.
Han Kihwan brandishes his sword. Nudging his horse, he moves closer towards Joowon who still refusing to budge.
Time seems to freeze in that moment. Joowon closes his eyes slowly, thinking how he wished he had more time with Dongsik. How he wished he’d been braver and acted sooner. How he wished they could stand before each other with ceremonial robes, holding the ancestral tablets and professing each other as their forever.
But if this was how it were to end, with a valiant sacrifice for his betrothed, Joowon thinks it isn’t too horrible a way to go.
He can feel the sword start to prick his shoulder, when there’s another collective noise of shouts approaching them.
“There they are! Get the Han Clan Leader, quickly!” the magistrate orders, and soon, Han Kihwan is surrounded by royal guards who shout relentlessly at him to drop his weapon.
Han Kihwan, for the first time in his life, is outnumbered and forced to surrender.
When they hear the sound of Han Kihwan’s sword finally hitting the ground, Joowon turns, and Dongsik pulls him close. Joowon is relieved to feel the warmth of his breath on his face.
They hold each other for a long time, ignoring everything else that was happening around them. They do not even watch Han Kihwan being taken away by the magistrate, still holding on to each other.
That night, Dongsik does not sleep alone in his quarters for the first time. He looks over at Joowon, who looks much calmer than he was earlier when his father had barged into the residence.
“Are you still mulling about it?” Dongsik asks, and for the first time, there’s a lightness in his voice.
Joowon shakes his head slowly. “Just shocked, is all,” he mutters.
Dongsik finds himself staring at Joowon’s mouth, feeling the desire to draw closer, to see how it might feel to close that last bit of space between them.
So he does. He leans in so carefully, gently kissing Joowon, whose eyes flutter as he returns the kiss with enthusiasm.
It’s as if it’s stoked a fire that had been waiting to be lit. Joowon’s hands travel hungrily along Dongsik’s body, wanting to feel every inch.
Eventually, Dongsik manages to pin Joowon beneath him, and Joowon looks up at him, eyes dark with desire, with want.
“Too many layers,” Joowon mutters, hands resting on the front of Dongsik’s robes. It makes Dongsik chuckle. “Brat,” he says, warm with affection.
Dongsik shifts his leg, his knee pressing against the space between Joowon’s legs, and he smirks when he feels a hardness there, revelling in the noises Joowon makes when he moves his knee up and down.
They have plenty of time, Dongsik thinks as he helps Joowon out of his robes, leaning to touch and feel every inch of him.
Mornings now begin with the routine of the two of them attempting to untangle their limbs from each other in varied states of nakedness, depending on the day. This particular one is a little more special than most.
“Master Lee Joowon,” Dongsik shakes Joowon’s arm. “It’s way past sunrise. We should get up.”
“No,” Joowon mumbles, pulling the sheets above his head in defiance. “Stay.”
Dongsik yanks the sheet off Joowon. “Master Lee Joowon, we have a lot to do today. I don't think it's a good day to be late.”
Joowon narrows his eyes at Dongsik in mild annoyance, and it’s so adorable that Dongsik wants to kiss his frown away. “I’m not Master Lee Joowon yet,” he says, pressing his finger to the tip of Dongsik’s nose.
“Not yet, yes. But in a few hours, yes,” Dongsik pats Joowon’s hair down, defiant like a frayed broom.
“Mm,” Joowon mutters. “Also, we should visit Yuyeon later to thank her for everything, before the madness of everything starts. Meanwhile, do let me rest a little bit more, husband mine. ”
Dongsik laughs in contentment, before pressing a kiss to Joowon’s forehead, then to the corner of his lips.
“Not for a few more hours.”