Chapter 06
Four Auspicious Ones, Three Joyous Ones
A quiet whirl of excitement swirled in front of the Songpa-market book-rental stall.
Amid the discreet glances of gathered women, two young noblemen faced each other in a taut standoff.
“Before today is over, it will definitely happen.”
“You’re wrong.”
The more carefree of the two spoke with confidence; the sterner one cut him off.
“Ha, come on. Woon agrees with me, doesn’t he? And isn’t his record the best of the three of us?”
“I only guessed this time. Been busy.”
“Nonsense. It’s coming today.”
“No, it won’t.”
Who—or what—was supposed to come or not?
Miyu shrugged as she followed the women’s upward gaze to the empty sky.
“With looks like theirs, even two are enough to spark a chain reaction,” she muttered.
Just then a girl of about fourteen sidled up with a solemn face.
“Amazing, isn’t it?”
Freckled and wide-eyed, the girl wore a faded indigo skirt over a thin cotton jacket whose sleeves had gone threadbare; her skinny legs stuck out below the hem.
“Who are you?”
“Nice to meet you. I’m Bok-sil. I work at the book stall.”
Still staring at the young men, Bok-sil greeted her brightly.
“Hi, I’m Jo Miyu. I work at the Gongju vegetable stand. So who are those two?”
Bok-sil turned to her, mouth agape.
“You mean… you don’t know the Saseo Samgyeong?”
“Saseo Samgyeong? Like the Analects, Confucius, that sort of thing?”
Bok-sil carefully enunciated each syllable.
“Sa-seo-sam-gyeong.”
“Yeah, I heard you. Sa-seo-sam-gyeong.”
“It’s not books! Sa for four, seo for auspicious, sam for three, gyeong for celebration. It means ‘the Four Auspicious and the Three Joyous’—the seven most celebrated young gentlemen in all Joseon.”
No need to ask what “celebrated” meant. Clearly: handsome and dazzling.
Seeing Bok-sil practically float with delight reminded Miyu of her best friend Ah-yeong back home, a die-hard fan of the boy group Special, especially of member Chan. Ah-yeong had blown every part-time paycheck on concert tickets and merch—postcards, keychains, even toothpaste and sleep masks.
When Miyu once scolded her for wasting money, Ah-yeong’s answer still rang in her ears:
“You don’t get it! Money’s best spent on happiness. Your one-track mind thinks only food and drinks count, so you can’t see higher joys.”
Annoying—but not exactly wrong.
“So those young masters are basically Joseon-era idols.”
“Idols? What’s that?”
“It means… uh, as special and celebrated as your Saseo Samgyeong.”
“Idol… I like the sound of that.”
Bok-sil nodded, pleased, then pointed proudly.
“The one in the gray robe is Byeon Ha-yeon, eldest son of the richest merchant family in the land.”
“Pretty—very pretty.”
“Yes. An idol indeed.”
Warming to the new word, Bok-sil grinned and indicated the other.
“The broad-shouldered one is Hwang Hee. Only eighteen, but he already placed first in the military exam and serves as an officer at the capital police bureau.”
“Impressive.”
“Right now we’re witnessing history—two of the Seven in one place!”
Miyu arched a brow. “Historic, huh…”
“Of course! To be moved is to record history. But what are they staring at so intently up there?”
In the spotless blue sky, two swallows wheeled around a thatched roof and vanished. The women still craned their necks skyward.
“Maybe handsome people really can see what the rest of us can’t,” Bok-sil mused.
“That makes no sense.”
“Being that good-looking makes sense enough!”
Bok-sil’s eyes shone.
“I get it,” Miyu said. “Humans instinctively want to pass on great genes to their children.”
“Genes? Like… servants you inherit?”
Miyu paused, then explained, “Think of it as invisible wealth. So it’s natural to feel drawn to the beautiful.”
“Ah, so I’m just responding to excellent ‘genes’!”
“But don’t like someone only for their looks. You might end up in tears.”
“You say that, but you’re staring too…”
“I’m not staring because they’re handsome.”
Bok-sil studied Miyu’s calm, thoughtful face.
“Then why are you?”
“Their conversation’s strange. I want to know what they’re up to.”
The pair’s cryptic voices drifted over again.
“Surely they will come.”
“Absolutely not.”
“By evening they’ll arrive.”
“This time you’re wrong.”
Bok-sil rolled her eyes toward Miyu.
“Who on earth are they expecting?”
“Curious?”
“Of course!”
“Then just ask.”
“What? A woman… asking them?”
To question men—especially these men—was unthinkable.
“You don’t get what you want by staying quiet.”
With light, birdlike steps, Miyu walked straight toward the celebrated pair. Bok-sil’s jaw nearly hit the dirt.
Who is this woman?
Miyu broke the marketplace tension and stopped beside Hwang Hee. Up close he was even taller and more imposing, his presence almost intimidating.
Tilting her head back, she asked, “What exactly are you looking at?”
He glanced down at her, eyes sharpening as their gazes met.
“What business is it of yours?”
Not impolite, but curt enough to sting.
Seriously? Being an officer makes him this rude?
“You’ve got everyone wondering,” she said, gesturing toward the watching women.
Only then did Hwang Hee notice the curious crowd. Brave against criminals, he clearly had no idea how to handle women’s attention.
“You’re an officer, right? When you make people curious, you owe them an explanation. What’s in the sky? Who are you waiting for?”
Miyu smiled up at him, eyes bright. Surprised, Hwang Hee swallowed hard. A young lady boldly meeting a man’s gaze was beyond anything he’d imagined.
“And you are…?” His tone edged toward a scolding.
“Jo Miyu.”
“Lady Miyu, this is unseemly. Men and women must keep their distance. Please step back a few paces.”
If he wants space, he can move himself, she thought, staying put and meeting his eyes.
Hwang Hee faltered. Was she shameless, ignorant of decorum, or simply fearless?
The intimidating officer now looked merely flustered.
A pure-hearted guy, maybe?
Amused, Miyu teased, “Why? Does having me close make your heart race?”
“W-what nonsense! Why would I—” He flushed to his ears. “—be excited by such a reckless young lady?”
“Reckless? Did you just call me a… colt?”
Across him, Byeon Ha-yeon, grinning like a mischievous fox, leaned in.
“‘Colt’ is a foal. ‘Mangnani’ means the executioner who swings the sword.”
He playfully tapped his own neck.
Miyu shot Hwang Hee a fierce look and stepped closer, chin raised.
“You calling me an executioner? Want me to give you a sword dance right here?”
“Th-that’s not what I meant! No matter how times change, the order of heaven and earth remains: king and subject, father and son, man and woman…” Hwang Hee protested.
Byeon Ha-yeon laid a hand on his shoulder.
“Don’t be so old-fashioned. This is a time for nobles and commoners, men and women, to join hands and stride into Joseon’s future.”
Miyu inclined her head slightly to Ha-yeon.
Of course—the merchant’s son has traveled. He gets it.
“You asked what we were watching?” Ha-yeon smiled.
“Yes. Everyone here wants to know.”
An elderly man puffing a long pipe called out, “Men too!”
“Yes, yes—men and women alike,” Miyu added.
Ha-yeon surveyed the crowd, exchanging nods with a few familiar faces.
“We were making a wager.”
“A wager?”
“Whether it will rain before sunset.”
Betting on rain? These guys really have leisure to burn.
Miyu felt a twinge of envy. Even after time-slipping to Joseon, her life was still all hard reality—no leisure in any century.
“So the one expected isn’t a person, but the rain?”
“Exactly.” Ha-yeon’s smile widened.
Miyu spun toward Bok-sil and called out,
“They’re betting on whether it’ll rain today! They’re watching the sky for rain, not a person.”
Bok-sil flashed two thumbs-up.
Miyu leaned back to gaze at the crystal-clear heavens, then looked from Hwang Hee to Byeon Ha-yeon with a sly grin.
“Count me in on that bet.”
Her face lit with an irrepressible smile.
