Chapter 05
Choi Chi-seong stopped mid-sentence and slowly looked Seokcheol up and down. No matter how generously one judged, he didn’t look fit to attend a banquet. Seokcheol’s face flushed faintly.
“I’ll have my servants bring you a new set of clothes. Change and enjoy yourself before you go.”
“I appreciate your kindness, but I’m afraid my appearance is too shabby to be fixed with just a change of clothes. I would be grateful if you invited me another time.”
“Ahem, is that so? Well, if that’s what you want… hmm, it can’t be helped. Then you may take your leave. I’m quite busy.”
As the door opened, the music from the backyard banquet grew louder. Even after Choi Chi-seong left, Seokcheol remained seated for a moment, staring at the trinket that had been left behind.
After killing Hwang Yun-seok and his son, Seokcheol sensed movement behind the folding screen. He chased after whoever had been hiding and listening.
At the end of a narrow passage was a small storage room, already engulfed in flames by the time they arrived. The fire had spread to the dry rice sacks, and there was no way to put it out. When they circled around to the servants’ quarters, everyone had already fled. Only a trinket belonging to the household’s granddaughter—who had once been betrothed to Prince Je-an—remained on the ground.
As expected, no matter how thoroughly he searched the house, neither the children nor the daughter-in-law were anywhere to be found. He had fallen for Hwang Yun-seok’s ploy to buy time. Even after combing the back mountain, the rain that had begun to fall had washed away all traces.
He couldn’t tell Choi Chi-seong about this, but Seokcheol had some confidence. If they had any sense at all, they wouldn’t show themselves easily. He had acted under the pretext of a royal order—surely they wouldn’t dare seek revenge. For now, there would be no sign that he had failed to fully carry out the Chief State Councillor’s command.
Still, an uneasy feeling lingered, and Seokcheol frowned. The clear, intelligent eyes of young Iseo he had seen the previous day would not leave his mind. He grabbed the trinket from the table.
I should have killed her then and there.
A sense of foreboding clung to him, but he soon shook his head. There was nothing he could do now.
Pocketing the money and the trinket Choi Chi-seong had given him, Seokcheol stood up.
Stepping out onto the veranda, he saw the banquet in full swing at the pavilion in the rear garden. At a glance, it seemed most of the high-ranking officials—men who should have been busy attending court—were present.
A self-mocking smile spread across his lips. In a world like this, what good was honesty alone? What did it matter if one little girl had slipped away? As he slipped his mud-stained shoes back on, his earlier unease faded.
“Oh dear, what am I to do? You little brat! You broke the yakgwa on purpose, didn’t you?”
Samdeok shouted as he smacked his young daughter on the head. Ever since the kind-hearted Iseo had started giving the misshapen or broken cookies to Eonnyeon, the number of “defects” seemed to have increased suspiciously.
Such a tiny thing, already so cunning! What was she going to grow up to be? Annoyed, he raised his hand to hit her again. Eonnyeon shrank back, clutching her head as tears burst forth.
“Waaah! It was an accident!”
“What accident! Why do your ‘accidents’ double whenever you get hungry? Do you even know how much these cost? Even if I sold you, it wouldn’t cover the ingredients!”
Just then, Iseo entered the shop, frowning at the scene.
“What’s going on?”
“Oh, young master, it’s just—”
Before Samdeok could finish, he glared at his daughter again. Eonnyeon, feeling wronged, hurried to complain.
“Young master, it really was an accident! The dough was stiffer than usual today, so it kept breaking, but Father keeps saying it’s my fault…”
“What? I made the dough the same as always! Don’t make excuses—you’re breaking them because you want to eat them, aren’t you?”
“No, I’m not!”
“Enough!”
As Samdeok raised his hand again, Iseo quickly intervened. He examined the dough—it did feel stiffer than usual.
“After winter, honey loses moisture as it ages. The same goes for the other ingredients. Even the flour would be different from the humid summer season. Shall we try adding a bit more honey and citron syrup?”
A spring drought had been ongoing lately, after all; the ingredients would have dried out even more. Bending down, Iseo wiped Eonnyeon’s tears and placed a piece of yakgwa in her hand.
“It’s not your fault. Eat this and stop crying.”
Iseo had already washed his hands clean. Rolling up his sleeves, he tied on an apron. His gat hung on the wall, replaced by a white headcloth tied around his forehead. With his neatly tied topknot, he looked every bit a noble scholar—making the apron and headscarf seem oddly out of place.
People who saw him for the first time were often startled or whispered behind his back, but Iseo paid no mind.
Hwang Iseo had died along with his grandfather and father the day Hwang Yun-sik’s house burned down.
Now he was Jeong Iseo, living with his older brother and widowed mother. Since his brother needed to prepare for the state exam, it fell to him to earn money and provide for the family. Pretending to be a man was unavoidable. In a world like this, what could a noblewoman do to earn money—and even if she did, could she keep it safe?
That wasn’t the only reason Iseo had to disguise herself. Though years had passed, treason was not a crime easily forgotten.
Even though she had bought a new family registry to conceal her identity, she always felt uneasy. Many nights she couldn’t sleep, feeling as if someone were chasing her. After all, according to the story, she was someone who should have died long ago.
“I heard Prince Je-an has returned.”
A woman entering the shop said this with a smile. Iseo’s hands paused over the confection mold.
The men of the village had died overnight, and Iseo’s family had been branded traitors, their status still unrestored.
And yet the very cause of it all, Prince Je-an, had appeared unharmed at the palace days later. After some misunderstandings were cleared up, he had departed as an envoy to a great nation.
Eleven years had passed since then. He had only been thirteen when he left—perhaps it was harsh—but he had survived, while her grandfather, father, and all the village men had died.
Thinking of it, a quiet anger rose within Iseo.
In her previous world, she had suffered enough from unfairness—superiors making mistakes while she bore the blame, subordinates erring and leaving her to work late cleaning up the mess.
But this world was worse. When royalty and powerful families fought, common people died without anyone questioning it. Only the dead were wronged—that was all.
Iseo bit her lip, her grip tightening on the dough.
Then she exhaled and steadied herself. Food should be made with a good heart—that was respect for both the dish and those who would eat it.
In truth, sweets made with ill intent always tasted off, even when using the same ingredients and methods.
“Have you been well?”
At the gentle greeting, Iseo looked up to see Miss Yuji. At the end of the market street, turning left led to a lane lined with gisaeng houses, and Yuji was among the most renowned there.
“Yes, welcome, miss!”
Iseo greeted her warmly. Wearing a soft gray jacket over a pink skirt like cherry blossom petals, Yuji was as beautiful as ever. True to her reputation as the capital’s finest courtesan, her mere presence quickly drew a crowd eager to catch a glimpse of her.
“The sweets look delicious as always. Is today’s special yakgwa?”
The “sweet of the day” was made in larger quantities and sold cheaply when ingredients were abundant or stock needed to be cleared. Since Iseo had remade the dough after Samdeok and Eonnyeon’s batch turned out rough, there was more yakgwa than usual. Sharp-eyed Yuji had noticed.
“Yes, miss—oh, but please try these prettier ones instead of the broken pieces. Those are just for us…”
“Oh ho ho, these are delicious too. Then I’ll take all the yakgwa you have, and please pack some yugwa, sanja, and five-colored dasik as well.”
As Iseo quickly packed the sweets, he asked curiously,
“Don’t gisaeng houses make yugwa, sanja, and dasik every day?”
Yakgwa, too, was commonly made there, so there seemed no need to buy them here.
“Perhaps, but yours taste the best. We’re expecting an important guest today. The sweets from Haewol Pavilion’s kitchen are decent, but they can’t compare to those from ‘Iseodang.’”
“Thank you. Here—this is candied apple I made as an experiment. Please try it.”
Thinly sliced apples, lightly steamed, soaked in honey, and dried into rose-like shapes—at the sight, Yuji’s face flushed with delight. She placed a hand to her cheek and sighed.
“How can a man’s hands be so skillful? If I grow fat from eating these and lose all my customers, you’ll have to take responsibility.”
Had other men heard her, they would have eagerly taken it as an invitation—but Iseo only laughed and waved it off. Yuji had expected nothing less. Still, the men outside, overhearing their conversation, glared with jealousy.
What did that frail, pretty-faced fellow have that made her smile so freely whenever she stood before him?
