UFN| Chapter 2

Episode 2

The first blow came when the eldest son, Sahm, the one everyone expected so much from, killed himself.

Nobody knew why.

Unlike Gyoheum, who skipped his studies and worried his parents, his older brother was the straight-laced type you read about in books.

After passing the military exam, he rose quickly — even earned the post of captain in the palace guard, responsible for protecting the inner court.

Everyone praised him, saying he would outshine their father as a military man.

And then one day, he hung himself from a beam.

Some people said he’d taken responsibility for a fire in the palace; others whispered he had some secret sorrow no one knew about.

What nonsense.

None of those were true.

Gyoheum knew his brother wasn’t weak enough to kill himself over something like that.

There had to be a reason nobody knew. A reason even Gyoheum didn’t know.

Maybe he’d been murdered, for example.

Brother.

The morning Sahm hanged himself, Gyoheum had run into him by chance while returning from an early morning duty.

He’d been out drinking with friends all night and was heading home at dawn.

Heading in already?

That line wiped the sleep and drink straight off him. He straightened up, his blurred eyes suddenly sharpening.

You’re up earlier than usual.

He’d heard about the palace fire from a few days earlier, and people were saying Sahm might be to blame. Several palace people had died; someone had to take responsibility.

He felt awkward, wandering around drinking when such talk was going on.

But Sahm didn’t scold him.

Whenever their father scolded Gyoheum, Sahm would defend him: “He’ll step up when it’s time. Gyoheum’s wiser than me.”

Their father dismissed it, but Sahm never stopped believing in his younger brother.

That’s why Gyoheum, who could be brash with their father, was suddenly shy and respectful in front of his brother.

I’m hurrying. I have someone to see.

Someone to see? At this hour?

Gyoheum scanned the sky; the sun hadn’t risen yet.

Sahm, looking thoughtful, nodded slowly.

I’m going to meet the Minister of State.

Why not?

Gyoheum frowned, waiting for more, but Sahm didn’t say another word. He changed the subject.

We’ll talk later.

Father will be heading to court soon, so get in before you run into him.

Yes.

Gyoheum scratched the back of his head and said, “Go then,” in a polite tone.

That was the last time he saw him. The news that followed said Sahm had been found hanged from a beam in his office.

They told them to send servants to take the body for the funeral.

After that, Mojinpyeong collapsed. He never got better; he gave up his general’s post and lay ill in bed.

Their mother barely left her room. She handed everything over to the servants and shut herself away.

Sahm’s wife and child went back to her parents’ house and showed no sign of coming back to the city.

The house felt like a temple, their parents like dead figures.

Only Gyoheum could fix this.

So overnight, he became a different person. He stayed away from drinking buddies and focused on studying.

After passing the military exam, he took a post as a commander in the city guard, responsible for the capital’s security.

“Marry the Minister’s illegitimate daughter… So he killed my brother, drove father from his post, and now this is my turn.”

Mojinpyeong’s face twitched faintly.

“Still with that talk. The Minister has nothing to do with Sahm’s death. Sahm… hung himself.”

Saying it looked like tearing his innards out, Mojinpyeong looked in agony.

“Then why did Sahm tell me he was going to meet the Minister that morning? He never said things like that. He must’ve felt something bad and warned me to be careful.”

“That’s speculation. Besides, this wasn’t the Minister’s decision — it was the king’s. The one who brought the order was the king’s eunuch.”

“Who doesn’t know who’s pulling the strings behind the king? Isn’t it the Minister who can even bring down a flying bird?”

“If, as you say, the Minister can topple anything, why would he want to marry into our house? What benefit would he get?”

“If she’s the Minister’s illegitimate daughter, isn’t she a premature baby? She’s not even the legal wife’s child. Who’d want to marry her?”

“Gyoheum.”

Mojinpyeong called his son, worry showing on his face.

Gyoheum forced a smile, and somehow that smile felt more ominous.

“If the Minister wants to insult me, let him. But—” He narrowed his eyes like he found it amusing. “One day I’ll repay every insult.

I’ll remember every humiliation and return it double, triple. Don’t worry.”

Mojinpyeong finally closed his eyes. Gyoheum’s voice softened as if he understood his father’s worries.

“Don’t worry. I won’t stand stiff like my brother and take every blow.”

“What use is being proud if it just gets you cut down first?”

The edge of Gyoheum’s smile turned cold.

“If I have to, I’ll lie with a grin. I’ll fool people with a shameless face, scheme cleverly, bow even to a passing dog if that’s what it takes.

Then I’ll seize power with my own hands — the power Father and Brother feared.”

“Hmm.”

“You said I was to marry the Minister’s daughter, right?”

Gyoheum slowly rose from his seat. Mojinpyeong lifted his teacup with a hand, watching him. The pale green tea rippled slightly.

“It seems the Minister is making a mockery of me. If he shoves his premature daughter onto me, I’ll use her as a pawn to topple him. I’ll make him regret his choice.

I’m curious which of us will win. Now rest.”

Gyoheum bowed his head, turned, and left the room. Mojinpyeong let out a long, quiet breath.

“Gyoheum.”

His son’s name slipped out like a sigh.

“Life doesn’t go the way you want.”

Clack.

The door shook. Soran startled and looked up.

Her black eyes trembled with half fear and half hope.

Her lips were so dry they wouldn’t moisten no matter how she licked them.

“It’s just the wind.”

Instead of looking disappointed, she managed a shy little smile.

She hadn’t really expected anything. She’d never allowed herself to.

But then she smelled that stale, musty odor again.

“Liar.”

Turns out she had been hoping after all.

Hoping Gyoheum would open the door and come in, apologizing awkwardly for leaving his bride alone on their first night.

Marriage? So you mean… me?

At her question, Lady Munhyeon snapped in a thin voice.

You fool, you fool, are you deaf now? How many times do I have to tell you?

Ah, no.

Whenever Soran stood before Lady Munhyeon, she shrank like a dried squid under the sun.

A nervous laugh slipped out before she could stop it.

You’re smiling like you like it — so you want to marry, huh? You little brat, thinking you can act all high and mighty.

Don’t kid yourself; you’re nothing but the spawn of some cheap woman who seduced my husband.

Lady Munhyeon didn’t even try to hide her disgust. Her words were a thousand needles in Soran’s skin.

It hurts.

Soran swallowed the pain in silence while the woman went on boasting.

Think about it. Who’s kinder than me? I feed you, clothe you, and give you a bed. And now I’m even arranging a marriage for you.

And you can’t even say thank you. You’re shameless, just like your mother.

Th-thank you.

Soran forced a smile and bowed her head.

The smile trembled with fear, but Lady Munhyeon’s eyes were too narrow with scorn to notice.

Soran blinked, staring at the floor. She never had time to picture a future; every day was just survival.

She’d never hoped to leave this place.

She’d assumed she’d be doing chores and taking Sehwa’s abuse forever. That was her life.

Marriage.

The word slipped across Soran’s lips, and for a moment, a glimmer of hope passed over her face.

Even someone called a fool knew what marriage meant.

It meant a new family.

Family.

Her heart thumped unexpectedly. A fragment of memory brushed her mind.

It was probably when Soran was about ten years old.