Chapter 3: The Ideal Beloved (2)
“No… but, Butler, why are you doing this to me?”
Seohyo gripped Cha-eon’s shoulder, her heart aching to demand an explanation.
Surely, she hadn’t misheard. Her ears weren’t deceiving her, right? Last year, on the first full moon of the lunar year, she had overslept and skipped her morning gwi-bak-i-sul—a sake drink for clear hearing—but that shouldn’t have caused this much of a stir.
Her mood had already been strange at Mirang’s arrival, but this revelation was enough to blow that earlier strangeness away entirely.
Cha-eon… liked her?
He was the butler who lived every day thinking, How do I get this clumsy young lady to actually do her work? And now, out of nowhere, he was confessing feelings for her.
Seohyo, swept up by the shock, barely managed to hold onto her rational mind. Even if Mirang was naïve enough to fall for it, she couldn’t allow herself to.
It was an excuse.
A time-tested, classic method: when someone confesses to you, reject them by claiming your heart belongs to someone else. That was all this was.
Cha-eon would probably be thankful that Mirang had jumped to conclusions and said it first.
Seohyo poked Cha-eon lightly in the side beneath the table.
“This… isn’t really happening, is it, Butler?”
She smiled faintly, embedding the question in her eyes. His response, calm and teasing, made her heart clench.
“You have no reason to be embarrassed, Miss.”
“When did I ever—?”
“What are you talking about?” Seohyo pressed a little harder into his side. The firmness beneath her fingertips made her pause. She almost recoiled.
“Come now, just admit it.”
“Admit what?”
“That you noticed my feelings.”
He lied so smoothly, without even blinking. Seohyo felt her chest tighten, as if she had swallowed a dry sweet potato without water.
She knew he excelled at scolding, teasing, and laughing at her, but she hadn’t realized he had a talent for acting too.
She had to speak first, or she would be swept away entirely. But Cha-eon was faster. He raised a hand, stopping her in mid-motion, taking control, and then struck with a sudden verbal assault.
“Then try contradicting me. Did I bathe you last time or not?”
“Yes… you helped,” she admitted, conveniently omitting that it was because she had fallen from the ladder and broken her leg. Also left out: all he did was move her from her room to the bathtub.
“Do you remember not being able to sleep that night?”
“Well… yes, but…”
That was because the old man next door had knocked on their door in a panic, claiming he was dying. He couldn’t go to a doctor himself, so Seohyo had to prepare medicine and watch over him. Both she and Cha-eon stayed awake that night.
Why does he leave out that I couldn’t sleep too?
Cha-eon chuckled.
“You remember telling me that if you couldn’t find a proper marriage partner, you would come to me, right?”
Seohyo gasped.
“When did I even say that?”
“You did, didn’t you?”
“…I did. But I’d finished two bottles of alcohol alone that night.”
“There’s a saying: drunk words are sincere words.”
Don’t twist it like that! Seohyo’s frustration spiked. He wasn’t letting her explain the truth, and she was starting to get fed up with responding at all.
She glared at her butler with all her might. Unsurprisingly, Cha-eon didn’t even flinch.
“You fell ill, so I stayed by your bedside all night. You wanted food, I found it for you. And every time you spoke of marriage, I told you to stop and just stay by my side.”
His gaze remained fixed entirely on her.
The seriousness of his act sent shivers down her spine.
“I thought by now you might have noticed.”
He gave a light laugh, as if he could do nothing about it.
“You really are slow, Miss.”
Seohyo turned her stiff neck, completely defeated. Meanwhile, Mirang had already accepted Cha-eon’s words as truth, tears glistening in her eyes, her nose red from crying.
“No matter how much I say it’s not true, it won’t matter…”
“Even dreamed about marrying Cha-eon… sob,” Mirang sniffled.
Seohyo had no idea why a young, sweet girl could like such a villain. She wanted to tell her to run as far away as possible.
Right. That explained the unease she’d felt all along: imagining Mirang’s infatuation after marriage had been bothering her.
Still, Seohyo tried to calm the girl.
“I’ll… do my best. I’ll try to turn Cha-eon’s heart away.”
Mirang wiped her tears neatly with a handkerchief. Her voice was clear and firm:
“I’ll work hard.”
The girl had more determination than she seemed.
“I’ll help you, Cha-eon!”
“How do you keep the house spotless like this?”
“Truly amazing.”
“What kind of girl do you like, Cha-eon?”
Seohyo, while packaging herbs for a single day’s use, glanced toward the yard. Mirang had been trailing Cha-eon since morning.
Three days had passed since she arrived. Originally, Cha-eon would have turned her away, yet Mirang neither returned home nor booked a room at the local inn. She had come prepared to stay until Cha-eon softened.
Mirang waited by the herb shop’s entrance, cautious of any complaints from passing customers.
Seohyo let her inside; after all, a young girl traveling alone would soon fall ill in the night dew. Outside was dangerous too.
Cha-eon had scolded her earlier but didn’t stop her. Seohyo guessed that if he continued to treat Mirang coldly, the girl would eventually leave on her own.
What Seohyo hadn’t realized yet was how well Mirang’s chirping voice and Cha-eon’s icy demeanor complemented each other.
“Cha-eon… Cha-eon,” Mirang called, her tone far sweeter than Seohyo could ever manage. It was almost magical.
Seohyo wondered if all girls in love made such soft, lilting sounds—or if there was something special in the waters of Baek-o-gang. The sweetness of the voice made her feel as if she had drunk warm honey water.
Even more surprising:
“Don’t touch me, it’s heavy.”
For a rare moment, Cha-eon responded to her.
“When will you finally stop crying and leave?” Seohyo pouted, slightly irritated at her fickle butler.
“I can do it myself.”
“It’s my job, so I’ll handle it.”
“I want to help.”
“Just saying that is enough.”
Slowly, Cha-eon’s attitude softened. Seohyo watched as the two in the courtyard interacted: Mirang, utterly enthralled by Cha-eon, and Cha-eon shaking his head at her antics.
Then, a faint smile appeared at the corner of his mouth.
“It’s the first time.”
Mirang froze.
“First time what?”
“You smiled at me.”
Then he smiled again, clearer this time.
“It’s strange to see you react as if I’m something important.”
Was it her imagination? For a moment, his gaze flickered past Seohyo on the second floor.
“You’re very different from anyone I serve.”
“I’m truly happy… If that’s why you smiled, I can do it as much as you want!” Mirang said joyfully. Cha-eon didn’t need to try—he simply stopped her. Yet her smile only grew brighter.
Seohyo, left feeling like a lone spectator, reflected:
Better than fighting, right? It’s better to have a pleasant conversation than harsh words or threats.
Yet… why did she feel so strange?
Watching Mirang, Seohyo remembered the conversation they’d had yesterday among the women. Mirang recalled seeing Cha-eon for the first time and noticing his scars and pain clearly.
Every year, he visited Haeju’s grave, placing fresh flowers damp with dew, standing silently, then leaving with a darker expression than when he arrived.
Once, Mirang had approached the grave herself. The old gravestone was worn, its name unmarked, the stone decayed over decades.
“Must be at least a hundred… maybe hundreds of years old,” she mused, having only lived seventy years. She felt pity for the man who had lost someone so precious and visited their grave every year.
“I want to be someone who gives him a place to rest,” Mirang whispered shyly.
“Someone to give him strength when he’s tired and worn out.”
Seohyo murmured inwardly: Tired and worn out…
Though she had spent considerable time with Cha-eon, she had never seen him weary or exhausted. Her butler was always the same.
Suddenly, she realized she had never considered his inner feelings, never thought about what he wanted to say. She had just accepted his kindness.
He must have feelings too, something he wanted to share…
Why didn’t I notice? Why didn’t I try to know?
The rhythm of the kitchen broke her thoughts. The chopping of vegetables—spring onions, eggplants, cabbage, mushrooms—fell evenly onto the plates, then quickly transformed into stir-fries and stews.
By the time Seohyo blinked, dinner was ready. Cha-eon casually observed a pot releasing steam. Today’s soup was egg soup, Seohyo’s favorite.
Mirang peered in from the kitchen and smiled brightly.
“It’s my favorite!”
“Good to hear.” Cha-eon replied politely, though inwardly he thought: I don’t care. Leave me alone.
He didn’t care for a young girl’s tastes. Mirang, daughter of Baek-o-gang’s deity, barely seventy years old, was insignificant in his eyes. He had grown tired of marriage talk long ago and had once considered breaking the necks of those who pursued her.
Yet, since living with Seohyo, he had softened. Perhaps in another ten years, he might even end up caring for stray kittens.
Cha-eon knew better than to make assumptions.
“How amusing,” he muttered. He had quietly dealt with fools who brought marriage proposals, always outside Seohyo’s sight. None of them dared resist him.
Seohyo remained completely unaware of his abilities. Any attempts to warn her failed. She laughed at his antics, oblivious, leaving him in control.
“Sometimes, ignorance is bliss,” Cha-eon said, leaning against the wall, arms crossed, staring outside.
I wish she’d remain oblivious forever…
A deep sigh escaped him. Yet he wondered if there was a way to reveal just enough for her to notice, such as how he felt when others pretended to court her. Mirang, annoying as she was, could serve as a tool to evoke Seohyo’s other emotions. Even a few days of observation had proven useful.
But no. He restrained himself. Greed would be dangerous. Hearts never obeyed plans so easily.
“Soon it will be tiring, Miss,” his sigh drifted toward Seohyo beyond the door.
