Chapter 7: The Ideal Lover (6)
Mirang let out a tense sigh. The three of them had gone out for a walk together, but Chaon had said he needed to speak privately with Seohyo. Seohyo hesitated for a moment, then nodded, following the spotted puppy wandering through the village.
Chaon’s gaze lingered on the young lady playing with the puppy.
From the very first day until now, he had remained consistent.
He knew.
There was no way he could not know.
Even young Mirang could see the unwavering determination in Chaon’s eyes. It was she who had been pretending not to notice.
Occasionally, when only the two of them were left alone, he had asked why she still remained there, even though she wasn’t foolish enough to be unaware of the obvious answer.
“Perhaps my words and actions aren’t enough to convey my intentions?”
He asked, in a look he would never give Seohyo. Mirang said nothing, remaining still, and then, claiming she was tired and should sleep, quickly left.
The truth was simple.
No matter how she justified it with loyalty or the bonds formed over time, Mirang’s conscience would not allow her to agree.
You know. You really know.
Chaon’s smiles aren’t for you.
His smiles are kind, dazzling—but they are all for Seohyo. Even if he seems to be smiling at you now, Chaon’s gaze always turns to his lady.
Even when his back was to Seohyo, his heart belonged to only one person.
That person was exactly the ideal lover Mirang had always dreamed of.
Everything Mirang had hoped for in the Chaon she would meet someday was already contained within him.
Not a single part left for anyone else.
Completely devoted to Seohyo.
“Do you have any idea what I am going to say?”
Chaon spoke, and Mirang silently nodded.
“Go home.”
She quietly repeated the words she had heard dozens of times:
“You have no intention of marrying me, nor anyone else, and the man who stood before the tomb that day was not Chaon.”
With his silence, he affirmed all of it.
A cheerful laugh rang out, and Mirang looked forward. Seohyo was laughing brightly as she shooed the puppy that tried to lick her face. Then, perhaps sensing their gaze, Seohyo looked over at them.
Curious about what they were talking about, her expression asked.
But instead of interrupting, Seohyo continued playing with the puppy.
She was giving Chaon space to speak privately.
For Mirang, this was both something to be thankful for and a little enviable. If she were Seohyo, she would have been unable to resist her curiosity and probably sneaked in.
Mirang had one question in mind:
Why did Chaon push away anyone who approached them, yet never attempt to marry Seohyo?
It was clear he wanted Seohyo to come closer, yet he never made the first move.
Rather than approaching, he restrained his feelings as if some unspoken rule forbade them.
Mirang, who had confessed to Chaon the moment her father’s permission was given, couldn’t understand this restraint.
Still, she could not summon the courage to ask outright.
Instead, she said something else:
“There’s a lot I want to ask, but I won’t. I’ll listen to what you have to say.”
He meant she should return home.
Finally, Chaon’s gaze shifted to Mirang. On this rare occasion, Mirang put on her brightest, most radiant smile.
“I was curious about the person visiting the tomb. I couldn’t approach, only nursing my feelings, and my patience eventually ran out. I asked around for a name, and the answer I received was Chaon. I heard he works at an apothecary.”
Perhaps this might be her last chance to speak alone with Chaon. Mirang wanted to convey her feelings without a single regret.
“He looked very troubled back then. So I imagined him in my mind, thinking, ‘He must be a kind person. Someone who can’t forget someone precious for so long must have a tender heart, crave warmth.’ I thought, ‘Then I’ll be that warmth for him.’”
She let out a faint smile.
Now she knew she had been wrong.
“It really was just my imagination.”
Chaon said nothing further. Mirang clenched her fists and took a deep breath. She had heard that when feeling small and shrinking in moments like this, taking a deep breath could help.
She didn’t want to shrink now.
This wasn’t shameful.
Admitting that one has been wrong takes great courage. And telling someone you still love that you’re letting go also takes courage.
Mirang’s eyes were clear and determined.
“There could be other men named Chaon working at the apothecary besides him.”
“That point…”
Mirang tilted her head.
“I honestly can’t explain that. Maybe my information was flawed, but the moment I saw Chaon enter the apothecary while I was talking with Seohyo, my whole body tingled. I knew immediately, without a word. So, even though it was the first time I stepped forward, I shouted, ‘Chaon!’”
“He is a different person.”
Chaon said firmly.
Mirang looked up at him and smiled.
“Yes, he’s a different person.”
Now she could say it clearly:
“Even if it had been the same person, the Chaon from back then and the one beside me now are different. I only fell for a fragment of someone, imagining him in my mind. The person I loved was the Chaon from my imagination. So… he really is a different person.”
Mirang gave what she felt was her first truly mature smile.
Acknowledging a truth she had long avoided made something grow quietly within her.
It was painful, stinging.
It wasn’t the beautiful ending she had dreamed of.
Yet still, she felt something had definitely changed.
“I like Seohyo.”
Stepping a few paces ahead of Chaon, Mirang said:
“I’m really glad the person by Chaon’s side is her.”
Then she ran toward Seohyo and the puppy. The puppy, fond of people, jumped up and down, welcoming her.
Having cried so much in front of him until now, she wanted her final confession to be with a smile.
So she hurried forward, careful not to show her wet eyes.
Mirang scooped up the puppy. Its soft, damp tongue licked her eyes.
“Huh?”
Seohyo couldn’t believe her ears. What she had just heard seemed impossible. She thought she might have misheard.
“Wait… could you say that again?”
The other person cleared their throat and spoke again:
“Hello, Seohyo. I am a servant of Damnyeong, who rules Baego River, and…”
“No, not that part—after that.”
“I have come to escort Lady Mirang…”
“No, no. After that part.”
Seohyo waved her hands impatiently, urging them to get to the point. The person flustered but continued:
“Your lady eagerly awaits her daughter.”
“Yes! Right after that part.”
“And your fiancé is also worried about you, so we hope you’ll come with me.”
This was the moment.
Seohyo’s eyes widened in shock as she turned to Mirang. Her neck felt stiff. Chaon, standing beside her, also looked stunned. Seohyo’s voice rose:
“Mirang… you had a fiancé?”
Mirang laughed lightly, her crystal-clear eyes sparkling.
“No, I was only twenty when my marriage was arranged. My father’s acquaintance’s son—he was over 200 years older than me. From the start, I was treated like a child, and it’s been that way ever since. I never really considered my fiancé a man, anyway.”
Mirang replied matter-of-factly.
“If we’re talking about looks, Chaon is definitely the best!”
“You shouldn’t say that so cheerfully…”
Seohyo pressed her hand to her forehead. She thought her bump had healed, but now a new one was forming. This one would throb in her head.
She slumped into a chair, groaning.
“Because I’ve been singing Chaon’s praises, they allowed me to come here if I really wanted to.”
“Your father?”
“Both. My father and my fiancé.”
“Huh.”
Her head throbbed even more. It seemed Mirang had been spoiled all her life—not just by the gods of Baego River, but by a fiancé 200 years her senior.
“Uhm… Mirang, when will you depart?”
The servant, wary of the others, finally spoke. Seohyo tried to suggest she rest a bit, having just arrived, but the servant insisted they could travel quickly via the river.
“By river?”
The word sounded ominous.
“What method is that?”
“Oh, we go to the nearest river and take a boat. We can handle water, so it’s much faster than ordinary people riding horses.”
Seohyo didn’t dare ask how fast. The servant added politely:
“Without any problems, it should take six days.”
“Six days.”
Seohyo repeated the word blankly. She had never imagined there was a river route. She had thought Mirang had walked from Baego River all the way to the apothecary. A young lady who had never left home had spent two weeks on the road—how exhausting that must have been.
Of course, for Mirang, whether six days or two weeks, leaving home was already an adventure. But Seohyo felt a strange emptiness.
Chaon, standing nearby, smirked knowingly. Every time Seohyo fussed over Mirang, he seemed satisfied that his predictions were correct.
Annoying.
Confusing.
Seohyo let out a loud groan and collapsed forward.
“Seohyo, are you alright? Are you unwell?”
“Are you okay?”
Mirang and the servant looked at her with puzzled expressions. Neither seemed to know why Seohyo had reacted this way.
Seohyo felt all the tension she had carried since the day Mirang first entered the apothecary vanish, like petals blown away by the wind.
“Ahhh!”
She groaned again, collapsing onto the table. Over her, the concern of the Baego River people piled up.
“My apologies for the trouble.”
Mirang’s servant bowed politely, offering a fine liquor from Haeju as a gift. Then, with Mirang’s luggage on his back, he headed toward the gate. It was Mirang’s turn to bid farewell.
“Seohyo, thank you for not turning me away. Staying at the apothecary gave me so many enjoyable experiences.”
Her bright smile seemed to erase all the tears and worries she had endured because of Chaon.
Seohyo, still dazed, watched Mirang greet Chaon. Though her eyes still held admiration, Mirang gave a composed, mature smile.
“Thank you, Chaon. I wish you peace and happiness.”
“Take care on your way.”
“Yes, then farewell.”
Mirang bowed to the two of them. She wore the water-colored outfit from her first day, adorned with a sky-blue crystal in her hair. Seohyo felt a strange mix of emotions.
Mirang had stirred up a storm of Chaon’s impending marriage in the quiet Baekhwa Apothecary.
The young lady, dressed as she had been on her first appearance, departed.
The gate clanged shut behind them. Only Seohyo and Chaon remained, as always. It was so quiet that they could hear birds chirping again.
What had just happened?
Chaon’s voice broke Seohyo from her daze.
“Mirang left something behind.”
“Huh?”
“This. The fan you bought last time at the market.”
He held up the small, round fan. Almost palm-sized, it wasn’t practical, but Mirang had paid for it gladly because she liked the cute design.
Seohyo took it from Chaon without hesitation.
“She probably hasn’t gone far. I’ll give it to her!”
Mirang’s group was moving faster than expected. Seohyo caught up with them near the village entrance. At her call, Mirang looked back.
Her face lit up at the sight of the fan.
“Oh, you left this behind. Thank you! I would have been so disappointed.”
“Here you go.”
Seohyo smiled, handing over the fan. Mirang twirled it happily in her hands. She had only come to return a forgotten item, yet seeing Mirang like this made Seohyo want to say something. The servant, sensing this, slowed down to give them space to talk.
Seohyo called softly to Mirang:
“Will you be okay?”
Though she had hidden her fiancé’s existence, Mirang’s feelings for Chaon had been sincere. Seohyo worried for the young lady.
Mirang opened her eyes wide, then smiled slowly. She twirled the fan once more.
“I’ll be fine,” she said.
“Of course, I’ll complain to the servant on the way, wet my pillow at night, and be melancholy at home for a long time. But in the end, I’ll be okay.”
“You’ve loved Chaon for twenty years.”
Though brief for the gods, it was a lifetime for humans. How one spent that time mattered.
Time spent loving someone who didn’t even know you existed.
Mirang understood Seohyo’s meaning and smiled again.
“I want to tell you this first, Seohyo. I was truly happy. Though I couldn’t be with the person I wished for, I cherished and thrilled over Chaon, and those twenty years of imagined marriage weren’t in vain. This is my heart. I have no regrets. Even if the person I loved was completely different, as Chaon said, that happiness isn’t wasted.”
The young lady spoke with a clear, confident voice.
“Happy times are meaningful in themselves.”
Her clear, ringing words unexpectedly resonated with Seohyo.
Happy times are meaningful on their own.
Perhaps even the river god would be surprised. Mirang had grown since her first arrival.
She had taken a small but significant step forward.
Seohyo quietly reflected on Mirang’s words as the young lady continued:
“Seohyo, I’ve thought about it a lot. The person who was supposedly in front of Haeju’s tomb… I don’t think it was Chaon.”
“Huh?”
“Heh, you see, Chaon said from the start it wasn’t him. I was stubborn and refused to believe. But after thinking it through, that person wasn’t Chaon.”
She explained her reasoning:
“People have familiar atmospheres. Clothing is one of them. That person was completely different from Chaon in that regard. From head to toe, he radiated the presence of a wealthy noble. His usual dark purple attire with silver embroidery exuded grandeur. Ah… the wing pattern embroidered at the hem was really beautiful.”
As she spoke, her still-strong feelings surfaced, and she sighed wistfully. Then she shook her head, as if shaking off his image.
“Anyway, he was completely different from Chaon. Chaon always wore neat clothing. Once, under the pretext of returning freshly laundered clothes, I peeked into his room, but there was no trace of those items. Even if clothes wear out, accessories remain intact.”
“Already in the room…”
“Heh, sorry. Maybe I was mistaken because his height and appearance were similar. So, Seohyo, please take care of Chaon without worry.”
With that, Mirang followed her servant.
Seohyo wanted to ask why she needed to worry about Chaon at all. But distracted, no words came.
She suddenly remembered the outfit Mirang had described. Frowning, she tried to recall… and remembered seeing Chaon dressed that exact way once.
“You were sleeping, weren’t you?”
“Mm, I was. I got up because I was thirsty. But why that outfit?”
What had Chaon said then?
“The wind is chilly. Come inside quickly.”
She had brushed it off in her drowsiness, but now she realized it was the same outfit: dark purple with wing embroidery at the hem. Unique enough to remember.
“But that was before Mirang was born.”
Seohyo stood on the road for a long time, unable to grasp the complicated truth.
