The Veil Lifts and Pride Collides
Hwang Bo-seol flinched at a fleeting sense of wrongness. But the unease dissipated as quickly as it had come, leaving her unaware she'd even felt it.
"I thought maybe this one would be different..."
Her own thought struck her as absurd. He was worse than the other men, if that was possible. Disappointment gave way to a twinge of injustice. Why are all the men like this?
She straightened her back slightly, steadying her languid body from the endless interviews and clearing her mind once more.
"Bring in the next one."
The maid's response came, followed by footsteps. A man entered, clad in pristine white crane-feather robes with a neat scholar's turban on his head. His face was quite handsome, passably so.
...Huh?
Hwang Bo-seol froze at a strange impulse. The moment their eyes met, an odd sensation brushed her mind. And then a thought crystallized.
For some reason... I want to remove the veil...
Her porcelain-white hand, delicate as icefish scales, hesitated in the air as if wrestling with inner conflict, then moved again. She lifted the veil and set it aside.
"...Huh?"
Hwang Bo-seol wasn't the only one startled. Bang So-un, about to greet her, froze at the sight of her bare face. His gaze locked onto her, entranced as if by hallucination.
Jet-black hair like polished ebony framed a slender neck as delicate and pale as a water lotus stem. Her large eyes, brimming with a bewitching allure, were fringed with thick, long lashes that cast faint shadows beneath her slightly downcast gaze. Her arms were transparently thin, veins faintly visible, long and graceful. Her body, draped in luxurious palace robes, traced elegant curves. The opulent garments suited her perfectly, familiar rather than ostentatious. Her poise blended noble grace and fervent passion into an otherworldly charm, as if she were no mortal but a fairy descended for a stroll among humans.
My god...
Beauty to topple kingdoms... A kingdom-toppling beauty... She is a kingdom-toppler!
His mind went blank. He could stand there staring all day without fatigue—no, it would be dizzyingly blissful. The rumors weren't exaggerated; they fell short. To think such a woman existed in the mortal world. Unbelievable.
Among the beauties he'd seen, none compared. Hwang Bo-seol was leagues beyond.
She broke the silence.
"Um..."
Her red lips, lightly rouged, parted to reveal even white teeth, but closed again as if she couldn't find the words.
"Uh..."
Bang So-un's mind was equally blank, his head heavy as stone. An unintended awkwardness filled the room.
Without the maid entering with tea, it might have lingered longer.
"Oh my?"
The maid, carrying Dragon Well tea, widened her eyes in surprise. The room held a peculiar tableau. Above all, her lady's face was unveiled, not hidden by the veil. After a stunned pause, the maid smirked knowingly, a delighted smile playing on her lips. As she set down the tea, she whispered in Bang So-un's ear.
"...Do your best, young master."
She scurried out, blushing oddly.
The maid's words snapped Bang So-un back slightly.
"...Greetings, Lady Hwang Bo-seol. I am Bang So-un, eldest son of the Chase Wind Escort Agency. May I sit?"
"Ah... Yes, of course."
"Thank you."
His expression softened involuntarily. Before her, no anger or negativity could take root.
Meanwhile, Hwang Bo-seol was far more flustered inside than her calm facade suggested.
Why did I take it off...? It was undoubtedly her own will. There must have been some psychological urge. What was it...?
Her cheeks warmed faintly. Her heart fluttered. She couldn't pinpoint the emotion. Tilting her head just enough to avoid notice, she spoke.
"Shall we begin the questions, young master?"
"Yes."
Here it comes, Bang So-un thought, wetting his dry lips with his tongue. Nail this. You have to nail it. To make this woman his wife, he'd gladly live as a beggar forever.
"The first question: In Romance of the Three Kingdoms by the Lake Sea Hermit Luo Guanzhong..."
"Sun Quan is the worst!"
...Oops!
Having devoured Romance of the Three Kingdoms dozens of times since childhood, his ingrained passion slipped out unconsciously. He despised Sun Quan for slaying his beloved Guan Yu—er, Lord Guan. In discussions, he'd rant endlessly. The habit emerged unbidden.
"Pardon...?"
Hwang Bo-seol froze. She'd meant to ask about the literary significance of Cao Cao's famous 32-line Short Song Style poem from the novel. But he'd cut her off before she finished.
Realizing his blunder, Bang So-un grimaced and smacked his forehead. His face darkened despairingly.
"I... Still, Sun Quan is absolutely the worst... That rat bastard Sun Quan..."
He pressed on in a shrinking voice, perhaps doubling down.
"Pfft."
Hwang Bo-seol turned away, laughing. Her eyes crinkled in amusement, followed by another soft "Hee-hee." The room brightened instantly. A surge of emotion tingled in his chest.
Bang So-un managed an awkward smile. The mood demanded it.
"Ah... Ahem, sorry. You're quite amusing, Young Master Bang."
"I'm always a bit... Ahaha..."
He scratched his head sheepishly. The reaction seemed positive—relief—but he couldn't celebrate blindly. Had Jang Il's hypnosis worked perfectly? In the hallway glance, Jang Il had seemed uneasy, but perhaps just nerves.
Strange...
Hwang Bo-seol pondered. Normally, she'd have coldly rebuked him for interrupting with nonsense. Yet his antics seemed roguishly endearing, drawing laughter. It had been ages since she'd laughed before a man. It felt refreshing, not unpleasant.
"Since you made me laugh, we'll count that as answering the first question."
"Thank you."
"What to say... You leave a good impression."
"...Pardon?"
She blurted it out unwittingly, startling herself. Hiding her fluster, she pressed on.
"The second question... Hmm... I'd like to know your life goals, Young Master Bang."
Another slip. Asking something so personal was new. It might seem like interest in him. Embarrassed, she averted her gaze.
This question was tricky.
...Well, my servant's talented and we get along great. We set a goal together: to dominate women so strong and noble everyone reveres and fears them. Make them kneel naked, lick my feet. Turn them into cute bitches, sows, good girls. Gather them to found a great sect, stronger than any famed orthodox one. The world will gape in shock and terror. I'll revel in those gazes. But sorry—you're part of the plan too...
Of course, he couldn't say that. Nor did he want to lie vaguely. After a pause, he spoke earnestly.
"I won't lie. My life's goal hinges on you, Lady Hwang Bo-seol."
"Pardon...?"
What nonsense? No—wait. Did he mean marrying into Golden Dragon Battlefield was his goal? It sounded brazenly shameless. Normally, she'd feel insulted. But today was bizarre. Despite trying not to, his declaration of making marriage to her his life's ambition felt... positive.
"What do you mean...?"
"I can't explain in detail now. If you marry me, you'll know everything. And you'll come to share my goal. I'll make sure of it."
"Something you can't tell others, then."
"Yes. But this much: it's no mere wish or dream. I've staked my life on it."
"I see. However..."
For the first time since talking, her eyes sharpened. Her soft voice turned icy and clipped.
"From your words, it seems you need me and Golden Dragon Battlefield's power for your ambitions. Frankly... it's unpleasant. I have no intention of being anyone's stepping stone, nor have I imagined it—even for a husband. And you're mistaken about something. I, as next heir, hold all operational authority. I won't cede even a sliver to a son-in-law. If that's what you want, leave now."
"..."
Bang So-un met her cold gaze steadily, though inwardly flustered. He'd slipped up verbally. Trouble. Yet a strange defiance stirred. Apologizing under her pressure felt wrong. Pride writhed like an eel.
Yes, you're wise and capable. You want to elevate Golden Dragon Battlefield on your own merits. I acknowledge that. A woman like you doesn't suit fawning over a husband.
But I'm different. I'll shackle your ankle. Somehow.
The Dragon Well tea hadn't cooled fully, but he rose slowly. A smirk tugged his lips.
"Why the smile?"
"They say the Jiangnan Talented Lady is among the world's wisest, but you differ from the rumors. It seems you want not a son-in-law, but a parasite lounging at home, leeching off Golden Dragon funds for wine and women. Or just a stud for heirs?"
"...Are you insulting me?"
She snapped icily. Sex...? Such vulgarity—she'd never heard the like.
"No insult. Just facts. You want a man you can keep in your pocket. I understand—truly. But..."
He sneered provocatively again.
"You're scared. Afraid to choose a man superior to you. Worried you can't control him. Like me, say. Right? You knew from the start I'm not like other men."
"...Are you claiming you're superior to me? You, a nameless nobody? Can you back that arrogance?"
His title dropped from "young master" to "you," her agitation and wounded pride evident.
"Of course. Marry me, and I'll prove it. Earn my place in operations fairly through ability."
"You have a habit of speaking so definitively. Blind confidence doesn't conquer all. Remember that."
"I will. Farewell."
He bowed formally and left.
What a man! Fury boiled. She'd briefly hoped he might be decent—worse for it. No man had ever spoken so rudely to her. Defiance surged too: she'd crush that smug face.
The urge burned hot in her chest.
Crash!
Unable to contain her rage, she hurled the teacup to the floor.
"Young master."
He scarcely remembered reaching Golden Dragon Battlefield's main gate. Jang Il appeared as if waiting.
"...Yeah?"
"How'd it go? Did it work?"
"Hell if I know what I said."
"What do you mean?"
Bang So-un grimaced, head aching.
"...Turns out I'm pretty prideful."
"Keep saying weird stuff?"
"We fought."
"..."
Jang Il looked crestfallen.
The real shock came two days later.
We hereby announce that applicant number 390, Young Master Bang So-un, has been selected.
It was there on Golden Dragon Battlefield's outer wall, in Hwang Bo-seol's own handwriting. Undeniably.
"Whoa... It, it worked? Young master, you really fought and left?"
"...Honestly, surprised."
But he could guess her intent. She wanted to crush his smirk, make him regret his arrogance. Never having faced such pride-wounding words from a man, she'd be extra incensed.
Whatever her motive, it had worked out. His plans would proceed as intended. She had no way to stop it.
A pleased smile curved his lips.
He'd teach her thoroughly on their long wedding night—the proper etiquette a wife owes her husband.