First Outing (Part 2)
The outing was safely approved. I was nagged dozens of times to be back before sunset, but at least I got permission. Sure, something invisible wounded me in the process, but what mattered more was that this opened up some freedom in my movements. Besides, I figured it was necessary to act a bit affectionate toward Sohwi. Seobangnim—just calling him "hubby" wasn't such a big deal if I thought of it as a nickname.
The real problem came after that. The moment I mentioned the outing was approved, Hwaya's eyes lit up.
"Then you must wake early tomorrow."
"We're going after lunch, though?"
"We can't have the Hobuin showing up looking unkempt. I'll prepare something light you can eat while getting ready."
True to her word, I was roused before the rooster crowed and dragged half-asleep into a room with prepared hot water—and more than three fox maids already waiting inside to attend my bath. I tried to back away stealthily at the sight, but Hwaya was blocking the door like a rock and shoved me straight into the tub.
The silver lining was that I didn't have to strip completely; I wore a thin garment that clung to my skin once soaked, exposing every curve as if I were naked. Still, the fact that I had something on helped me endure it—dizzy as I got from the maids rubbing foam all over my body with their hands.
And that was just the start of the dressing ordeal. They'd layer on an undergarment, then debate which scented oil to apply, or whether this sachet would suit me best. I stood like a doll the whole time, subsisting on fruit Hwaya popped into my mouth as my "breakfast," while they went on heatedly.
Even after the clothes were on, it was "How about this color tassel~?" or "What style for your hair? How many hairpins?" They kept showing me accessories that all looked the same to me, asking my opinion. I just smiled soullessly and murmured "That's fine" on autopilot. It seemed the quickest way to end it.
The preparations finally wrapped up as I drowsily chewed on a small rice cake Hwaya had brought as a snack in lieu of lunch, my eyes half-closed in sleep.
If this fuss happens every time I head to the village, maybe skipping it would be better for my sanity.
I thought we were finally off to Jangmal Village, but then a maid mentioned calling a palanquin. I begged them not to, and only then did they relent. Dragging a palanquin through the village would draw every eye. I just wanted a quiet trip, I insisted, and at last, the people around me scattered with well-wishes to "have a safe trip."
I had a bad feeling about that.
"For a lady of your status, taking just two attendants on an outing—you'd be the first, ma'am."
"This seems plenty... more would just be inconvenient."
"Even so, one maid and one guard is too few."
God knows how many they'd originally planned to bring, but I haggled it down to two. One was Hwaya, who'd attended me from day one; the other was a burly man for protection, named Jeongi.
What struck me as odd was that Jeongi was a plain human like me—no beastkin traits.
I asked Hwaya about it.
"It's true most maids in our estate are foxes, but not all attendants are. For instance, the Mouse Doctor is, well, a mouse, and we have a few wolves and dogs too, though rarely. We naturally hire regular humans as well."
"I thought Horyeongsan was fox territory, so everyone would be foxes."
"Our foxes are especially clannish like that. Places symbolizing fertility tend to be—rats, rabbits, you know. But unlike others, we hire plenty of humans."
Hwaya smiled warmly, as if implying the estate's shift toward humans was thanks to "Ryu Sua."
We chatted idly as we walked, and soon the faint hubbub of voices reached us. White smoke rose into the sky, and rooftops peeked through the trees.
"We're almost there."
The mountain path gentled, the forest fully parting to reveal the village sprawled at Horyeongsan's base—clusters of houses in all sizes hugging the slopes. Market stalls lined up proudly for the day, kids darting excitedly between them with laughter ringing out. Oxcarts laden with goods rumbled slowly down the main path.
No gleaming city signs, no endless car horns. No one wandered staring blankly at a phone. Haggling from the market, a rooster crowing somewhere, the clang of hammers at the smithy. Rowdy, yet somehow not grating on the ears.
"It's... more ordinary than I thought."
It felt a bit different from what I'd imagined. The village scene straight out of a drama was novel, but strangely familiar too. Steam rising from rice steamers with their savory scent at doorsteps; the candy vendor stretching taffy, calling kids over; little ones staring hungrily, swallowing hard. Nothing felt alien.
"Ma'am, shall we start at the bookstore? Stay with Jeongi and browse; I'll just settle the bill for those pre-ordered fabrics at the cloth shop and be right back."
"I'll leave the money with Jeongi—ask him if you need any. Jeongi, take good care of ma'am."
"Yes, ma'am."
Hwaya stepped away, leaving me alone with Jeongi for the first time. She'd be back soon from the bookstore, she said—maybe a gak, fifteen minutes or so. Why waste it on books?
"Jeongi-ssi."
"Yes, ma'am."
"I'm going to buy some candy. That okay?"
"No need to ask, ma'am."
Hwaya probably didn't expect me to stay put anyway—hence telling him to watch me closely. Or at least, that's what I'd decide.
With Jeongi trailing, I headed to the candy vendor where kids had gathered.
"Aigoo, must be a young miss from a fine house? Our taffy is delicious! I came all the way from Myogasan just to sell it here!"
"Myogasan?"
"Yup! Protected by the moon rabbit spirit. How 'bout one?"
The vendor lifted a long strand of taffy, snipping the air with his shears in a metallic snip-snip.
I roughly counted the watching kids—about ten? "Fourteen pieces, please."
"Got it!"
His spirited snips filled my hands with taffy in no time. Jeongi paid from his pouch as I knelt to the kids' eye level.
"Want some?"
I held them out, expecting eager grabs—but the kids just eyed me warily. One even held back what looked like his little brother.
Perplexed, I was about to ask why when Jeongi, done paying, spoke up.
"Ma'am, they won't take without your explicit permission."
"Why? Isn't offering like this permission enough?"
At his insistence, I clearly said they could each take one. Only then did they swarm, snatching the taffy happily. They bowed shyly afterward, mumbling thanks, and my mood lifted instantly.
Back in my old world, I'd always give kid customers a treat from the counter and get cute bows in return.
"Ma'am, folks without status like us watch highborn eyes closely. One wrong move, and life gets harder."
A bitter tale that hit too close—though not for me. I'd lived in a classless modern world; now I was one of the "highborn."
"I see. Jeongi, want one?"
"I'm fine."
"Eat it. Too much left for me alone."
"Thank you. I'll have it."
He took one reluctantly. I'd bought extra expecting more kids, but they each took just one. So we'd polish off the rest—no sense wasting it.
"How'd you end up working at the estate, Jeongi?"
"My slash-and-burn farmer parents wandered until a jaeng took them. The lord took pity and sheltered us orphans."
"S-Sorry."
"It's fine."
Despite my curiosity about jaeng, his lost parents left me only able to apologize. But sensing my interest, he continued.
"As settlements grow, forests shrink, aura thins, pollution builds—and gathers into jaeng. Usually, the sangu keep it to a few dead livestock."
"Usually?"
"Yes. In sangu domains, jaeng can't mature fully. Even village youths can fend them off with sickles. Outside, though... different story."
Melting the taffy slowly, his words reminded me this was a fantasy world. If I'd bolted from the estate clueless, I might've been a corpse by next day. Good thing I'd chickened out and stayed as Ryu Sua. Selfish, but pragmatic—day-one me nailed it.
Wonder when Hwaya's coming back. Taking longer than expected. No clock, so it was frustrating. Suddenly missed everyone's constant companion: smartphones. That little black slab fitting in one hand—like the one that guy down the alley was staring at.
Slab?
Chewing taffy absently to Jeongi's tale, my eyes caught something that didn't belong: a glossy texture, gripped intently in one hand. The clothes fit here, but the pose screamed modern smartphone user.
Stunned, I stared too long. Our eyes met. He hastily pocketed the black slab and bolted. I bolted too.
"Ma'am! Where are you—!"
I chased after him.