The Long-Awaited - 3
In the Giwang household, the only people worthy of being called elders were my grandfather, father, and mother. It's not that there weren't plenty of older folks around who acted like adults—it's just that there were literally only three people in the family. Grandfather and Father were both only children, after all. They even kept it to one wife each, without so much as a single concubine.
And among those three elders of Giwangga, the only one suited to lead a warm, tender event like a wedding was Mother. As sorry as I am to say it, handing the ceremony over to Grandfather wouldn't be the right personnel placement. Father wasn't much different.
Thanks to that, the wedding at Giwangjeo was essentially planned and directed by one person alone.
"Mind if I borrow these kids for a bit?"
"Pardon?"
- Kki-ing?
- Kki-ong?
That one-of-a-kind director had her eye on Kki-ing-i and Kki-ong-i.
I was a little taken aback. I was already bored out of my mind just sitting there breathing, watching them eat their meals for entertainment. If she took even this tiny pleasure away from me, what was I supposed to do with myself?
"There aren't many spirit beasts as eye-catching as these two. Baeknok are auspicious in their own right, but as a married pair of spirit beasts? Perfect to make the wedding shine."
"Can't argue with that."
Of course it was natural—expected, even—for Mother to covet these two. Deer are revered as sacred for their beautiful forms and gentle natures. And these weren't just any deer: pure white fur, inner cores as spirit beasts, and not solitary wanderers but a mated pair. It would be weirder not to use them for the wedding.
The one thing nagging at me was whether they'd obey anyone else's commands besides mine.
It'll be fine, right?
But my unease faded quickly. Thankfully, Kki-ing-i and Kki-ong-i had human-level social awareness. No matter how proud and aloof these spirit beasts were, they'd follow the person they saw as owner and friend. If that person's mother gave an order, they'd likely bow their heads just as obediently as they did for me. Otherwise, I'd sulk about it.
"You two can help Mother out, right? This is for my wedding with I Yeon, so do your best."
- Kki-i-ing!
- Kki-ong~
I gently stroked their necks as I asked, and without a moment's hesitation, they nodded eagerly. I was moved. Baeknok cooperating enthusiastically for their owner's wedding—what a story to proudly tell our future children someday.
"Thank you for helping my son. I'll give you all you can eat of whatever you want, so look forward to it."
- Kki-ing! Kki-i-ing!
- Kki-o-ong!
At the Giwangga daughter-in-law's declaration of an all-you-can-eat buffet, Kki-ing-i and Kki-ong-i licked Mother's cheeks, showering her with affection.
"Hehe, aren't they loving it a bit too much? You're not starving them, are you?"
"If anything, I'm feeding them so much they're putting on weight."
I gave an awkward smile in return to Mother's gentle one. As she said, I didn't starve my spirit beasts. A crown prince and high official like me was never short on money for feed, and neglecting beasts that carried me around was like driving a car without gas.
Still, spirit beasts went crazy for food. Kki-ing-i, Kki-ong-i, Buong-i, and Kki-eak-i devoured anything. Ppiae-i was obsessed with liquor. And Samshik bulked up on poison. What a lineup—just looking at them made my chest swell with pride.
If I were a commoner, they'd bankrupt me.
A tiny pang of resentment hit me. The money and effort I'd poured into them wasn't small, yet if they obsessed over food like this, people would suspect me as their owner. Fine when it was just us, but they needed to be more discreet in public.
"Oh, right. Mind if I borrow Samshik too? With three heads on one body, he could symbolize you three bearing healthy children."
"If it's a good omen like that, sure. But he's such a loner, he might not follow your lead."
With that, I glanced down at my sleeve. He had to know we were talking about him, but Samshik didn't even twitch—like he was begging not to be pulled from his cozy darkness.
"Help out, and I'll ask Baeksu-mun for some eggs."
- Shiiiiiik...
- Sieeek.
- Shiuuuuk!
Tempt him with prime bait, though, and even the immovable Samshik poked his heads out. He was my kid, but his single-minded simplicity worried me. Good thing he was young; if he stayed this way grown up, malicious people might exploit him. Our Samshik—please become a wise, resolute adult snake before I die.
Not sleeping through the night. Literally "city without night." In the Northern Song era, no curfews meant crowds thronged day and night, with economy booming so hard that shops ran 24/7 thanks to endless supply and demand. Lit up without a hint of darkness—like night didn't exist—Kaepyeong, the Northern Song capital, earned the name Bul-ya-seong.
Tragically, its glory crashed under Jurchen and Mongol assaults, but after Daesong's reconstruction, Kaepyeong reclaimed its title. Once more the world's center, drawing crowds and goods.
And now kings and dukes, marquises, earls were converging on that Kaepyeong?
Flashy.
Kaepyeong glowed like a citywide campfire, conversations buzzing nonstop. Natural outcome. Noble bloodlines—barring rare exceptions—never traveled alone. They brought hordes of retainers befitting their status, scattering unimaginable wealth.
One bigwig alone transformed a place; now kings and nobles from across Daesong poured in at once. Small towns turned temporary Bul-ya-seong; for an already-lit Kaepyeong, the prosperity exploded manifold.
Kaepyeong's Prefect must be suffering.
I chuckled at the teeming crowds. Kaepyeong was tough to govern even normally; now with elites swarming and unprecedented bustle, the Prefect had probably pulled all-nighters since before the court debates. Pitiful bureaucrat, unable to clock out without nightfall. Honored as Kaepyeong's market lord, but bearing proportional overwork.
"Wonder if the Prefect's cursing me out."
"Troubling. If he takes a dislike, living in Kaepyeong gets hard."
Half-serious, and Ak I-yeon beside me giggled too. Without our wedding, the VIPs would've gone home ages ago—no doping Kaepyeong into this blaze.
So the Prefect's tears and grudges at me? Fair enough. But what could be done? Bureaucrats couldn't stick to routine; seated high to handle crises, he just had to endure.
"I Yeon."
"Yes, young master?"
"First time, right?"
A question heavy with omissions, but Ak I-yeon nodded with a smile.
"Yeah. We've been betrothed a while, but this is our first taste of Bul-ya-seong just the two of us."
She got my meaning without details. As she said, our first solo stroll through Kaepyeong's nightscape. When she shone as a late prodigy, we weren't close enough for cozy walks. After opening hearts, outings were impossible. Post-recovery, I was swamped.
Thus, over ten years betrothed—both scions rooted in Kaepyeong—we finally strolled its nights together.
"Good we made good memories before the wedding. Nearly missed even this little thing."
"Isn't it fine? Few in Kaepyeong, but we stacked plenty elsewhere."
Tears nearly welled. To call wandering provinces with a lame fiancé—and third wheel Jo Wi-cheo—fond memories? How grateful.
"Without you, I'd never have seen so much. Stuck in Kaepyeong, I'd have missed it all. Your journey with me trumps Bul-ya-seong's nights, anytime."
"Thanks for thinking that."
I took her hand softly, expressing thanks. Unsure if sincere or consoling, but true we'd built irreplaceable memories beyond Kaepyeong.
So stack more ahead. Like suddenly tasting long-denied Bul-ya-seong vigor—we could share Kaepyeong memories anytime. Will it, and it's done. Unlived past meant boundless future.
"Young master."
"Yeah."
"Provinces have memories galore, so now we stay in Kaepyeong only?"
Laughter bubbled for different reasons. Yeah. Obviously. No more provincial jaunts; grit teeth and hunker in Kaepyeong. For us.
"I'm Right Assistant Censor-in-Chief now. So busy, no time to leave Kaepyeong."
"Good or bad, I wonder..."
"Call it good. Same busyness as Left Vice Inspector."
If swamped anyway, better Kaepyeong-bound than province-hopping. Plus, Left Assistant Censor-in-Chief was there—a peer to collaborate equally.
Not subordinate, but equal.
Jo Wi-cheo was plenty capable, but subordinate vs. colleague authority differed. And that stubborn Left Censor-in-Chief's steadfast Left Assistant? She'd surely aid my Right Assistant duties immensely.
"Ah."
"Whoa..."
Mid-smiles, a roar erupted—colors painting the black sky.
Fireworks.
Makes sense with all the VIPs. Boredom-busting gunpowder barrage.