My Little Sister is from the Baekhwagyo (2)
One good thing about chatting with someone who's totally obsessed with a topic is that you can just nod along and chime in occasionally. No need to rack your brain picking conversation topics. Even if you stay quiet, the talk never dies.
It might annoy people who like to take the lead, but it's way better than awkward silence dragging on like sticky sludge. And today was Yeomhwa's welcome party, after all. Watching the protagonist here chatter away excitedly was a sight to behold in itself.
"Hmm~ Baekhwagyo. The name has 'fire' in it, so I figured they'd cremate the dead, as one does. Turns out it's taboo instead."
"Yes, exactly. Earth, fire, water, and mind are all creations of the Creator—Ahura Mazda—so they mustn't be defiled."
"That's unique. So how do you handle funerals, then?"
"It varies a bit by branch, but usually it's sky burial."
Sky burial, huh~ Leaving the body for birds to dispose of. Fascinating. Gaining new knowledge is always a thrill.
I'd started out just planning to nod along, but before I knew it, I was genuinely enjoying my chat with Yeomhwa.
Good thoughts, good words, good deeds. The core tenets of Zoroastrianism, apparently. And as a devout believer, Yeomhwa followed all three to a T.
Every gesture was elegant, and her demeanor toward the servants was so polite it belied her rich young lady status. And on top of that—
"Truth be told, I was worried about how I'd fare in the distant Central Plains, far from home. But I'm so relieved to have such a kind and wonderful big brother now."
Ehehe~ She sure knows how to talk sweet. Too cute. Is this level of cuteness even allowed?
My face split into a goofy grin at the sight of her blushing shyly with that bashful smile.
...Well, it's probably just polite flattery, but hey, compliments are compliments. Good is good.
The long conversation had cooled my tea completely, but I sipped it anyway to calm my nerves. She was seriously skilled at this. Her pretty voice and those captivating red eyes naturally drew the talk along.
She read the mood and the other person's feelings, tossing in just the right words to lift them up. Sounds simple, but it's a subtle conversational art that's surprisingly tough.
It's the kind of polished talk that'd wear out most folks, especially a fifteen-year-old kid. Personally, I wanted to tell her to drop the formalities and relax, but that'd probably make her even more uncomfortable.
Even I'd amp up the politeness if I suddenly lost my parents and had to live with total strangers. No place to go if I got kicked out—manners would sprout like weeds.
She was probably busting her ass to please the new family. Time would smooth it over, but it still felt bittersweet.
I considered peeling her a whole suckling pig leg and telling her to eat up and perk up, but it'd just burden her more and come off as overkill. Nah.
...It was kinda dumb, and it made me chuckle. I'd thought she was overdoing the politeness while watching her, but turning around, I realized I was just as tense, stiff with courtesy around this sudden cute little sister.
When I laughed, Yeomhwa tilted her head, mirroring me with a soft smile. Fake or not, it was adorable.
Anyway, Yeomhwa's welcome party—where I was the only Sima family member present—wrapped up on a warm, lively note with nonstop chatter.
Or so I thought.
It was night, the sun down and moon up. I'd escorted her to her room and turned to leave when a trembling voice called from behind.
"Big brother... um... did Father say anything about me?"
"Huh?"
The unexpected question had me scratching my head. Had Dad ever mentioned Yeomhwa? Not that I recalled. Hell, I hadn't even known she existed until Uncle's death notice hit.
All I knew was that Uncle lived out west. ...Come to think of it, something felt off.
When I was little, Dad would occasionally head west for business consultations with Uncle. If he'd seen Yeomhwa then, he'd have bragged to us about his brother's pretty daughter. But nada.
Red eyes, porcelain skin, stunning face—not something you'd forget easily. Dad's the type to share every little anecdote at dinner for smooth family chat. No reason to skip a gorgeous niece with rare red eyes.
Yet he had. He'd hidden her existence from the family.
...Why bother hiding her? Was there a reason to?
Weird. It didn't add up.
"...I see. ...He didn't say a word."
I'd mulled too long. The long silence spoke for itself before I could respond, piercing her heart.
"No! It's not like that. I just forgot to—"
Wait. For the briefest instant—like a flash—I saw Yeomhwa's real face for the first time. A profoundly lonely, wistful smile.
"You're so kind, big brother."
It was still chilly early spring. The lingering winter wind brushed past us, building an invisible wall.
"I had a wonderful time today, thanks to you. You must be exhausted from preparing everything alone. Don't worry about me—go rest."
She left those words, flashed a bright smile without waiting for my reply, bowed gracefully, and glided into her room with elegant poise.
Every step radiated grace and dignity. Just like during the day.
But for some reason, it looked like she was fleeing in tears.
I stared at the spot she'd stood, frowning and rubbing my stiff neck. My usually sharp brain was grinding to a halt. Frustrated, I looked up at the sky.
A ridiculously pretty moon hung there.
I pulled an all-nighter pondering why Dad hid Yeomhwa, but no solid, convincing reason surfaced.
Wild thought: What if she's not Uncle's daughter but Dad's secret bastard kid? Nah, too iffy.
Unlike modern times, concubines aren't taboo here. Capable rich guys keep three wives and four concubines as standard. No need to sire a kid out west and pass her off as kin—that's way too messy.
...No clear answer. Maybe just ask Dad straight up?
Better than overthinking into weird misunderstandings. If he's honest, great. If he lies, bittersweet but at least I have my answer.
Conveniently, he'd wrapped up urgent business and come home this morning. I could just go ask...
But actually bringing it up felt complicated. Bust in on Dad after a hard day's work and blurt, "Hey, Dad! Did you knock someone up on the sly without telling us? Spill it clean!!"?
Sounds like a slap waiting to happen. And if it ends at a slap, count my blessings.
Thud-thud. My complicated brain aside, my lame leg thud-thudded honestly forward.
Asking outright about bastard kids was rude, but clamming up felt suffocating too. Since he'd just come back from work, greet him first, then segue quietly.
Overslept after the all-nighter—lunchtime already. He'd probably be sipping tea with Mom or big bro and sis-in-law.
Heading to the dining hall, I heard cheerful voices echoing—not just one or two.
Peeking in, the entire Sima family minus me was gathered. Everyone: big bro looking better post-fever, sis-in-law, niece, Dad, Mom, and even Yeomhwa, all chatting happily over tea.
"Sorry I couldn't tend to you yesterday. Was the food and bedding alright?"
"Yes! Big brother Mancheon took care of every little detail so thoughtfully."
Dad asking warmly, Yeomhwa beaming back. The scene was so heartwarming and perfect, my solo midnight angst felt stupid.
A bit miffed, but better me looking dumb than family bickering.
So, should nosy parker Sima Mancheon bow out coolly? Honestly, the all-nighter left me wiped. Leaving the family's laughter behind, I yawned, staff clicking toward my cozy room.