Domun - 7
A touching father-daughter reunion.
I stood quietly watching the two of them until the emotions of ten long years had finally settled.
"Darling..."
Look at her, face all blotched with tears. Before long, Lady Hayeon seemed to collect herself a little, and she stepped away from Brother Wang's side and came toward me.
"All wrapped up nicely, then?"
As everyone knows, an incident only truly ends with the classic exchange of "I'm back" and "Welcome home." I smiled and spread my arms wide.
"You really, truly are unbelievable...!"
"Come here."
Lady Hayeon threw herself into my arms, her face still brimming over with emotion.
"It's over! It's finally, finally over."
With our cheeks pressed together, I could feel her tears against my skin.
"You've been through so much."
With one hand I stroked her hair, while the other went looking for a comfortable place to rest.
"..."
Father-in-law, you look about ready to shoot lasers from your eyes. I'm not deliberately drifting toward the hill of her hips, I swear — I'm simply searching for a comfortable spot, that's all.
I barely reined in the hand scheming to indulge in a little self-interest, settled it properly on her waist, and pulled her into a fierce embrace.
Either way — at long last, we'd done it.
It had taken hardship upon hardship, but this moment repaid every last bit of it.
"Hayeon."
I called her name softly.
"...Mm."
I hadn't meant it as a cue to pucker up. But ever since our first kiss, it seemed she'd learned to angle for another, acting spoiled under her breath. Not that I minded — I liked it well enough myself.
I gave her a light kiss, then leaned close to her ear and whispered again.
"I leave the rest in your hands."
The legs that had been barely holding me up gave out, and I let myself collapse into her arms.
"What? Da—darling?! Wha—why is there blood on your back?!"
"Ugh..."
The wounds were tearing open. A jolt of agony crashed through my whole body. My consciousness was sinking fast, strength ebbing out of me bit by bit.
"Brother Kang!"
"Darling! Stay with me!"
Startled voices rang in my ears. But it didn't matter. My part was done — all that remained was to trust Hayeon.
At last, I could let go of consciousness now... and my eyes snapped wide open.
"AAACK!"
Why are you hitting me?!
"You can't die like this! You absolutely can't! Please! Please! Wake up!!!"
A cry that was half wail, half scream rang out beside me.
"H-Hayeon..."
"Please! I absolutely will not! let you go like this!"
Slap! Slap! Slap-slap-slap! Is my face a drum, that you keep drumming on it? You could keep perfect time to a jajinmori beat with those.
I'm going to die at this rate.
"Aack! Ugh! I demand an end to this slapping violence!"
"If it hurts, then wake up!"
"Hayeon. Calm yourself! That's not it."
With great effort I lifted a hand and stopped her.
"Yes?"
Hayeon stared down at me, eyes gone wide as saucers. Ah — I'd pared my words down too far. Rubbing at my burning cheek, I opened my mouth to explain.
"I haven't slept for three days and nights, that's all."
"Oh..."
There it is. So she'd remembered.
Three days ago: my turn as the Shadowless Divine Thief's stand-in, and the chase that followed. Two days ago: Domun's incursion. Then Lady Hayeon's inauguration as Tumun Hyangju, Domun's raid on the ceremony, hammering out our countermeasures — and today's business piled on top of it all.
I hadn't had a proper night's sleep in three days.
Without my stamina, my mental grit, and the qi stored inside this body, it would have been no surprise at all if I'd keeled over long ago.
"I'm going to sleep like the dead now. The cleanup I leave to you."
Everything was finally over. Surely this was the moment to let three days of tension unravel.
And with a satisfied smile still on my lips, my consciousness cut out right there.
A familiar ceiling.
I'd fallen asleep in a strange place after handing off the cleanup, and there are few things in this world as reassuring as opening your eyes somewhere you know. It meant events had unfolded exactly as I intended.
"Darling!"
Hayeon, who had been sitting at my bedside clutching my hand, looked up at me with startled eyes.
"How did it go? Did you finish all that tiresome cleanup?"
"I truly thought I'd lost you there..."
Hayeon said it with a long sigh of relief. I told you I was just going to sleep because I was tired.
Of course, I hadn't known I'd sleep like a corpse for four straight days.
"Bailiff Kang! Are you all right!"
"Hoeju, how's the body? I brought you some abalone porridge!"
Word that I'd woken brought people crowding in from every direction.
"Manager Kang! The moment word spread that you'd been hurt, Daseogak erupted all over again — everyone's asking whether Author Hopil has gone and written himself into the story. You ARE all right, aren't you?"
"I've come as representative of the Tea Book Club. These are medicinal herbs and gifts, for your swift recovery. And if I may be so bold, we've also had a few doses of tonic prepared to ease Author Hopil's mental anguish. Please, do see that he takes them."
The Daseogak crowd descended in a flapping flurry, and—
"Brother Kang. I've taken up the Tumun Hyangju seat again."
On another front, word arrived that with one side of the leadership now held by the new Mangju, Brother Wang had stepped back into the other vacancy — the Tumun Hyangju post, left empty well past its expiration date.
"Young Master Kang. Are you feeling any better?"
Of course, not every visitor was a welcome one. Someone had come from the Mangeum Hall.
"Is the Mangeum Jeonju looking for me?"
"..."
Figures. With the estate attacked and me bolting straight out the door, I'd never gotten around to explaining the details.
"Tell him that between rounding up every last thug who stormed the estate and pulling myself back together, I'll call on him within days."
"I shall pass along your words. I have also brought someone who has been waiting for you, Young Master Kang, until her neck grew long."
Who? I followed the messenger's pointing finger — and there, peeking out from the very edge of the doorway with only her face showing, was the most welcome face in the world.
"Lady Jegal!"
"Young Master Kaaaang!"
Lady Jegal came rushing toward my sickbed, on the verge of tears.
"I'm here too, you know."
"Hayeon-unniii! Ev-everyone was so worried about yooou!"
"Thanks to Lady Jegal, everything resolved perfectly."
My plan.
Lady Jegal's aid.
Lady Hayeon's execution.
Had even one of us been missing, the three of us would never have gathered in this room together. We fell into one another's arms, sealing a reunion days in the making.
"Gimun Hyangju. How are you feeling?"
The moment I was back on my feet, I went straight to pay my respects to the Gimun Hyangju.
"What brings you here? I should be the one asking after you."
Pushing myself a little, of course. I hadn't fully recovered, but determined to look hale and hearty, I flashed an exaggerated grin and flexed a bicep for good measure.
"That's what being young is for, is it not? I slept soundly and woke early, and now I'm making the rounds to thank the Hyangjus whose help I owe."
If ever there was a moment to polish one's reputation, this was it. Show a trace of lingering illness while still making the effort to pay your respects — that's how you score points.
"You could simply have seen me at tomorrow's drinking party..."
"How could a debt of gratitude be settled with a toast over drinks? A benefactor must be thanked in person, one by one."
I'd dropped by early only because the Gi-mun gets busy after dark, mind you — but I did mean to call on the other Hyangjus today as well.
"It seems Hyang-ah raised her child well."
The Gimun Hyangju said it with a soft, faraway smile as she looked me over.
"I took the rod plenty of times, for your information."
"...It is hard to picture that child lifting a rod for a child's sake."
A flicker of longing crossed the Gimun Hyangju's eyes.
"She was a tender mother — but she also knew precisely when the rod was called for. There is no one else in this world like my mother."
Times like these call for matching the mood. I spoke wearing the expression of any son who misses a mother he will never see again.
"Hyang-ah would rejoice at all of this, too."
"It reminds me of how Mother would sometimes gaze off at the western sky."
The Tang Clan Head had failed to save Hyang-ah, once a courtesan. But I had saved Lim Hayeon, once a courtesan herself. A tale worth boasting of — though there was no need to flaunt it.
No, in moments like these, the points go to the man who sighs wistfully of his mother instead.
"That day. The vow you made before me — that you would take responsibility for that child — I have never once forgotten. 'A man who treasures the woman he loves' — those words might as well have been coined for you alone. Truly, you have done well."
The Gimun Hyangju beamed at me with quiet pride.
In all the world, the only person with the right to call the Tang Clan Head a son of a bitch was the Gimun Hyangju. Like a child soothed by her words, I nodded.
"I have only tried to become a son my mother would not be ashamed of."
"A son she needn't be ashamed of, yes. Though it is a shame you have no restraint whatsoever."
A barbed remark, lobbed clean over the net.
"Hahaha... Ah! I nearly forgot — I brought you a gift."
Tang Hwarin. Lim Hayeon. Jegal Hyang. Counting only the women the Gimun Hyangju already knew about, there wasn't a sliver of room left for excuses. Which is exactly when you deploy the conversation-changing gift. I held out a cloth bundle.
"A gift?"
"A medicine from Joseon. It's called Uruhwan — 'Ox Tear Pills.' Good for the liver, they say. Ideal for those who drink often, I hear."
Lately, rumor had it the stuff let you live as sturdy as an ox. A Joseon apothecary had coined the name himself, swearing it never failed.
"I shall put it to good use. And you — come find me whenever you need anything else."
"Everything you have already done for me is more than I deserve."
"You are the son of a disciple dear to my heart. How could I pretend not to know you?"
The Gimun Hyangju said it with a touch of wistfulness.
Was that so? A master-disciple bond was, in truth, little different from parent and child. To me — her disciple's child — the Gimun Hyangju was as good as a grandmother.
"Haha. Then I shall consider myself blessed with a grandmother, and come to visit often."
"A g-grandmother?!"
The long pipe slipped from the Gimun Hyangju's fingers and clattered to the floor.
"Yes?"
"N-no, it's nothing. Thinking on it... that IS — that is the relationship, isn't it. I merely startled for a moment; it is the first I've heard it put so."
The Gimun Hyangju stooped for her fallen pipe — and whether her hand trembled or not, she fumbled it once before finally closing her fingers around it.
"Haha. And truly, I'd never have believed you past fifty, Gimun Hyangju. Your beauty gives nothing away."
Her face, her skin — judged as generously as generosity allows, she looked barely late twenties. Just how formidable was the Youth-Preserving Art, that anti-aging martial discipline?
The Gimun Hyangju set the pipe between her lips and puffed out a reply in a distinctly sulky voice.
"Hooooo. I have not yet reached fifty..."
"Oh! So your fiftieth is just around the corner!"
Courtesans did take up their disciples young — so the gap between her and Hyang-ah couldn't be all that wide after all.
Hm?
"Hoooo. Hoooo. Grandma, fifty... hahahahaha. Heh. Heh. Heh."
A smoke bomb was going off right in front of me.
"You must be terribly busy, so I'll take my leave now!"
Through the curling smoke I could feel a gaze laced with a very particular fury — but my schedule was packed, so I bowed my farewell and hurried off to call on the next Hyangju.
"The Mangju has arrived!"
The evening of the day Kang Yunho finished paying his respects to every last Hyangju, they all gathered under one roof.
"Everyone's here ahead of me. I'm sorry for being late."
Lim Hayeon — now Mangju of Haomen — bowed her head in apology with a sheepish face, though in truth she had arrived before the appointed hour and found the Hyangjus already assembled.
"There is no need for the Mangju to apologize."
The Mamen Hyangju flapped his hands in flustered protest, and the other Hyangjus bowed their heads to her as well.
"Please, speak comfortably with me. I haven't the slightest intention of lording it over you."
Lim Hayeon said to the Mamen Hyangju with a faint smile.
"Even so..."
"Just think of me as the face of Hubei's Haomen, nothing more. I have no intention of standing above your heads."
Lim Hayeon had never meant to become Mangju in the first place. Watching her benefactors — the very people who had helped her see every crisis through — bow their heads to her was burden enough for anyone.
"And yet. The Mangju's authority is absolute."
"And I am using that absolute authority to order you all to treat me comfortably — so you must! Isn't that right?"
"Yes, Simun Hyangju."
Lim Hayeon nodded, smiling, at the Simun Hyangju who had sheltered her from the very start of her life in Wuhan.
"Heh heh. What a world we live in. In any case — truly, well done."
"Our congratulations, once more."
"Congratulations."
The Hyangjus offered their felicitations on her installation as Mangju a second time.
"Thank you, all of you, for making so difficult a decision. I owe every one of you a debt I can never repay."
Lim Hayeon bowed lower than any of them had.
"So what do you mean to do now?"
The Gimun Hyangju asked their new Mangju.
"As Mangju, I'll see this incident through to the end — and then return to my everyday life. If Haomen ever needs a banner to rally beneath, as it did in the Domun affair, that is another matter. Otherwise, I intend to stay where I belong."
Lim Hayeon would carry out a Mangju's duties when they came due, but she had no thought of wielding that power in every direction. More than any of that, she would be happier at the side of the man she loved, lending her strength to his work.
The woman who had only just escaped the fate that had hounded her all her life smiled faintly, picturing the future to come.
"'Staying by his side,' is it..."
At her words, the Hyangjus looked upon her with sorrowful eyes.
"..."
"..."
An inexplicable silence drifted through a gathering that had been all warmth mere moments before.
"Did I perhaps... say something wrong?"
Something was off. Had she misspoken somehow? Lim Hayeon asked, flustered.
Someone had to answer their Mangju.
Not one of them wanted to be that someone. They knew — better than anyone — everything Lim Hayeon had endured on the road to this seat, and so they swallowed their words.
The Hyangjus traded glances, and at last her father, the Tumun Hyangju, stepped forward.
"Hayeon. No — Mangju. Now that you have become Mangju, there is something you must know."
With a face that was sorry both as her father and before his Mangju, Tumun Hyangju Wang Jongho began to tell her a story she had never heard.
What on earth could it be?
Lim Hayeon quietly lent her father her ear.
"...What?"
When the tale was done, she could only sit frozen stiff, her mouth hanging open in a daze.