Love Comes with the Yakgwa
"I can, really?"
Why would anyone turn down an offer this good? The moment I snapped it up without hesitation, Wang Inho gave a slow nod.
"Truthfully, I had no such intention. But your realm is already at the Peak, and you've more than proven your cunning of late—there's no reason I can't entrust it to you."
From Wang Inho's standpoint, letting a Peak Realm master sit idle was surely a bitter pill to swallow. The clan's forces were already stretched thin from the war of nerves against Choe Chunghon.
He would need more talent to fill that gap. And then here I came striding in—'Ta-da! One Peak Realm master, at your service!'—so of course he had every reason to put me to work, and none to leave me be.
'Good for me, too.'
This would cement my standing within the clan even further. There was no reason to refuse.
Because of my past conduct, there were still plenty of eyes that didn't look kindly on me—which made this a genuinely precious opportunity.
'Thank goodness I beat Choe Chunghon into the dirt when I did. If I hadn't... whew.'
It was only because of the Choe Chunghon affair that I'd been allowed to go off on my closed-door cultivation in the first place. Had it been otherwise, I'd have been bolted to the clan estate with no excuse to slip away for some fun.
"So how do you intend to select them? Will you hold a tournament?"
"A tournament, hm... That's not a bad idea, but it'd be dull as-is, so I'd like to add a few twists."
"Mm. Speak, then."
"First, I think we should widen the net beyond the Wang Clan and open it to the whole country. And second—"
I pointed a finger at myself.
"Instead of the contestants fighting each other, how about they fight me?"
"Ho-oh."
When a tournament is held to select talent, the usual practice is to have the candidates spar among themselves and pick out whoever distinguishes themselves or posts the best results.
But I had no intention of sitting around like a lump, watching other people's fights as a spectator.
"These will be my subordinates. It's only right that I take the field myself."
At my words, Wang Inho nodded with an air of well, well, how admirable. Knowing him, he was probably thinking something along the lines of 'Splendid.'
"Good. I'll have the tournament prepared as you suggest. It should take a month or so."
"Yes. Then I'll take my leave for now."
"Wait. There is still more to discuss."
Just as I assumed we'd wrapped up and moved to withdraw, Wang Inho stopped me. What now, I wondered. Half-risen from my chair, I sank back into it, and Wang Inho spoke, his brow furrowing slightly.
"Did you happen to cross paths with any bandits on the road today?"
"Bandits?"
"That is what I asked."
"We ran into some on the way out, but the trip here was strangely quiet... Has something happened?"
Hm.
Wang Inho let out a low hum and explained the situation, his expression turning grave.
Bandits had dwindled alarmingly of late.
Hear it cold, and it sounds like no problem at all—surely fewer bandits is a good thing. But the reality was otherwise.
It had already been years since Choe Chunghon's rapacious taxation ground the people's lives into dust. And on top of that, the local garrisons—shoved aside by Choe Chunghon's private armies—had lost all function as actual military forces.
It was a perfect breeding ground for banditry. The deserter-bandits Seonhwa's village had suffered were cut from exactly the same cloth.
For bandits to suddenly vanish amid such chaos was a phenomenon that didn't sit easily in the mind.
"You didn't launch some large-scale suppression campaign, did you?"
Nothing else came to mind by way of explanation, so I asked—and Wang Inho shook his head at once.
"I already had the Blue Dragon Pavilion Lord look into it. Nothing of the sort has occurred."
What is going on, then?
"And by your own account, this isn't confined to Gaegyeong either—which makes it all the more troubling."
Sacheon, where Dansewon stood, sat at the very edge of Goryeo's lands. To travel from there all the way to the capital without laying eyes on a single bandit meant the phenomenon could well be nationwide.
Four years ago, when I'd first traveled to Dansewon, Ansong had flared his qi sense wide, and we'd steered as far as possible from anywhere we could hear so much as a rumor—so avoiding bandits had been a matter of course.
But this time, Ansong had said the road was quiet. Meaning there had been no bandits to avoid in the first place. And since reaching the Peak, I had swept out my own qi sense directly—so there was no chance Ansong had simply fumbled and missed something either.
"Something's brewing, then. Has to be."
"A last desperate struggle, most like."
He named no one, but the implication was clear enough that I snorted. Picturing the mighty Choe Chunghon tangled up and isolated by my schemes was simply too funny.
"For now, I'll summon the Blue Dragon Pavilion Lord and have him investigate the regions beyond the capital. You concern yourself only with the tournament."
"Understood, Lord of the Clan. May you have a peaceful afternoon."
"You scamp."
At my cheek, Wang Inho let slip an involuntary chuckle. I committed that rare sight to memory, then slipped neatly out of the room.
"Whew~ What a terrifying man."
Meeting Wang Inho again now that I was a Peak Realm master, he somehow seemed even more colossal than before.
Back when my realm was low, I'd just vaguely thought, bet the bastard's absurdly strong. Only now that I'd grown strong myself could I actually appreciate what that strength was.
...Anyway. Poor Blue Dragon Pavilion Lord.
I'd heard he was a man who loved his leisure, and now he'd be roving not just the capital but the entire country.
'Not my fault, though.'
Whatever. All I did was answer a question Wang Inho asked. If blame must fall somewhere, it falls on Choe Chunghon—old enough to know better, stirring up trouble at his age.
With a silent prayer for the Blue Dragon Pavilion Lord—who at this very moment was presumably running until his feet bled—I made for my room.
Greet the family, chat with the family, and now an audience with Wang Inho on top of it all—my body and mind were thoroughly spent.
'I need at least three days of rest.'
After all, weariness must be washed away, must it not?
"Let's go, Nari."
"Yes, Sogaju-nim."
Taking Nari with me—who had waited dutifully outside through the whole conversation with Wang Inho—I headed for my room.
"Mmm. What would he like, I wonder."
It was around the time Mujin was sequestered in his long private meeting with Wang Inho. Seolha was preparing a gift for his return after so long away. The problem was, she hadn't the faintest idea what he might like.
"Come to think of it... shouldn't I actually know what the Sogaju likes?"
Wasn't it pathetic, how little she knew about her own fiancé?
The thought struck her, and Seolha shot up from her seat.
"That settles it. I'm going to the kitchen."
At the very least, she ought to learn what foods he enjoyed.
So Seolha made her way to the kitchen—and the maids there turned white as sheets the moment they saw her.
"My lady! You mustn't come in here!"
"This is my own family's kitchen. Why can't I enter it?"
When Seolha tilted her head in puzzlement, the maid blocking her way shook her head furiously.
"It's not that, my lady...! It's simply no place for someone of your exalted standing!"
"She's right! Just tell us what you'd like to eat, and we shall prepare it at once!"
"Then may I ask you all one question?"
"Yes, yes! Ask us anything at all!"
The maids bowed their heads, trembling.
"Do you know what the Sogaju likes to eat?"
At that, one of the maids shot her hand into the air. Seolha gestured her way at once, and the chosen maid spoke up.
"His tastes may have changed since the old days, but he was very fond of yakgwa—the honey pastries."
"Yakgwa..."
Seolha murmured the word softly—and then abruptly rolled up both sleeves. Whereupon she began striding straight into the kitchen.
"Ah—my lady! You mustn't!"
"A woman wants to cook a little, and you carry on like this? All of you, stand aside."
"But if the Vermilion Bird Pavilion Lord finds out, there will be—"
"Hmph. If the woman who's to be the Sogaju's wife can't put so much as one dish on the table, she'll be nothing but a laughingstock. Is that what you want to make of me?"
At Seolha's question, the maid barring her way hesitated—then quietly stepped aside.
Inside the kitchen, Seolha looked around. A mountain heap of instruments whose purposes she could not begin to guess.
She picked out a small knife and a few wooden implements, then stood perfectly still, glaring at them.
The maids watched her, baffled—but still Seolha did not move. And then, a little while later—
"So, um. How do you actually make yakgwa?"
"Ah."
In that instant, groans erupted from every corner of the kitchen.
So she... can't cook at all.
Dragging my exhausted body the last stretch to my door, I gripped the handle.
Ah, ahh. The way it fits so perfectly in my hand.
'I missed you, you magnificent thing.'
Days without a moment to myself—unless you counted slipping into trance mid-training, there had been none at all. But from here on, no more of that.
'I am free.'
Nari was with me, sure, but I could pour her a cup of tea and send her on her way. That was all it took.
Half with a fluttering heart and half with longing, I slid the handle sideways—and heard that familiar sound.
Skreeeeek.
That's the one.
Unlike Dansewon, it glided without a single snag—a beautifully clean sound, simply exquisite.
With that thought warming me, I thrust the door open with gusto—and there, seated primly at the table, was someone who had absolutely no business being in this room.
"Seolha?"
"My lady?"
"I've been waiting for you."
Why are you here?
It wasn't that I disliked seeing Seolha. Quite the opposite—I liked it. But mere seconds ago I had been brimming with plans for a solitary rest, so disappointment was perhaps inevitable.
Maybe she caught my sulky expression, because Seolha turned her head away with a little pout.
"You were thrilled at the prospect of it being just you and Nari, weren't you? One look at me and your face fell."
"No, that's not it. I'm just a bit tired—"
"I make you tired?"
"Huh? I never said—"
"So you're saying I made it all up, then. Fine. As you wish, I'll leave."
No no no. This is entirely my fault. Please, have mercy.
I bolted across the room, caught the hem of Seolha's skirt, and begged forgiveness—and her head turned back, just a fraction, to where it belonged.
"Did you really think something like this would win me over?"
"Aigoo, come now—why is my Seolha being like this? I've been dying to see that pretty face of yours. Show your husband a little mercy, hm?"
"H-husband?!"
Apparently I'd struck some chord in her, because Seolha's head whipped back around at once.
"Ah! Ahem! Sit down for now. I have something for you."
"Yes ma'am~"
I did as she said and took my seat—and there on the table sat a plate of yakgwa, of all things.
"What's this?"
"Try one."
"Did you buy—"
The instant I moved to ask if she'd bought them herself, my eyes met Seolha's—and a distinctly chilly sensation plunged into my chest.
Not a chance. Abort.
"—these with love, then?"
I swerved hard, and Seolha's eyes curved into a lovely crescent. The chill vanished with them.
Phew.
Since when can Seolha weaponize invisible frost? My heart nearly froze solid.
"Yes. That's right. I made them with love."
"Thank you. I'll dig in."
I reached out and picked one up. Unlike anything you'd buy in the market, the appearance was quite—extremely—unlovely. But I wasn't deranged enough to say that out loud.
I merely stole a sideways glance at Seolha's face.
"What are you doing? Eat."
"Ah, ah—aren't you having one?"
"M-me? I'm f... I'm fine. Don't mind me, go on and eat."
That's an extremely telling reaction, you know?
But "not eating" was not among my options. I squeezed my eyes shut and brought the yakgwa to my lips.
Meanwhile, Seolha was sweating buckets on the inside. She'd told him to eat, yes—but honestly, she wasn't confident.
'If only I hadn't made that one mistake.'
The truth was, she'd misjudged the amount of grain syrup while cooking. She'd scooped out as much as she could, but the syrup had already set, and there was nothing to be done about it.
She'd tasted a bite on a hunch, and it was sweet enough to crack a tooth. Mujin surely wouldn't—but she worried he might dismiss her as hopeless in the kitchen.
At that moment, the yakgwa finally entered Mujin's mouth.
Chomp, chomp.
Ohhh. What do I do.
Seolha clenched and unclenched her hands, wringing them in her anxiety—when suddenly, the eyes of the chomping Mujin flew wide open.
"That's sweet as hell!"
It's over.
Seolha dropped her head and closed her eyes in resignation.
Chomp, chomp.
Ah. How do you botch THAT. You dummy.
Sslluurp! Sslluurp!
Haaa. Should've been more careful.
Chomp chomp chomp.
'Hm?'
But somehow, the chomping wouldn't stop. Puzzled, Seolha raised her head—and saw that of the yakgwa she'd brought, only a few were left.
...Huh?
"Wow~ First time I've ever had yakgwa this sweet."
And with that, he plucked up another one and popped it in—clearly intent on finishing off the whole plate.
'No way. The Sogaju has a sweet tooth?'
That was when Seolha realized: he didn't just like sweets. He liked them achingly, tooth-shatteringly sweet.