[CYM] 6 – Son-in-law

“I’m counting on you, Beodeul.”

“Yes, I’ll stop by before the sun sets.”

“Such a pretty face and also so kind. Surely a top candidate for marriage.”

A woman from the house below passed by, thanking her and giving her an apple as a token of appreciation. It looked like leftovers from sales.

“I wonder who you’ll marry.”

“I’m too busy making meets ends, what marriage are you talking about?”

“Why not. You’re seventeen now, I’’s time to look for a match. I can play the matchmaker perfectly. Haven’t you helped our house a lot? I’m like a magpie that repays kindness.”

Then, an elder who was raising three large cows, slapped her back without hesitation as he passed.

“Ah, is that so?”

“With your looks, there should be a crowd of girls ready to throw themselves at you. Did you know? Yeonhye only roams around where you go, like grass following you. That’s no ordinary dedication, huh.”

The elder was known as a social butterfly in Muritmaegol. Hence, he had keen ears and eyes.

“Do you mean you want to enjoy your youth before getting married? I was young once and had my fun, so I understand. But, you must not mess with a married woman. If you do, you’ll be chased out of the village, understand?”

The man’s words were rather crude.

“I’ll make sure to find you a decent bride, so if you’re interested, make sure to tell me.”

She wanted to cleanse her ears of his words immediately. She had no desire for the crude offerings of a man like him, not when she was already feeling unjust and suffocated by the thought of having to live her life disguised as a man. Adding more to a fire that was already out of control seemed pointless.

She passed by the old man, who displayed his yellowed teeth in a grin, feeling a sense of disgust that was not as profound as her mother’s for the villagers, but enough to be convinced of its justification. Her mother, while outwardly affable, harboured a deep-seated loathing for the people, a hatred that had only grown since the loss of her child, surpassing even that of malevolent spirits.

Before she was born, she had an older brother, five years her senior, who was taken away and beaten by the villagers because of rumours that he was a descendant of Hong Unyeong. They had pummelled the young child senseless and dragged him off to be sacrificed.

Her mother was pregnant with her at the time and was unable to follow her son, who was snatched away just before she gave birth. Instead, she collapsed in the rain, wailing in despair. Following that tragedy, her mother bore the weight of grief in her chest and was so shaken by the loss of her child that she could not care for her newborn. She renounced her duties as a shaman and shrugged off all responsibilities placed upon her shoulders.

To add to the miseries, her father spent the remainder of his life searching for his son until he met his end in a fall on a mountain path when she was just two years old. That was the family history she knew, one where she was often in the care of neighbours rather than her biological mother, always feeling like a sinner in front of her mother’s resentful gaze.

“Aren’t you going inside?”

She snapped back to reality, finding herself in front of the stern young master’s gate. The gatekeeper, sweeping the ground, brushed the dust towards her, as if to urge her to move on.

“Young master.”

After catching her breath, she called out to him, taking a moment to brace herself for the potential tantrums of the day. If he carelessly overturned the medicine bowl again today, she would have to pretend to be on the verge of tearing down the paper doors in frustration.

Instead of replying, he made rustling sounds as he moved about in the room. It seemed today he was not in the mood to acknowledge her greeting. She, too, decided not to waste time talking to thin air and went straight to the kitchen to start brewing the medicine.

The young master’s quarters were somewhat isolated from the main house, and aside from the servants who brought in meals, visitors were extremely rare. This allowed her to speak her mind freely in the tiny kitchen attached to his quarters, without fear of being overheard. She had often railed against the young master there.

While she was fanning the boiling medicine pot, a thud was heard. It came from the direction of the dingy backyard near the bamboo gate. It was late spring when the cherries were just ripening; it wasn’t the season for persimmons to fall.