After all, it was the first time they had faced each other with nothing between their faces.

Woo-hye looked ahead cautiously, feeling the light seep into the space that had been blocked from her view.

Even though it was night and the world was shrouded in darkness, she couldn’t make out the colour red even with the light.

What she could see now was the glow of the lamps, scattered and uneven shadows blending into the darkness.

By chance, her line of sight coincided with San-gyeong’s.

Woo-hye couldn’t have known that, so only San-gyeong fully received the gaze of the one in front of him.

“……”

“……”

A moment of silence passed. The only thing stirring in the room was the flickering light.

San-gyeong watched in silence as Woo-hye looked at him.

Or rather, he found himself unable to look away.

Her gentle face was calm, serene – and yet

and yet there was something almost bewitching about it.

She wore the kind of expression that made it seem as if she might lean down and whisper words of love at any moment – like a fox spirit.

Like a fox spirit, beautiful and enchanting, luring a wandering soul with silent temptation.

“You’re looking at me, aren’t you?”

Woo-hye asked playfully, her voice tinged with amusement.

San-gyeong was surprised.

Even though years of intense training had slowed his heartbeat far beyond that of an average person, he found it beating a little faster than usual.

“You seem to be in a good mood.”

He said, deflecting the moment.

“Maybe because it’s a good day.”

Woo-hye’s unusually light mood was entirely due to the anaesthetic Mokcheon had given her.

The knowledge that she could see whenever she wanted brought a deep sense of relief – and it showed in her face.

and it showed in her face.

There was a radiant energy in her expression that made her already beautiful features even more captivating, as if she were glowing from within.

‘It’s a good thing no one else saw her like this.’
He was genuinely grateful for the tradition that required the bride to keep her face covered with a red cloth throughout the day.

“Seobangnim?” (a respectful word for ‘husband’)

He jumped at the sound of her voice, for he had been looking at her with a rather serious expression.

“Drink the medicine first.”

San-gyeong handed her the bowl of decoction he had put down earlier.

“I met Hyang-eum on my way here, so I brought the medicine instead.”

“Ah… I see. I was wondering why she didn’t come.”

San-gyeong casually walked over to the round table in the middle of the room.

On it were the wedding wine and some simple snacks. Among them was a small bowl of kumquats.

“And since the medicine is bitter, don’t forget to give her some fruit afterwards.”

Remembering Hyang-eum’s words, San-gyeong took two kumquats.

Meanwhile, Woo-hye drank the decoction without hesitation.

Normally, she would never drink something given to her by someone else, but for some reason she had an inexplicable trust that San-gyeong wouldn’t do anything suspicious.

Still, something felt wrong.

‘Did he stop somewhere before coming here?’

The medicine, which would normally still be a bit hot, had already cooled to lukewarm.

Maybe it had cooled down while he was talking to Hyang-eum. But if it had cooled down that much, knowing Hyang-eum’s personality, she would have warmed it up again before bringing it in.

‘If that’s the case, why did he take the medicine from her in the first place?’

‘Did he want her to do something else?’

Just as Woo-hye was about to speak to clarify things –

“Hyang-eum, did she-mmph.”

Before she could finish her sentence, a bright yellow kumquat popped into her open mouth.

She reflexively bit into the round fruit, which burst with a tangy sweetness that washed away the bitter taste left by the medicine.

Perhaps because it was in season, the aroma was particularly fresh and vivid.

San-gyeong took out a handkerchief and held it under her chin.

“She told me to give you some fruit after the bitter medicine. Spit out the seeds here.”

Though surprised, Woo-hye chewed and swallowed the flesh of the fruit, then spat the seeds into the handkerchief he held to her lips.

She was confused, but it tasted good.

It helped with the bitterness, she had to admit.

Still, the more she thought about it, the more absurd it seemed that he had just popped a kumquat into her mouth without warning.

“You could’ve just handed it to me…”

Before she could finish, San-gyeong popped the second kumquat into her mouth.

The two kumquats he’d picked up were now gone from his hand.

Woo-hye chewed slowly, her expression clearly showing her displeasure.

San-gyeong watched the scene unfold and suddenly realised something he had missed.

‘She didn’t react at all until I fed her the kumquat. So maybe our eyes didn’t actually meet – maybe it was just a coincidence.’

Her eyes hadn’t moved an inch. At that moment, she was staring at his stomach.

Still, San-gyeong wasn’t ready to let go of his suspicion.

This time, he silently held out a handkerchief, stopping just short of touching her chin.

Woo-hye, still chewing on the kumquat, swallowed the pulp.

As San-gyeong watched the movement of her cheeks and lips, a strange feeling crept over him.

‘Would it have been better to see if she could see in a different way?’

He had thought it would be a convenient excuse to say that he was helping her feed the kumquat at Hyang-eum’s request, but now he realised it had been a pointless effort.

Just then, Woo-hye reached around her mouth as if looking for a place to spit out the seed, and found San-gyeong’s hand.

Startled, San-gyeong flinched and Woo-hye spat the seed onto the handkerchief.

Her nose brushed lightly against his palm.

The unfamiliar, ambiguous sensation made San-gyeong feel uncomfortable and he tossed the handkerchief aside in irritation.

Unaware of the discomfort her actions had caused, Woo-hye asked the question she had wanted to ask earlier.

“But why did you bring the decoction yourself instead of Hyang-eum?”

“I told everyone not to come near me when I’m with you.”

“Huh? Why?”

He had already prepared an excuse – he had explained it to Hyang-eum before, although technically it was Iho who did the explaining.

“It’s because…”

San-gyeong hesitated for a moment. It was an uncomfortable thing to say out loud.

“…people have to assume that we share a bed.”

The mention of sleeping together didn’t bother Woo-hye at all. She coolly analysed the reason behind it.

“To deceive your father, I suppose. I thought the servants you brought with you were all loyal to you – are they spies too?”

“They are loyal to me, but they can’t go against my father’s orders. Especially Iho – he is even more bound to them.”

That too was a half-truth.

The emperor’s orders were absolute, and in this case it was also in San-gyeong’s best interest.

Iho had every reason to obey them willingly.

Woo-hye reacted with surprise when she heard that Iho was acting as a watchdog.

“I always thought Iho was the loyal type – this is unexpected.”

This time it was San-gyeong who was surprised.

Most people tended to think of Iho as a sycophant. Although he was competent, they often assumed that he had hidden motives.

It was a common misconception because of his easy manner and his ability to please his superiors.

But Woo-hye had seen through Iho’s true nature.nOf all the people San-gyeong had around him, only Samho was more overly loyal than Iho.

‘Was it because he had never discussed this subject with anyone before?’

San-gyeong smiled unintentionally as he explained.

“Iho is especially loyal – that is why he watches me more closely. If I don’t share a bed with my wife, I’ll be in trouble.”

The implication was clear: if he failed to fulfil his duties and produce a noble heir as the Supreme Merchant Lord wished, there would be consequences.

Woo-hye seemed to understand, but Iho’s behaviour still didn’t sit well with her, so she asked curiously.

“But couldn’t he just lie to the Supreme Merchant Lord and say that his master is fulfilling his marital duties? Wouldn’t that be more loyal – protecting you from things you don’t want to do?”

Wasn’t it true loyalty to make sure your master didn’t have to do anything unpleasant?

Her question hit the exact flaw in the cover story San-gyeong had vaguely put together.

The real reason Iho was monitoring San-gyeong’s marital activities was because of the antidote to the Twenty-Four Flower Dream poison.

“That’s… because if I don’t have a child, it will cause problems with the inheritance.”

“Ah, I see.”

People were usually quick to accept an explanation when it came to money, and Woo-hye, being a merchant, was no exception.

Now she finally agreed that Iho was indeed quite loyal.

“Still, Iho seems to be a bit too loyal. He must also have confidence in his own judgement.”

“He is clever and tends to think and act on his own.”

“Then you must trust and respect his judgement.”

“I do.”

Normally, he wouldn’t have bothered with such unnecessary elaboration.

But Woo-hye had spoken as if Iho were one of her own people – and without meaning to, he had done the same.

No, this kind of conversation was new.

Of all the people San-gyeong had dealt with, there had never been anyone he could talk to like this.

Woo-hye was similar to Iho.

She understood the psychology of others, wasn’t afraid of people and naturally took the lead in a conversation in an effortlessly charming way.

It was a talent that was completely contrary to San-gyeong’s nature – something he couldn’t imitate, no matter how hard he tried.

Even now – just look at him.

He was so easily drawn into conversation.

And oddly enough, there was even a strange sense of liberation in it.

Her beautiful face, with its ambiguous expression, where good and evil seemed indistinguishable, left no room for boredom in her counterpart.

It was the kind of appearance that aroused curiosity, like a glimpse into an unknown realm that one couldn’t easily get used to.

Indeed, the emotions and sensations she evoked were dangerous.

All the more so because they were sweet and fragrant – without looking the least bit dangerous.

“I understand your situation, my lord. But Hyang-eum should take off my hair ornaments – what should I do?”

With these words, Woo-hye let out a soft sigh.

The wedding ceremony had been an exhausting ordeal. The decorations were heavy, the clothes were heavy – she felt like she was going to catch a fever at any moment.

She wanted nothing more than to get rid of it all as soon as possible.

At her slight complaint, San-gyeong’s gaze shifted to the ornate hairpiece.

It looked awfully cumbersome to wear for so long.

‘Still… it makes her look dignified and stunning.’

“I’ll do it.”

As he stepped forward without hesitation, Woo-hye turned her back to him as if she had been waiting.

“Please start with the phoenix crown. It is really heavy.”

Without a word, San-gyeong began to remove the ornaments one by one, as Woo-hye had instructed.

His touch was delicate.

Worried that her hair might get caught in the ornaments, he didn’t rush – he moved slowly, carefully.

A light sleep began to settle over her.

Woo-hye considered pretending to pull out a hair just to tease him, but decided against it.

San-gyeong was too careful – she would have felt bad if she’d made light of it.

Instead, she asked a question.

“But you didn’t tell me that I look good today.”

“I thought you must have heard that a lot.”

“No one said that.”

San-gyeong’s hands stopped for a moment.

‘This can’t be true. He was sure she was lying.’

Sure enough, Woo-hye stuck out her lower lip and added:

“Except Ryeong-ah.”