On the way to the annex, Beom-han talked about the cold and ruthless world of business.

“It is not easy to run a business. The better the location, the more absurd the rent – and still no customers. Is it really a prime location? And the locals in Doha are ridiculously territorial. They treat me like a spoilt aristocrat and look down on me!”

Samho, who had a habit of blurting out whatever was on his mind, replied bluntly.

“Well, it’s true.”

Although Beom-han occasionally helped San-gyeong, he wasn’t an official member of the Black Cloak Unit, so he hadn’t received any military training. Coming from a long line of civil servants, he had never held a sword in his life.

His noble status meant that he had never had to suffer, so he was a pampered nobleman in the truest sense of the word. Still, Beom-han seldom admitted it to himself.

“Damned Jeong Do-eon! Where is Heesang? He’s the only one who understands me.”

Samho frowned at Beom-han’s careless use of real names.

“During the mission I call myself Samho. And please call Baek Heesang Iho, Lord Iho.”

Beom-han visibly recoiled at the mention of his mission alias, Ilho, which he despised.

“I told you, I don’t use that lame name! Are you trying to get under my skin?”

“Just reminding you we’re on a mission.”

Ignoring their bickering, San-gyeong gazed at the Pungwoo pavilion through the curtained window.

The Manhyang Tea House, located in one of the busiest parts of the city, charged an outrageous monthly rent, which was not surprising considering its prime location. The owner was none other than Pungwoo. Renting a space from Pungwoo and running a teahouse there was a calculated move – to create an opportunity to approach him.

Shaking his head, Beom-han continued his observations about Doha.

“This city is really strange. It’s uncanny how almost everyone seems to have some connection to Pungwoo. I feel like we’ve walked right into the tiger’s den.”

“Have you seen him?”

“No. Not even a glimpse.”

Beom-han told them what he’d learned so far.

“I asked around, especially the magistrate, if they had ever met Pungwoo, and apparently they only saw him once. But even then, he was wearing a myeonsamak, so no one knows what he really looks like.

“Myeonsamak…”

If it wasn’t a woman, there was only one reason a man would wear a veil like that—it meant he had a reason to hide his identity.

Beom-han continued.

“It happened when he went to see the magistrate. Apparently, Pungwoo appeared briefly because he was financing a waterway construction project. But they only communicated through Gayu, so no one even heard his voice.

Samho interjected.

“Gayu could be Pungwoo himself, using a decoy on purpose.”

“That’s not out of the question. In any case, the de facto owner and operator of the Pungwoo Pavilion is Gayu, that much is clear. Still… my gut tells me otherwise.”

Having honed his skills in tracking people, Beom-han was convinced that Gayu and Pung-woo were two different people. It wasn’t just an unfounded hunch. He had spent a lot of time watching Gayu and the pavilion, examining everyone who came and went.

“There wasn’t a single person that stood out as Pungwoo. But the strange thing is… when I was in the pavilion, I had a strange feeling – as if Pungwoo had actually appeared.”

Beom-han was a difficult client who often visited the pavilion under the pretext of negotiating rent reductions. On that day, he had also insisted on speaking to Pungwoo directly and ended up noticing something strange.

“I heard faint bells from somewhere inside, but the sound was coming from an area completely sealed off by walls. From where I was, there was no visible passage leading inside.”

San-gyeong spoke, still staring at the Pungwoo Pavilion.

“So there’s a hidden passage.”

Beom-han nodded in agreement.

“There’s one more thing. The day I heard the bells was the same day Dan Woo-hye came out to the marketplace.”

“…Dan Woo-hye?”

So there was something going on between Woo-hye and Pungwoo. He had already suspected this, but it still made him feel uneasy.

Somewhere deep inside – even though he tried not to admit it – he had hoped that she had no connection with Pungwoo.

It was an unfamiliar and unpleasant feeling. One he didn’t want to face. He would rather have buried it in his subconscious again.

San-gyeong, now with a more subdued expression than before, finally spoke.

“I will make sure that Dan Woo-hye feels safe enough to move around freely. If something like this happens again, signal me immediately.”

“Of course I wanted to, but why do you look so murderous? With that face of yours, looking like a celestial being, it only makes you look more vicious. You look like a real villain. It suits you.”

“Mind your business.”

“You see? Your nasty attitude fits the look perfectly. Heaven is really cruel. Why did they bless a cold-hearted guy like Yoon San-gyeong with such a saintly face instead of a kind soul like me?”

Just then, the shopkeeper brought in some low-quality oolong tea.

“Your tea, sir.”

“Ah, come in.”

Parched from all the chatter, Beom-han finally raised the cup to wet his lips, but San-gyeong snatched it away and said:

“We’ll take this, so pack all the best new tea leaves.”

“What? Why?”

“We need a reason to be here. Why do you ask such an obvious question?”

Beom-han snatched the oolong back in annoyance and grumbled.

“Yes, I understand, but why the best tea leaves? Just take this oolong. This is good tea too!”

Beom-han, who had suddenly turned into a stingy merchant, bristled at the idea. San-gyeong tilted his head to the side in silence.

And the moment Beom-han saw that, he felt a deep-seated fear rising in him.

This was San-gyeong’s habit – he always did this when he was deciding whether or not to beat someone up.

He had learned it the hard way when he had picked on the quiet, gloomy San-gyeong as a child, thinking he was an easy target – only to get the beating of his life.

“You’re paying for this, aren’t you?”

“I’ve already given you money, haven’t I?”

Beom-han muttered the words “You bastard!”

His stomach churned with frustration. It wasn’t even his business, but he’d gotten so caught up in the role of the teahouse owner that it really stung.

“Ugh, this month’s books are going to be a mess…”

Even though the initial capital for the Manhyang teahouse had come from San-gyeong’s own pocket, Beom-han still felt the loss.

His heart heavy with regret, he reluctantly pulled out a small stash of Baekho Silver Needle tea he’d recently acquired.

“It was hard enough to get even a small amount of this…”

San-gyeong carefully took the luxuriously wrapped Baekho Silver Needle and, after wrapping it himself, gestured to Beom-han.

“The rest load into the carriage.”

***

No sooner had San-gyeong stepped outside than the very thing he feared happened. Gyeon Mujin appeared in front of Woo-hye, who was on her way back inside.

“Can we talk for a moment?”

He wore an uncomfortable expression, as if ready to accept rejection. Although Woo-hye couldn’t see his face, she could tell from his voice that he was embarrassed and apologetic.

“Iho, would you give us a moment?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

With a shrug that seemed to say ‘phew, I’m staying out of this’, Iho took a few steps back.

“You may speak now, Lord Gyeon.”

Lord Gyeon. The distant tone of the title brought a slightly bitter smile to Gyeon Mujin’s lips.

“I would like to apologise for what happened yesterday. I shouldn’t have behaved like that towards you. I’m sorry.”

He really was a good man. A nobleman who had grown up well educated in a good family, completely untouched by the shadows of the world.

That must be why he got along so well with Dan Joo-hyuk, who was also a good man.

Woo-hye, born among thorns and forced to fight for every scrap of survival, belonged to a completely different world.

“You were only trying to protect your fiancée. I don’t think you meant any harm, so there’s nothing to worry about.”

“Thank you for saying that.”

Gyeon Mujin sighed inwardly.

She was the epitome of a wise woman – understanding, considerate, loyal to her people and yet never swayed by personal emotions. So calm and balanced. Something Gyu-yeong could never hope to emulate.

‘And… she has her cute side, too.’

He remembered seeing her holding San-gyeong’s hand as they walked to the front gate. That’s when he realised that although she seemed cold and unapproachable when she was expressionless, her smile could light up the world and make her look as bright and pure as a child.

“You were on your way to the inner quarters, weren’t you? May I walk with you and continue our conversation?”

“Of course.”

“Here, take my arm.”

Since Woo-hye hadn’t brought her cane—intending to rely on Iho’s help on the way back—she had no choice but to take Mujin’s arm.

“Thank you, Lord Gyeon.”

Mujin, finding her manner as courteous as ever, asked playfully.
“Won’t you call me ‘orabeoni’ like you used to?”

“Mujin orabeoni.”

Woo-hye responded without the slightest hint of shyness, immediately switching to the old term of endearment—causing Mujin’s ears to turn red instead.

“R-Right. Hearing you say that brings back memories. Whenever I met with Joo-hyuk, you used to…”

He trailed off with a bittersweet smile as memories came flooding back.

“You always insisted on studying with us. Even if the texts looked difficult to you, you’d sit next to us and read them aloud, one clear word at a time. Do you remember? Little Dumpling.

“Little Dumpling…? Ah.”

Woo-hye’s expression lit up with recognition as she cupped her cheek with one hand.

“You used to tease me, saying my face looked like a dumpling.”

“Haha! I didn’t mean that. It’s just that your hairstyle back then – which you wore the same every day – looked like a baby dumpling. That’s why I called you that.”

Mujin laughed heartily, but as they approached the main building, his smile faded and his expression turned serious.

“Actually, I wanted to tell you something. I heard that Cheong-un was offered a bribe to cripple you. I thought you should know.”

Woo-hye wasn’t surprised – she had long suspected that there had been some kind of deal. If Seol Mi-hee hadn’t tried to harm her, she would have been even more shocked. She would have wondered if Seol Mi-hee was on her deathbed.

She was curious how Mujin had come across the information.

“Is it true?”

“…I can’t provide proof, but yes. I’m certain of it.”

‘If he’s that confident, he must’ve heard it through Dan Gyu-yeong.’

Mujin came to a stop.

“If you ever need my help, just say the word. I’ll protect you—no matter what.”

Woo-hye shook her head.

“I appreciate the concern, but my husband wouldn’t do something like that. Even if problems arise, I can handle them on my own, so you don’t need to worry.”

Mujin realized she was making it clear—this was not something for an outsider to interfere in.

Mujin knew that it was not his place to interfere in the affairs of another household – but still, he couldn’t help but worry about Woo-hye getting hurt.

“I know you have your own thoughts on the matter, so I won’t bother you any further. But if you ever need my help, don’t hesitate to ask.”

He hid his true feelings, careful not to overstep the bounds of being a ‘good older brother’.

“Yes, thank you. And thank you for bringing me back. I’ll go with the caretaker from here.”

Woo-hye called for Iho, took his arm and walked towards the main house.

Mujin watched her go and muttered to himself.

‘This growing affection for you… it’s going to be trouble.’

That same day, Mujin sent a letter to his family – asking them to call off the engagement.