"You seem to have been well. Your complexion looks good."
Coming to a stop right before Mok-young, Hae-gang naturally clasped his hands behind his back and swept his eyes slowly over Mok-young's face as he added a word. For all his sweeping, Mok-young — though fully dressed in his wedding robes for the day — wore his black mask as always, so Hae-gang could not properly see his face. All that met Hae-gang's eyes were the eyes and their surroundings, and the forehead; but in the bridegroom's eyes his spouse looked lovely no matter what, and Hae-gang felt that was quite enough to be "good."
And he had no thought of hiding their previous meeting. How could he have hidden it in the first place, with such a striking appearance? Only, hoping to avoid a marital quarrel with this stalwart spouse, Hae-gang leaned his body slightly toward Mok-young, brought his face close, and whispered low.
"How about we call it even?"
Hae-gang's brazen proposal reached only Mok-young's ear. So from afar it looked as though the two were already whispering sweet nothings before the wedding had even been held, and the people murmured and buzzed again. The rising commotion brushed Hae-gang's ear too, but he paid it no mind at all. Bride or groom, one ought to behave with decorum on the wedding day — who knew what delight the people were taking in the spectacle — but such everyday norms held little power over Hae-gang.
"You didn't come to see me for nearly ten days either, General. Do you know how far I traveled, suffering all the way here? Haa, and yet I only get to face you on the wedding day itself — how hurt do you think I am?"
Hae-gang's words flowed like water. Even as he pointed out Mok-young's fault, he added a brazen scolding, and at the end even tacked on an expression of hurt whose sincerity or jest could not be told. It felt like a scheme to shut Mok-young's mouth so he could not retort.
"They say there's no tonic he hasn't taken, living day to day — did he boil up a slippery snake and eat it?" Thinking this, Mok-young's eyes narrowed slightly. It was true that Hae-gang pressing in with such a head-on approach was hard to answer, but Mok-young was not one to let it slide so easily either.
"You don't look the least bit hurt, though."
A low, even voice flowed from Mok-young's lips. At such an indifferent reply, Hae-gang might well have been hurt this time, but he only smiled.
"What good would it do to show a hurt face on such a fine day? So let's say the general indulges my sulk this once, and move on."
Hae-gang once again spoke as if softly climbing over a wall. Then, straightening his body, he stood upright and looked at Mok-young. The laughter seemed to have faded, but a faint smile, like a lingering after-scent, still hovered at his lips.
Go Hae-gang was a man with a talent for leaving one speechless. His glib tongue had a coherence that seemed like sophistry, and refusing to accept it made one feel as though one would become the wretch instead, so Mok-young furrowed and unfurrowed his brow. But looking at Hae-gang's clear, lovely face, he felt again that it would be fine to just let it go as he said, and the discomfort did not last long.
"Truly… you have a talent for startling people in many ways."
At last, a sigh-like exclamation flowed from Mok-young's lips. It was a declaration of surrender, meaning he would do as Hae-gang said, and the smile hovering at Hae-gang's lips deepened once more.
From somewhere a cold wind blew, and the long red cord hanging as an ornament from the small crown atop Hae-gang's head fluttered lightly. Mok-young, who had unconsciously followed it with his eyes, turned his gaze back to Hae-gang's face.
A day from before brushed through Mok-young's mind — the day he had stopped by the bedchamber to try on his ceremonial robes. The splendid robes hanging alone on one wall. There had been a moment when he had idly wondered what sort of person the owner of those empty clothes might be, and now that very owner had appeared before his eyes, acting so playfully. At the sheer absurdity of it, Mok-young let out a short hollow laugh.
Go Hae-gang — his spouse, who had at last come to wear those robes that had been waiting for their owner — where about him was there anything of a man about to die? He was that beautiful, and so it seemed more tempting instead to call him a celestial youth who might vanish without a trace some day.
"Let me escort you inside."
Mok-young said, stepping aside. His manner of speech had changed too. Until now, his focus had been on Hae-gang as "that man" he had seen in the streets, so he had spoken casually; but now that he knew for certain he was of imperial blood, respectful speech was fitting.
"No need to keep such distance. We'll be under one blanket tonight — why act so reserved now?"
Hae-gang, noticing Mok-young's changed attitude, spoke pointedly as he stepped inside the great gate.
"If I had known you were His Highness that day, I would have acted with reserve."
Watching Hae-gang head inside, Mok-young gave brief hand signals to the guards and attendants around him, then followed behind Hae-gang. And he added a retort to Hae-gang's brazen words.
"My, for the famed Ghost King, you do hold a grudge — unbecoming of the name."
"What does my reputation have to do with holding grudges?"
"Hmm, one can't help expecting something a bit more magnanimous and generous."
"And do you know where that reputation came from, saying that?"
"Ah, how could I not know? In my homeland they thought I was being led off as a sacrificial offering."
At Hae-gang's gentle reply, Mok-young turned his head to look at Hae-gang's profile as they walked side by side. He didn't feel bad about his words. He was simply marveling anew at his brazenness.
Even after the two disappeared inside the great gate, the onlookers did not readily disperse. The guards and attendants tried to send the people away, and though they had no choice but to turn their steps, their lingering regret made them keep turning their heads to steal glances at the Dan manor's great gate.
The great gate stood open, but the guards stood firmly before it, and Hae-gang and Mok-young had already gone deep inside, so not even their shadows reached the eye. So to soothe that regret, the people now had to chatter about a "new story."
The Ghost King's bride was a beauty beyond compare under heaven. Had he been born a woman or a yin person, he would have been a beauty to topple nations. They thought a celestial being had descended before their very eyes. A man he might be, but to the point of wanting to be held in his arms
indeed. They said he was stricken with some deep illness — could that really be true?"
"So who exactly is the bride?"
"How should I know? Both are so striking, maybe the one with the bigger cock gets to be the groom."
The lewd, crude talk continued as ever, but at least no one spoke ill of the "bride" anymore. Instead, people began to appear one after another, lamenting his fate, saying beauty is short-lived.
***
Stepping into the inner quarters, Hae-gang headed for the special inner room where honored guests were usually received. Since he was of imperial blood, Mok-young's parents came to the inner room to exchange greetings with Hae-gang, and Hae-gang in turn paid his respects to the Dan couple with full courtesy. Knowing he had barged in willfully and thrown the procedure off, he behaved all the more politely.
"On such an auspicious day, I am sorry to have caused you worry. I have been so preoccupied with governing my body that I have been remiss in governing my mind. I beg you both to understand."
His movements were neat, his voice calm — like gazing upon a clear, still lake. What he was saying, in the end, was that since he was a man carrying illness, he hoped they would understand his willful behavior; and the way their heads nodded of their own accord showed either Hae-gang's nobility was wondrous, or the Dan couple's generosity was vast — one of the two.
Mok-young's father, Dan Hu-yeon [name not in the provided character list], had his own complicated corner in his mind. He too was a military man long steeped in court life, so the young emperor's inner thoughts seemed transparent to him. But he was not one to show it outwardly, so he let it pass in silence, and Mok-young's mother, Lady Ban Sojeong, gazed at Hae-gang with warm eyes.
Sojeong already felt a pang of pity for no reason. Where, exactly, could such a lovely, healthy-looking young man be so ill that he went about with talk of dying young? But on a day of celebration, dark talk was best restrained, so Sojeong held her tongue, and the Dan couple, considerate of Hae-gang, did not detain him long.
After only a brief exchange of greetings, Hae-gang was soon alone. Mok-young was outside, busy giving new instructions to the servants according to the changed schedule.
He did give a few words of scolding, but Mok-young too did not say anything greatly unpleasant to Hae-gang. Despite being quite flustered by the sudden commotion, his "you have a talent for startling people in many ways" was the end of it.
In the way he moved to quickly settle and respond rather than ruminate over what had already happened, one could feel anew that he was a man long accustomed to battlefields. On a battlefield, where lives hung in the balance, dealing with what had happened would always take priority over the event itself. And that trait — the habit of not looking back and thinking only of the present as he moved forward — somewhat resembled Hae-gang's nature. In Hae-gang's case the difference was that he looked only at the present because he did not look far ahead, but in any case, that both of them tended to face the present rather than the past or future could become quite a fine common ground.
Seated before the wide, round wooden table, Hae-gang rested one arm on its edge, chin propped on it. His other hand lay calmly on his own thigh, his eyes closed. A single trembling eyelash
trembling — without it so much as trembling, he remained immersed in deep stillness.
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