Maki was skeptical. The man who couldn’t even step into a common room hardly seemed the type.
“Four months at most. We’ll leave before summer and head to Hongju.”
“Hongju? Where Grand Secretary is going for his convalescence?”
“Yes. I’ll join my father around that time.”
“And the capital estate?”
Jihan’s expression darkened.
“I don’t know yet. I’m just… tired of the capital. I need to wander for a while.”
He took a sip of broth, then set down his spoon. He didn’t want to see any of it—the wedding, the first court attendance, the Left Minister’s daughter moving into his mother’s old quarters, the couples strolling hand in hand in May’s blooming gardens.
And worst of all—that arrogant, beautiful face slipping into his room whenever it pleased him.
“I’m not running from him. I just can’t stand the sight of him. I need time to sort out my thoughts, somewhere with clean air and open roads.”
The unprompted confession left a bitter taste. Maki pouted.
“Not running? Then why do you keep looking over your shoulder? Why do you jump every time a tall, well-dressed scholar walks by?”
“…”
“You know escape won’t solve anything. Let’s go back. You know what they say—leaving home means—”
“He’s watching me.”
Jihan cut him off, glaring.
“He set a servant to spy on my every move, won’t let me near the front gate without him. He’s severed my ties with the Donghak rebels and cut off my other connections. Meanwhile, he’s openly preparing for his wedding, his court debut—that sick, perverted—”
His slow, venomous words dripped with resentment. Jihan swallowed his emotions and exhaled.
“He’s trying to control my entire life, lock me up like a toy. And you expect me to just take it?”
He forced down the unpalatable porridge, jaw set in determination. Maki couldn’t argue further and hung his head in defeat.
“Go sell the horses to the stablemaster.”
As they prepared to leave, Jihan dropped another bombshell. Maki’s eyes widened in disbelief.
“Young Master, what did you just say? Sell the horses?”
“Yes. Why do you always make me repeat myself?”
“Because you keep saying insane things! Those horses—you’ve raised them since they were foals! The mare was a gift from the late madam on your fifteenth birthday!”
Moreover, they were of rare military bloodline—far superior to the scrawny nags in the inn’s stable. Selling them would be a loss, and they’d struggle to travel without them.
“Young Master, please reconsider. Selling the horses is not the answer.”
Maki pleaded, but Jihan was unusually stubborn.
“Sell them. Use the money to buy passage on a grain barge at the river port. Make sure it’s bound for Uan. Hurry—before sunset.”
“…What?”
Maki’s mind reeled. Jihan’s orders were all over the place.
“Forgive me, Young Master, but are you… unwell? You said Jang-un, not Uan! And Uan is in the complete opposite direction!”
“Do I look like I don’t know that? Stop arguing and do as I say.”
Jihan dismissed him with an impatient wave.
Still hesitant, Maki eventually sold the horses for a pittance and secured barge tickets to Uan. He left the inn first, leaving Jihan to scan the surroundings.
After Maki departed, Jihan called the innkeeper over as she crossed the courtyard. She wiped her hands on her apron, looking annoyed—what now, when I’m swamped?
But when she finally looked up at the young scholar in front of her, she froze. He was stunning—far more refined than any man she’d met in her wild youth, back when she’d lived lavishly before opening this inn.
“I have a favor to ask.”
Jihan leaned in, his red lips brushing her ear as he whispered.
“Do you happen to have a private room in this inn? One where no one comes or goes?”
“A-a private room? You mean…?” The innkeeper’s voice trembled. “The only place in my inn where we don’t take guests is my own quarters in the back. You mean… my room? Oh dear, oh dear—what on earth are you—huh?”
“…Tsk. Lower your voice.”
Jihan was taken aback by the way the old woman’s face flushed crimson as she twisted her body in agitation. He pressed on in a hushed tone.
“I’ll pay you handsomely. Just lend me your back room in secret. And call that burly stablehand loitering near the bales of straw.”
“Oh dear, oh dear! You don’t mean me—you mean him? That hulking brute?”
Whatever she was imagining, the innkeeper nearly fainted from shock, repeating “Oh dear!” Jihan silenced her with a stern look before slipping her ten nyang for the use of her quarters. Then he made his way alone to the secluded back of the inn—a small courtyard with a two-section veranda and a single room.
The stablehand, Jung-nomi, soon followed, bowing deeply. Jihan gave him careful instructions:
“Go straight to the South Gate market, as discreetly as possible. Find the smallest tailor shop and buy a new gat and do-po [traditional scholar’s hat and robe], along with a set of monk’s robes.”
He pressed a jade hairpin—worth a fortune—into the man’s palm.
“Use this to pay. Keep the change. And not a word to anyone.”
“Understood, sir.”
Jung-nomi returned within a sikgyeong. As ordered, he brought a freshly made gat and do-po, along with monk’s robes. Strangely, Jihan reached for the monk’s robes, not the silk do-po. He pulled the wide-brimmed monk’s hat low over his face, covering half of it, then slipped on thick quilted socks and straw sandals, draping a gray traveler’s cloak over himself. With a bundle on his back and a staff in hand, he looked like a completely different person.
“Good. Now go to the stablemaster and buy two new packhorses. And don’t tell a soul that I bought new horses.”
“Yes, sir. Of course.”
Unlike Maki, Jung-nomi didn’t argue—he simply did as he was told.
Jihan loaded his belongings onto the newly purchased horses. Keeping his head bowed, he slipped out through the back gate of the inn. The plan? Let rumors spread that Grand Secretary Choi’s eldest son sold his horses and boarded a barge. People would swear they saw him enter the inn—but no one would see him leave.
That’s all I need.
He blended into the crowded market near the south gate.
***
Maki returned with the barge tickets in the late afternoon.
They had agreed to meet near the water mill in a small, isolated village below the southern city walls. Jihan was crouched behind a rotting pile of hay inside the mill when he heard footsteps.
“Young Master, it’s me.”
Maki rushed in, only to freeze at the sight of Jihan’s disguise—and the two unfamiliar packhorses tethered to the mill’s pillar.
“What’s with the horses? And why are you dressed as a monk?”
Jihan stepped out from behind the hay, brushing straw from his robes.
“Disguise. And these are the new horses I bought from the stablemaster. Did you really think we’d travel on foot?”
“Then why sell your precious horses in the first place…?”
“Never mind that. Did you get the tickets?”
“Ah, yes. Here.”
Maki handed them over. Jihan glanced around before tucking them into his inner sleeve.
“But even the largest grain barge won’t fit horses—”
“Who said we’re taking the barge?”
“…What?”
While Maki gaped, Jihan plopped a large bamboo hat onto his head and draped him in the silk do-po.
“We’re going by land. It’s less conspicuous if we split up—you go ahead first.”
Maki did as told, leading the new horses toward the city gates. The guards let him pass without question—Jihan’s forged identity tag worked. Outside the walls, a group of thirty merchants and armed escorts had gathered, preparing to cross the treacherous mountain pass. Bandits and tigers were common there, and traveling in large groups was safer.
Soon, the disguised Jihan appeared—his face and neck smeared with mud, making him nearly unrecognizable. Five more travelers joined, bringing their party to thirty-seven. They set off together, blending into the mountain path.
Before leaving, Jihan paused to look back at the capital sprawled below.
By now, Seon would have returned to the estate. He’d be scouring the city, turning it upside down. Someone would mention the young master selling his horses at an inn, and someone else would gossip about his servant buying barge tickets to Uan.
Let him waste time searching Uan’s Sanggeosan. By the time he realized the deception, Jihan would already be hidden deep in Jang-un, lying low until summer. Unless he entered court service, he’d never have to see that man again.
“Young Master, the others are urging us to move.”
“…Alright.”
Jihan tore his gaze from the capital and turned away.
***
“A man who’s never slept on anything but silk bedding—what’s your plan?”
Maki fussed as they prepared to camp. And it wasn’t just the bedding—Jihan had never trekked such steep, rugged mountains. He’d always traveled by boat, preferring water over land. The early spring chill in the mountains was biting.
“I’ll manage. I haven’t slept in days—I need rest.”
Author: Hyacinthus B
Hyacinthus
