Chapter 32

Notes: In traditional Korean wedding rites (hollye / 婚禮), the Jeonan-rye is the solemn opening ceremony where the groom enters the bride’s estate holding a wild goose (jeonan)—traditionally a live bird, later formalized into a beautifully carved wooden goose (mokan). The groom kneels and places the goose upon a ceremonial table before bowing deeply twice. Wild geese symbolize three cardinal marital virtues: lifelong fidelity (they mate for life and never take another mate if one dies), strict natural hierarchy, and leaving a noble legacy. In classical noble households, performing the Jeonan-rye was legally and socially indispensable to establish the legitimacy of a marriage.

***

Myeong-joo had been fretting for a while that his hair might catch fire. Steam was rising from the strands wrapped around the iron rod.

“Myeong-in, is this truly necessary?” he asked plaintively.

“Please stay still, Brother,” Myeong-in chided without looking up. “Salon Director, I think it would look better swept back on this side.”

“I believe so as well,” the salon director chimed in.

Myeong-in was already too engrossed in consultation with the salon director to pay any heed to Myeong-joo’s protests. Resting on the kerosene stove was a pair of tongs fitted not with sharp blades, but with long, rounded iron rods—curling irons heated over blistering flame.

The director ran her salon in the complex adjacent to the riverside apartments built by the Korea National Housing Corporation specifically for senior military commanders. A renowned stylist whose clientele included famous entertainers, conglomerate executives, and generals’ families, she would normally have declined an on-site visit to the Dalsan Tower Hotel wedding hall on a Sunday.

Yet the wives of those generals—who comprised the vast majority of her regular clientele—were all slated to attend this very ceremony. Today was the wedding of Lee Yi-tan, grandson of Grand Prince Gyeonghyeon and the bedrock of the frontline barrier.

Despite the grim rule that demonic fiends inevitably swarmed wherever crowds gathered, Seowon—the most populous territory across the eight provinces of the peninsula—owed much of its peace to Lee Yi-tan’s prowess. How could a stylist whose livelihood depended on generals’ wives refuse the wedding of a young officer whose lineage was as distinguished as his power? Beaming, she placated the handsome man in her chair. Was he today’s groom or bride? Either way, she reminded herself, he was one of the stars of the occasion.

“There is no need to cut your hair at all,” the director praised warmly. “Just sweeping it back like this puts Hollywood actors to shame. My goodness, how can someone be so handsome?”

“Ah, haha…” Myeong-joo chuckled awkwardly.

Embarrassed to his marrow, Myeong-joo could only answer the director’s flattery with a sheepish laugh. Though the ceremony was set for one in the afternoon, preparations had demanded his presence at the venue since dawn. To make matters worse, residual harmonization energy had churned violently in his gut throughout the night; to avoid waking the sleeping children, he had spent hours gagging in a freezing bathroom, his teeth chattering uncontrollably, leaving him gaunt and hollow-eyed. Still, hearing a stylist accustomed to celebrities praise his looks gave him some comfort that he would at least not disgrace Yi-tan.

Even if people gossip about two men marrying, they will hold their tongues if both look striking, Myeong-in had told him. So stop complaining and sit still.

That had been Myeong-in’s answer when he asked why any of this fuss was necessary. He chose, once again, to trust the sister who was so often right. To Myeong-joo, a wedding with two grooms was bound to look strange whether they were handsome or plain, but he saw no reason to argue with her when she was already wound tight with determination.

“Brother, how does my hair look?” Myeong-hui asked, twirling proudly.

Myeong-hui was sporting curls set by the salon apprentice using rollers. With her wavy locks gathered up and pinned with a pearl-colored ribbon, she looked thoroughly adorable. On the other side, however, holding a black satin ribbon, Myeong-in let out a quiet sigh. The superstition that wearing white on one’s head was akin to mourning attire weighed on her conscience, but she had evidently lost the battle against her little sister’s stubbornness.

“Honestly, I told you white ornaments do not belong in one’s hair,” Myeong-in scolded her.

“What does it matter?” Myeong-hui retorted with a pout. “I don’t even have parents anyway.”

At the child’s pert reply, the director and her apprentice exchanged wide-eyed glances and cleared their throats awkwardly. Myeong-in shot the girl a severe look. Realizing she had gone too far, Myeong-hui scurried to her brother and clung to his thigh. The words chilled Myeong-joo’s heart; he turned to her with an awkward smile, privately regretting that he could not simply take her side.

“Myeong-hui, you must watch your tongue,” Myeong-joo gently chided, turning to the little girl. “Myeong-in, she knows she was wrong.”

In his haste to placate Myeong-in before the child could even promise to behave, Myeong-joo found his sister glaring daggers at him instead. Now two people in the room were feeling thoroughly chastened.

“My, my… what wonderful affection between siblings,” the salon director remarked, trying to ease the tension.

Myeong-joo offered a self-deprecating grin. “It is only because my sisters are so good-natured.”

Seizing the director’s attempt to lighten the mood, Myeong-joo laughed like a simpleton. Whether their brother praised them or not seemed irrelevant to his sisters; Myeong-in turned away muttering that there was still much to prepare, while Myeong-hui glued her eyes to Robot Taekwon V, which the apprentice had switched on for her.

“There, all finished,” the director announced. “There is still some time before the ceremony, so be careful not to ruffle your hair.”

“Thank you for your hard work,” Myeong-joo said with a polite bow.

Deliverance had finally come. Bowing courteously, Myeong-joo rose from his seat. He considered stepping out for a cigarette, but the matchbox was nowhere to be found. Deciding to borrow a light from a passerby, he slipped quietly out of the waiting room.

His thoughts were undeniably disordered. A wedding at last. It felt like something perpetually promised yet never truly arriving had suddenly materialized right before his eyes. By this afternoon, I will be a married man…

Whatever the circumstances, he was about to enter a lifelong covenant with the man he loved, yet his spirits sank inexplicably low. After harboring feelings for Yi-tan across three lifetimes, they were finally being joined, so why did he feel such a desperate urge to run away? He felt certain he would need to chain-smoke the instant he set foot outdoors.

A sigh born of resignation escaped him. Even if they held this wedding, there was no chance he and Lee Yi-tan could live as an ordinary couple. Between them, there would never be any fruit born of love, nor would they ever look upon each other with matching devotion.

Through this marriage, Myeong-joo wished only for his sisters’ freedom and security. In exchange, he was fully prepared to grant Yi-tan whatever he desired. Beyond that, he resolved to covet nothing. Having never dared to dream of shared affections, he steeled himself to suppress any desire that might stir within him after the wedding. That very resolution was undoubtedly what left the groom’s heart feeling so restless and unsettled.

“Haah…” Myeong-joo murmured under his breath.

Letting out another low sigh, he gave the wry, bitter laugh of a man chewing on grit before continuing down the hallway. He had expected the corridor to bustle with many couples wedding today, but it proved surprisingly deserted. It was so quiet—resembling an empty holiday—that the absurd suspicion crossed his mind: could he and Yi-tan be the only couple holding a ceremony here today?

As he passed through the tranquil hallway toward the emergency stairwell well before the guests’ arrival, Myeong-joo inadvertently overheard a conversation between Lee Seol-heon and the Princess Consort.

“Just where on earth is that boy, and what is he doing…?” a woman’s fretful voice drifted over.

Seol-heon answered in exasperation, “He said he would be here shortly, but this is a disaster.”

Without realizing it, Myeong-joo halted in his tracks and held his breath. It appeared Lee Yi-tan had not yet arrived. Though two hours remained before the ceremony began, considering the myriad rituals masquerading as preparations Myeong-joo had undergone, it was by no means ample time.

He raised a hand to scratch the back of his head out of habit, only to remember the elaborate craftsmanship applied to his hair and stop himself just in time. Suppressing a soft sigh, he turned away to seek another corridor.

“I must make a brief trip to the front line. I will return before the wedding, so please do not worry, Instructor.”

Yi-tan had soothed him in a voice gentler than one might expect from so imposing a man, then left for the front several days earlier. Knowing how relentlessly he moved between Seowon and the battle lines to keep the demonic fiends pinned down, Myeong-joo had not asked whether it was wise to go with the wedding only days away. Still less could he ask why Yi-tan was rushing back into battle after reaching the brink of rampage. The man had left as soon as the blood on his newest wounds had dried; such questions felt impossible to voice.

Thinking it far better to offer a quiet wish for a safe return rather than burden him with unwanted fretting, Myeong-joo had merely nodded in silence. In any case, he knew next to nothing about wedding arrangements himself. Myeong-in handled most matters on his side, while Lee Seol-heon and his mother saw to things on Yi-tan’s end, leaving Myeong-joo without the slightest pretext to hold him back. He had merely assumed that, being soon-to-be-wed partners, he would accompany Yi-tan whenever the man deployed to the front lines. Yet Yi-tan had departed alone, as though it were the most natural thing in the world.

“Damn it, I forgot to bring a light…” Myeong-joo muttered under his breath.

Stepping outside, Myeong-joo clicked his tongue in annoyance. Distracted by the conversation between Seol-heon and the Princess Consort, he had forgotten to ask anyone for a light and walked straight out into the cold air. While indoor smoking was permissible, he never allowed so much as a wisp of smoke near his sisters, which had driven him outside in the first place; now he stood with a look of helpless irritation. Should he return to the lobby and ask for matches? Having exited through the rear fire doors behind the hotel, a wave of sheer lethargy washed over him.

As he stood with a grimace entirely unfitting for a bridegroom on his wedding day, a screeching sound like something scraping against brick reached his ears.

Leaning forward with arms crossed, Myeong-joo called toward the narrow gap between the exterior walls, “…Is someone there?”

If it was another person, he intended to borrow a match this time. When no answer returned, he assumed it was merely a badger or weasel roaming near Mount Dalsan. Tilting his head, he turned back toward the wedding hall, only for the sound to scrape his ears again—a shrill, unpleasant screech of something sharp grating against brick.

He froze in silence. “…”

A sudden chill seized him: could it be a demonic fiend creeping down from the foothills? Though Seowon was fortified against incursions, nothing was guaranteed. Had he not encountered a demonic fiend in a downtown alleyway right near headquarters not long ago? Intent on investigating, he crept cautiously toward the crevice, taking care not to let his dress shoes click against the ground.