Chapter 16

​Apples were a luxury. Honey was even more so. A confection made from two such rare ingredients was a treat that most families, unless exceptionally wealthy, struggled to afford even once a year. Yet Hwi spoke as if it weren’t sweet enough—as if he were a man who dined on such delicacies every day.

​“Tsk.”

​As Yoo-ha slowly chewed the compote, the sound of a tongue clicking reached his ears.

​Perhaps because his body heat was so high, Hwi usually kept his sleeves rolled up. Noticing that the fabric had come loose, Hwi began to roll them back up, but something seemed to go wrong; his brow furrowed in a deep, frustrated scowl. Yoo-ha reached out, neatly folding the sleeves for him, and spoke with cautious deliberation.

​“Hwi, when I watch you, it often feels as if you are unaccustomed to simple things. As if you have never had to perform such trivial tasks yourself.”

​“……”

​“You are from the Mir Kingdom, aren’t you?”

​At the question, Hwi looked up. He stared intently at Yoo-ha for a moment, silent, before offering a reply that was neither a confirmation nor a denial.

​“What does it matter if I am?”

​“And you were born into a noble station. You might even possess the blood of the Mir. Am I right?”

​Ye-hwi tried to gauge exactly where Yoo-ha was leading with this, but unable to tell, he simply waited. Why did it matter to Seong Yoo-ha whether he was from Mir or not? And the phrasing about his nobility was odd—was the man going to suggest that if he were high-born, he should stop playing at being a servant?

​“Did your family fall to ruin or suffer some misfortune, forcing you to flee all the way to the Kingdom of Ansi?”

​No matter how Yoo-ha looked at it, it was certain that Hwi possessed Mir blood. He even suspected the man held certain Mir abilities—his inhuman stamina, for instance. Since no prominent Mir families within Ansi had met with disaster recently, Hwi was likely a refugee from the Mir Kingdom itself, lying low for a time.

​“What makes you think that?”

​Hwi had been silent for a long while before answering with that question. Yoo-ha met his gaze with the gentlest expression he could muster.

​“It is not just me; anyone could see it. Your tone, your bearing—everything suggests you were not raised as a servant or a slave. You are likely a descendant of a prestigious house. That is surely why you refused to sign the slave contract.”

​“If that were true,” Hwi asked, cutting straight to the point, “would it change anything?”

​Yoo-ha smiled faintly. He appreciated how Hwi didn’t hide behind ‘ifs’ or ‘maybes’ but demanded the conclusion immediately.

​“Well, since you haven’t signed a contract, you are free to leave whenever you wish. However, whether you stay or go, the thirty nyang I promised can only be paid after half a year.”

​“So, nothing changes?”

​Hwi looked unimpressed. It was obvious to him that he could leave whenever he liked; he had never intended to take Yoo-ha’s thirty nyang in the first place. From Ye-hwi’s perspective, the conversation was moot.

​“’Nothing changes’?” Yoo-ha repeated.

​“Not particularly.”

​Yoo-ha pondered the answer. Why does nothing change? He had just told the man he was free to go. …Did Hwi simply intend to leave whenever he felt like it regardless? Perhaps that was it.

​“Then, Hwi… please, help me.”

​“With what?”

​“Stay here with me. Just until Nanny recovers and gets back on her feet. Once she is well, you may leave whenever you like.”

​Yoo-ha continued, choosing his words with care. He truly needed Hwi’s assistance. Lately, his focus had been consumed by the affairs of the merchant guild. Their first ship was nearing completion, and he had to oversee every detail to ensure the massive contract for transporting the Mir Kingdom’s ritual goods went off without a hitch.

​This required him to be away from the annex frequently. If Yong-rae were only responsible for the annex, it wouldn’t be an issue; however, the main house constantly summoned Yong-rae to perform grueling chores. Despite having a surplus of servants, they deliberately worked Yong-rae to the bone to spite Yoo-ha. He knew it was harassment, but his greater fear was that something might happen to Nanny while the annex was left unattended.

​Yoo-ha reiterated that Hwi could leave once Nanny was better, though he was welcome to stay longer if he wished. He also promised, once again, to pay the thirty nyang. Even if Hwi wasn’t truly a servant, Yoo-ha suspected he had nowhere to go and would eventually need the funds. In Yoo-ha’s mind, the promise of wages was the only tether he had to keep Hwi by his side.

​“If thirty nyang is insufficient, I can raise it to fifty—but I can still only pay you after six months have passed.”

​“Why specifically six months?”

​Since their first meeting, Yoo-ha had constantly referenced this six-month window, as if he were a man waiting for a specific countdown to end. Hwi had zero interest in such pocket change, but he was curious about the significance of the timeframe. At first, he thought Yoo-ha simply needed time to scrape the money together, but the man didn’t seem truly penniless. So why the delay?

​“Because after six months,” Yoo-ha replied vaguely, “I will be a little freer than I am now.”

​It was another cryptic answer. He spoke like someone harboring the vain hope that everything would miraculously improve if he just endured for half a year. Or perhaps he actually had a plan? Hwi searched Yoo-ha’s eyes—which seemed anchored by a strange conviction—before finally nodding.

​“Fine. Six months.”

​“Thank you, Hwi.”

​“On one condition.”

​“A condition?”

​This half-year you’re so obsessed with… I could whisk you away to the Mir Kingdom before it’s even half over. To hell with your six months.

​Hwi swallowed the words and stated his terms instead. It was a perfect opening. Yoo-ha wanted something from him, and the payment was essentially being offered on credit. He might as well take his own collateral.

​“In exchange,” Hwi said, “let me sleep beside you.”

​He was already doing it, of course, but dragging himself back to his designated spot by the door every dawn was a nuisance. He had considered ignoring social propriety altogether, but he had been maintaining the charade of the separate bedding just to avoid unnecessary complications.