Chapter 7

​”Oh, Young Master Yoo-ha.”

​The memory was still bitter. On a day of heavy rain, Yoo-ha’s half-sister, Seong So-yoon, had suddenly demanded a snack and sent Yoo-ha’s nanny out to the market to fetch it. She had an army of her own servants to command; Yoo-ha had burned with the urge to demand why she had specifically targeted his elderly nanny, but his position was too precarious to risk such a confrontation.

​The nanny had trudged to the market in the downpour, only to slip on the rain-slicked ground. The fall had badly wrenched her back, leaving her bedridden. The physician’s diagnosis was grim: because of her age, recovery would be slow. He had warned, sternly, that she must not work for at least three months. If she did, she risked losing the ability to walk entirely.

​”It’s all right. You don’t need to get up,” Yoo-ha said gently. “How are you feeling?”

​”Much better, thanks to you, Young Master.”

​Yoo-ha sat on the floor, his gaze drifting to the meal tray in the corner. It had been handled with such careless disregard that soup and side-dish stains were splattered messily across the small table. However, seeing that the bowls were scraped clean, it seemed the nanny had at least managed to eat.

​”The rice and soup were warm today,” she remarked. “It made them much easier to swallow.”

​”Really? That’s a relief.”

​”But how did you manage it? I doubt that new lad asked for hot food himself.”

​As the autumn breeze began to stir, the cold was already seeping into the shaded annex. This quarter was allotted far less firewood than the others, and the food sent their way was typically cold leftovers or scraps. Normally, they managed to scrape by, but with someone ill, every day became a battle against the cold. It was difficult for Yoo-ha to use his own funds to bring in outside supplies; if the Head of the family discovered they were using anything other than what was officially assigned, there would be no excuse. Worse than the lack of excuses, it would only give the family a new reason to torment them.

​”Don’t worry about such things,” Yoo-ha answered calmly. “I’ll take care of everything.”

​The nanny swallowed a pitying sigh as she noticed Yoo-ha’s face was gaunter than it had been just a few days prior. Her heart ached for him. The thought of leaving her young master alone in this world after she passed weighed heavily on her spirit.

​”Young Master… have you had no word from that person?”

​”Word? Hardly.”

​Once, Yoo-ha had shared a close bond with someone, but that connection had been severed the moment it was confirmed he was not a Maru. If only that person hadn’t abandoned him…

​”Someone better than them will surely appear,” the nanny insisted.

​”Do you really think so?”

​”Of course. What sort of person would you like as a partner, Young Master? Tell me, and I shall pray to the Heavenly Emperor every single day.”

​At her question, Yoo-ha offered a faint, melancholy smile.

​”Someone who loves and cherishes only me,” he answered. “That would be enough. I need nothing else.”

​What Yoo-ha wanted was simple. He did not want to compete with others for the heart of the one he loved. He did not want to surrender his place. And he never again wanted to be forced into a life he did not choose.

​Anyone else might have asked if that truly was enough, but the nanny understood Yoo-ha’s heart perfectly. She swallowed her distress, lowering her head in silence. Sensing her grief, Yoo-ha quickly changed the subject.

​”Nanny, right now, your health is more important than mine. You need to focus on recovering so you can stand again.”

​”Don’t you worry. I’m resting like this all day doing nothing; I’ll be back on my feet in no time.”

​”You need to heal before the winter comes…”

​He prayed her back would mend before the first snow. From early winter until late spring, she suffered from a chronic ailment; whenever the temperature dropped, her bones ached and her muscles cramped. Yoo-ha remembered too well how she had limped through the previous season. He looked with pity at her thin, spindly legs and murmured a soft prayer, prompting the nanny to gently take his hand, offering him comfort instead.

​”It’s no one’s fault, Young Master. It’s simply the burden of age.”

​”Please, just endure it a little longer. Yong-rae, you, and I… we’re going to leave this place soon.”

​The nanny looked quietly at the son of her first mistress—a lady who had been as kind and affectionate as he was. This precious child was the same person she had fed, clothed, and raised for decades. Most servants never saw a reward for their loyalty, but she felt different. To have a master who genuinely worried for her was her greatest blessing.

​It had begun two years ago. On the day she was falsely accused of theft and beaten until her leg shattered, Seong Yoo-ha had spoken.

​[I don’t think we can stay here.]

​Even when she was locked in a storehouse for a full week—punished for “arrogant defiance” simply because she had requested nutritious food and medicine for a sick Yoo-ha—her master had said the same thing upon her release.

​[I’m going to leave this place. We’ll all leave together, Nanny.]

​Since that day, whenever she fell ill or grew weary, he would comfort her with the promise of their someday departure.

​Her young master had always been this way. Even when he suffered every imaginable insult for the “crime” of being born an ordinary human instead of a Maru, he never uttered a word of complaint. Yet, the moment she or Yong-rae were mistreated, he would vow to flee. It was all for them—mere servants.

​But with no wealth and no family to rely on, where could he possibly go? She asked nothing. She simply nodded and said she understood, for she knew the depth of his heart.

​”Yes. Let us leave this place together.”

​Yoo-ha offered a faint smile and straightened her bedding. He desperately wanted to fetch firewood to warm the drafty room, but unless it was the dead of winter, none would be distributed to their annex. After a moment of deliberation, Yoo-ha made a decision and stepped back out onto the veranda.

​”Hwi.”

​”Yeah.”

​Seeing the man sprawled out, Yoo-ha had assumed he was asleep, but Hwi answered him instantly.