Tae So rounded the corner of the main hall, and with each step, the fatigue of the long journey seemed to burn off, replaced by the sharp heat of indignation. His strides quickened, heels clicking with purpose against the stone tiles. His jaw was tight, his mouth twitching at the corners, more than annoyance stirred in him now. Any man returning from a long and weary journey should be welcomed with warmth: a wife at the gate, perhaps children running to embrace him, if he had servants then they should be standing proudly in formation to affirm his place as master of the house.
Even though his servants did that but he still felt that he had stepped into a void, no honor, no warmth. Just quiet shock and disarray. And it was no accident. It was a message.
It wasn't just thoughtless, it was a deliberate humiliation. And Tae So could feel it, gnawing at the pride he barely kept in check.
She humiliated him.
So Ah.
He marched into the courtyard, the rage in his chest barely held in check and then, he saw her.
There she was, seated gracefully in the open pavilion, the perfect painting of poise and composed rebellion. The setting sun spilled golden light across her pale skin, catching the delicate embroidery on her robe, an elegant hanbok of deep plum and soft cream, the jeogori stitched with subtle gold thread in the shape of cranes, her long skirt fanned perfectly around her feet. Her hair was pinned in a graceful chignon, adorned with a single jade hairpin, simple, yet exquisite.
She held a leather-bound novel delicately in one hand, its edges worn from use, and with the other, she raised a porcelain cup of steaming tea to her lips. She sipped slowly, unhurried, as though nothing of consequence had changed. When she finally turned her head and met his gaze, there was no joy in her eyes, no sign of relief or welcome. Just that same cold indifference, that veil of disdain she wore better than silk.
And then, she looked away.
Dismissed him.
Like a passing breeze.
Tae So's nostrils flared as he stormed toward the pavilion, his cape trailing behind him like a storm cloud. He climbed the steps in one swift motion and stood before her, his shadow falling across her lap.
Still, she did not rise. She did not greet him. Not even a glance.
It was not unusual, this silent war between them had been waged for years. But this… this was different. This was the first time he had left the estate for such a long stretch. The first time he had returned to silence instead of ceremony. She could have pretended, just once, just for the sake of appearance. For the sake of his pride.
He spoke at last, his voice low, edged with anger.
"Did you receive the letter announcing my return?"
So Ah set the teacup down with deliberate care, the soft clink of porcelain on wood far more elegant than the rising storm between them. Her head tilted slightly as she raised a perfectly arched brow, the movement subtle but sharp as a blade.
"I did," she said coolly.
Tae So inhaled through his nose, willing his temper to hold. "Then why," he asked, voice taut, "was nothing prepared for my arrival?"
She closed her book slowly, slipping a silken ribbon between the pages before placing it beside the teacup. Then she looked up at him, her expression one of mild annoyance, as though he had interrupted something far more important.
"Why should I?" she asked, her tone deceptively calm.
Tae So turned his back to her momentarily, his jaw tightening, eyes narrowing. He needed to breathe, to steady himself. "Because a proper feast could have been arranged. The house could have been dressed in lanterns. A simple banner. Welcome home. Something."
It was absurd, utterly ridiculous, that he even found himself explaining anything. He was the head of the house. Did he really need to remind his wife to perform the simplest gesture of respect upon his return? A gesture that wasn't even meant for effort, just order. She didn't have to lift a finger herself; the estate was filled with servants waiting to act on her word. All she had to do was instruct them: prepare the courtyard, light the lanterns, set a welcome table, announce his return with dignity. But instead, she chose indifference.
So Ah let out a short, amused breath as she rolled her eyes. "Do I look like one of your maids? If you wanted a grand reception, you should have sent your letters to your servants, not to me."
"So Ah..."
"What!" she snapped, the mask slipping for a moment to reveal something raw beneath. "You disappeared without warning, off to that Jo's province house of stories or whatever backwater town you find so intriguing. You didn't write. You didn't ask about your home, your son, your daughter.. nothing. And now you return, expecting trumpets and rose petals at your feet?"
Tae So stiffened. Her words cut deeper than he expected. For her to speak this bitterly, for her to explain herself, it meant something had happened in his absence. Something she wasn't saying yet.
"My trip to Jo was an official assignment," he replied, quieter now, attempting to reclaim his ground.
So Ah laughed once under her breath, cold and joyless. "An official assignment. Of course."
"You could have at least..." he started.
She cut him off, rising to her feet with sudden, regal fury, her robe swishing around her ankles like a whisper of storm winds. "You don't even know why I'm angry! You never ask. You never listen. You care for nothing but your own pride. Still the same man you were years ago...no wiser, no better. And still just as replaceable at court."
Tae So's lips parted in protest, but no words came.
"You've ruined my afternoon," So Ah said curtly, brushing past him without so much as a glance. "Next time, send your welcome parade to the kitchen where it belongs."
And with that, she vanished down the corridor, her absence echoing louder than her footsteps.
Tae So had expected So Ah's bitterness, but even so, her words struck him like a blow to the chest. Sharp, deliberate, and cutting in ways he couldn't parry. Still, he didn't follow her. For now, it was wiser to leave her in peace. Later, he would find a more careful, calculated way to introduce the pipa player he brought into the household.
He stood alone in the pavilion, still as a statue, the silence thick around him. His eyes drifted to the low table where So Ah had left her book. Curious, he reached for it and flipped through a few pages.
His brows arched in surprise.
Graphically inked illustrations met his eyes, bodies entwined, mouths parted in pleasure, the raw tension of passion captured in flowing lines and provocative poetry. It was erotica. Of course. He closed the book, almost too quickly, and placed it down like it burned.
He didn't understand why So Ah was reading something like that, but he couldn't bring himself to be truly surprised. As far as he knew, So Ah had never strayed since their marriage, never taken a lover, never entertained the idea, at least not openly. And considering how many years had passed since any form of intimacy had existed between them, her choice of reading material almost made sense. Perhaps it was the only private indulgence she allowed herself, the only thing that kept her company in a home where even her husband felt like a stranger.
Tae So couldn't deny that he still craved her at times - her presence, her touch but the desire never left the realm of thought. He wouldn't dare act on it. So Ah wasn't the type of woman one touched without invitation. If he tried, she would sever his head from his shoulders with the precision of a blade and she wouldn't even blink.
Just then, he heard the subtle crunch of footsteps over gravel and turned to see Woong approaching, taking advantage of So Ah's absence to draw near.
"Woong," Tae So said, still staring in the direction his wife had disappeared. "Where's my baby boy, Tae Hyun? And my beautiful daughter?" He doubted his son was home, if Tae Hyun had been, he would've come running out already, smiling brightly and shouting with joy at his return. The silence only confirmed his absence.
Woong clasped his hands respectfully before responding. "Young Master Tae Hyun is away for his poetry class. The young mistress is currently in her chambers, resting. She sprained her ankle this morning."
"What?" Tae So snapped, whipping around. His voice carried a mix of shock and rising guilt.
So Ah's fury began to make a little more sense now. It wasn't just neglect that had set her off, it was this. Their daughter had been hurt while he was gone and unreachable, and he hadn't even bothered to send word home. Whether or not he would've received a reply, it would've shown some effort, some care.
He knew, had always known that the only reason So Ah remained by his side was because of the children. They were the fragile threads that held their union together, the last justification for her presence in his home and in his life. Whatever bitterness she carried toward him, it never extended to Tae Hyun or Yoon Ji. On the contrary, she guarded them fiercely, almost possessively. They were hers, and in many ways, Tae So was just the man who happened to be their father.
"Why was my son sent out to train in poetry anyway? That boy should be practicing archery or swordsmanship not reciting verses in a hanok somewhere…"
He trailed off, sighing heavily. He knew there was no point in asking So Ah now. She would never listen, especially in her current mood. Well then, if So Ah had decided to take matters into her own hands without consulting him, he would do the same. Two could play that game. From now on, he would begin making changes, starting with Tae Hyun. All those unnecessary, pampering classes, poetry, calligraphy, etiquette - he'd scale them down or cut them out entirely. The boy needed to start learning how to carry himself like a man, not like a delicate ornament drifting through courtly life. Tae So was tired of watching his son fuss more over silk robes and hairpins than strength, strategy, or leadership. That had to change.
If So Ah wouldn't guide him in that direction, then he would.
"And where is Kang Mu?" Tae So asked sharply, referring to the trusted guard he stationed by his daughter who had served him faithfully for years.
Woong shifted slightly. "Kang Mu is bedridden, my lord."
Tae So's eyes narrowed. "What's going on here?"
Woong hesitated as he scratched his cheek. "When the Madam heard about the young mistress' fall," he began carefully, "she punished Kang Mu, saying he failed to keep proper watch. He's been confined to his quarters since, and… he hasn't been seen outside."
Tae So's jaw clenched.
"What about my daughter's handmaiden?" If Kang Mu was punished then there was no way the handmaiden would escape punishment.
"She, too, is bedridden. Her back, I heard. The Madam was… very displeased."
Tae So's fists balled at his sides, his knuckles whitening beneath the sleeves of his robe. For years, he had chosen to look the other way, to turn a blind eye to how So Ah ran the household, strict, precise, often cruel when angered. And regretfully, he would likely do the same this time. For now.
Still, there was something he could do. At the very least, he could see to the consequences.
"Fine," he muttered, jaw tight. "Send for healers. Good ones. Discreet, experienced. Have them attend to Kang Mu and the handmaiden quietly. I'll deal with Tae Hyun's tutors later. And don't let the Madam know they were summoned at my request."
Woong bowed. "Yes, my lord."
Tae So stood there for a moment longer, staring at the discarded erotica and thinking of how hollow his home had grown, grand, quiet, cold. He had returned, but somehow, it felt as though he was still very far from home.
"Wait Woong." Tae So called him when he turned to leave. "When you contact the ghost informant, I need to find a woman, a deaf and mute pipa player."
"Is that all I need to know, Master?" Woong asked, his tone neutral, eyes steady.
"I believe you already know the rest," Tae So replied coolly.
"Yes."
"Then you may leave." Tae So dismissed him with a small gesture.
He stood still as he watched Woong disappear around the corner. The moment he was alone, a heavy silence wrapped around him. He didn't know how to handle the situation between himself and So Ah. The servants, the guards, they would talk. Whispers would spread like wildfire. It wouldn't take long before word of how he returned to a cold, indifferent household slipped beyond the estate walls.
It wouldn't look good, not for a man of his position.
But honestly, he had bigger problems than gossip.