Chapter 26

“Those Seowon folks insist on settling everything on their own turf, and that is the problem,” his aunt grumbled sourly. “Do they spare no thought for our travel expenses to come all this way?”

“Mother, please,” Cha Sangju intervened quietly, attempting to soothe her.

Seeing Myeong-in’s eyes turn frosty at the sharp complaint, Myeong-joo was too busy watching his sister to help pacify their aunt. Having arranged the formal match meeting on short notice without giving the elders ample time to prepare—all because Yi-tan insisted on an early wedding—Myeong-joo felt like the guilty culprit, and the complaints pricked his conscience.

“My sister-in-law is not wrong,” his paternal aunt chimed in with heavy sighs. “It is not as if fine dining establishments exist only in Seowon.”

Cha Sangju tried once more to quiet his mother, only for the older woman to knit her brows in annoyance.

“Why do you scold only me?” she scoffed, turning on her son. “Speaking plainly, it is absurd enough that a grown man is marrying another man, but why must the families meet all the way in Seowon?”

“Cease this, Aunt,” Myeong-in snapped coldly. “And what do you mean by travel expenses? Did you not simply ride the subway here?”

When his aunt glared daggers at her, Myeong-joo stepped quickly in front of his sister to shield her from the older woman’s ire.

“Now, now, Aunt, please do not say such things,” he smoothed things over with an easy smile. “They say this restaurant was a frequent haunt of the former Prime Minister, so please consider it an occasion to enjoy a splendid meal.”

His aunt conceded grudgingly, “I am holding my tongue only for your sake, Myeong-joo.”

“Yes, of course, Aunt.”

Cherishing the family heir even more than her own son, his aunt managed to swallow her indignation. His paternal aunt looked equally displeased, leaving Myeong-joo in a delicate bind. While inviting them in place of his bedridden uncle was proper, he had not anticipated them bristling before the two clans even met.

Feeling much like the times Myeong-in ordered him not to crumple like used tissue, Myeong-joo scratched the back of his neck awkwardly.

“Why are you mussing up your hair after I took the trouble to comb it for you?” Myeong-in scolded under her breath.

“Ah, forgive me,” Myeong-joo gave an apologetic chuckle. “I am just nervous…”

Having lacked the time to trim his hair before it reached his collar, he had merely smoothed it back with her camellia oil, so rumpling it now would look untidy. Yet admitting to being nervous was by no means a falsehood. Meeting his former in-laws today in the capacity of his prospective husband’s family left him stiff with dread. The memory of his late father trading on the Lee clan’s illustrious name to consort with swindlers filled him with fresh remorse.

His aunt clapped him heartily on the shoulder. “What is there to be nervous about? Square your shoulders, Myeong-joo! Are you not the heir of our head family?”

He offered a faint, strained smile as she slapped his back with vigorous enthusiasm. Setting aside the illegitimate Lee Yi-ho, Yi-tan was indeed an eldest grandson; but because his father Lee Hui-eum was the second son of Grand Prince Gyeonghyeon, strictly speaking Yi-tan was not the head lineage heir. Even so, they were of royal descent. By contrast, Myeong-joo hailed from an impoverished line that twisted straw ropes in the rural backwaters of Jaeseong. Flaunting his status as head heir seemed entirely uncalled for.

“If only your father were still alive…” his paternal aunt murmured wistfully.

At the mention of their late father, Myeong-in’s expression darkened instantly. Remembering how routinely she cursed the man as a shiftless scoundrel, Myeong-joo intervened in alarm, gathering little Myeong-hui into his arms.

“Come here to your oppa, our little princess,” he coaxed gently, lifting the sleepy child. “Now, let us head inside.”

“Indeed,” Cha Sangju supported him smoothly. “Making a commotion before the entrance is hardly proper.”

Myeong-joo gave his cousin a grateful nod, and Sangju chuckled in response.

Carrying Myeong-hui—the only peaceful soul among the bristling women because she was fast asleep—Myeong-joo walked through the gate. Reputed as a meeting venue for senior government dignitaries, the traditional establishment was a grand hanok confiscated from a traitorous nobleman who had amassed wealth through collusion with Ilyah, later auctioned off and remodeled into an estate rivaling a royal villa.

“Welcome. You must be Sergeant Cha Myeong-joo,” the hostess greeted them warmly.

“Yes, that is correct.”

Clad in an elegant forsythia-yellow hanbok, the hostess welcomed them with a graceful bow. Myeong-joo instinctively dipped his head, only for Myeong-in to pinch his ribs viciously. Her seamstress fingers pinched so hard that tears pricked his eyes. As the hostess led the way, three pairs of eyes drilled into his back, wordlessly repeating the command to stand tall. To escape their harsh scrutiny, Myeong-joo pulled his spine ramrod straight.

“Myeong-joo, hand Myeong-hui to me,” Sangju urged softly.

Shedding their shoes upon the stone steps, they crossed a wooden veranda polished to a mirror sheen with soybean oil toward a private inner chamber. As the hostess paused courteously before the sliding paper screen, Sangju extended his arms, offering to hold the child for the formal greeting.

Myeong-hui stirred from her sleep, clinging stubbornly to Myeong-joo’s lapels. “I do not want Sangju oppa!”

Waking cranky from her nap, she wound her small arms tightly around Myeong-joo’s throat. Choked by an unfamiliar necktie knotted too tight, Myeong-joo coughed weakly and offered Sangju an apologetic smile.

The women had already marched ahead, checking their attire outside the room. Straightening their hairpins and smoothing their heirloom norigae pendants with martial resolve, the aunts radiated fierce determination, preparing as if for battle. Myeong-joo sighed inwardly behind them. Though the women stood in front, he was a full head taller; those inside would hardly fail to see him.

“Open the door, please,” his paternal aunt instructed solemnly.

With an elegant nod, the hostess turned the brass carp-shaped latch and slid the screen open. Girded for battle, the aunts instantly froze in their tracks.

“Welcome. It is an honor to meet you for the first time,” Yi-tan greeted them warmly at the threshold.

Having stood waiting upon hearing footsteps, he greeted them with an open, radiant smile. Backlit by the lantern glow, his commanding silhouette appeared so massive that the two aunts stared up at him as if beholding an otherworldly giant. When Myeong-in gave a quiet cough behind them, his paternal aunt snapped out of her stupor and spoke first.

“It is a pleasure. I am Myeong-joo’s paternal aunt.”

“Please speak comfortably with me, Aunt,” Yi-tan replied with easy grace.

As the towering officer bowed courteously with that sunny grin, the two aunts exchanged rapid glances and cleared their throats, their eyes sparkling with undisguised admiration. Myeong-joo could see them mouthing silently to each other that they had possessed no inkling their nephew’s groom would be so extraordinarily handsome.

A moment later, a calm, crystalline voice sounded from within. “Yi-tan, do not keep the elders standing in the hall. Invite them in.”

Yi-tan stepped aside, bowing courteously. “Yes, Sister. Please come inside, Aunt, Auntie.”

His aunt’s eyes sparkled once more at the young officer, who had recognized her without waiting for an introduction. Myeong-in did not even look at him, keeping her eyes lowered and her chin tilted slightly in an exceedingly haughty poise.

As she stepped forward to enter behind the aunts, Yi-tan offered a pleasant greeting. “Welcome, Miss Myeong-in.”

She merely gave the briefest dip of her head before sweeping past him into the room. Myeong-joo found his sister’s standoffishness endearing yet worried Yi-tan might feel slighted, but the young officer only smiled as if nothing were amiss.

Next came Myeong-joo, still carrying the little girl. “Um… have you been well?”

“Yes. Even better than yesterday,” Yi-tan replied smoothly.

Though they had met merely two days prior, Myeong-joo had found nothing else to say and blurted that awkward greeting. When Yi-tan accepted it like playful banter, Myeong-joo pursed his lips against a wave of unexpected warmth. Feeling sheepish for arranging the match meeting so hastily after Yi-tan urged him to speed up the wedding, Myeong-joo averted his gaze.

Just then, Yi-tan reached out and lifted Myeong-hui from his arms.

“Wait, Myeong-hui is—”

Before he could object, Myeong-hui wound her small arms tightly around Yi-tan’s neck, exactly as she did with her brother. She had adamantly refused Sangju, yet even half-asleep she took an immediate liking to Yi-tan. As Myeong-joo stared at the child’s back in mild disbelief, Yi-tan chuckled softly.

“Please come inside, Instructor. You must be famished.”

“Ah, yes,” Myeong-joo agreed, stepping across the threshold. “And this is my older cousin, Cha Sangju.”

Recovering his composure, Myeong-joo introduced the man who had been standing quietly behind him. Yi-tan merely patted the sleeping child’s back. Offering Sangju a faint smile and a perfunctory nod, his demeanor was markedly colder than the warmth shown to the aunts and Myeong-in. The chill felt curious, yet Yi-tan naturally ushered Myeong-joo forward, leaving him no choice but to enter the room.

“G-Good evening.”

Before a dining table gleaming ruby-red under multiple coats of lacquer, two women sat poised like elegant cranes. Seated at the head were Princess Consort Sangju Gwon Hui-ryeon and Yi-tan’s elder sister, Lee Seol-heon. Rising from their seats, they welcomed the aunts warmly. Their gracious reception dispelled the aunts’ rigid tension, tinting their cheeks with pleased fluster. The lingering suspicion that the noble family had chosen the venue out of contempt for their humble pedigree appeared somewhat assuaged.

The graceful lady held his paternal aunt’s hands, turning to greet Myeong-joo with a radiant smile. “Welcome, Sergeant Cha.”

Myeong-joo felt a sudden tightness in his chest. In his previous life before regression, his former mother-in-law had never once favored him with a smile; seeing her receive him so brightly brought an unexpected, poignant ache. Instinctively bowing low, he paid his respects to the Princess Consort and Lee Seol-heon. Unlike her mother’s delicate, classical elegance, Seol-heon was a striking beauty reminiscent of Lee Yi-tan, her eyes curving into affectionate crescents.

“Sergeant Cha, why are you so rigid?” Seol-heon urged warmly. “Come sit beside us.”

“Indeed, please sit,” the Princess Consort added with a nod. “You all must be starving after the journey.”

Contrary to the aunts’ braced expectations of condescension, the hospitality continued without a single sharp edge. Needing to take their seats, Myeong-joo reached to take Myeong-hui back, but her sleepy whining forced him to leave her in Yi-tan’s lap. In the end, Myeong-hui sat opposite Myeong-joo and Myeong-in as though she were already part of the Lee household. Once everyone was settled, the hostess entered and respectfully announced that dinner was being served.

For a time, conversation drifted pleasantly toward the restaurant’s renowned cuisine. Someone mentioned that in spring, plum blossoms burst into radiant bloom across the sprawling garden, presenting a breathtaking panorama. The aunts visibly strained to match the refined discussion. Determined that their orphaned nephew should not appear impoverished, they had polished their sole silver hairpins until they shone, yet nervous stiffness shadowed their expressions.

Still, it was fortunate that the Princess Consort and Lee Seol-heon maintained unwavering courtesy. Given their royal bloodline and the Princess Consort’s standing as the eldest daughter of the distinguished Cheongwon Gwon clan, haughtiness might have been expected, yet their faces radiated genuine delight.

Myeong-joo let out a soundless sigh of relief.

Midst her gentle laughter, the Princess Consort spoke with an apologetic countenance. “However, what are we to do? My husband was called away to an urgent military council… Truly, one ought never to marry a soldier.”

“Goodness, please do not say such things…” His paternal aunt waved her hands in overwhelmed deference, then coughed awkwardly when his aunt cast her a pointed glare.

“Well,” his aunt muttered sourly, “after requesting an early meeting, it is rather perplexing that the head of the house does not show his face.”

The Princess Consort replied with graceful understanding, “You have every right to feel that way. Still, considering that our Second Lieutenant must deploy to the battlefield the instant orders arrive, we must keep the ceremony modest. Besides, men only get in the way during wedding preparations. They are best suited for sweeping yards and pounding rice cakes. Discussing the important matters amongst us women is far more practical.”

Covering her mouth, his aunt giggled in amusement, clearly disarmed by the Princess Consort’s unpretentious manner. “My goodness, Princess Consort, you speak so reasonably.”

Thanks to that easy candor, the atmosphere softened entirely. With the exception of Myeong-hui, every woman in the room ignited with zeal, diving into wedding preparations with fervent enthusiasm.

Attempting at first to follow the discussion, Myeong-joo grew hopelessly lost once they debated ceramic tableware patterns and the required bolts of silk for distant relatives, finding himself sipping tea repeatedly. Having filled his stomach with liquid, he sighed quietly, only to meet the eyes of Yi-tan sitting across the table.

The younger man was rhythmically patting the sleeping child’s back to ensure she remained undisturbed. As Yi-tan studied Myeong-joo, his lips curved into a dazzling, sunny smile—like petals bursting open in full bloom.

Myeong-joo flinched involuntarily.

“Western attire suits you remarkably well,” Yi-tan murmured softly.

“I-Is that so?”

The unexpected compliment left Myeong-joo flustered. Surely the one looking magnificent in a Western suit was Yi-tan, not himself. Myeong-joo cautiously glanced toward Cha Sangju. Hiding his astonishment behind a dry cough, Sangju looked away, which only intensified Myeong-joo’s embarrassment.