Tae So lay sprawled across the carriage mattress like a fish wrenched from the depths of a river - mouth ajar, eyes vacant as they followed the gentle sway of the carriage ceiling. The soft creak of wood and rhythmic clatter of wheels on the dirt road barely registered in his dulled senses.
He had never imagined the journey back to the capital without Song Joo would be this tedious, this utterly soul-numbing. At least when the Prime Minister was present, Tae So had the constant thrill of tension, always on edge, measuring every word, every gesture, cautious not to betray his thoughts. It was exhausting, yes, but at least it kept his mind sharp, alert. Now, with Song Joo absent, there had been a momentary sense of liberation. For a brief spell, he had felt elevated, like the most important man in the convoy. That illusion faded quickly, replaced by a thick fog of boredom and restlessness.
Woong, his ever-loyal guard, had unearthed nothing suspicious about Min. No secrets, no threat, no justification to issue a quiet order for her removal. She remained beside them, a silent Pipa player with haunting eyes and an unreadable face, and now he was bringing her - escorting her - back to his estate like a man escorting his fate. He had no explanation for it, no plan.
And so, Tae So retreated into the one place where he still had control - his imagination. There, the Pipa woman, seen only once, transformed into something more with each passing thought. An enchantress. A muse. A riddle meant only for him to unravel. She became his obsession, elevated beyond memory into myth. He had never spoken of her, not even to Woong. The idea of sending his most trusted blade galloping off in pursuit of her left him uneasy. Woong's presence at his side was a necessity: for protection, for familiarity, for control.
No. This pursuit required subtlety.
Once he returned home, he would send a discreet message to the ghost informant. If fortune favored him, the shadow guards would quietly take up the trail. Trained in silence and shadows, they were relentless and unseen, perfect for a search of this kind. They had to succeed. Yet even then, Woong would need to be brought in eventually. Tae So would need someone he trusted to bring her to him, quietly, without a trace.
And when she arrived, the plan would unfold with precision.
He would release the Pipa player currently in his care, gently, regretfully, perhaps even kindly. A nobleman choosing refinement over novelty. He would simply say he had found someone more suitable. More talented. More... captivating. The truth would remain his alone.
It was, in his mind, the perfect solution. Clean. Seamless. Controlled.
The carriage jolted violently, snapping him out of his reverie. Under normal circumstances, he would have launched into a tirade, cursing the driver's incompetence, demanding their punishment. But not today. Not for the past few days. He had lost the fire to rage, the will to care. He didn't even bother to shut his mouth or lift himself from the mattress. He just lay there, dazed, drifting.
For now, all he could do was endure the slow, creaking journey back to the capital, back to his home, his distant wife, and the growing shadow of a woman who lived in his head, playing a melody he could not forget but at least he would get to see his beautiful daughter and his lovely son.
His thoughts inevitably turned to Song Joo. The man who played the court like an instrument, who knew too much, revealed too little. Tae So's instincts told him something was off, but his exhaustion refused to let him dig deeper.
The last time Tae So had seen the Prime Minister was the day they parted ways, Song Joo departing with half the guards and leaving the rest behind. Since then, he had vanished like morning mist under the sun. No carrier bird had come. No word. No signal. It was as though the man had dissolved into the very air, and Tae So had no means to reach him either. He didn't have a carrier bird, and after a brief moment of indecision, he simply forgot to try sending a message altogether.
There were multiple routes that led to the capital, and Tae So was certain the Prime Minister would be safe. Not that he cared much, at least, that's what he told himself but Song Joo arriving safely would be a massive relief. If anything had happened to him, Tae So would be the first suspect. After all, they had left the capital together, openly. And while Song Joo's title was ironclad and irreplaceable, his own position was far more fragile, easily stripped and quickly reassigned.
"Master... Master..."
Tae So rolled his eyes at the sound of Woong's voice outside the carriage. "Ye," he muttered languidly.
"We're almost at the capital."
That bit of news seemed unnecessary; the capital was still a while off, wasn't it?
Woong had been saying that for days now, that they were "almost there," that the capital was just ahead. At first, Tae So had clung to those words with anticipation, watching each mile pass with quiet hope. But as time dragged on and the gates never came into view, he stopped caring. The phrase lost its meaning, like a promise repeated too often and never kept. Eventually, he dismissed it altogether, treating it as noise, just another thing to ignore on the road that refused to end.
"How long?" he asked, his tone flat.
"We can already see the gate."
What?
Tae So nearly launched off the mattress. He straightened his collar with sudden urgency. "What did you say?" he barked, leaning toward the side window, wrenching it open even though he couldn't see ahead. He just needed to see Woong's face, needed confirmation.
"We can see the gate. We'll be there soon," Woong replied from horseback beside the carriage. "Master, your pass."
Snapping back into motion, Tae So shut the window and began hastily fixing his appearance. As a man of status, he had to maintain the illusion of composure and elegance, especially before his servants and the guards at the gate. His clothing had wrinkled, and his carefully combed hair was likely tousled from lying idle too long. Normally, Woong would see to it every morning, making sure Tae So looked every bit the refined noble. But now, without time to pause the carriage and correct everything properly, he could only make do.
He reached for his purse and retrieved his identification tag. With a quick flick of his wrist, he reopened the window and handed it to Woong before pulling the curtain back down. All he could think of was getting home, taking a long, steaming bath, eating a proper meal, and collapsing into his own bed. After that, he would confront everything he had put on hold: Song Joo's mysterious departure, the Jo's town story telling goblin's death and the matter of the Pipa woman who haunted his every thought.
He cracked the window once more. "Did they know I was coming?"
"Since Master didn't leave on official business, I didn't notify the palace," Woong replied. "But I did send two letters ahead to your estate."
Relief washed over Tae So. At least his household would be expecting him. That meant the bath would be drawn, the kitchens ready, and the servants waiting. He let out a soft sigh and closed the window again. No need for the public to see him in his battered carriage rolling into the city. It had clearly seen better days, now crusted with mud, flecked with dried grass, and streaked from passing through rain and wilderness. It looked less like a nobleman's transport and more like a survivor of war.
Finally, the carriage came to a stop. Tae So straightened immediately, sitting upright. His right leg began to tremble, a nervous tic born of impatience. He wanted to scream at the guards to hurry, to let him through without delay, but he held his tongue. He was no prince, no king. He had to wait his turn.
"Your Excellency."
The curtain lifted, A guard in dark blue hanbok trimmed with black lacquered armor peered into the carriage and bowed deeply to show his respect.
"Welcome, Your Excellency. We're glad you arrived before the High Season."
The High Season.
Tae So blinked. He had completely forgotten. The High Season was when the roads cleared and merchants from every corner of the continent poured into Jeong to trade. It was the rare time to acquire foreign goods, spices, silks, and tools, things the capital didn't produce. Of course, most nobles had their private traders and discreet arrangements, but still, the season was a spectacle and a strategic opportunity. It was a relief that he had arrived ahead of the rush, had he come any later, his arrival would have been a nightmare. The thorough inspections, the endless line of carts and travelers, the crawling pace toward the gate, it would've been nothing short of torture.
"How many days left?" he asked, realizing how little he had tracked time during the journey.
"Ten days, Your Excellency. The Prime Minister arrived yesterday. He asked about you."
Tae So's eyes widened. Song Joo had already arrived? That cunning man must've taken a more direct route or anticipated the High Season's rush and moved swiftly. When he read the letter and left, it must have been because of some urgent matter that required his presence at the palace or his home. That would explain the haste, the abrupt departure. Yet, if that were truly the case, he should have arrived days before Tae So. Which meant one thing, he hadn't gone straight to the capital after all.
"I see…" Tae So murmured, nodding slowly.
"Safe travels, Your Excellency," the guard added before lowering the curtain.
Moments later, the carriage began to move again.
Tae So didn't want to think, he was too tired, too restless, too steeped in questions with no answers. Yet his mind refused to quiet. He knew he should focus on getting home, close his eyes, and simply endure the remainder of the journey. But idleness came with its own torment. His thoughts circled back again and again to the Prime Minister, what was Song Joo planning behind closed doors? Why had he allowed Tae So to accompany him on a journey shrouded in mystery, only to vanish without explanation? If the king summoned him now and asked for a report, Tae So would have nothing to say. He wouldn't even know where to begin.
Not that it was likely, he rarely stood in the front row during court assemblies, and his voice was only required when something significant happened within his jurisdiction: flooding, fire, uprisings. But such matters were rare, and his capable assistants usually kept everything in order. His household would have compiled reports in his absence, and no doubt ensured that the estate remained quiet and respectable.
So he closed his eyes and let the rhythm of the carriage lull him, sinking into an uneasy rest. It felt like hours passed before the wheels finally groaned to a stop. A brief stillness fell, then the carriage curtain was drawn aside, and there it was.
Home.
The stone steps leading to the gate of his estate stood before him, familiar and solid. A weak, involuntary smile ghosted across his face.
As Tae So stepped down from the carriage, the two guards posted at the gate immediately straightened, then hurried down the steps to greet him, their armor clinking softly.
"Welcome back, Your Excellency," they chorused, bowing deeply.
He didn't acknowledge them. His gaze was already sweeping past the gate as he walked, his steps measured, shoulders squared. The moment his boots touched the inner courtyard, the estate stirred to life. A flurry of motion followed, maids, attendants, and junior stewards scrambled from every corner, hastily lining up in two rows along the tiled path. Heads bowed low. The silence was respectful, tense, filled with held breath.
From the main hall, a short, round figure came hurrying forward, his head servant, Master Hwan. Despite his age and bulk, the man moved with remarkable speed, his silk robes fluttering around his legs. He wore the traditional gray-and-blue garments of a senior domestic official, the embroidered crest of the Tae household sewn across his chest. A simple black gat rested on his head, slightly askew from the rush.
"Your Excellency!" he panted, bowing with great effort. "Forgive us, we were not informed of your arrival today."
Tae So's eyes narrowed. That one sentence said everything.
His message had reached the estate. That much he was certain of. Which meant that So Ah - his wife - had chosen not to inform the servants of his return. She hadn't thought it worth the effort. A direct slight, passive in its delivery but sharp in its disrespect.
His jaw clenched. That would be addressed.
"I will personally oversee your bath and meal preparations," Master Hwan offered quickly, already waving for servants to follow his commands. "Everything will be ready before the sun goes down."
Tae So's voice came out low and clipped. "Where is So Ah?"
The servant paused, cautious. "Madam is in the courtyard, my lord."
Without another word, Tae So swung the edge of his cape behind him, the fabric snapping sharply through the air. He strode forward, his steps purposeful and swift, each one echoing with restrained fury. The servants parted like water in his wake, heads still bowed, eyes fixed to the ground.
He was home now.
But peace would not greet him at the door.