Page 32 of Gumiho Kiss (Realm of Eternal Blossoms #1)

The Heir

T he world went dead quiet, save for Hyun Soo’s pulse thudding in his ears. Father—gone? That couldn’t be right, couldn’t be real. He’d been in excellent health when Hyun Soo had left him.

Hyun Soo’s throat constricted, but he stammered, “Are—are you sure?”

Kang Dol Sam nodded gravely and shared what he’d learned from an associate in the capital. Minister Park Ha Kyun had taken ill with a cough, which worsened over the next several days despite the best efforts of the city’s doctors. He’d passed into the next life three mornings ago.

Hyun Soo tried to focus on breathing, blinking, swallowing, anything to keep from crumbling as this new reality sank its claws into the future he’d been fighting for. Reconciliation with his father had always been a lofty goal, but it had still been within reach. Now . . .

“I saw him recently, actually,” Dol Sam said, drawing Hyun Soo back into the conversation. “It’s so hard to believe he’s not here anymore. Did you know?—”

“Wait, you saw him? Why?” he asked, clinging on to his friend’s words like they were the only thing keeping him from tumbling off a precipice.

Dol Sam steepled his fingers, expression thoughtful. “I had a proposition for him. About you. He seemed very open to it.”

“What was it?” It came out demanding, but Hyun Soo didn’t care. He needed something to hold on to, something to ease the weight bearing down on his chest.

Dol Sam flinched away from his intensity, but then his eyes flooded with understanding. “Hyun Soo, now isn’t the time to discuss such matters. You need to return home.”

“But—”

Dol Sam’s hand came down on his arm in a consoling squeeze. “I’ll let Lady Lee know what happened, don’t worry. And I’ll come to see you in Hanseong soon. I promise.”

Hyun Soo bit the inside of his cheek but didn’t press further. His friend cared too much about him to let him run away from his problems, even though that was what he desperately wanted to do.

And Dol Sam was right. He had to face this, whether he was ready to or not. He rose shakily to his feet and dipped his head in a brief motion. “In that case, I’ll await your visit. Until then.”

* * *

A letter arrived from Young Master Kang late in the evening, explaining that Park Hyun Soo had departed Sokju suddenly on account of his father’s passing.

When Chin Sun read the message, she didn’t know whether to laugh or sob.

It had given Hyun Soo the perfect excuse to leave the Lee residence without revealing that Uncle had already thrown him out.

But the relief she felt at benefiting from such a tragedy made her thoroughly disgusted with herself.

How must Hyun Soo be feeling right now?

His moist eyes when he’d admitted he used to be a yangban were still so vivid, so heart-wrenching. She wished she knew the story behind his pain, but even without it, she was sure his father’s passing couldn’t be easy. Grief never was.

He’d said he didn’t have much in the way of family. She wasn’t the best when it came to offering comfort, but she hated the thought that he might be suffering alone. There had to be something she could do. . . .

An idea struck her like a hammer against iron, and she wasted no time in retrieving paper from the lacquered cabinet in her room.

With a bamboo calligraphy brush in hand, she wrote out two missives, then called for Ah In to deliver them.

The first went to the city blacksmith, while the second was a reply to Young Master Kang.

Once Chin Sun was alone again in the quiet of her room, she wrung her hands. Now all she could do was wait—and hope her fiancé wouldn’t see through her.

* * *

According to Confucianism, Minister Park Ha Kyun’s firstborn son should have become the sangju, or chief mourner, and handled all the affairs of the funeral.

But a body could only wait for so long, and by the time Hyun Soo’s horse arrived in Hanseong, his relatives had completed the funeral rites without him.

His paternal uncle and cousins had taken care of all the arrangements, and when Hyun Soo finally strode onto the estate, exhausted and sore from riding harder than ever before, his uncle took him to Father’s quarters to speak privately.

“Uncle,” Hyun Soo stammered, “when I heard the news, I got here as fast as I?—”

Samchon held up a hand, silencing Hyun Soo’s excuses.

The man’s judgmental gaze was like an icy wind settling into his bones, and he ducked his head to avoid the full brunt of it.

Uncle, along with the rest of his family, had supported Father’s decision to cut Hyun Soo off and hadn’t spoken a word to him since his privileged life as a yangban had disintegrated.

"It seems your father’s integrity was compromised.”

Hyun Soo’s heart dropped, various scenarios flicking through his mind, each more unbelievable than the last. Father had always been the epitome of morality, a strict follower of Confucian values. Where could he have possibly fallen short?

“What do you mean?”

Uncle crossed the room to Father’s lacquered cabinet and retrieved a document. He unfolded the paper, eyed it for a moment, then shook his head in disgust. “Rather than disowning you as he led everyone to believe, his final wishes were for you to inherit his estate.”

Hyun Soo blinked. “What . . .?” A mixture of emotions swirled in his gut, incredulity being the primary one. “Let me see that,” he demanded, closing the distance between them in two strides.

Samchon passed the document to him with a sneer, mumbling about how he didn’t know how he could respect a brother whose word meant so little.

But Hyun Soo barely registered his uncle’s grievance, his gaze locked on the script written in Father’s elegant hand.

The message was short and direct, bequeathing the entirety of Father’s property and possessions to Hyun Soo and indicating that if any dispute should arise, this document should be brought to the appropriate government office to be used as legal validation of Hyun Soo’s claim.

Hyun Soo’s hands shook, the weight of the implications pressing down on him. This had to have been written a long time ago, and Father simply hadn’t remembered to update it to reflect their change in relationship.

But then he glanced at the date. A mere two months ago.

He collapsed onto one of the floor mats, unable to support himself in the wake of such a revelation. He let out a deep groan, tears cascading down his cheeks as the tangled emotions he’d been trying to suppress broke free.

Relief hit him first, for the paper proved he hadn’t lost nearly as much as he’d believed. Even after everything, in the end, Father had still seen him as his son, his heir.

But quick on its heels came anger, bright and scalding.

If Father’s love hadn’t dried up, why had he hidden it?

Were pride and social standing truly so important that he couldn’t have been honest, at least with him?

Their separation could have ended, they could have parted on good terms, if Father had only allowed it.

Uncle left at some point while Hyun Soo tried—and failed—to sort through his confused feelings, but he didn’t notice until he looked up hours later, after the sun had dipped low in the sky and his throat had long since gone raw.

Shadows stretched across a room that was at once too small, the memories it held pressing too tightly.

Hyun Soo fled to his old quarters in the hopes of a reprieve, whereupon he found a tray of food and drink.

He tried to get down some soup, knowing he needed the nourishment, but after the first swallow, he spat it all back up.

He wiped his mouth on his sleeve and dragged himself to the already-prepared bed mat.

He’d barely slept in the past two days, instead forcing his body and horse almost to their breaking point so he could get home sooner.

He closed his eyes and drifted off, not sure if he even wanted to wake back up.