The journey back had been long, filled with more silence than he cared to admit. Yet, beneath the weariness that tugged at his shoulders, a decision had settled in him, it was time to restore some semblance of harmony within his household. Whatever that looked like.
So tonight, he would dine with his family.
It was not a tradition in his household, nor a habit borne out of affection. But tradition, he thought bitterly, had done little for his marriage. And his children - he barely knew what filled their days beyond tutors and etiquette lessons.
If he was to bring the pipa player Min into his home, if he was to attempt any change at all, he needed to call his house to order.
And it would begin with dinner.
He sat alone beneath the wide eaves of the wooden pavilion that overlooked the garden courtyard. The evening breeze was soft, brushing the lanterns and making them sway gently. A low table had been set with dishes that steamed faintly in the cooling air, the scent of grilled sea bream and lotus-root soup mingling with the fragrance of night flowers. Tae So had already instructed that his daughter, Yoon Ji, be carried in a palanquin - she was not to strain her foot.
But for now, he was alone.
The soft sound of footsteps pulled him from his thoughts.
"Master," came a familiar voice.
He turned. Woong bowed low, expression unreadable as always. Tae So gave a brief nod, grateful for his return. There would be time to speak later of their unfinished matters - Jo's town, the shadow guards, of what hid beneath the surface of the goblin's death - but now there was only one thing on his mind.
"What did the ghost informant say about the deaf and mute pipa player?"
Of all the information he sought, this was the one Tae So cared about most.
Woong clasped his hands behind his back. "Master, you know the informant never comes directly. I've passed along your message. We wait."
Tae So exhaled, shoulders sinking with disappointment, though he had expected the answer. Still, he had hoped Woong's skills might have coaxed something from the shadows already.
"Then find out what's keeping So Ah. And is Tae Hyun not yet back from class? I can understand if my daughter doesn't join us."
Woong's face stiffened just a fraction. "Madam will not be joining us."
A flicker of irritation sparked behind Tae So's eyes. Of course. He should have expected that. He had hoped, naively, that tonight might be an exception.
"What is she doing? Has she eaten?" The question was born not out of concern, but a bruised ego.
"She was eating iced fruits and arranging chrysanthemums in the west garden when I saw her."
Tae So blinked. Arranging flowers. At dusk. A strange time to engage in such a domestic display, but he said nothing of it. If So Ah wanted to play the part of the refined noblewoman while refusing to sit at his table, so be it. At the very least, it would spare him some dignity, for nothing unsettled him more than the thought of his wife shaming him before their children.
He ran a hand through his hair, fingers grazing the silver pins that held it in place.
"And my son?"
"Young Master returned some time ago. He is preparing his attire. Lady Yoon Ji will be here shortly."
Tae So's brow creased. His son was changing his clothes? Not even the courtesy of a greeting first? Not even the childish eagerness he remembered from when Tae Hyun was small?
He looked up sharply when he felt a shift in the air, a hush falling like silk through the courtyard. At the far end of the stone path, surrounded by fluttering sleeves and bowed heads, Tae Hyun finally appeared.
The boy - no, the young master walked toward him flanked by guards and servants, a procession too elaborate for a dinner at home. His robe was stiff with embroidery, dark blue with silver thread that caught the lantern light like frost. His topknot was freshly tied, secured with a golden ornament far too grand for the occasion. Behind him, attendants carried trays, fans, and even a lacquer box that likely contained nothing but vanity.
Tae So frowned.
It was not the safety of the house that disturbed him, the capital had never been more secure, thanks to him and the Minister of Defense but the sheer display. His son looked like a boy raised to believe himself a prince, not the heir of a business-statesman.
As the entourage neared the pavilion, Tae Hyun stepped forward alone, offering a perfectly executed bow with one arm tucked across his chest.
"Father, you have returned. This son greets you."
Tae So studied him for a moment. The bow was textbook. The tone, polite. But there was a practiced distance in Tae Hyun's eyes that made his father ache in a way he hadn't expected.
"Yes," Tae So said at last. "I have returned."
He gestured for Tae Hyun to sit beside him. For all their formality, this was still his son. And there was still time to make things right - or at least, less wrong.
As Tae Hyun settled into place, servants stepped forward to pour tea and adjust the cushions.
Tae So glanced sideways at his son, brow furrowed in mild disbelief. The boy sat far too straight, hands neatly folded in his lap, every strand of his hair perfectly combed and pinned in place. His robe was pristine, pressed smooth like it had never known the breeze. Even his expression carried a strange, practiced solemnity - far too composed for someone his age.
He had to ask.
"How old are you again?" Tae So asked, eyeing him suspiciously. "Because I truly can't tell what sort of lessons turn a child into a court official overnight."
Tae Hyun blinked, looking slightly pleased to be asked. "Father, I turned seven last month."
Tae So froze. "Seven?" His eyes widened with exaggerated shock before he landed a playful flick to the boy's head - not hard, but enough to jostle the perfect hair.
"Seven, and already walking around like you're a crown prince?"
Tae Hyun let out a small squeak and quickly cupped a hand over his head, though he grinned through the gesture. "Aigo, Father! Must you strike me every time? What if you ruin my hair? Do you know how long it took to set?"
Tae So chuckled, a genuine sound that softened the lines of his face. For the first time that evening, the boy in front of him actually looked like a boy. "Exactly why I hit it. Hair too perfect makes you look older than your years. At least now you resemble my son again and why did you show up with that much servants and guards?"
Tae Hyun huffed, puffing his cheeks in mock annoyance. "I don't see the problem. This is my home, isn't it? Why shouldn't I look the part? We pay those servants, they mostly just stand around doing nothing. It's only right they earn their coin following me."
He lifted his chin with exaggerated pride. "Besides, the master of the house is like a great king."
Tae So smirked, folding his arms. "Is that so? Then I suggest you check the records again, Your Majesty. Last I heard, I still own this household."
Tae Hyun narrowed his eyes, clearly not ready to surrender the argument.
Tae So leaned in slightly, tone lowering with an edge of seriousness. "Did your tutor not teach you? A wise man keeps only a few loyal men close. Too many servants trailing behind you, and you won't know which one waits to slit your throat."
Tae Hyun blinked, his earlier pride faltering just a bit. "But… they all bow and smile."
"Exactly," Tae So said quietly. "Smiles are the best place for knives to hide. Remember that."
The boy nodded slowly, lips pressed in thought, his brows drawn together like he was pondering the meaning of life. Then, as though reclaiming his bruised pride, he straightened his spine and lifted his chin again. "Still," he muttered under his breath, barely loud enough to hear, "Grandfather says I must learn to control people."
Tae So blinked.
Kim Ji Hwan.
How could he forget? The man was very much alive and undoubtedly still in his estate planting some flowers. And not only alive, but whispering strange ideals into his son's ears. Tae So winced inwardly. He hadn't even paid the old man a courtesy visit since returning - he had passed right by the estate without so much as sending a message.
He suppressed a sigh, maintaining a composed expression for Tae Hyun's sake. It wouldn't do for the man of the house to look rattled in front of his child - or worse, the servants.
"What else did he teach you?" Tae So asked, his voice unintentionally hushed, nearly a whisper. He cleared his throat, trying to steady it into something firmer, more commanding.
Tae Hyun reached for a lacquered bowl of steaming white rice and took a small portion with his chopsticks, placing it beside delicately grilled sea bream, its skin golden and crisp. A side of pickled radish, slices of rolled egg omelet, and thin, glazed lotus roots gleamed on the small brass plates in front of him. Without hesitation, he picked up a piece of marinated beef - tender and glistening with sesame oil - and popped it into his mouth.
He chewed slowly, thoughtfully, before replying, "Many things. Like how I should aim for a position greater than yours."
Tae So froze for a second, the smile on his face suddenly unsure of itself.
The words, though said innocently, struck him like a dull arrow. The boy didn't mean to insult him , it was clear from the casualness with which he continued eating but the sting lingered. Tae So swallowed a dry lump in his throat.
His own father had worked tirelessly to earn his court title, holding the position with dignity and passing it on as a legacy. Now, his father-in-law had, in a few well-placed words, made that position seem… small. Powerless.
Still, Tae So forced a smile, though it didn't quite reach his eyes.
"And what do you think of my position?" he asked carefully, tone light but eyes sharp, watching his son closely.
Tae Hyun paused, looking up from his bowl. "I'm not sure," he admitted. "But sister says it's a marvelous position, very important."
Tae So's expression softened at once. A warm grin tugged at the corners of his mouth, this time more genuine. "Ah, my beautiful daughter to the rescue," he said, pride evident in his tone. "And?"
Tae Hyun lifted another piece of beef, shrugged, and said plainly, "I still think it's useless."
Tae So blinked. "Eh?"
He chuckled weakly, shaking his head. He'd raised his son without fear, allowing him to speak freely, to be bold but perhaps that liberty was beginning to backfire. Still, there was no true malice behind the boy's words, only honesty as raw as a sliced radish.
"But," Tae Hyun continued cheerfully, "since your job gave us this big house and lets me and Mother buy anything we want… I think it's great."
Tae So raised a brow. "So you believe that my official court salary as the Minister of Environment feeds this household?"
"Of course," Tae Hyun replied without hesitation, reaching for a honey-glazed sweet potato and biting into it with delight. "Isn't that what court ministers do? Work hard and get paid a lot of money?"
Tae So pressed his lips together, suppressing the urge to laugh or correct him. If only that were true. His actual wealth came from his trade businesses, rice, textiles, even rare teas not from the modest sum he received from the palace treasury. But if Tae Hyun believed that being a court minister made him powerful and important, perhaps it was better to let him believe it a while longer.
After all, his wife already thought his position was nothing more than a decorative badge, a way to sit at court and bow without impact. If his children could believe he was a pillar of the government, then perhaps that illusion was worth preserving.
He leaned back, watching Tae Hyun eat with gusto, the tension in his chest gradually easing. The boy, for all his cheek, was still his boy, innocent, hungry, and thankfully, still capable of being amused by his father.
In the distance, the sound of the palanquin could be heard approaching , the quiet creak of polished wood and rustle of silk veils.
Tae So turned at the sound of soft footsteps and saw his daughter gracefully stepping down from the palanquin, her attendants fluttering around her like petals in the wind. A warmth bloomed in his chest - quiet, steady joy at the sight of her. His daughter had finally arrived. Meanwhile, his son, completely unaware of anything else, was still at the table, busily devouring everything in sight as though the meal might vanish if he paused.