Chapter 10: The Moyong Clan’s Scoundrel Flancé (4)

“Does that man truly see me as some kind of gisaeng?”

Moyong Sang-ah, seething with anger, threw the copy of Proper Conduct for Women of Joseon against the wall in a fit of rage.

How long has it been since I’ve been this furious?

Even when she had been humiliated in front of her retainers, decisively defeated by her brother, she hadn’t been this angry.

That day, she felt mostly shock and embarrassment.

But these emotions were familiar, ones she had experienced not long ago.

Yes, she had felt this exact fury the first time she’d met him.

— You thalk too much for a woman as worthless as a thorn kiteee. S-shut up and pour me a drink alreadyyy! Whether I bayy a gisaeng, or my fhamily buys you, it’s all the same! What? You won’t phour me a d-dring? Then prepare to cry under me in bedge.

The look on his face, appraising her as though she were a mere object; the greedy gleam in his eyes; the crude insults she had never in her life heard directed toward her—all of it resurfaced, igniting her simmering hatred for her “fiancé” from the depths of her heart.

The content of this book wasn’t about Joseon customs or the manners expected of a foreign bride. Instead, it was all about how a woman should:

Flirt with a man

Act cute for a man

Serve a man as a devoted wife

Perform intimate services for a man

The most shocking part was that last one.

Serving a man intimately?

The rest, perhaps, could be framed as ways to maintain harmony with one’s husband, but that was the behavior of a gisaeng, not a woman of honor.

Of course, Moyong Sang-ah knew how children were conceived.

Though her mother had passed away at her birth, she had picked up enough from older servants and from books that indirectly explained such things.

But those explanations had always been about creating life, not about… serving a man.

It was like showing a martial artist, who thought he knew everything, a master swordsman’s deadly techniques, leaving them in stunned disbelief.

It was utterly staggering and deeply unpleasant.

This book had been edited by Kang Yunho himself.

Is he expecting me to study it in order to serve him? What makes this any different from the demands of a gisaeng?

Of course, enjoying the “pleasures between husband and wife” didn’t necessarily mean something degrading.

But for a woman like her, who knew only about procreation, receiving this kind of book from a man who treated her like a mere possession felt like a slap in the face.

In an attempt to calm herself, Moyong Sang-ah took a deep breath, settling into a meditative stance to center herself.

As she inhaled, her shoulders and chest, already quite prominent, rose and fell with a notable presence.

She needed to regain her composure.

Even if he had given her this book to mock her, the fact remained that this was what she would be tested on.

If she let her outrage prevent her from studying, the next day’s test would be in front of her family’s retainers.

— There is an act of service done with the chest. What is it called?

— Boo… o…

— I’m sorry, I didn’t hear that. Speak up.

She imagined his mocking tone, the guests laughing, the retainers looking at her in pity, and her subordinates filled with resentment.

If such a situation arose, could she endure it?

The sheer indignity of that potential outcome made her body tremble.

She couldn’t allow that to happen.

To avoid such a situation, she had to see this book not as an insult but as something to study.

Finally calming down, Sang-ah glanced at the book she had thrown.

She wasn’t ready to accept that yet.

Perhaps it would be easier to start with the other book, Tales of Joseon.

And so, she determinedly opened Tales of Joseon, choosing to ignore Proper Conduct of Joseon Women for now.

“I hope she reads the tales carefully,” muttering to himself, Kang Yunho lied in his quarters, reflecting on the events of the day.

Proper Conduct of Joseon Women was a fake etiquette guide meant to confuse anyone else who might look at it.

Given that she would be tested on Joseon customs and propriety, anyone would instinctively turn to Proper Conduct of Joseon Women first.

The book was intentionally crafted to make the reader scoff at the bizarre customs of a foreign culture; something that would likely anger Moyong Sang-ah as she read it.

Indeed, it contains my own personal fantasies, so it would be no surprise if it made her furious.

Any woman would find the content offensive enough to make her angry, and Moyong Sang-ah wouldn’t be able to simply dismiss it as a nonsensical book.

She’d be forced to read and study it carefully.

But then, naturally, she would eventually turn to Tales of Joseon.

That was where my real scheme lied.

“Please, let it work, let it work.”

If the other heroine is a warrior, then you should be the strategist.

Moyong Sang-ah, just figure it out.

For me and for your sake.

[The Masked Princess]

One particular story in Tales of Joseon caught Moyong Sang-ah’s eye.

It was the tale of a cursed princess from a land far, far away, a land beyond both the Central Plains and Joseon.

The princess was beautiful and beloved by everyone. She was so compassionate that she once took pity on a beggar, personally arranging food and shelter for him.

The palace resounded with praise for her, and the kingdom celebrated her bright future. All except her stepmother, who envied her.

The stepmother used magic learned from a dark cult to curse the princess.

The curse forced her to wear a haunted mask forever. Countless shamans and monks tried to exercise the curse but to no avail.

Tormented by hallucinations, the princess suffered endlessly as the mask’s demons tortured her.

Everyone who had once adored her soon vanished from her side.

Her father, the only one who refused to abandon her, was ultimately poisoned by her stepmother, who seized control of the kingdom.

“A wretch who can’t remove her mask becomes nothing but a helpless puppet. Is there a more amusing sight? Leave. There’s no place for you in this castle.”

Banished from the palace, the princess was forced to wander, rejected by everyone—everyone, that was, except for one man.

A wealthy young man chose her as his bride, disregarding the ridicule of others.

Moved by his loyal gesture, she swore to love him forever.

The Masked Princess rejoiced at being loved again.

But she was mistaken.

From the first night, her husband began to torment her—physically and mentally, relentlessly.

“Kill him.”

“Just poison his food.”

“Strangle him in his sleep.”

Even the mask’s demons were horrified, urging her to kill him.

“No, I will love him. Surely the fault lies with me.”

Yet her husband’s cruelty continued. Finally, even the demons lost interest.

“This is boring.”

“There’s no fun in showing hallucinations to someone who remains good.”

One by one, the demons left the mask.

Eventually, when the last demon left, her husband stood before her in tears.

“My lady, in truth, I am the beggar you helped when I was a boy,” he confessed.

Revealing his true identity, he explained, “When you were cursed, I traveled the world, searching for a cure. I learned that if you could endure the demons’ torments with kindness and love, the curse would break. It tore my heart to torment my benefactor. Yet, seeing the curse broken, I can’t help but feel as though Heaven has aided us. Leave me, return to your rightful place now that you are saved.”

“No, I loved you even when I was a helpless puppet ¹. Why would I stop loving you now that my circumstances have improved? Let us live happily together.”

Thus, the princess reclaimed her kingdom and lived happily ever after with the man who truly loved her.

There’s something odd about this.

After reading the story, Moyong Sang-ah found herself suspicious.

The story followed the structure of traditional folk tales she remembered, with a persecuted protagonist overcoming hardship to find happiness and a moral message at its core.

If she were to extract a single moral from The Masked Princess, it would be “No matter how cruel your husband might be, respond with love.”

But something felt off.

“The story is too similar to my situation.”

Caught in family schemes, forced into marriage with a wealthy, cruel man—it all seemed strangely tailored to her circumstances.

If Kang Yunho had edited this collection, then there must have been a hidden message.

“Does he simply want me to be an obedient wife?”

But that wouldn’t explain the ending.

In the story, the husband was revealed to be kind, unlike the scoundrel Kang Yunho.

Then there was the phrase in the story, “helpless puppet,” a phrase that in Joseonese could be translated as…

“A woman as worthless as a torn kite.”

The exact words he had used to insult her the first time they met.

Something was definitely going on.

Reading the story again more carefully, Moyong Sang-ah began to notice subtle variations.

“…Certain words have a different font.”

Examining closely, she saw that some repeated words were written in a slightly different font, just enough to be noticeable under close inspection.

The word that stood out the most was, without a doubt,

Could it be…?

Hurriedly, Sang-ah fetched her writing brush, copying the uniquely styled words one by one.

“This… what is this…”

Moyong Sang-ah stared at the message she had written, her heart racing.

A chill ran down her spine.