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Tedious harassment came from Juro and his prying. Implying Hisa’s fondness of Uno made her a contender for his mistress if she pleased.
Kwan thought nothing of it until autumn, when Juro returned unhappily.
“Lord Kwan!”
Kwan looked up from his tea, away from the drying gardens and across the courtyard. Though, he stayed seated on the veranda peaceably. “Lord Juro.”
“What is this I hear of your engagement to Hisa?” demanded Juro, marching up.
“Since you are the one who heard it, relay it to me,” said Kwan, unbothered and sipping his drink.
“I’m in no mood for your jests, my friend. Hisa herself declared it as fact when I went to ask her father’s blessing.”
“I take it things didn’t go favorably for my friend.” That did bother him, though he tempered his tone. “Tea?”
“Is it true?” demanded Juro.
“My engagement?” said Kwan, hinting a smile. “I have made a proposal to Hisa. And I’m waiting for her answer.”
“You had no right,” scolded Juro. “Knowing my stance, you had no right to go behind my back and make a proposal!”
“Behind your back?” echoed Kwan. He set down his tea cup, picking up a round pear to peel. “I initially tested to see if an affection could be encouraged towards my friend. When you declared yourself a stranger to her at Tetsuden, I felt free to express my own feelings when it was appropriate.”
Juro’s jaw locked. Righteousness fleeing.
Kwan poured a cup for Juro as he waited for a response, and refilled his own. “Hisa is capable of knowing her own mind. If she refuses me, there’s nothing I can do.”
Juro scoffed, taking a reluctant seat. “And why would she refuse you?”
“Did she not refuse you before my affections were known?”
For a while, Juro kept silent, sipping his drink as he mulled over the words. “What is it that drew a high lord to her?”
Kwan glanced over, reading into Juro’s stoic expression and defeated, resentful tone. “She wasn’t afraid to love what was unloved by others.”
“And not for her own gain,” added Juro after a moment’s thought.
“The rest of my household tried to encourage her affection for you, my friend, giving their perspectives. Your favor was not unwanted in my home.”
Juro flicked a smile at that, grunting.
“Lin was the most disappointed. She grew fond of the summer fruits you sent in winter.”
“Lin is too ambitious.”
“She guards her position fiercely. I will be aggrieved should she elope or take up with another lord.”
Slowly, the tension dissipated between them.
“The half coat you’re wearing...?” asked Juro, jutting his chin to the sunflower pattern.
“Hisa made it.”
Juro’s eyes narrowed.
“She promised to put her skill to work and make something for me, prior to knowing my affection.”
Juro sighed, long and heavy. “I should’ve given her more of my time.”
“Perhaps,” said Kwan. “But your duties required you to be elsewhere.”
“What is duty compared to the love of a woman?”
Kwan looked at his friend, studying his posture. “Meaningless.”
“You’ve once loved and loss,” said Juro. “Was it meaningless?”
Kwan dragged his gaze back to the drying garden, at the start of a long slumber. “Until I loved again.”
Juro pondered the sentiment. “Did you always love her?”
“No,” said Kwan, glancing to the thread on his finger. “But then I learned to.”
****
Winter, and it became quieter still. She’d always been up to something, clumsy and unable to move about soundlessly. And when she was hushed, he’d find her working on some passion. Now, it was simply mute.
From new habit, as he looked over any missives or plans for the upcoming spring, he’d glance to his side where she’d sit. Absent, he thumbed the jade pendant she’d given him. While he’d hoped she’d return before the first snow, even sending for a trinket to present to her, he didn’t want her to feel obliged to expedite whatever business she had. The intrusive thoughts and desire to go to her started anchoring themselves in him.
Was she well? Sick, injured, lonely, cold? Or perfectly content?
The solstice arrived with a buzz among his household, and he felt more the part of an observer without her shuffling about and displaying boisterous emotion. His usual anticipation later in the year stopped short. Knowing that, he went to the shrine the morning of the new year to pray.
The eve of his usual visit, now without her, he couldn’t take it. The trinket placed delicately in a box, and prettily wrapped, he scribbled a dozen tags, discarding them one after another.
From Kwan. That seemed somehow too forward.
I love you. Too much pressure.
I miss you. Too dramatic.
He eventually settled on one he disliked the least: For Hisa.
No one noticed his departure.
At the base of the mountain, the snows were shallower. He’d no doubt that his footprints would be covered by morning. Finding her house was easy. All he needed to do was see Saburo. A shelter was built to the back of one house, near the furnace. A warm place, sturdy, and carefully lain out for the stallion’s comfort.
With the start of a smile, Kwan placed his gift beneath the shelter, biding that Saburo make sure she received it. A few steps, about to leave, he felt pulled back. He’d never taken the time to observe the settlements under his protection, assuming them all to be more or less like those under his father’s domain when he was a boy. Curious, he meandered. This late into the night, he didn’t suppose anyone awake to bother him, and strode unhindered.
A familiar sense drew him. Stopping at a window, he carefully inched it open to peek inside. Hisa, bundled and warm, clung to the puzzle box in her sleep. Koji lay curled at her backside, guarding in his own slumber. The sight freed Kwan’s heart of worry. As long as the dog was near his soul, his essence placed on the beast would act.
More wandering brought him similar sights in this village. In one home, he noticed a fine dress laying over a girl around Hisa’s age. What the connection between them was, he didn’t know, but it gave him something to ponder as he toured himself through the next village and the next.
Wherever he noticed ailment, he crept in soundlessly to asses and heal.
The towns and city were harder to go unseen; but he’d already gone through so much of his territory that he felt compelled, and curious enough, to view the rest and gain some awareness of the ongoings in his care. It felt more detailed than mere reports to observe things for himself, and he considered making his self-guided tours an annual ordeal.
In some ways, humans reflected Juneun, mimicking superficial behaviors and hierarchies. In other ways, they were completely alien. Class allowances were stricter, gatekeeping on education and artistry, and sex was something of a public commodity in the more urban areas—as opposed to being strategically used or convenient for a master and servant, or other members of a household.
It seemed everything in the human world had a price, strategic or not. Foreign as it was, he felt he understood them better—understood her a little better. Reminding him of a promise made long before.
****
Spring. Mokryon would come soon enough, though he had no intention of attending.
More concern rose about the missing prince, with Eumeh having birthed another girl and Urekkato nowhere to be found. Had he done it? By accident or otherwise? Guilt sharply tore through him. In that same instance, he remembered Hisa’s confession of begging Urekkato’s help on his behalf.
Maybe it was wrong that he withheld it from her.
No. He couldn’t think of the torment it would cause her if she knew. She’d meant to help, and Urekkato’s arrogance led him to answer what he could’ve easily dismissed. There was no news of a body, which both gave him hope and cause to worry. Better to avoid the talk all together.
After, and unexpectedly, however, Feng called on him, arriving with sincere irritation.
“There were rumors at Mokryon,” said Feng, taking her tea with practiced grace. “That you did not make an appearance because you’re recently engaged.”
Kwan said nothing, hardly granting any acknowledgement with more than a glance.
Syaoran, however, found it hard to serve and maintain his composure. Feng glared in his direction, which did little, if anything.
“What I didn’t hear was to whom Lord Kwan, who’d sworn his chastity when last I spoke to him, was engaged to.”
“Seems an important detail to leave out in a rumor,” said Kwan. “For what reason do you call, Lady Feng?”
“What reason?” echoed Feng with venom. “You refuse me for decades—centuries! And then to say you took an oath of chastity, only for this disgusting rumor to come up not three years later.”
Kwan, unbothered by her rehearsed fits, studied her a moment. “What is it you want?”
“I want to know if these rumors hold truth!” demanded Feng. “And if so, which cunning wretch did you promise yourself to?”
After all this time, Kwan could no longer tell if this outburst was sincere, or scripted.
“Say something!”
Taking his time, and sipping from his cup, Kwan answered. “I made a proposal.”
Uno announced herself, stepping in with pomegranate wine to serve. Feng eyed her and looked back to Kwan with an implied question. One he didn’t care to answer. She didn’t notice a prominent absence. Only that a pretty maid, resembling a previous love, was now there.
“A proposal to who?” asked Feng, seething.
At his own leisure, Kwan spoke. “To Hisa.”
Feng’s expression went blank. “Your human?”
Kwan ignored her, gesturing for Uno to fill his cup.
“A human?” reiterated Feng. “You ignore me for centuries, and have the audacity to propose to her? Some, some scrawny, unshapely, peasant?”
Kwan said nothing, allowing Feng to exhaust herself in her tirade.
“She didn’t even have half-decent manners before I taught her!”
“It was not her manners I adored,” said Kwan.
“Then, what?” snapped Feng. “Her face?”
Kwan lifted his gaze to her, sharp.
Feng’s shoulders and chest visibly rose with her breathing. “Is that what you wanted? Someone to pity? No, no wealth, no title, no beauty—no breeding? She’s a novelty. Fleeting. What could she give that I couldn’t?”
Kwan set down his cup, looking directly at her. “Sincerity.”
Her expression morphed, a deep scowl softening to a question.
“And compassion,” said Kwan, resuming his casualness.
“Have I not been?” demanded Feng.
“Not without expecting reward.”
She swatted the teapot from the table in her fury, spooking Uno and causing Syaoran to step aside. “Did I not endure the ridicule of your brothers without complaint? That I was so low at birth to have my title—my birthright—withheld from me for so long?”
Kwan sipped, as though she’d kept perfectly still. “The circumstance of birth and title never factored into my decision.”
She threw the plates next. Kwan ignored it. In her rage, Feng lashed out in the apartment room, stopped only when her ire went to strike at Hisa’s things. Syaoran and Uno kept to their station, unable to act or flee without permission.
Kwan stepped in, faster than a bewildered blink, taking Feng’s arm to halt her tantrum. Calm, he gave his command. “Stop this.”
Feng met his command and cold expression with tears.