“Gyuri!”

Gyuri tore her eyes away from the clay pot and turned to Pho, who was on the other side of the storage house.

“Those are for the vagabonds, remember?” She quirked her brow as she gestured at the wooden spoon in Gyuri’s hand.

“I know…” Gyuri took a guilty step back as she attempted to conspicuously wipe the saliva that started leaking from the corners of . “But I’m just so… hungry.” She peeked into the pot and swallowed. “Can’t I just have a quick bowl before anyone arrives?”

“You can have some if there are leftovers,” Pho said with a slight smile. “And anyway, it’s your fault for sleeping in.”

Gyuri huffed.

Two weeks had passed since they had last ventured to the storage house together and with the sudden passing of the late lord, Gyuri, and the rest of the maids, had been overwhelmed. After all, who wouldn’t be after being ordered to clean the whole household from top to bottom?

Gyuri knew the eldest Kim was a tidy man, having once glimpsed into his private chambers, but she couldn’t fathom why the maids had to clean to the point of exhaustion. Day by day, the maids rose at the break of dawn to begin their tedious routine. With the amount of cleaning they did, one would think that the household had fallen to disrepair. It was only when Gyuri had mistakenly complained out loud and Madam Zhou had overheard, did she uncover the reason.

“This is how Lord Minseok grieves,” Madam Zhou had divulged after scolding her for being loose-lipped. “By focusing on improving the household, he is distracting himself from the pain of losing his father.”

Gyuri didn’t whine any more after that.

Despite the stinging rawness of her hands and the unbearable ache in her lower back, nothing could compare to the pain the Kims were going through.

Gyuri cast her memory back to the events of last week.

She remembered how Namjoon had thrown himself back to his work in the sanatorium; how Jongin’s grief was reflected by the poignant melody his guzheng sang and how Junmyeon seemed more agitated than before. There was no doubt that the Kim household was in silent turmoil— although its walls withstood time’s unforgiving course, its occupants did not.

Gone was the source that united the brothers, be it through filial piety, fear, or a combination of both. Like a bridge without its cornerstone, the Kims were vulnerable.

They were lost without Hyesung.

With Minseok as the new lord, things were different. He was kinder, more egalitarian, but it was clear that he didn’t possess the tenaciousness that his father had. While Hyseung instilled fear, Minseok did not. There was a quietness to him that cast a shadow of doubt in everyone’s mind. Like an ill-fitting piece in a puzzle, Minseok was an adequate substitute, but he lacked confidence. He had yet to prove himself as a leader. And while the rest of the Kims mourned their loss, the unspoken question lingered closely at the back of their minds: could Minseok fill the void Hyesung left behind?

It was only subtle but Gyuri sensed tension amongst the Kims that wasn’t apparent before.

“He is my true brother, but it seems our bond is only limited to the blood we share.”

Gyuri sighed as her thoughts finally drifted to Taehyung.

It had been a week since she had last spoken properly with him and she feared that he had taken Seokjin’s brusque behaviour to heart.

Lately, Taehyung had been uncharacteristically quiet. He had kept to himself even when he knew Gyuri was free from her duties. He no longer met her by the river while she was doing laundry; no longer kept her company while she was sweeping the courtyard, nor pestered her about going to the village. Gyuri had seen so little of Taehyung that she had come to realise how much effort he put in to meet her. Without his persistence, their bewildering friendship may not have existed at all. And as much as she hated to admit it, she was starting to miss him.

I wonder how he’s doing, Gyuri thought as she stole a sip of stew while Pho wasn’t looking. Her stomach gurgled at the sudden taste of food, a cacophony of flavours inciting a riot amongst her taste buds. Allured by the taste, she stole another. That troublesome kid, why does he make me worry about him all the time?

“What do you think of Master Seokjin?”

Gyuri quickly hid the spoon behind her back as Pho turned to her. “M-master Seokjin?”

Pho nodded.

“Well…”

“I look nothing like my father.”

Gyuri shuddered as she recalled the contempt in his voice. Out of all the brothers, she was keen to avoid Seokjin the most. “He’s…” Gyuri curled her lip as she tried to think of the perfect word. “He’s different.”

“He’s not like the other Kims at all, is he?”

“Definitely.” Gyuri walked over to help Pho while at the same time discarding her spoon. “He’s a brute. He’s a lot worse than the scary brother— and that’s saying something!”

Pho blinked in confusion. “Master Seokjin isn’t a brute.”

“You don’t think he is?”

“No,” Pho replied while shaking her head, “I think he’s actually quite friendly.”

Gyuri was taken aback.

“Master Seokjin is eccentric, that I admit, but he’s also humble. Why I saw him helping the kitchen staff the other day by chopping wood! He jokes around with them and he exchanges cooking tips as well. In fact, the stew we have today was made by Master Seokjin.”

Gyuri’s eyes widened. She glanced back at the clay pot in shock. He can cook?!

“Unlike the other Kims, Master Seokjin really doesn’t feel like a Kim at all,” Pho continued. “Did you know that he insists on being called Jin rather than Master Seokjin? He doesn’t dress in luxurious garments either.” Pho giggled. “The new servant boy mistook him as one of Master Namjoon’s men.”

Gyuri listened as Pho continued to speak fondly of the elusive brother. It baffled her to hear Pho talk about him as if he was a saint: a complete contrast to the Seokjin she knew. At some point, Gyuri began to wonder whether she and Pho were even talking about the same person. How could a man who held a sword against be the same man who cracks jokes with servants?

“Are you sure you’re not describing Master Namjoon?” Gyuri asked dubiously. “The Master Seokjin I know isn’t the angel you make him out to be.”

“Of course, I’m sure. Why would I lie?” Pho put her hands to her hips. “He’s a really nice person, Gyuri. Don’t let his appearance deceive you.” She turned back to unpacking the bowls. “I have to admit that I didn’t expect Master Seokjin to be like this either. His reputation precedes him. Before he arrived, I have heard of only bad rumours about his character.”

Gyuri stopped what she was doing. “What kind of rumours?”

Pho glanced around the storage house as if to check if they were alone. “You know,” she gesticulated with her hands, “reasons why he was exiled.” Pho leaned in as she whispered, “No one knows if the rumours are true, but I heard that it had something to do with a death in the family.”

“…A death in the family?”

Pho nodded solemnly.

“What did Master Seokjin do? Did he…?”

“No one knows,” Pho said with a shrug. “It was just something I overheard when I first arrived at the household.”

Gyuri chewed her lip.

Every fibre of her being still shuddered at the thought of being in close parameters with Seokjin. There was something about him that kept her on edge. Despite her bravado, Gyuri was intimidated by his unpredictability. Just when she thought Seokjin was an arsehole he surprises her by acting like a saint. Could Gyuri have judged him too quickly? If not, then was he kind to everyone but her?

Kim Seokjin was the epitome of bian lian: he had many masks, but which one was the real him?

“But do you think he could… you know?”

Pho shrugged again. “Surely Lord Minseok wouldn’t welcome him in the household if he was dangerous, right?”

Gyuri was unsure.

“Well, either way, there’s no use worrying over it,” Pho said as she got back to work. “All that matters now is that