The Beloved Baby Priestess of the Twelve Zodiac Gods - Chapter 5

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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Episode 5
“Don’t move a muscle. Wait right here.”
Soso issued the warning and swept into the Training Grounds.
Arin remained where she stood, half-crouching, her eyes fixed on the Training Grounds door.
She stood beneath a sprawling wisteria vine.
Her small frame was swallowed entirely by its drooping branches.
Moments later, Soso emerged with Ahyeon.
Arin felt joy at seeing her brother after so long, yet didn’t dare approach.
That was when Soso cried out.
“Brother, my feet hurt!”
“We can’t have our Soso in pain.”
Ahyeon quickly turned and crouched before her, offering his back.
Arin watched as Soso giggled and climbed onto his shoulders.
They looked like siblings who adored each other.
The memory of Ahyeon carrying her long ago flashed through Arin’s mind, and she burst into tears.
His back—his strength, his care—belonged to Soso now, not to her.
Just then, Soso’s eyes met hers.
As if to flaunt it, Soso wrapped her arms around Ahyeon’s neck and raised her voice.
“Brother, I’m your only sibling, aren’t I?”
“Of course. Who else could there be but our Soso?”
A sharp sting.
Arin felt her chest tighten. His words cut into her like a blade.
‘The most beautiful sister in the world. This brother would pluck the stars and moon from the sky for our Arin?’
‘Really? Truly?’
‘Of course! There’s no one but our Arin for me.’
“And yet you said there was no one but me.”
Arin wiped her tears with her grimy sleeve and fled the spot.
She couldn’t bear to watch the two of them any longer.
She ran with all the strength left in her small frame, desperate to put distance between herself and their image.
Lost in her flight, not watching where she was going, Arin collided headlong with Geum Do-gyeong coming toward her.
Bang!
Arin went flying. Her light body couldn’t withstand the impact of his solid frame and bounced backward.
Geum Do-gyeong, startled by the child who had suddenly crashed into his legs and fallen, hurried to help her up.
“Are you hurt?”
“I-I’m terribly sorry. Hic—hic.”
Arin brushed herself off and stood, bowing deeply at the waist.
Noticing her choked sobs, Geum Do-gyeong’s gaze wavered with concern.
It seemed she was badly hurt, so he became more cautious.
“I’m the one who’s sorry. I’m still unfamiliar with the paths here. Are you badly injured?”
“N-no, I—hic—I wasn’t watching where I was going……”
Arin babbled incoherently, wiping at the tears that kept spilling over.
Geum Do-gyeong examined the child more closely.
For a household member, she was far too young.
And what was this gauntness about her?
Geum Do-gyeong frowned at the sight of her skeletal wrists.
‘Are they starving this child in this house?’
He couldn’t simply pass by—her condition looked far too dire.
Watching her flushed face tremble like aspen leaves, Geum Do-gyeong finally let out a sigh.
Arin interpreted it as disapproval directed at her and swallowed her sobs, apologizing profusely.
“Hic—I’m—I’m so sorry, hic.”
“What are you sorry for? You’ve done nothing wrong.”
Geum Do-gyeong rubbed his forehead as he watched the child swallow her tears while glancing nervously at him.
If he left her like this, he’d find her face impossible to forget.
“Do you like Yakgwa?”
“Hic—pardon?”
“Do you like Yakgwa?”
Arin, who had been blinking slowly for a long moment, gradually nodded.
“Then come with me.”
Geum Do-gyeong scooped Arin up without hesitation.
He couldn’t help but mutter at how impossibly light she was.
“This household lets its children starve.”
Arin had gone rigid as stone, unaccustomed to another person’s warmth.
“Sit easy. I won’t eat you.”
At Geum Do-gyeong’s reassurance, Arin carefully leaned against him.
It was fortunate—she had no strength left to move anyway.
After weeks of meager meals, sudden exertion, and tears, Arin was utterly exhausted.
So it was the Guest Room where the man brought her.
The moment Geum Do-gyeong entered, he seated Arin upon a cushion.
From the wrapping cloth he withdrew a box of yakgwa and placed it before her.
“Eat.”
“Truly, may I?”
“Why? Afraid I’ve poisoned it?”
Arin shook her head firmly at his question.
The man before her towered over even her father, and though he frightened her, she didn’t wish to offend someone showing her kindness.
Besides, it had been so long since she’d had yakgwa—her mouth was already watering.
Carefully, Arin took a piece and bit into it deeply.
As the sweetness bloomed across her tongue, a smile bloomed across her face.
“Pretending you don’t like it when clearly you do.”
Geum Do-gyeong chuckled and popped a piece of yakgwa into his mouth whole.
In truth, these yakgwa were his own confections.
The Geum Ho Household had made them specially for him, knowing his fondness for sweets.
He’d meant to save them, but he’d found nothing else to console a crying child.
Geum Do-gyeong pressed a cup of green tea toward Arin as she devoured the yakgwa.
The child drank it hesitantly, uncertain, but drank it nonetheless.
‘Has she lived her entire life on scraps and caution? Why does she watch everyone so carefully?’
Everything about her unsettled him.
She seemed no more than five winters old, her frame so small.
Her soft vermillion hair, the color of trumpet flowers, hung loose and tangled, obscuring her entire face.
As he watched her eat—or was she eating her own hair?—his eye fell upon Yeo-ryeong’s belongings.
Yeo-ryeong always kept her hair neatly bound, so surely she’d have an extra ribbon.
Rummaging through her things, he found indeed a spare one and drew the child before him.
“……?”
Arin startled and stopped eating, so Geum Do-gyeong spoke.
“I’m tying your hair. Sit still and eat.”
His tone was rough for a child to hear, yet Arin smiled softly and returned her focus to the yakgwa.
‘The girl listens well enough, curse it.’
Most strangers would have shown wariness, but Arin showed none.
What bothered him instead was the fear in her eyes—the terror that he might leave.
But one cannot meddle in another’s household affairs.
With clumsy hands, Geum Do-gyeong began to bind Arin’s hair into a single knot.
But braiding the fine, delicate hair of a young girl was not as simple as he’d thought.
In the end, he gathered it all and tied it high as he might have his son’s, and it was at least better than loose tangles.
Geum Do-gyeong thought the yellow ribbon suited the child remarkably well.
“Done. This is yours now.”
Though it was not his to give.
But Yeo-ryeong would have done exactly the same.
“Truly?”
Arin reached out and touched the ribbon—clearly fine silk—with reverent fingertips.
Her pronunciation wavered from disuse, and her movements were so careful, fearful of damaging it, that Geum Do-gyeong laughed.
“Small thing, ask no questions. When an adult gives you something, you simply say thank you.”
“Thank you, sir.”
“That’s the way.”
Geum Do-gyeong smiled and pinched Arin’s cheek—soft as mochi.
Surprised at how tender it was, he was met with Arin’s innocent, blinking gaze.
“Ah, forgive me. I didn’t mean to.”
Geum Do-gyeong withdrew his hand in contrition, but Arin shook her head.
“It’s all right.”
“It’s not. In these moments, you must say: ‘I don’t like that. Don’t do that. Stop, please.'”
That she’d followed a stranger so readily was itself troubling.
He was considering where to begin teaching her when the child murmured something quietly.
“But…… I didn’t hate it.”
“What?”
Arin, who had been yearning for human touch, found herself drawn to the way he treated her without hesitation or artifice.
It felt as though she’d stepped back into the past.
“You can do more.”
Geum Do-gyeong’s mouth fell open at Arin’s matter-of-fact reply.
“You’ve got an answer for everything.”
He moved his hand toward her cheek with a wry remark that masked his true feelings, stealing forward bit by bit.

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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