When the west dawns - Chapter 1

Chapter 1  
“…Huh?”

Seo Hyo’s eyes widened as she crushed herbs by the second-floor window, her face wearing the same boredom as always. Her dark eyes, round like wild grapes, suddenly shimmered.

The pestle slipped from her hand and rolled across the table with a clack-clack.

Someone was walking up the main road—someone from that household.

The servant’s brown hat had bright red tassels dangling from each corner, swinging playfully in the wind. It looked so tempting to tug on them that Seo Hyo had to fight the urge.

And that wasn’t the only thing.

The servant’s outfit—a brown jacket with a vest over it—was embroidered with butterflies and bees. Maybe that would’ve been cute on a baby’s clothes, but on a bearded middle-aged man? It looked… out of place.

Still, all of his servants dressed that way.

Well, what could she do? Every house had its own customs. It wouldn’t do to mock the attire of the servants of a family she had marriage talks with.

With a shriek of excitement, Seo Hyo dashed down the stairs.

“Kyaaa! He’s here! He’s here! The reply’s here!”

Please, this time—let it be a kind letter.
Let it be the story she longed to hear.
Please, please, please.

The servant held out the envelope with a blank expression, bowed politely, and left just as formally.

After taking a deep breath, Seo Hyo opened the envelope.

Her eyes dimmed as she read.

“Miss Seo Hyo, you are a good person… but… I fear you are too good for me… I hope you find a beautiful fate…”

“…What.”

The letter slipped from her hand. The black-and-white paper fluttered down onto the dirt floor.

A good person. A good person.
Damn that phrase.

Men never marry “good people.”
“Good person” was what they said when they couldn’t think of a proper excuse to reject someone, but didn’t want to sound cruel either.

She wanted to beg—If you won’t love me, at least tell me why.

Ah, but would that be desperate?

“Good person.” Again. And again. She’d heard it so often she’d gone numb. And worse, all the rejection letters sounded exactly the same.

Seo Hyo sank into a stone chair in the courtyard and stared blankly at the air. A dragonfly danced lazily in front of her.

“…It’s over.”

Her voice was full of misery.

“I’m doomed. I’m done for. Uwaaaah.”

Even the dragonfly must have known—there was no goddess, in heaven or earth or underworld, who had been rejected by so many men as Seo Hyo, Goddess of Lost Things.

Such disgrace had never existed before.

“It’s not the first time, miss. Maybe take it in stride.”

The deep, familiar voice came from behind her.

Cha Eon, the butler, was carrying a mountain of laundry. His robe, embroidered with peony flowers at the shoulders, looked immaculate. The laundry he touched turned blindingly white—using the same soap, the same board, yet somehow his results were perfect.

Seo Hyo wasn’t bad at chores, but next to him… well, she’d rather not compare.

“Cha Eon, it’s the same again. ‘May you find a good match,’ they say.”

He didn’t even reply. He just hung the clothes neatly along the line—smooth, spotless, not a wrinkle in sight.

“This one really felt right, though…” she mumbled. “Did I seem too forward? Did I laugh too loud? Did I look too desperate to marry?”

She glanced into her small hand mirror. A tiny face stared back at her.

She wasn’t a stunning beauty, but she’d heard she was cute more than once. One man even said she looked like a “small, pretty white butterfly.”

When she’d proudly told Cha Eon that, he’d just replied, “Wasn’t he calling you a cabbage worm?”

Seo Hyo’s eyes drooped like a sad puppy’s.

“Maybe I really am nothing special.”

Cabbage worm… well, at least they became butterflies someday.

Would she ever have such transformation—or just keep being rejected without knowing why?

Cha Eon finally turned to her. His calm eyes swept her slowly from head to toe.

“Indeed, calling you a beauty might be… inaccurate.”

His voice was low and smooth, yet merciless.

“Your eyes are large. Too large. It’s intimidating to look directly into them.”

Seo Hyo scowled. Her eyes weren’t that big. Maybe bright and round, but intimidating? Ridiculous.

“And your frame,” he went on, “looks like the wind might blow you away. Feeding you nutritious food feels like a waste.”

He sighed dramatically.

Seo Hyo puffed out her cheeks. “Honestly…”

She touched her shoulders, arms, and waist defensively. Okay, maybe she was soft and small, but still!

He’s wrong, she thought stubbornly. I take after my mother, so at least my chest is—

Her hands moved to confirm it. Soft… round… yes…

“Hmm.”

“I may be your butler, but I am still a man,” came Cha Eon’s cool voice.

“…I think it’s fine, though.”

“Truly. Getting rejected and then groping yourself in broad daylight looks very fine indeed.”

His words pierced like needles despite the gentle tone. That was just how he was—pouring cold water over her with an unfazed face.

Seo Hyo glared at the insolent man.

Her butler had far too much fun criticizing his mistress.

She puffed up again. “Three of my friends already got married this year, you know!”

Indeed, three wedding invitations had arrived at Baekhwa Apothecary, known for its white plum trees.

The prettiest invitation came from the Goddess of Festivals—red background, golden flowers embossed all over it. Just looking at it felt like fireworks bursting in her chest.

She couldn’t attend, but rumor had it the celebration lasted three days and nights, full of laughter and joy.

Of course it did. A festival goddess’s wedding was bound to be grand.

Marriage was one of life’s biggest celebrations. The Goddess of Festivals, who never missed a chance to party, surely reveled in every moment of her own.

Seo Hyo rested her chin on her hand, gazing at the bright autumn sky.

“Cha Eon.”

“Yes, miss.”

“It’s already autumn… Do you think I’ll get married this year?”

“…It’s been one hundred and fifty years and nineteen days, miss. I’d recommend giving up.”

His tone was merciless.

Seo Hyo collapsed onto the ground with a wail.

Everyone else met their partners easily—why was she the only one left behind?

She tilted her head back dramatically.

Heavenly One, she prayed silently, who is the partner meant for me? Please, even just once—let me see his face, or the hem of his robe—anything!

“Why don’t you get back to your work,” Cha Eon interrupted dryly.

He set down the mortar and pestle she’d left upstairs.

Seo Hyo pouted so hard her lips nearly hit the floor. It’s all his fault.

Every man she’d been matched with got nervous around Cha Eon. They’d stammer, shake their teacups, avoid eye contact—like frightened mice.

And every proposal had failed soon after.

Would she still be doing laundry with this annoying man three hundred years from now? Still unmarried?

“Nooo…”

White laundry fluttered in the wind above her, pure as her despair. Cha Eon stood before it, calm and unshakable as ever.

He once told her he had no intention of marrying.

Seo Hyo crushed the herbs harder and harder.

The tears that pricked her eyes weren’t just from effort.

There are far more gods in the world than humans imagine.

People know of the Heavenly Emperor, the King of the Underworld, and the Dragon Kings of the Seas—but beyond them lie countless others. Gods so minor and specific that even other deities joke, “If there’s a God of Shoes, is there any god that doesn’t exist?”

Among them was Seo Hyo—the Goddess of Lost Things.

The drawers of her apothecary, stuffed with herbs, also held the things she kept safe:

A kitten that slipped out through an unlatched gate.
A student’s homework lost on the street.
An old doll left behind in a former home.
Even cherished but sorrowful memories.

They were all her guests.

Some eventually found their way back to their owners. Others remained forgotten in her drawers until their owners died, disappearing with them. And some simply faded away on their own.

In one such drawer lay a tiny kitten, smaller than her fist. Its body had already gone cold somewhere in an alley, but its little spirit slept peacefully in her care.

The call came—it was time to return it.

Seo Hyo opened the drawer and lifted the drowsy little soul.

“Come on, Nabi. Let’s go home.”

“Meow…”

Still half-asleep, the kitten blinked lazily.

Seo Hyo stroked it under the chin until it purred. Then, gently, she traced a circle in the air.

A dark path opened—a tunnel connecting this world to the next.

“Don’t be afraid. Just walk straight ahead.”

The kitten’s fur bristled. The endless darkness frightened it.

Seo Hyo tapped its bottom softly.

“It won’t be cold or hungry anymore. You’ll like walking on clouds.”

The kitten hesitated, then looked up at her once more.

“…Meow?”

“Go on.”

At last, it took a step. Then another. Soon, it was running joyfully across the rainbow-colored path that bloomed beneath its paws.

A few dogs and old cats followed behind it.

Seo Hyo watched until they disappeared, then closed the portal.

That was all she could do.

Pressing a hand to her aching chest, she rose.

A few drawers were now empty. But as soon as they were, new “lost things” filled them again.

“Oh dear… someone’s lost a love letter now?”

She clucked her tongue to chase away the sadness. She did this every morning, but it never got easier.

A love letter, though—that sounded sweet. Maybe she’d take a peek.

Her conscience pricked at her, but curiosity won.

Maybe it contained something important—like a meeting time.

She began to read. “As you know, the God of Fate watches over us… your lips, red as camellias…”

But just as she was beginning to feel dreamy, a familiar voice interrupted.

“Tomorrow, the Magistrate’s household will send for another month’s medicine. Please prepare in advance this time.”

Of course—it was Cha Eon again.

Seo Hyo shot him a glare.

What good was that handsome face, admired by every girl in town, if it came with that icy tone? He never offered even a single sweet word.

Still, she vaguely remembered… wasn’t there a time long ago when he’d been a little warmer? Maybe a hundred and fifty years ago?

“Even gods must eat if they take human form,” he said, brushing his bangs aside.

Ugh, the nagging again.

“To eat, one must have money for rice.”

“Yes, yes, I know. My fault.”

“Don’t use that tone, miss.”

Honestly—why had the Heavenly Emperor assigned him as her servant? They were the worst match possible.

If not for him, she’d probably sleep till noon every day, then go fishing or pick berries in the woods.

When she caught fish, great. When she didn’t, that was fine too.

If she ran out of rice, she’d just trade herbs with a neighbor.

Simple, peaceful life.

Cha Eon, however, once told her coldly that she’d starve to death if she kept living that way.

Maybe he was right, but that didn’t mean she wanted to hear it from him.

“…Maybe I’ll have crystal dumplings for lunch,” she muttered.

Those translucent dumplings filled with shrimp, chives, and minced pork were tedious to make—definitely not a dish one made casually.

But imagining Cha Eon sweating in the kitchen somehow made her feel better.

She smirked quietly to herself, a tiny, petty goddess of mischief.

TO BE CONTINUED…..