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The sun shined in beautiful streaks, illuminating Gi-hun’s fluffy hair in a pretty shade of golden. Sweat beaded up on his forehead and he swiped it with the back of his hand for the umpteenth time. Manual labor was tiring, especially in this bustling warm town near the capital of the Illinois Empire. His back hurt and his poor little pretty hands were all scratched up.
A little nudge against his foot made him look down, and his wide eyes lit up in wondrous joy. A tiny, stray kitten was rubbing against his worn leather boot. The little cute animals around here made this job all the more worth it.
Oh god, Gi-hun thought, scooping up the kitten and burying his face in its soft fur. Please tell me I’m actually a rich kid and my parents just forgot to tell me. Maybe I’m secretly the lord of a county.
As it turned out, the universe had a terribly twisted sense of humor. Because Gi-hun was the lord of a county. Well, if you could call a tiny strip of barren land in the most backward slum area of the glistening capital, and ledgers of previous dues, a magnificent hoard of wealth.
One day, he was enjoying his life as a nearly struggling, albeit joyful worker near an animal sanctuary, taking care to carefully carry all the fragile goods inside the building and making hasty deliveries. His mother had been mildly suspicious and surprised at the prospect of anyone hiring him for manual labor due to his lanky, wiry frame and fragile looks. But nevertheless, he had secured the job.
And suddenly, the next day, there came a fancy carriage all glossed up in shiny jewels and bearing a big emblem of some official from the capital. Surprisingly, it came to a halt just outside Gi-hun and his mother’s residence. Out stepped a snobby official in the most eerie attire—there was far too much ribbon and far too little cloth than Gi-hun had ever seen. Then, he started in a haughty voice:
"Listen ye, the spawn of the late lord, Jae-hyun of the great Seong Viscounty. It has come the time for you to take over your late lord's house and resume business. Heir of the viscount, accompany us to the Seong Manor in the capital city and take hold of your duties. This is what your late father left for you," the official finished with his chin held high, his nose huffing about. All the village folk gathered around him in a horde.
For a total of three minutes, Gi-hun went from being totally dumbfounded to dancing in joy, to doing a quick victory lap dance and drooling while thinking of all the meat he would eat if he accepted this offer. The prospect of premium meat on skewers and delicious desserts had him effectively zone out and nod along without listening to anything that was being said.
And the next thing he knew, he was being hastily escorted to a barren building in the middle of nowhere, with the bricks having been weathered over what seemed like a few centuries. The paint peeled off in thin strips. Gi-hun’s mother let out an indignant huff. "That scrawny wretch... that totally abominable excuse of a creature, 'Lord' Seong. Had he been alive today, I would have seen to it that he had a fitting end to his miserable existence."
"Eomma, how come you never mentioned this before?" Gi-hun let out an otherworldly, petulant whine. "You told me my father was a beastly creature who passed away before I was born."
"Gi-hunnie, nothing good ever comes out of associating yourself with people of status. They will roll you beneath their feet and then kick you off in disgust. Had there been any way to refuse, I would have taken you and run off. But alas, this is an official decree."
"Eomma, what's gonna happen now?" Gi-hun felt like a little kid again, the faintest tremor touching his voice, his big doe eyes beginning to tear up.
"Oh, my dear Gi-hunnie. Aegi, I'll help you. When the night falls, you can run away. I'll stay here and hold the fort."
"Eomma, no. I can handle it, you need not worry."
And from then on, Seong Gi-hun bravely "held" the fort. Or rather, he did as best as he could. As it turned out, all his dreams of quiet luxuries and extravagancy died on the spot, much like his soul, self-respect, and hope. He had to hold down his tears of disappointment at having to eat boiled potatoes and cabbage soup instead of the feast he had imagined. The run-down manor had long since been abandoned by any and every servant, which left Gi-hun in charge of cleaning down the massive place, managing a huge load of debt, and handling previous political agreements and contracts. He struggled to learn the proper norms and education required for such tasks.
Even his usually strict eomma felt her heart soften for him, trying to cheer him up as best as she could. The only respite he got from his strict routine was when he visited the children in the viscounty. He loved meeting the wide-eyed, curious people of the viscounty, who had quickly warmed up to him after gauging the difference in his demeanor compared to the former viscount, who squeezed money out of the poor civilians. Gi-hun tried his best to not let the viscount's debt bring a time of hardship on the people who looked up to him. Many a time, he received warm pies from kind-hearted neighbors, which was the only highlight of his otherwise measly existence.
Life continued in a serene fashion for quite some time as Gi-hun adjusted to handling his tasks properly and the seasons changed, until the debts began to pile up bigger than he tried to clear them. It came to a point where Gi-hun had sold most of everything he could salvage, but the interests kept piling up.
At this rate, the viscounty would go under, and his dreams of making an animal sanctuary would also perish—much like his appetite.
"Alright, that's it!" Gi-hun suddenly declared, slamming the heavy leather ledger shut with a loud thud. A small puff of decades-old dust flew into his face, making him cough violently. He waved his scratched hands around to clear the air, a bright, stubborn pout settling on his lips. "Eomma! Look at the bright side!"
His mother paused her sweeping, leaning on her broom with a look of profound exhaustion. "Gi-hunnie, we are eating boiled potatoes for the fourth time this week. What bright side?"
"The bright side is that we have officially hit rock bottom!" Gi-hun grinned, jumping up from the squeaky wooden chair and doing a dramatic, theatrical bow. "Think about it. We’re broke, our house is shedding paint like a molting snake, and I owe more silver to the capital than there is actual silver in the world! Mathematically speaking, things literally cannot get any worse than this. The only way left to go is up!"
To prove his point, he grabbed his mother's hands and tried to pull her into a clumsy, cheering-up victory dance, humming a ridiculous tune under his breath. "We survived the scrawny wretch's ghost, we can survive this! Tomorrow, I’ll find a fourth job. Maybe a bakery? I’m great with bread. I look like bread. It's a perfect match—"
BOOM.
The heavy, weathered front doors of the manor practically rattled off their centuries-old hinges. The sound made Gi-hun flinch in terror from estimating the costs of reparing it.
Gi-hun froze mid-dance step, his foot awkwardly hovering in the air.
Standing in the doorway was a high-ranking Imperial Herald, flanked by three imposing imperial guards whose armor was so polished it looked entirely offensive compared to Gi-hun's dusty foyer. The Herald unrolled a massive parchment scroll with a sharp, terrifying snap.
"Seong Gi-hun of the House of Seong!" the Herald bellowed, his voice echoing off the peeling walls.
Gi-hun slowly lowered his foot, offering a weak, incredibly awkward smile. "Uh. Hello. If this is about the cabbage tax, I swear my mom was just about to—"
"By absolute imperial decree of His Majesty, to permanently settle the outstanding debts of the late Viscount Jae-hyun," the Herald read, utterly ignoring him, "and to satisfy the mandatory political marital quota... you are hereby ordered to enter a contract of holy matrimony."
Gi-hun blinked. His brain short-circuited. Matrimony? Me? With who? A wealthy, old noble lady who wants a trophy husband to clean her mansion? Wait, is this a scam? Images of endless meat skewers and velvet robes immediately flashed in his mind. He perked up, his big doe eyes sparkling. "Wait, a marriage? Does she have a big kitchen? Because honestly, I’m a very compliant groom—"
"You are to wed His Grace, Grand Duke Hwang In-ho," the Herald cut in, his voice dropping into a tone usually reserved for reading death warrants. "The Lord of the Shadow March. The Tyrant of the Eternal Frost."
The silence that followed was so thick you could cut it with a butter knife.
Gi-hun’s smile instantly melted. The Grand Duke of the North. The Duke In-ho. The legendary, ruthless monster who reportedly wore a terrifying steel mask because his face was too frightening for mortal eyes, and who allegedly used the frozen bones of his enemies as paperweights.
His mother let out a gasp so sharp she nearly choked on her own spit, her broom clattering to the floor. "The... the masked executioner of the North?! You expect my precious aegi to marry a bloodthirsty demon?!"
"The North's escort carriage is already waiting at the village gates," the Herald said curtly, rolling up the scroll and looking at Gi-hun with a mixture of profound pity and horror. "You have two hours to pack your bags, Lord Seong. May the heavens have mercy on your soul."
As the guards marched out, slamming the door shut again, Gi-hun stood entirely paralyzed in the middle of the dusty room.
He slowly turned his head to look at his hyperventilating mother.
"Eomma," Gi-hun whispered, his voice cracking comically. "I take it back. Things definitely just got worse."