Hayeong’s initial assumption that they were heading to a community center or a district office for some mundane administrative task was swiftly shattered.
Instead, Muheon led them to Gwanghwamun, the very heart of Seoul. Hayeong’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion, wondering what possible reason could bring them to such a significant location.
Before he could even articulate the thought, a figure materialized as if summoned by an invisible bell, greeting Muheon with a level of deference that bordered on reverence.
“Welcome!” a middle-aged man exclaimed, his smile wide and unwavering, as two younger men trailed behind him, guiding Muheon with an almost reverential air.
Hayeong, feeling like a tiny goldfish tethered to the CEO’s powerful tail, moved in sync with him, the opportunity to voice his questions slipping away with every step.
He found it impossible to ask anything, feeling utterly useless in this grand setting.
A trickle of nervous energy seemed to escape through his scalp, a continuous stream of tiny breaths betraying his inner turmoil.
Sensing Hayeong’s escalating tension, Muheon’s large hand gently enveloped Hayeong’s smaller one, offering a silent, comforting squeeze.
Though the gesture didn’t magically dispel his anxiety, Hayeong found a measure of solace in the CEO’s subtle attentiveness, a small anchor in the swirling sea of his bewilderment.
In a hushed silence, they ascended in the elevator, the floors ticking by as they climbed higher and higher.
The doors finally glided open, revealing a waiting woman.
Her demeanor suggested an authority far surpassing that of the welcoming staff they had just encountered.
She, too, mirroring the behavior of her subordinates, hurried forward to greet Muheon, her welcome steeped in the formality typically reserved for a distinguished dignitary from a foreign land.
With each passing moment, Hayeong’s bewilderment intensified, a growing knot of unanswered questions tightening in his mind.
“Please sit here,” the woman instructed, gesturing towards a plush seating area.
Muheon, ever the gentleman, first ensured Hayeong was comfortably settled in the indicated spot before taking his own adjacent seat.
As they sat side by side, the woman’s expression softened into one of evident pleasure as she began to speak.
“To witness the marriage of the Imugi of the West Sea during my term… it’s truly an honor,” she declared, her voice imbued with a profound sense of significance.
“Mmm,” Muheon responded, his acknowledgment a low murmur.
“Those from other waters occasionally visit and update us on their well-being, but the Imugi of the West Sea has always been very busy with public and private matters.”
Her words, delivered with a benevolent smile, slowly began to unravel the perplexing puzzle in Hayeong’s mind.
The pieces, scattered and disconnected moments ago, now clicked into place: the CEO’s true identity was of such monumental importance that their marriage, a deeply personal union, necessitated arrangements at a national level.
The thought of his earlier intention to run around obtaining documents felt utterly foolish, a colossal waste of effort.
Hayeong found himself caught between two conflicting emotions: the sheer shock of the CEO’s elevated status and the unexpected joy of having a complex problem resolved without him lifting a finger.
On reflection, given the effortless preparation and completion, joy should undoubtedly be the dominant feeling.
But then a new thought struck him.
Wait.
“CEO!”
Hayeong blurted out, the realization hitting him with the force of a sudden wave.
“Yes?”
Muheon replied, his gaze calm.
“Then, is today our wedding anniversary?”
Hayeong’s question was laced with an urgency that betrayed his growing anxiety.
Muheon’s eyes flickered to the officials seated opposite them.
They offered confirming nods, a silent testament to the fact that today was indeed the day the official permit for their union had been granted.
“Looks like it’s today?”
Muheon’s reply was delivered with a nonchalance that immediately caused Hayeong’s lips to pout, a clear manifestation of his dissatisfaction.
Sensing his partner’s displeasure, Muheon subtly shifted his gaze towards Kang Dol-gorae.
It was only natural for everyone present to also turn their attention to Hayeong, mirroring Imugi’s concern for his partner.
Every eye in the room settled on Hayeong’s protruding lips, a collective curiosity about the source of his discontent hanging in the air.
“I was going to find an auspicious day… and we also need to check our compatibility,” Hayeong explained, his voice tinged with genuine disappointment.
“Ah. You had it all planned out,” Muheon observed, a hint of understanding in his tone.
“Of course! Marriage is one of the four family rituals. You can’t just decide it easily.”
Hayeong, having grown up steeped in the rich tapestry of neighborhood elders’ stories and traditions, held a surprisingly conservative view on such matters.
What twenty-four-year-old, he mused, would be so earnestly concerned with compatibility, auspicious days, and the intricate nuances of family rituals?
Yet, to his surprise, Muheon did not dismiss Hayeong’s words with a laugh.
Instead, he engaged with him seriously, pondering the weight of his concerns.
Muheon conveyed, through his quiet demeanor, that if Kang Dol-gorae so desired, they could perform compatibility checks any number of times, and locating a skilled individual to pinpoint an auspicious day would pose no difficulty whatsoever.
Muheon seemed poised to immediately tear up the documents before them if Hayeong so much as hinted at setting a new date.
However, it was Hayeong who found himself retreating, somewhat overwhelmed by the intensity of Muheon’s unwavering support.
Considering the immense effort that must have gone into preparing all these arrangements – not by the CEO, of course, but by Mr. Gisang-oh and the diligent officials present – it felt incredibly awkward, almost rude, to insist on his own preferences.
It would essentially mean making innocent people undertake the same extensive work twice.
“But, but it seems like today is a good day too,” Hayeong conceded, his voice softening.
“Suddenly?”
Muheon questioned, his brow furrowed in confusion at Hayeong’s abrupt change of heart.
Across from them, the officials visibly exhaled a collective sigh of relief.
As Hayeong had rightly surmised, Muheon was not a mere South Korean citizen subject to governmental oversight; he was an inviolable being.
More than that, he was a crucial entity whose merest word or action held the power to shift the delicate political landscape with neighboring countries.
The last visit from Hwang Rin, an Imugi from China, had plunged the nation into a state of emergency.
Had that encounter escalated into any conflict with Korea’s own Imugi, the resulting surge in their workload would have been astronomical, a nightmarish scenario.
In essence, most capricious Imugi’s were considered persons of interest, their every movement capable of blossoming into a full-blown disaster.
“Alright. If you like it, I like it too,” Muheon affirmed, his tone placid.
“Yes, yes,” Hayeong responded, his enthusiasm bubbling over.
Muheon, who once again offered no objection to Hayeong’s newfound conviction, subtly pressured the officials with his gaze, signaling his desire for the documents to be presented.
One official, a seasoned veteran of decades in government service, immediately grasped Muheon’s unspoken command and swiftly brought forth the requested papers.
Inside the thick, luxurious velvet-bound folder lay a surprisingly simple certificate, far plainer than the elaborate marriage certificates Hayeong had glimpsed online.
Yet, the mere sight of his own name inscribed beside the CEO’s filled him with an inexplicable surge of excitement and thrill.
“I think I’ll pass this down as a family heirloom,” Hayeong declared, a touch of wonder in his voice.
Muheon’s gaze was laced with pure curiosity.
How could one pass it down, he silently pondered, if there were no children to inherit it?
“It’s a joyous occasion for our Kang Dol-gorae family! I mean, me, right? Marrying the CEO! When my siblings marry, I’ll pass it down to my nephews and grand-nephews, generation after generation.”
Hayeong’s explanation clarified his meaning: the certificate would become a treasured heirloom of the Kang Dol-gorae lineage, not just a personal memento for Kang Hayeong and Lee Muheon.
Muheon, now fully comprehending Hayeong’s fervent words, gently stroked his round hat.
To him, the intrinsic value of the document mattered little—whether it was passed down through generations as a cherished relic or repurposed as mere toilet paper held no great significance.
However, since Hayeong so deeply valued it, Muheon harbored no desire to impede his wishes.
“You two get along so well,” one of the officials remarked, a warm smile gracing her lips as she observed the sweet, palpable atmosphere between the two.
Hayeong, flustered, hunched his shoulders in embarrassment.
As he always maintained, his boldness, his thick skin, and his unbridled enthusiasm were reserved solely for the CEO; in the presence of others, a profound shyness often overcame him.
Noting Hayeong’s bashful squirming, Muheon subtly signaled that it was time for their departure.
While it was undoubtedly a blessing that he was not as demanding or prone to nitpicking as some of the Imugi’s from other seas, the Imugi of the West Sea’s inherent quietude often posed its own challenges.
Save for the rare instances when he gazed upon his partner, it was virtually impossible to discern whether he approved or disapproved of a given situation; his demeanor remained consistently unreadable.
“Are you leaving already? We still have refreshments prepared…” one official began, a hint of disappointment in her voice.
“Pack them up,” Muheon interjected, his words directed implicitly at Hayeong, who harbored a particular fondness for enjoying dessert in the privacy of his room.
Indeed, Hayeong’s eyes sparkled with undisguised avarice, secretly coveting the exquisitely presented and delectable-looking desserts.
‘The CEO must have thought they looked delicious too!’
Hayeong mused, a surge of warmth spreading through him.
At Muheon’s simple request, the staff moved with remarkable alacrity, swiftly packaging the array of desserts.
Hayeong’s backside almost wiggled with unrestrained excitement as he readily accepted the paper bag on behalf of the CEO.
“Thank you!” he exclaimed, his voice, during his roughly ten-minute stay, reaching its zenith in volume and enthusiasm.
Everyone present chuckled softly, finding Hayeong’s beaming countenance over a single dessert incredibly endearing.
It might, they mused, even be a charming characteristic unique to the Kang Dol-gorae species.
They exited the Gwanghwamun government building, the departure marked by an even grander reception than their arrival.
The congratulations, offered by faces he had never seen before, were accompanied by a curious melange of bewilderment and exhilaration within Hayeong.
A profound sense of responsibility also settled upon him—the weight of a union that was now sanctioned to endure for a hundred, perhaps even a thousand years.
Muheon, having completed his primary objective, was poised to return directly to the office.
However, Hayeong, with a surprising surge of determination, managed to intercept him, gently but firmly tugging him towards a nearby jewelry store.
It was a stroke of luck that Gwanghwamun lay in such close proximity to Jongno 3-ga, a district renowned for its abundance of gold.
He had often heard the adage that if one sought gold in South Korea, Jongno 3-ga was the undisputed destination, and the shimmering reality before him confirmed its truth.
Everywhere his gaze landed, there was the dazzling, effulgent gleam of bright yellow gold.
Hayeong’s eyes widened to an almost comical extent; he had never truly beheld gold in such profusion before, save for his grandmother’s modest double rings.
“Wow…” he breathed, a genuine gasp of awe escaping his lips.
“What are we doing here?”
Muheon inquired, his voice devoid of any pretense of understanding.
“What do you mean, we came to buy rings, of course!”
Hayeong retorted, thumping his chest in exasperation at the CEO’s seemingly oblivious attitude.
Here was a being who had traversed countless centuries, lived many times longer than Hayeong’s mere twenty-four years, and yet appeared utterly ignorant of such fundamental human customs.
While it was undeniably commendable that Muheon hadn’t simply dismissed his words and had immediately orchestrated their marriage registration for today, Hayeong couldn’t shake a lingering sense of disappointment that all the delightful, intermediate procedures had been unceremoniously skipped.
It was a once-in-a-lifetime event, a pivotal moment in his existence, yet it had concluded with the swiftness of ‘cooking beans over lightning,’ a Korean idiom denoting extreme haste.
Therefore, it became Hayeong’s personal mission to inject some semblance of tradition and romance into their actual wedding day.
He mentally reassured himself, taking comfort in the robust balance of his bank account, and confidently strode deeper into the glittering shopping arcade.
Muheon, standing behind him, quietly followed the enthusiastic Kang Dol-gorae, a peculiar, amused smile playing on his lips.
“I’m going to propose,” Hayeong announced, turning back to face Muheon, his tone firm.
“Your answer can only be yes, so rejection is rejected. Okay?”
“Understood,” Muheon replied, a hint of compliance in his voice.
“You’re only supposed to move when I ask for your hand, so you need to keep yourself in check,” Hayeong instructed, a playful glint in his eyes.
Muheon, despite his ancient wisdom and immense power, found himself compelled to acquiesce to whatever Kang Hayeong desired, if only out of a burgeoning curiosity about the grandiosity of this impending proposal.
With an air of surprising meekness, Muheon clasped his hands together in front of him, adopting the posture of a remarkably well-behaved dog, ready to follow his master’s every command.