#kang inha | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

braemjeorn · 2 months

Text

CHAPTER XVI [masterlist]

pairing: bang chan x ofc

genre/notes: general audience; regency period drama; family fluff; domesticity; ocassional angst; slowburn; governess!oc; nobility!BC; age differences; age changes

wordcount: 3.5k

summary: mari resettled her calibre and hyunjin celebrated his 10th birthday.

also available in ao3, if you prefer that format

⚠️ All characters that shares the name of real life person in this story are represented in a fictional manner for entertainment purpose, and not to be alluded with real life.

TAGLIST: @spookykryptoniteperson @nixtape-foryou @do-you-know-what-else-is-big

Mari departed after Sunday lunch. Mother Ahn gave some of her biscuits and Junhee the flowers, while Inha tied the ribbons of her hat and hugged her warmly. The carriage—summoned in a rather sudden manner that Sunday—rattled away, and Mari thought that never before had she ached to be in another place within another company in her life when she was ever content to be confined in the school and the village of O–.

It was dark when she arrived at Barlnshore, but Mr Kang received her just as warmly as he did months ago. She meant to quietly go upstairs to clean herself a bit before surprising the boys by their bedroom. Yet Mari had but started to climb the flight of stairs when she felt and heard the thrum of footsteps, rushing down the hall and then descending the steps in a flurry. She laughed as Changbin’s voice rose higher in his excitement, “You’re home, you’re home, you’re home! Miss Son’s home!”

“I am home!” Mari laughed, as she caught him in arms on the landing. She sat down at the hurl of his weight, and the lad merely leaned further into her hold as he crouched down with her. Mari pulls him away to take a better look at his grinning face.

“Did you grow taller? Our Changbinnie?”

“He grows wider,” came a biting grumble from above them.

“Minho, be kind—what did I say about your teasing?” Mari laughed, reaching a hand to the approaching figure. Changbin turned to swat the elder but moved to let him hug Mari.

“That I am not to be insulting— especially to my brothers. I am to run my remarks through my head before I speak to them,” Minho recited flatly, by way of greeting. His punishment for the evening was a tightened hug that made him yelp, and then Mari nuzzled and ruffled his hair before letting him go for the next boy waiting for her.

“Hyunjin, sweetness—come kiss me.”

The boy gave her cheek a soft peck, melting into her arms. “You mustn’t leave, ever again!”

Mari might laugh at the statement to ease the boy otherwise. Yet as she looked into his wide eyes and found it grave, she realized that the settled arrangements would never allow it, and his eyes reflected her fears. It won’t do them both any good to ruin the joy with the truth now, so she settled by kissing him warmly upon his brow.

She let Jisung pepper her with as many kisses as he pleased and pulled Yongbok tighter as he giggled and nuzzled under her jaw. Behind their huddling figures was Commodore Bang, minding them all to let her breathe after a long journey, only for Seungmin to slip through him and crash into her arms. Mari smiled, and he relented to the nature of his overexcited pups.

“One would think you have returned from the other side of the ocean.” Commodore Bang shifted Jeongin in his hold and pulled one hand free to shake hers. “Good to have you back, my—... Miss Son.”

Mari’s heart jumped to her throat, but she returned his smile, and they both ignored the slip. His grasp was a comforting reassurance. Mari was happy to note a warm, natural welcome in her heart. She knew she was in good company, and extended her thanks to him as far as his kind patronship over her all this while. Commodore Bang teased her for her sudden pretty words; the boys laughed; and Jeongin was stirred from his doze by the commotion. Mari cooed over his bleary eyes and tilted her head to be in his vision.

“Yen-ah,” Commodore Bang whispered, tapping the boy’s nose. “Look who’s back.”

The youngest took her in, quite in doubt with himself over the haziness. Mari chuckled. In that dreamy state, he extended his arm and reached out for her, thus eliciting raucous giggles from his older brothers.

“He’s so adorable!” came a squeal.

“Hyung, his eyes are barely open…”

“He just knows Miss Son is here. Don’t you, Yen?”

“No, Yennie, she just came home from a long trip,” Commodore Bang said. Though barely awake, Jeongin made a most insistent effort. Mari let him come gladly, cherishing his warmth and weight.

“I don’t mind, Commodore,” she said. “Might as well take them all to bed.”

“You must rest yourself,” Commodore Bang replied, as Jeongin settled in her arm. “I’ll send for tea. We have rice cakes today with red beans - if you are hungry?”

Mari nodded, she could not refuse. “That will be lovely, Commodore, thank you.”

It all felt too homey.

“A letter for Mr Bambam.”

The man had been lounging in the garden’s chair as if melting under the warm weather. But at the announcement he started, turned, and received the letter with glee that is almost childlike. “My angel remembers me!”

Sitting by him, Mari amusedly went on with her embroideries. They were enjoying the start of spring and the warm sun. The boys were talking with Bernard or playing, while the Commodore and Lady Jang took a turn around the garden. Mr Bambam opened the letter but closed it soon after a short perusal.

“I must save it for later—before a warm fire, and a glass of good wine. Otherwise, she will distract me from my surroundings.”

As he folded the sheet, Mari noticed his gold ring, glinting sharply in the light. She paused and stared, wondering how she could have missed the article, being in his company all these months.

“You are married, Mr Bambam?” she found herself asking, more baffled than accusing. But quickly she felt it an impertinent remark, and continued, “Forgive me—it was rude of me to assume…”

Mr Bambam merely laughed. “I am. You are surprised, Miss Son? One would have thought you would be more observant. But then you already have seven heads to mind.”

“Bachelors are not uncommon,” Mari argued. “Or…—”

She nearly bit her lip at her slip, looking up rather fearfully at her companion. Mr Bambam’s eyes only glinted more playfully at her slip.

“Ah-ah-ah, come now—what ideas are evoked there, Miss Son?”

“Oh, forgive me. The thought of a lover did spring to mind,” Mari replied frankly. “My brains are quite scattered these days.”

“What if it is a lover?” Mr Bambam returned. “Will you think ill and lowly of me, Miss Son?”

“Perhaps,” Mari admitted quietly, for the lack of security and—in a way—general respect would not settle well with her. “I’m dreadfully proper and all… But I would not be unkind unless I genuinely dislike you, and I do not. I might argue a little, but otherwise… I would leave you to your stance of things.”

“Then spare your mind from such worries,” Mr Bambam said. “My wife and I were bound rightfully before the church and the law.”

They fell quiet for a moment; Mari wondered that the carefree uncle retained a bond with a woman like any other man. But with the state of things at present, it could hardly be measured as similar. Mari asked again. “Then why doesn’t she come with you?”

“You see how other couples are inseparable, we are quite the opposite. We don’t mind being as far apart as to be separated in countries, that is true, but not on bad terms.” The new look he gave Mari was more sincere but did not reduce his previous good humour. “Our marriage was arranged in our youth, and we married younger than you are now. We respect each other to not break the arrangement, but our desire for independence and exploration is yet satisfied. So we agreed to give each other leave to travel in our separate ways, delight in separate companies, and take responsibility for each endeavour’s outcome. People don’t understand how we can bear being separated for so long from one another, but then we are not united under normal circumstances. Others assume we loathe each other and were surprised at how warmly we’d greet one another if we crossed at an assembly, not knowing how long we haven’t seen one another.”

“I can imagine.”

“At least we do have a townhouse, a little place to retire to after the summer visits, balls, and excursions end. And well, there are the letters, which she has forgotten for some while, bless her soul. Considering the thickness of it, she must have missed me just as much to pay for so much news. My dear lady—even her writing delivers different comfort than those offered by friends.”

His gaze was upon said friends, who were laughing with his boys. Mari felt sorrow and warmth from his description, and declared, “Despite the peculiar arrangement, I am glad. I wish you both great happiness.”

Mr Bambam turned to Mari, his humour returned with a chuckle, “Miss Son, you and your kind soul!”

“Please always be kind to one another. Should I not be able to find it on my own, I would like to see others having it.”

“I hope that will not be the case, Miss Son,” Mr Bambam said, taking her hand warmly and setting his expression into a hen-like aunt that made Mari giggle.

“If you cannot find happiness with the prince of your dreams, then I hope you shall be comforted with one whose presence you can tolerate. And respect—that is important. But I wish you every good happiness under the sun—beyond mere toleration and contentment to a situation. You deserve greater than it, you deserve one who shares your regard and mind and admiration—for you are young and good, better than the rest of us common folks..”

“Mr Bambam, you know goodness doesn’t make happiness more deserved to few than others...”

Yet he dismisses her by shaking his head and grasping her hand with more insistence, “Take my wishes and fight for your happiness.”

Mari lowered her head, and Mr Bambam took it as a nod and returned to his tea. She picked up her needle again; after some quiet contemplation and boldness stemming from the sweet sponge sandwiches, found herself inquiring, "Do you think...one day you will live with her? Again, as couples commonly do?"

Mr Bambam paused from sipping his tea, a small smile rising on his face. "I should like to."

There was a reduction in the number of tables, therefore placing Mari at the end of the table. The boys were well aware of it.

“Where is her Ladyship?” Seungmin asked.

“She cannot leave the capital for so long—therefore she returned,” Commodore Bang replied. Mari felt it was somewhat too curt and sudden news. She barely expected it at all when they all adjourned for their soiree last night, in the drawing room. She recalled Lady Jang requesting Mari to play for her a particular tune, and her being quite reconciled to the state of beings to indulge the baroness—it was a rather quiet night for the adults, the children filling in the noise aside their playing. Commodore Bang and Lady Jang hardly shared glances.

“When did she leave?” so Mari asked.

Commodore Bang started as he looked up to her, seemingly surprised at her presence or perhaps placement right across him on the table. A cleared throat, then he answered, “At dawn; she wished to arrive by noon.”

Breakfast passed on with enough chatter, Changbin’s whines at Jisung’s teasings, and Jeongin’s giggles. The Commodore made another announcement nearing the end of the meal.

“I shall look into schools starting tomorrow,” he said. “I have received my recommendations, and there is a particular institution I wish to look into. Who knows which might suit our Minho and Changbin better.”

“I suppose,” the eldest mused. The news didn’t bother him much, or he was in such good humour with a satisfied appetite, and thus Minho proceeded to tease the next eldest with winks. “Changbin’s school will have to be a particular one.”

"And some education would do good to smoothen that nonsense of yours, brother?” Changbin responded blandly.

“Oh, but aren’t I taking you with me, Binnie? To occupy ourselves.”

“Minho…” Mari was concerned Changbin might strain his eyes squinting and frowning to the eldest. “Why don’t you finish your milk?”

“Yes, Mother.”

There was a strong thump in her ear, and Mari swore she cracked her neck looking up at the boy. Minho had returned to his plate, unaffected by his… slip? Was it intentional? A joke?

While she was frozen in place, Commodore Bang was as flustered by the words—his cup clattering upon the saucer as his ears bloomed red. He stared at the boy, who pointedly gulped his honeyed milk as the table fell silent. Changbin and Hyunjin gaped; the twins started; Jeongin persistently licked his jam, and Seungmin turned to look at the others. In the end, Mr Bambam’s loud entrance broke the tension and diverted their focus.

The days pass with relative amiability. Mari kept her word that she would return a more energised figure, and their lessons went as well as she might have hoped. The following post-nap walks to the warming hills and fields under the blue sky allowed the spring’s warmth to envelop her soul. The eight of them went to the rivers and creeks they’ve traversed through the summer, delighting in the fresh green of the trees and flowers, pointing out the fishes in the now flowing river. Mari was revived in her pleasure of enjoying the boy’s company—everything was well in her world. Even as her final days as a governess were countable, and somehow busier than ever, she is determined to enjoy everything that passed in between.

One morning—not long after the Commodore’s departure to inspect a few schools—she was retrieving a better shirt for Jeongin and came upon Minho and Changbin sitting in the latter’s bed. Their vests were still unbuttoned and shoes untied, dressing forgotten as their heads leaned together in conversation, quite unaware of the flurry in the next room that is Hyunjin and Jisung bickering and the rest preparing themselves. Minho had glee lighting up his eyes; Changbin’s features more severe with his frown as he attended to the elder’s whispers, which were quite distinct for Mari to hear,

“…it should not be improper!”

Changbin groaned. “It’s too early in the morning to make any sense—should we not think of it further—?”

“Thinking would never achieve anything—we have to act!” In a harried manner, Minho pressed on, “Binnie, we’re running out of time—and who else would suit?”

“Does she even like him!?”

“Of course, she does!”

The floors creaked as she crossed to the wardrobe. There was a rustle of sheets. When she gazed back towards them, Changbin’s wide eyes flitted to her as he fixed his collar, while Minho began to tie his shoes. Mari tilted her head at them, more concerned at the lateness of the day.

“Breakfast is ready, come on and hurry down,” she said.

She didn’t see them again until they descended for the dining room, now fully dressed yet still absorbed in their low discussion; sharp whispers which certain bits came to her hearing.

“I could not care half the world if she’s not a lady, she’s better than the rest.”

“Was there ever any other?” came Changbin’s tired return.

“There you are kid, you’ve got the point! But then I meant it in the future probability…”

Mari wondered if their mischief had alighted, and thus sighed deeply at the possibility of injured and offended parties of people—especially if it involved matchmaking. Is it for the servants? She settled to keep a close eye on both without straining her nerves, just to delay the damage and urge them to take responsibility for any consequences.

Commodore Bang returned to the house just a day before Hyunjin’s birthday. The young man would say he was fine if they were to miss his big day, but Mari knew that everything fell into perfection for the boy the moment the carriage wheels rolled into the front of the house at the end of breakfast. The Commodore was in good humour, considering his laughter and the length of time it took him to relinquish Seungmin from his arms.

At times Mari was concerned at the chances of Commodore Bang suffocating his boys with all his love—there’s no other word for it. It barely started and Changbin would send her this fatigued look (like he didn’t jab at his father every other hour) and Mari would ask the Commodore to release them from the coddlings. He’d sigh in surrender but gave them one last kiss with fondness lingering in his brown eyes. She wondered how he survived refusing all that love for three years.

Studying was cut short for Hyunjin’s birthday celebration. There was nothing much for the party but Mr Bambam, Mari, Commodore Bang, Mr Kang, Minatozaki-san, and the boys. There was little acquaintanceship with the neighbourhood boys their age, but soon Hyunjin would grow older, and invite his friends home or assemble his parties in some apartment in the capital. A far too raucous image for Mari to think of the young black-haired angel before her at present. For now, she joined his delight over the books and toys from his brothers and Mr Bambam, receiving his beaming smile over the new handkerchiefs Mari stitched for him.

“I feel like a true gentleman,” he declared as he hugged Mari, to the giggles of the room.

There were his favourite foods and treats, but Mari was certain, nothing pleased and awed him more than the watercolour paints in the mahogany box his father presented to him. It’s a beautiful, polished wooden box; on the inner side of the lid, a picture of the brand, and the box itself is separated into several compartments: for eighteen watercolour cakes, the brushes, the sponge and napkin, a deep box for the water glass and the most interesting contraption of the drawer at the bottom. It was filled with thick papers, and the Commodore offered another rim of it wrapped in brown paper.

Unable to contain his excitement at being indulged so, Hyunjin leaped away to his feet, was all smiles and laughter upon his father as he skipped in the middle of the room. “Appa, Appa! There’s so many!”

He’s a sight of sheer childish joy; his older brothers laughed at him good-naturedly, and the Commodore smiled, satisfied and revelling in his son’s pleasure. “Do you like them?”

Hyunjin finally settled down his jitters, only to run and leap into his father’s open arms, clutching the man with his four limbs tightly.

“You're welcome,” Commodore Bang laughed, arms holding Hyunjin close to him and brushing over his back. “You know,” he continued. “There is a painter in town willing to give you some lessons. If you’d like to, I'll take you there every Tuesday and Friday for an hour of lessons.”

Hyunjin pulled away to look at his father with a gasp one might have thought exaggerated. Mari couldn’t blame him—she met the Commodore’s twinkling eyes and sighed, “Oh, Hyunjin, how wonderful!”

“I just thought it would be nice if you—”

“Yes, yes, yes, yes! ”

“—know how to use these paints to create the finest art.” Commodore Bang chuckled halfway at Hyunjin’s eager nods, despite the loud reply that might have rang his ears. “All right, then?”

“I’ll work very hard for that! Oh, I’ll do very well—I promise you won’t regret it, Father.”

“I know, Hyunnie, I know.” They hugged warmly for another moment until Hyunjin slipped down to observe the paints more closely with his brothers.

“Anyone else joining the artistic endeavour?” Mr Bambam inquired from his seat and his glass of ginger soda.

“I’ll settle with my slate and chickens,” Minho said blandly. “At least Bbokie likes my chickens, right?”

The younger twin giggles, “Scrawny legs!”

Come Sunday, Minho paused in their walk returning from church, waiting for Mari who trailed in the back as the rest urged their Father to hurry for breakfast. He paced by her side, and by and by asked,

“Do you like Father? Honestly?”

Mari turned to the eldest. “All of a sudden?”

“You’ve known him for nine months. I would like to know your opinion of him.”

“And what purpose will that achieve?” Mari laughed but soon returned to a degree of seriousness, and said in a quiet breath against the fullness in her bosom, “Do you want my assessment? Well, I do like him. How could I not?”

“Truly?”

“He’s a good and admirable man, and I regard him with high respect,” so Mari satisfied the boy with some elaboration.

“As an… employer?”

Mari nodded, and Minho fell quiet again, until he asked, “Do you—think of him as a friend?”

“I could not claim it. I think such a degree of relationship is something we both must agree upon.”

“It’s just friendship,” Minho mumbled. But then he gave himself a nod and they turned to speak of other matters instead. It did not quite leave Mari’s mind for some days, especially when she could take in the Commodore’s presence and consider him. It was easier to laugh at her meltdown earlier that month when she went home to Mrs Ahn’s—and the lack of Lady Jang’s presence did some good to relieve her from the miserable dread that she was doomed to eternal loneliness and estranged forever on from the house; the most depressing outcomes in her occupation as a teacher.

i edited this with my short free time, but I hope you like the reunion scene. minbin are picking up a scent, are they?

minho's the mom of the group but I do wonder what chaos may happen of the other six look up to him as an actual brother.

8 notes · View notes