The Goblin’s Bride (Completed)

“All right,” he said finally, nodding. “I’ll stay for the winter.”

“Really?” Her face lit up with a radiant smile.

“You have my word. This winter, I’ll stay. No more traveling until spring.”

“You promise?” she insisted, as if needing to hear it again.

“I promise,” he said, patting her head with a small smile.

Dong-yi was overjoyed, but there was something in his expression—something subdued and heavy—that she couldn’t quite place.

That evening, as she spread out bedding for him, Dong-yi couldn’t contain her excitement.

“Where did you go this time?” she asked eagerly.

Years ago, he had been the one to prepare her bed for the night, tucking her in snugly. But now, the roles had reversed. Dong-yi wasn’t a little girl anymore.

Gone were the days when she clung to his hand wherever they went, or burrowed into his blankets during a thunderstorm. She no longer woke in the night, terrified of the sound of rain pounding on the roof. Well, not entirely. The fierce winds that rattled her door still scared her, but she wasn’t about to admit that. He’d only tease her for being childish.

“I went all the way to the sea,” he replied, settling onto the bedding she’d arranged.

“The sea? Really? I’ve always wanted to go!” she exclaimed, her eyes wide with wonder.

“Someday, I’ll take you,” he said with a chuckle. “If the chance comes.”

“How about spring? Let’s go together then,” she suggested, her tone bright.

“We’ll see,” he replied, avoiding a direct answer.

His reluctance stung. It wasn’t that she didn’t understand the necessity of his travels—he had to make a living somehow. But she couldn’t help but wonder why he never invited her to go with him.

When he first announced his plans to start traveling two years ago, it had felt like abandonment. That same ache she’d buried deep inside when her mother left came rushing back, and she had been unable to shake the feeling for weeks.

His return had eventually soothed her, but the fear of being left behind again never truly disappeared.

Now, this man was the only family she had.

Whether he was truly her uncle, or a cousin of her father, or something even more distant, she wasn’t sure. When he first came into her life, she had been told he was the son of her father’s second cousin. What that made him to her—a third cousin? A twice-removed uncle?—she didn’t know. It didn’t matter.

To her, he was simply the man who stayed when everyone else had left.

And as long as he stayed, winter didn’t feel quite so cold.

Dong-yi, still clinging to his waist, tilted her head back to look at him. Her wide eyes sparkled with a mixture of relief and joy.

“I just got here,” he replied, his voice steady and grounding.

She had known this distant uncle for twelve years, yet he hadn’t changed in the slightest. It was almost uncanny. Was it that men aged more slowly, or was this man uniquely untouched by time? Either way, the face from her childhood memories matched perfectly with the one standing before her now.

“Nothing happened while I was gone, I hope?” he asked.

“Of course not.” She hesitated, then added hopefully, “This time, will you stay longer?”

“We’ll see.”

“But it’s almost winter,” she pressed. “Will you leave again even in the cold?”

The seasons were changing rapidly. The mountains were already stripped of their autumn colors, the bare trees clawing at the sky. The water at the well stung with a chill sharp enough to turn hands red. Winter wasn’t just coming—it was at the doorstep.

“If snow starts falling, it’ll be too hard to travel. Won’t you stay here until spring?” she pleaded. “The shed is stocked full of firewood, and we have plenty of food. There’s no need to leave.”

Her words were laced with a quiet desperation. She still remembered the previous winter, spent entirely alone. Every gust of icy wind howling through the shutters had been a reminder of his absence. Without him, the cold wasn’t just cold—it was unbearable.

“When I’m alone, winter is scary,” she admitted softly.

Perhaps it was the vulnerability in her voice, or perhaps her words stirred something in him. He paused for a moment, then gave a small nod.

“Alright. I’ll stay this winter.”

“Really?” Her face lit up, the corners of her mouth curving into a radiant smile.

“I promise. I’ll stay through winter,” he said, patting her head.

“You won’t leave before spring, right? You promised,” she reiterated, her excitement palpable.

“I did,” he replied, chuckling softly as he ruffled her hair.

Despite her joy, there was a shadow in his expression, faint but unmistakable.

Later that evening, as they prepared for bed, Dong-yi couldn’t help but chat eagerly.

“Where did you go this time?” she asked, her voice light with curiosity.

“I went all the way to the sea,” he replied, laying down on the bedding she had meticulously arranged for him.

“The sea?” Her eyes widened with awe. “I’ve always wanted to see it! Can we go together someday?”

“Maybe,” he said, noncommittal. “If the chance comes.”

“How about in the spring?” she pressed.

“We’ll see,” he murmured, avoiding her gaze.

The evasiveness stung more than she expected. She knew he traveled to make a living, but why couldn’t she come along? Why did he insist on keeping her at arm’s length?

Two years ago, when he first started traveling, it had felt like abandonment. The ache of that realization had mirrored the day she discovered her mother had left for good. Both moments had left a lasting scar, though the pain had faded when he returned.

He was her only family now, the one constant in her life. Whether he was her father’s cousin’s son or some other distant relative, she didn’t care. To her, he was simply him—her protector, her anchor.

“Maybe, before spring comes, I should help you find a groom,” he teased.

“I’m not getting married,” she replied firmly, blowing out the candle beside her. She turned on her side to face him in the dark. “I’m staying here. With you.”

“You’ll marry someday,” he said, his voice soft but insistent.

“I won’t. I want to live with you forever.”