The Goblin’s Bride (Completed)

Her words hung in the air, unanswered. His voice, steady and calm, was her favorite sound in the world. Yet she doubted he truly understood how much she adored him. How could he? The village women constantly urged her to marry, but she didn’t want to. Why would she leave when the one person she cherished most was here?

She knew the boundaries of their relationship. She knew he was a distant relative, someone she could never be with as more than family. He seemed young, just seven or eight years older, but in reality, he was a grown man, far beyond her reach.

And yet… she couldn’t help how she felt.

As a child, she had clung to his hand, drawn to his warmth and strength. Now, she found herself drawn to him in an entirely different way. She loved his scent, his kind eyes, his gentle voice. The thought of marrying a stranger when he was here—so familiar, so comforting—seemed absurd.

“I’m not getting married,” she repeated stubbornly.

“Alright, alright. Go to sleep,” he said with a sigh.

“Aren’t you going to say goodnight?” she teased, but there was no reply.

She pouted in the darkness, knowing he was ignoring her on purpose.

“Goodnight, Uncle,” she whispered.

The warmth of his presence filled the small room, mingling with the soft rhythm of his breathing. His silhouette, barely visible in the faint moonlight, was close enough to reach out and touch. That was enough to make her feel safe.

“Uncle, I like you more than anyone in the world,” she murmured under her breath.

He didn’t know, of course. He didn’t know that the two things she loved most in the world were him and the goblin she had met as a child.

She still remembered that goblin clearly—the golden eyes, the sharp teeth, and the gentle strength as it carried her through the forest. The very next day, he had appeared in her life.

As a child, she loved him as her protector. Now, her feelings had changed. She loved him as a man. The nervous flutter in her chest every time he smiled, the way her heart raced when he stood close—it all pointed to one truth.

Maybe he knew. Maybe that was why he started traveling, putting distance between them two years ago, as if trying to avoid the inevitable.

But even if he did know, it didn’t matter. Her feelings weren’t going to change.

“Goodnight,” she whispered again, her eyes growing heavy with sleep. She drifted off, comforted by the sound of his steady breathing.

The next morning, Dong-yi awoke to an empty bedding beside her.

“Uncle?” she called, sitting up abruptly.

Her heart skipped a beat as she imagined the worst—that he had left without a word. Rushing to the door, she flung it open.

He was in the yard, splitting firewood. He turned, his expression calm and unhurried.

“What’s wrong?” he asked.

“I thought you left,” she admitted, her voice small.

“Didn’t I promise to stay until spring?”

“Well, yes, but…” Her voice trailed off as she tucked a stray lock of hair behind her ear, embarrassed by her overreaction.

“Go back inside and rest,” he said. “Breakfast is already on the stove.”

“You cooked?” she asked, frowning. “That’s my job.”

“I do it better than you,” he teased.

She couldn’t argue with that. His cooking had spoiled her from childhood, every dish a perfect balance of flavor and comfort.

“Then let me do the laundry,” she offered quickly. “Where are your clothes?”

“Take your time. There’s no rush,” he said, shaking his head with a faint smile.

“I’m not lazy!” she protested.

And with that, the day began. For now, winter didn’t seem so cold.

Dong-yi, stepping out of the room, picked up the clothes the man had left folded on the corner of the wooden floor. Without hesitation, she carried them into the kitchen.

Her fingers brushed the fabric, and an inexplicable urge surged through her. Bringing the clothes close to her face, she inhaled deeply.

His scent…

It was warm, earthy, and uniquely him—a fragrance that wrapped around her like a memory. She blushed at her own boldness, her mind racing. What would he say if he saw me like this? she thought, shaking her head to dispel the image.

But something caught her eye: a faint stain on the sleeve. She squinted and frowned.

“Blood?” she whispered, her finger tracing the rusty smear.

The stain was small but unmistakably blood. Worry pricked at her. “Did he get hurt?” she murmured to herself.

If he had, he wouldn’t have said anything. That much she knew about him. He could endure a storm of pain without so much as a wince.

Where could he have been injured? Should I ask? she wondered, biting her lip. But imagining herself grabbing his arm and demanding answers felt absurd.

“Maybe it’s just a scratch,” she muttered, trying to soothe her growing concern. “A small wound. Nothing to worry about…”

“Doing laundry already?”

The sudden voice startled her, and she whipped around to see him leaning in the doorway, his eyes fixed on her.

Dong-yi froze, clutching the clothes. “I-I was just about to wash these,” she stammered, quickly shoving the garments into the laundry basket.

“Before breakfast?” he asked, raising an eyebrow. “You haven’t even eaten yet.”

“I’ll eat after. It’s fine! Morning’s the best time to get laundry done,” she said hurriedly, lifting the basket onto her head. “The well is less crowded.”

Her words weren’t entirely untrue. The washing area was often packed with women jostling for space, and an early start did make things easier. But today wasn’t just about beating the crowd.

She wanted to scrub that bloodstain away before he noticed she’d seen it.

“I can carry that for you,” he offered, stepping forward, his hand outstretched.

Dong-yi ducked away with practiced ease. “No need. I’ve got it!” She flashed him a wide smile and quickly made her way to the gate.

“Be careful,” he called after her, watching as she disappeared down the road.

The man lowered himself onto the wooden porch, setting his axe aside. He gazed out at the path where she had vanished, her small frame carrying the heavy basket with ease.

“Humans grow so quickly,” he murmured, a faint sigh escaping his lips.

The little girl he’d once cradled had become a young woman before his eyes. The house now felt too small, the room too cramped when they slept. Her presence filled the space in a way that left him both proud and unsettled.

And yet, despite her maturity, she was still just a girl to him—still his Dong-yi.

“She’s nineteen now,” he said aloud, his brow furrowing. “Well past the age to marry…”

He had already considered it—had even found a suitable match. The local doctor’s second son seemed like a fine choice: twenty-two years old, educated, and ambitious enough to aim for a position in the city. More importantly, he was kind-hearted and steady, the kind of man who could protect Dong-yi.

But every time he thought about sending her away, his chest tightened with an unfamiliar ache.

For the past twelve years, she had been his constant. In a life that spanned over a thousand years, those twelve years were the only ones that truly felt real.

She’s a gift, he thought to himself. A gift I never deserved.

His life as a goblin had been hollow and solitary—a drift through centuries of endless monotony. But Dong-yi had changed everything. Her presence had taught him what it meant to laugh, to yearn, and even to grieve.

Still, he knew the truth: he couldn’t stay forever.

“Why is it so hard to let go?” he whispered, running a hand through his hair. “Why do I feel so selfish?”

He had never wanted anything in his long life, never craved wealth, power, or recognition. All those things, so precious to humans, were meaningless to him. Yet now, he found himself filled with a terrible, consuming desire: to stay by her side.

But he couldn’t.

One day, his time with her would end. When that day came, someone else—someone human—would need to take his place.

At the well, Dong-yi knelt beside the other women, scrubbing diligently at the laundry. She couldn’t help overhearing their conversation.

“Did you hear? A horse at the magistrate’s stable was killed last night.”

“Killed? By what?”

“Some kind of beast. Bit into the horse and drained its blood,” one of them said, her voice dropping to a whisper.

“A beast? That’s unnatural. Are they sure it wasn’t a goblin?”

“A goblin? Oh, don’t even say it,” the other woman replied, shuddering. “But… now that you mention it, there was something similar a couple of months ago, wasn’t there? Over at the courier station? Three horses, drained just the same.”

“And before that, someone’s farm horse. I’m telling you, it’s a goblin!”

The women exchanged nervous glances, their voices growing quieter as they speculated.

Dong-yi’s hands paused in the soapy water. A goblin? The idea made her bristle.

The goblin she had met as a child would never do such a thing. It had been kind and gentle, saving her from a tiger and carrying her home. She still remembered its golden eyes and sharp teeth, so vividly that it felt like yesterday.

“That’s not the goblins I know,” she murmured under her breath.

“Dong-yi!” one of the women called, jolting her from her thoughts. “Make sure you lock up at night. Can’t be too careful with all this talk of goblins.”

“Yes, ma’am,” she replied, bowing her head politely.

“By the way, I saw that uncle of yours chopping wood this morning,” the woman added slyly. “He’s quite the looker. Has he married yet?”

The shift in conversation was as swift as it was unwelcome. Dong-yi bit her lip, unsure how to respond.

“He hasn’t,” she admitted reluctantly.

“Well, why not? A man like that should have no trouble finding a wife,” the woman pressed. “You should ask him about it. There are plenty of young widows in the village who’d be interested.”

Another woman chimed in, nodding. “Strong, handsome, and unmarried? What a waste!”

Dong-yi forced a smile, but her grip on the laundry tightened.

Why would he need a wife? she thought bitterly. He doesn’t need anyone else.

The thought of him marrying someone else made her stomach twist uncomfortably. She shook her head, scolding herself for being foolish. After all, what right did she have to feel this way?

Still, the idea lingered, like a stubborn stain that refused to be washed away.