Prince Caspian -Jung Yoonoh NCT

1. The Will

"It's the most ridiculous arrangement I've ever heard of!" Carrie Han, or Carey, as I call her, quiet and level-headed, bursts out in an uncharasteristic show of emotion. The terms of her late employer's will have provoked the rare outburst, and besides, she is no longer employed. The solicitor, John Prescott, dry and leathery as his own briefcase, throws her a nervous glance, takes his glasses off and polishes them. 

"No doubt my late client thought he was making a wise provision for the child,' he says mildly, "but his ideas were far behind the times; however, you need not distress yourself, I doubt if that clause is binding upon either of the parties concerned." He puts his spectacles back upon his nose and glances at the person involved.

Me.

I am sitting alone by the window. I can see my reflection in the tall long mirror at the corner of the hall. The bright sunlight coming through the glass panes glints on the long straight hair that falls about my thin shoulders, and in the smooth glass, my eyes appear almost too big for my small, pale face. In my black dress I look no more than a child, and judging from Mr. Prescott's deep sigh, he evidently thinks so too.

My name is Jung Yiseul. I live in the County of Cornwall, England, and I am the last direct descendant of my grandfather, Professor Marcus Jung, who had been a prominent figure in the local scene for over half a century. My parents died when I was a baby and I was brought up by Mrs. Kim, the motherly housekeeper, herself a widow, who had supervised the running of the Manor ever since my grandfather had lost his wife, my grandmother, whom I can barely remember. She had been assisted by a string of governesses, of whom Carrie Han was the last and most efficient, and the only one who had won any true affection from me.

My grandfather was everything to me. He had been my constant companion since my earliest years, he had taught me to ride and to swim, and had imbued in me an intense love of the county of my birth, its folk lore and traditions. My grandfather became a little eccentric as he aged, and eventually, became a total recluse. His books, his dogs, and his granddaughter's company contented him. He stayed hale and hearty until his last illness, and that need not have proved fatal if he had taken care of himself, but he had always scorned physical weakness and refused to be cosseted; eventually he succumbed, and suddenly, to a coronary thrombosis, leaving behind me, his only grandchild, desolate and heartbroken.

His sudden death has left me numb, frozen. I am unable to comprehend the reality, the enormity of it as yet. In due time perhaps, once the shock has worn off. But now I feel the whole thing is unreal, far away, and the funeral, which was attended by a crowd of strangers, who wanted to honour the passing of the highly-respected professor who had ignored them for the latter part of his life, had seemed surreal, and now Mr. Prescott's efforts to explain what my grandfather had left me in his will have little reality either. 

I knew that my grandfather has left the Manor to his great-nephew, he had told me so himself. I knew also of the stipulation attached to the bequest that had so upset my governess. 

My grandfather had migrated to England with his parents and his younger brother when he was little; they had settled in Cornwall, but his younger brother had returned to Korea when he was twenty, while my grandfather stayed on in Cornwall. Mark Jung belonged to a branch of the family that had settled in Korea, with whom my grandfather had lost touch. 

"Grandfather said that Ravenscrag would always be my home," I say a little anxiously, for I love the place; it is my whole world since I have never ventured beyond the tiny village spanning the Manor. 

Mr. Prescott glances nervously at Carey and clears his throat.

"It was in the hope that it would always be so that Professor Jung made this ... er ... peculiar stipulation."

"I had remonstrated with the professor when he had drawn up the will, but he had insisted. He was adamant that Ravenscrag should belong to the next heir, and that you would need a protector. He said that the best person to take charge of you was a husband. He had left the Manor to Mr. Mark Jung on condition that he took you, my dear Yiseul, as his wife."

"I hope Cousin Mark won't mind having to marry me," I say childishly.

Prescott looks at me, and I see a flash of sympathy in his kind eyes.

"Excuse me," I say, unable to bear the pity in those eyes. "I need to go to the toilet..." and I make my escape. I leave the room, and stand outside, leaning against the wall, and close my eyes tiredly. I can hear Carey's voice rising higher and higher in annoyance.

"It's impossible, what Professor Jung has stipulated, Yiseul's been so sheltered all her life, she doesn't know what she's getting herself into..."

"Professor Jung kept her isolated upon the estate, because he disliked modern ways and the young. He felt that they were sinful and immoral and he was always going on and on that young people of today were decadent, ill-mannered and undisciplined..."

"That's why he would not permit Yiseul to mingle with them, even by going to school, nor did he let her read the papers. When he engaged me, he told me that his granddaughter was to be educated to be a young lady, and kept away from all contaminating influences. And then, belatedly realising that she was ill-equipped to face the world, he bequeathed her to his heir, so that Mark would take care of her. He must have been out of his mind...!"

I loiter in the toilet for a while, and then walk back into the hall. 

Carey turns to me, and says angrily, "He's being bribed to marry you. Ravenscrag is a fine old place." She turns to the solicitor. "But perhaps he's already married? It's unlikely a man as old as he is won't have considered matrimony." 

"Mr. Mark Jung is unwed," Mr. Prescott said shortly, looking offended at the word "bribed", "and I've no idea how old he is. He is a wealthy man in his own right, that I can assure you, with vast business interests in Korea, China, and South America. He comes from a wealthy lineage, and has inherited money and property passed down through the generations. He emailed that he regretted he was unable to attend the funeral. We are of course acquainting him with the terms of the will. The rest is up to him." 

"Professor Jung has been very generous to me," Carey says; she had been left a useful sum which would enable her to fulfil her long-cherished dream, a partnership with a friend who was starting a gift shop in a nearby small sea-port.

"Has Yiseul nothing of her own if this - Cousin Mark refuses to honour this absurd stipulation?"

"She will have a small trust fund, a comfortable sum, not too big, but enough," Mr. Pescott says, "and the money becomes hers when she's twenty-one. Meanwhile, Mr. Mark Jung and myself are her trustees." 

He glances again at me, sitting still on the window seat. "How old are you now, my dear?" 

"Eighteen."

"Really? How the years fly! You look fifteen to me," he says, and he looks at me, and there is worry in those kind eyes, and I know what he is thinking :  how on earth would a sophisticated man of the world be a suitable mate for a pale little orphan like me?