⁝ monologues.

《 late summer 1855 》

"Narae, look what I learned!", Jaeguk hollered across the water, all smiles and sunshine eyes, his simple linen pants rolled up all the way to his knees and yet the fabric was soaked and dark with the cold water of the river. He was radiant in the middle of the water, the sun dancing off of the rippling waves in little golden spots, blinding her where she was standing next to the shallow river, giggling.
"Are you watching?", he called out to her, already squatting down a little lower as he readied the stone he had in his hand, aiming at a part of the stream where the water was calm and nearly undisturbed. The little flat disk shot from his hand, bouncing off the glittering water, spraying water this way and that, before it sunk with a loud /plonk/.

And Narae cheered, clapping her little hands despite her brother's disgruntled face, the frown soon melting into loud laughter.

"I did good, huh?", he chuckled as he started wading her way, fingers curled into his clothes to keep them from soaking through all the way. She nodded, tiny teeth on full display as she beamed at him, slipping off her shoes as quickly as she could, running at the shoreline, skirts gathered in her arms. "I want to try, too!", she declared, before Jaeguk could stop her, his cry to be careful of the sharp stones lost in her gleeful excitement.

It was inevitable, the way her foot got caught on the edge of a rock, her ankle twisting something wicked. Perhaps it was divine retribution for not listening to her mother, her father, her older brother.

"There, there." Jaeguk chuckled when he finished wiping the blood off her palm, her hand so much smaller in his, her fingers disappeared completely when he wrapped both his hands around her single one, smiling. "It's just a little scrape. It'll heal. Every wound heals, Narae."
"Mother will scold me. It will leave a scar..."
"I have many scars." Shaking his head, her brother held out his palms, showing her the burn marks and callouses and scars littering them. "They're the mark of your family, tiny wing. It shows how hard we're working. And scars become reminders of our past. You should be proud of this one! You were very brave for running into the water."

- fall of 1869 -

She really hadn't been brave. The scar on her palm ached with a phantom twinge as she gazed out across the river where she had gotten it. Amongst other scars.
With a scoff, she turned away from the water, sighing to herself as she did so. Jaeguk had been a liar.

somewhere in the middle of japan. summer 1844.

“let me go! let me go! let me go!” five year old goo kyungjoon wailed.

his long hair was barely held up by a rag. locks were dirty and greasy from weeks of no bathing. what cleaned the caked on dirt from his face were his hot tears, revealing the redness in his face from the constant screaming he unleashed for the past hour. despite his age, his frame and strength were not like many other children. kicking his legs and flailing his arms, he was all too loose for comfort in the soldier’s arms. without fastening him, the little joseon boy would be free within seconds.

“we should just whack this ing brat. my ears are going to burst,” the other soldier muttered in japanese.

“we can’t. you know they’re sending him off to lord matayoshi’s home. the kid can’t have a single mark on him, not even a paper cut,” the soldier holding onto kyungjoon groaned. he rolled his eyes before continuing, “they don’t pay us enough to deal with this .”

in background, kyungjoon still cried. he tried his best to reach out to his father and older twin brother, kyungho. how close he was to slipping out of the soldier’s arms, half of his body out of grasp, but it was not enough. he had to try. another hard kick, but somehow that did nothing to the soldier who had a stomach made of steel to the little boy. what he did not know was that later that night, the soldier would be groaning in pain with a healthy trace of bruises. it was also this same solider who would attempt to exact his revenge on the child for such an act.

trying was not enough. goo kyungjoon had to escape.

if he did not now, this would be the last time he would see his family. it was only a couple of weeks since his mother was separated from them. like kyungjoon, she and the family screamed and bawled as they were pulled apart that night. as expected from the younger and more sensitive half of the twins, it was kyungjoon that could not stop crying. sleep and exhaustion his only friend that night, finally stopping him. the next day, he would wake up with an excruciating headache unlike no other. his throat was hoarse and his eyes were dry, but somehow he had the ability to continue with his crying.

at first, none of the family knew of her fate. it was only through passing, the twins heard a swirl of tales of their mother. one said that she was sold off. another was that she became a mistress to a wealthy nobleman. there was even an accusation that she was sent back to joseon. in that tale, one version was that she was chopped up. another was that she was good for dead on her journey back, unlikely to make the trip. hearing each story had kyungjoon cold in his tracks, his fists tightening his baggy pants. still he could not pull away, needing to hear each version of his mother’s fate. he was unsure which one was the worst.

“this mutt gets to live in lord matayoshi’s home. imagine that.”

unlike his mother, kyungjoon learned what was his fate. he was to be adopted by a powerful nobleman. despite the talks of him now being surrounded by riches unimaginable, the little boy could not see it as that.
he would be the first of the goos to be truly away from the family. no one to have by his side.

"i don't want to go! please, i'll be a good boy. let me stay with my family, please," he begged.

goo kyungjoon was truly alone.

《 early summer 1869 》

The most terrible ghosts were born from the greatest beauty. No tragedy could ever give birth to something as haunting as the delicacy of a heart that felt like it was beating for the first time in forever. No horror could ever create the same dread as a memory, flooding a person's mind as unforgiving as one of a smile, a touch, a kiss. Because horrors and nightmares dissipated with the rising sun, like fog haging low across endless fields of corn, crystal clear lakes and snow-kissed mountain tops. The fright of budding feelings awoke with the day, climbing higher and higher with the light, the world coming alive around him, as Jinseok made it through the streets of the still drowsy city, wandering the narrow alleys just the same way his thoughts were wandering, even as he watched cats chase after each other with little to no care in the world. He wished for a moment, they would chase away these memories as well. Free him of his haunting, of his longing.

No. No, he didn't want that.

The more he thought about it, the more he never wanted this endless loop to stop. He wanted to drown in the smell of her hair, the touch of her lips, the perfect way their hands fit against each other, fingers interlaced in a way that made him feel a little more... completed.

His feet stopped when he spotted the familiar blossoms of a camellia, peeking out between lush, richly green leaves - and the sight made him smile, despite himself. Even the shape of these gentle blooms reminded him of her. Of everything that /made/ her, really. A flower looking so sturdy, so alive and yet it would crumble at a single touch, easily falling apart if only he'd run his fingers over the petals a little too hard. Each perfectly symmetrical blossom had the color of her lips, the shape of her smile tucked away somewhere in its center. And before he could stop himself, he reached out to pluck one of the flowers from where it was growing, cradling it carefully in his palm. Today, he would allow himself to dream again. Once more, perhaps.

For a moment, the morning air tasted like hope and Jinseok dissolved in it, reverent in the way he carried the little camellia home. It didn't matter if it died, no matter how tenderly he cared for it. It had been his.

  — ✽ ﹝ Early February of 1870﹞ ✽ —

The cusp of resplendent spring whistled through the soft afternoon breeze that kissed the Duke’s cheeks as he walked through the family gardens. Vibrant colors would soon sweep the town in blinding oranges and near-blood tinged purples, in petal soft winds and drizzles of rain from the sky that would (hopefully) bring prosperity on them all come Autumn. At least that is what he remembered of his hometown. The fruitful Suncheon. The fertile lands that gave away to plentiful crops and abundance for all who made their home there.

When Yeonghan was still a child–not yet the age of ten–he now recalled fond memories of running down the fields of barley, the strong, all-encompassing sweet aroma of the crop’s yield. Everyday before he returned to his family’s estate, he would harvest a single barley stalk and bring them home to the Duchess. She would accept them with a grateful smile and thank him for his generosity. It wasn’t much, he would often say when offering it to his mother. But without missing a beat, her response would always be that his thought of her in his gift was more than enough for her.

If she were still here now, Yeonghan wondered what she would say about how he had held the family in his father’s place–or what was left of it. Would she chastise him for the way he did not run after his brother nor his sister after they had escaped to Manchuria? Would she still accept him after the scandal he had brought upon their family over the love he could not control for a woman of low birth?

If the late Duke were still alive, the weight of this responsibility would not yet weigh so heavily on Yeonghan’s shoulders. He wondered what kind of life he would have led if that were so. Would he be a son his father was proud of?

Before he was able to give it another thought, his ears caught hushed voices in the near distance and slowed in his path.

“It was the Lady!”

“It can’t be! How is that possible?”

“You don’t believe me?”

“So it’s true? Our Lady really killed them?”

“Don’t speak so loudly! . . . I didn’t believe it, too, at first, but my mother said she was there when it happened. Our Lady put them to sleep and their palanquins caught on fire!”

One disbelieving gasp of shock followed, then two when the Duke made his appearance from behind a hydrangea shrub.

“Your Grace!”

The two ladies-in-waiting hurriedly bowed in greeting with evidently guilty looks on their pinched faces. But their acknowledgement did not register, for the world suddenly felt like it was slowing to a stop. The air in his lungs felt stuck, neither inhaling or exhaling, as their whispers sunk deep into the unanswerable questions he had pushed into the back of his mind and shoved inside a tightly locked box.

“Wh . . . What did you say?” he managed with a staggered breath.

They both rose from their courtesy and looked at each other then back at the Duke, now, with looks of fear marring their faces. They did not dare to speak and instead muttered frightened apologies.

He took a step towards them, then another.

“Lady Seon . . . was the one . . . who orchestrated the palanquin fire that killed the Duke and Duchess?” he breathed with an exhale of disbelief.

The rims of the Duke’s eyes burned a hatred red as tears prickled then fell onto his cheeks as if raindrops from the bright blue sky. He staggered forward with tightly curled fists, but the two women cowered back, clinging onto one another for dear life.

“We’re sorry, Your Grace! W-We have to leave!”

“Our duties!”

“Yes! Our duties!”

Fumbling, they quickly turned to make their escape, but they did not make it far before Yeonghan came to his senses and ordered them to stop.

“I have not permitted you to leave.”

Casting his gaze . . . elsewhere, lost in his own thoughts of grief and pain, he ordered them one last time.

“I forbid you to speak of this matter with anyone else nor with one another, lest I speak of it first. Understood?”

[post deleted by owner]

the day jin jaeha learned of his wife’s affair, he spiraled. stunned was an understatement. for the first time in his life, he did not know what to do. he completely lost of the control he normally wielded. the second he heard the words pouring from his distraught daughter, it painted a disturbing image that would scorch in his memories. one more powerful than witnessing such a sight in person. one that had him sick to his stomach, puking only minutes after his daughter left his study. despite his attempts to comfort her, he barely held on as his heart was crushed, caving into a endless pit that could never be escaped.

what he was able to do was order his household staff to take the children and his mother back to ganghwa for a two weeks. oddly enough, he was firm in his orders that the marchioness had to stay back in hanseong with him and the now limited staff. he left only enough to care for his father, but the bare minimum for his wife. when questioned, he said that the children needed a break from the capital and their studies, that a trip back to ganghwa was the recharge they needed. yet, the whole trip was rushed and last minute, the marquess strictly wanting his children out the door within the next two hours. marchioness jin jiyeon had to stay.

the moment he said his last goodbyes to his children, waving to them until the travelling party was completely out of sight, he turned in the opposite direction and made his way deep into hanseong. he did not remember how long he mindlessly wandered with his righthand man, songchu, for. they only stopped when they reached his final destination, one of the many gisaeng houses that he visited with his colleagues for work. before stepping in, jaeha instructed songchu to not tell anyone of his whereabouts and that the older man knew nothing.

it was with these steps into the gisaeng house, jin jaeha was gone for three days and two nights. as if he disappeared out of thin air.

- - -

amidst the gaggle of yangban, drunk off of booze, ego, and beautiful women; the madame of the gisaeng house was quick to nearly fly in his direction. with years of practice, she perfected her charming, but selling voice as she chimed, “marquess jin, are you here with duke gan’s party tonight? they’re in-”

“no. i’m taking a private room in the back. i’ll have yoomin for the night,” jaeha sighed as he waved his hand away, expecting the first attendant to take him to his requested room. already those around them, ones who knew of jaeha, could not help in listening in on the conversation. like the madame, many had the look of surprise. it was well known amongst newer gisaengs that it was either the best or worst customer to have, as marquess jin was known for his loyalty to his wife, jiyeon. he never made requests of the women there, at most just keeping them by his side for the sake of politeness, knowing they had a job of providing company to whatever party he was at that night. however, they knew he had a duty as a husband, one he followed faithfully.

“marquess jin, i’m afraid she’s unavailable for this evening,” uncertainty in the madame’s voice, unsure if she was hearing his request correctly.

“then i’ll pay double for tonight. send her now."

- -

ban yoomin was the opposite of jin jiyeon.

unlike the many women in hanseong, her hair was a few shades lighter than the rest that was close to deep chestnut. in the sun, it would lighten even more that had her stand out in the crowd. also outside, her sun kissed skin captured one’s attention. the honey tone was highlighted by her light blue hanbok, selective in the layerings of similar colors. while his wife was considered by some a cold striking beauty, the opposite was said of yoomin. her features were soft and round, full cheeks that had the right amount of pink to them. she resembled a deer in some ways with her doe eyes. through her gaze, they could see her innocence and gentleness, which drew in many of jaeha’s colleagues. like her cheeks, she had full lips that many were envious of and wanted to be marked by.

from past dinners, jaeha knew that she was naive. she made an occasional mistake here or there that came with her young age and inexperience during certain conversations, trying to fit in with her crowd. with those mistakes, she was unable to hide her embarrassment, her further blushing cheeks and giggle as other yangban men chuckled at this in adoration. she had a few years to go before she could understand the way of the game in the gisaeng houses, in winning hopefully a yangban or jungin’s heart.

on jin jaeha’s first night at the gisaeng house though, it was pure silence between the two. the only thing could be heard was the occasional clank from his cup and chopsticks. there was an occasional glance at her, but it had jaeha sigh each time.

yoomin was beautiful, that alone was what made her popular amongst men. in the gisaeng house, she was wanted for her gentle personality that made her seem angelic to the love stricken fool that locked eyes with her. despite these traits, they were not the reasons why she was chosen tonight. she was the opposite of jiyeon. for that alone, it should had made it easy for jaeha to replace his wife that evening.

however, it was those opposite features that reminded him more and more of jin jiyeon. those same reminders that only angered him more as the evening continued. she was nothing like his jiyeon, one of two people he detested to the ends of the earth at that very moment. somehow though, it was this same detested woman that he wished to have next to him, try to soothe him with well intended, but drab stories and silly mistakes that yoorim made.

despite the time paid, yoomin lasted for over an hour with jaeha throwing his bottle of wine to get her out. for the rest of the night, he spent it singing and drinking himself to sleep.

- -

already by the next morning, people were on the search for jin jaeha, who rarely missed a day at the court as he relished times like that. while there were rumors of him at a gisaeng house, with another woman, many cast it off as it seemed unbelievable, impossible. the same man that had honey pouring from his eyes whenever he looked at his wife and sang only praises for her could not had done that. meanwhile, songchu followed his young master’s words, telling everyone that he did know about marquess jin’s whereabouts. in the midst of everyone’s concern and confusion, jaeha slept in late into the afternoon and started his day off with another bottle of wine as his breakfast.

it took him a few hours before he made another attempt. on his second and last night at the gisaeng house, he requested for son yeseul. she was one of the most popular gisaengs in hanseong. unlike yoomin, she was a flashy glamorous beauty that bewitched men, having them under her trance for as long as she pleased.

she had large brown eyes like yoomin, but unlike the younger gisaeng, yeseul’s eyes had a chicness to them. some would say it was natural from a beauty like her, but others would say that years in the gisaeng house changed the innocence in them. instead, they became her weapon. it was easy for her to draw daggers from them, but the next second pull her targets in with an alluring gaze. then with a drawl of their name, it was game over.

her beauty was not her only trophy. her voice was unique, one of the first things jaeha’s colleagues pointed out about yeseul when they drooled over her. in a way, it resembled dragon’s beard candy, a name comparison not as attractive as her looks or voice. however, her voice was like honey, almost intensifying yeseul’s femininity that sweetened one’s ears. yet, it was soft, almost cloud like. she had a way of speaking, her tone fluctuating in a sing songy way. when it hit its high notes, it piqued one’s attention. on any other person, it would had turned off others, but with yeseul it was part of her charm. she knew this, seamless, but careful, on how she told her stories and a mastermind in socialization. yeseul had men in the palm of her hands.

many hand over fist for a single evening with her. that night though, she turned down higher offers to spend time with the jin heir, who she encountered through previous meetings. his family wealth and background were attractive to many, but to her that seemed to be nothing, just a requirement of future lovers and admirers. what piqued her interest was his steadfast belief in marriage. she wanted to conquer the all-time faithful jin jaeha, be the first to claim him as hers outside of his marriage.

conquests were conquests for a reason. despite having the marquess jin’s company for the night, she seemed to only had the shell of his body. once again, he avoided all attempts of socialization, busy with his wine and the occasional bite of food. just a mere touch had him push her hand away. one of the most popular gisaengs of hanseong could not capture his attention, unlike her siren reputation. his mind was elsewhere and his heart laid in the same place as always. with jin jiyeon.

- -

marquess jin jaeha finally returned to his hanseong home after three days and two nights. reeking of booze, nearly sweating out of his pores, he could not finish what he set his mind out for. no matter how many times he tried, he could not cheat on his wife. not even a mere hand holding even when it seemed like alcohol had complete control over him. it infuriated him that he could not do what most men could do. let lust control him. let his anger get to the best of his. make stupid mistakes that he would never have regrets over.

with a storm of emotions, the first thing jaeha did when he barged in the estate was holler with his chest, emphasizing each part of her name without a care of who could hear them, “jin. jiyeon.”

[ 1869, December 31 : Part I ]

For the past few days, the daughter from the House of Doves sat idly beside the window of her chambers watching the flurries pile over barren trees and pastures. Jinye's maidservant, Muyeo, kept her company all night.

"My Lady, it is very late now," Muyeo spoke, a hushed whisper in the still of night. "Perhaps we should get you ready for bed."

But, Jinye did not stir. Only her eyes drifted away from the sight of falling snow where the moonlight reflected off the white blanket draped across the courtyard. On her desk were inked parchments: letters that had been written and rewritten over and over again throughout the day. With practiced grace, Jinye set her brush down on the copper rest adjacent to the inkstone. She folded the parchment intricately and delicately as if they were treasured articles.

Finally, after a few moments of silence, Jinye finally spoke. "I am not tired yet." She turned her attention to her maid, holding her with a softness reflected by candlelight in her gaze. "Muyeo, why don't you head to bed first?" Seeing the slight hesitancy in the other's eyes, she reassured with a faint smile, "I'll be alright."

It does not take much to convince the other. Muyeo could only obey, knowing full well that her lady did not always want to be catered to like a child. With a curt bow to acknowledge the command, she turned to leave the room. However, before she could make her exit, Jinye called for her once more. Muyeo turned back to answer, only to find that her lady had risen from her seat and strode over with graceful steps, gently pulling her into a friendly embrace.

Such gestures were not uncommon between the two. They have been together for well over two decades now, growing up like a pair of inseparable friends despite the differences in their roles and ranks. The maid was a silent witness to the transformation that her lady had undergone, having watched through the years as the once lively lady became a shell of her former self. It was a vicious cycle, Muyeo thought, remembering how just the previous year Jinye had braved the uncertainties of war with an ailment in her dominant arm while handing out rations at the border camp awaiting a certain someone to return from Hamgyeong; how just in spring Jinye had blossomed like a radiant flower, one that had been waiting for winter's end, but now, it seems she had fallen into another predicament, one that even snow could not cover.

"Do not worry about me, Muyeo," Jinye's voice was calm and composed. It was full of sincerity and kindness, a tone with which the maid had familiarized. As the lady pulled away slowly, their eyes met briefly, exchanging a knowing gaze. "You have to remember to take care of yourself. Promise me you will."

It is with those words that Muyeo knew her intuition to be right. The maidservant could not stop her eyes from welling up, trembling as she reached for the other's hand, "My Lady... please don't go."

But, Jinye continued to smile, placing the finished letters into Muyeo's hands as a final task. "I must go," she said with certainty. "I don't want to wait another day. I have missed him too much."

Muyeo felt the texture of the parchments between her fingers, detailing how the roughness was like sandpaper on her skin. She knew well of her lady's temperament and intentions, having known her lady better than anyone else, and it is because of this that she does not dispute her decision. The maid only swallowed her urge to cry, afraid the wind would carry her sorrows into the halls of the estate. With care and love, she said, "go now, My Lady, before the snow gets any heavier."

Swiftly donning her cloak, the deep blue fabric a stark contrast against the pale moonlight and frosty air, the daughter from the House of Doves stepped into the winter night. But the chill in her bones was nothing compared to the ache she felt deep within her soul, a yearning for the one she loved. As she made her way through the silent estate, memories flooded her mind. She remembered the warmth and laughter that filled these halls, the shared meals and conversations, the doves in the garden, and the tender moments of familial love. But now, those memories were like paintings, dreams that would soon slip through her fingers.

When she reached the edge of the estate, the gates loomed before her as if blocking her from a forbidden path. Though she knew that what lay ahead was shrouded with uncertainty, she only had the hope that at the end of that path awaited the one she loved. As stubborn as her heart, and with steady hands, she pushed open the gates and stepped out into the unknown as the falling snow erased her imprints from the life she was leaving behind.

When dawn arrived, her final letters had been sent; one to the Office of Inspection announcing her resignation, and the other sat quietly on the desk of her brother’s chamber conveying her departure from their beloved family, severing her ties to the House of Doves.

　「 ✶ ; bonhwa 」

　　wolhami-in gisaeng house, gwangyang, jeolla
　　november 1864

within the darkness of her chamber, away from the lively ensemble of the gayageum and coy laughter, the daughter of wolhami-in's madame sat pensively. the chamber's windows, a couple of footsteps away, were wide open and gradually collecting snow onto its wooden frame. the biting cold winds meeting the burning flame of a brazier, set nearby the gisaeng.

dressed thinly, wolhye had her head laid on the cypress table after downing a few cups of leftover alcohol. empty eyes were fixed on the letter her hand was tapping on the wooden surface. the missive had arrived just as the sun set and she had pushed back reading to attend to clients.

slowly wolhye lifted her head, dark hair falling like curtains onto her exposed left shoulder, and she began to rip the envelope with her letter opener. the gisaeng's heart constricted when she saw the length of its contents. long missives from the guardian of her child was something she dreaded.

it meant there was growth the guardian was proud of, every word embodying the elation of the miniscule milestone the little boy achieved as if he was their own. despite her countless warnings of omitting unnecessary details and /only/ reporting what the boy needed, once in a blue moon, such missives were sent to her. within the chasm of her heart, it would, at times, ignite a proud flame but it was harshly blown away in a huff.

hwangbo wolhye shall not feel attached.

( she should not. at least, not too much. not to the boy. or anyone else. )

yet she would read, with a heart buried deep in snow, for she had to know the living expense the boy needed for the next month.

the missive began with the usual greeting and inquiries of her wellbeing. reports of his current craving for food, how fast he had outgrew his clothes, and the new words and habits he had obtained. wolhye had slowly lowered her pretence as the guardian continued to relay mundane changes. however, what struck her was the content on the next parchment.

its surface crinkled and covered in small handprints.

⸺

. . . i had meant to replace this page as bonhwa managed to enter and spilled ink all over himself, wanting to involve himself as i write. however, what better evidence of his growth than presenting his hand printed on a parchment? i am sure you, as a mother, would recall his tiny hand shortly after birth and compare it to the five year ol. . .

⸺

the—her boy's prints.

the woman tore her gaze away from the letter and the hand prints. her head muddled, the bittersweet longing in her heart screaming to be noticed as memories ( that tranquil moment of being in the presence of a little, pure soul ) attempt to claw their way up. that, along with the audacity the guardian had to have sent the handprints. with a sharp inhale, she stood and approached the brazier. immediately, wolhye dropped the letter onto the fire and watched it eat away the parchments. it was for the first time she had burned the letter from the guardian without knowing its end. her mind fogged—or was that the alcohol—enough to allow herself to forget to note what she should include in her next monthly parcel.

( she remembered how his tiny fingers wrapped around her little finger, plush and soft against her skin, as if wishing she would not give him away—even if it was for his own sake. )

the woman slowly slumped to the floor and folded her knees close to her chest, setting her head atop it as her dark orbs reflect the dying flame—the last bits of the parchment turning to ashes. calming the anger and the pounding of her head, she closed her eyes.

how she wished memories could burn as easily.

for the images of the little hand prints remain etched in the back of her mind.

- homecoming. january 25th, 1870

Winter's chill had long set in over Joseon. Snow covered trees, which once brought wonder and awe, felt much more menacing and bleak this year. From the secure walls of the Ahn Estate, Miyoung knew she would be taken care of this winter, just like previous ones. But her heart still ached, worrying every day about her father in the cheonmin housing district. As the famine was progressing in severity, the ruling class decided to increase taxes. Money was already hard to come by, and even harder to save, already when Miyoung was growing up. Her father was growing old and was living alone and these current conditions did no favors in easing her worries.

When she was granted a weekend off, Miyoung gladly accepted, going back to her family's house in the lower part of the capital. She carried with her a satchel full of whatever things she felt her father may need during this time; some of her own food provisions, herbs, and a coinpurse comprised of her past few payments. As she made her way closer and closer to the cheonmin housing, she could feel eyes watching her. Usually, she felt comfortable and in her element roaming the streets during the day, but today sent a shiver down her spine. It wasn't the bitter cold wind that caused her to shiver, it was the sense of being vulnerable. But as she looked around, she couldn't see anyone staring at her. Perhaps she was paranoid. Maybe spending so much time amongst the upper class had changed her behavior.

Finally, she arrived at her family's house and stepped inside, quickly shutting the door behind her so as to not let too much cold wind inside. "Father, I'm home! And I brought you some gifts," she called out, kneeling by the table to set out what she had brought back. The middle aged man came into the living room and Miyoung grinned, wrapping her arms around her father in a tight embrace.

"Lamb, why did you bring all this? You must know about the yangban sharing rations," he started off. Despite the light scolding, there was appreciation written all over his face. But his daughter was two things: stubborn and a bleeding heart.

"Well, I wanted to help you. It's getting colder by the day and there's no telling how long this famine will last. So I brought some of the food that I was given - straight from the estate. And my money should help too. I don't want you to struggle at all," she mumbled.

His face softened and he patted his daughter on her head. Gesturing for her to sit by the table, he went over to the fireplace and adjusted the burning wood with a metal rod before joining her. Miyoung knelt and settled her hands on her lap, appreciating the renewed warmth emanating from the fireplace. Once Father Cho knelt on the opposite side of the table, he picked up one of the apples Miyoung had brought and took a bite from it. The crisp crunch from the fruit indicated that it was still fresh, just barely out of season.

"Worrying about taking care of this old man, Miyoung? You should be worrying over a man closer to your own age. Or is there truly no man in Joseon good enough for my lamb?," he chuckled.

The question took her aback, causing her eyes to widen in surprise and she glanced down at her hands in her lap. How could she tell him that she had been used like a pawn this past spring? Or that she harbored some feelings of warmth and tenderness for her Lady? She dare not tell her own father that just the month before, she had lost her purity to a gisaeng. It was near her 28th birthday, her own mother was already married by this time. Despite her optimism for her future, she wondered if she would ever be picked, ever be the apple of someone's eye. Or was she destined to be the same dirty cheonmin girl she was growing up? Was there ever a reward for being kind, for being soft, for being gentle?

Was the world so cruel, and so unfair, that she should give up her hope?

Winter's chill had long set in Joseon. So Miyoung chose to nurture her warmth.

"You know your little ram, father. I guess my standards are too high for the men in Joseon. But someday, I'll find the right one, and I won't have to run here to make sure you're eating properly, yes?," she smiled.

(backdated october 30th)

Yeoreum dropped to the floor as soon as she entered the house. It appeared empty and so she did not hold back. Fat tears poured endlessly from her brown eyes, a stream of sobs catching in and then muffled by the hands she clasped over . And so she cried, slim shoulders trembling as finally, finally all the emotions and anxiety she had kept bottled up so tightly broke out of her.

Today had been an eventful, and horrible day. What made it so much worse was her excitement and anticipation with which she had first entered the Park estate. She had felt so happy that another Yangban house had called on her! She had entered with a smile and hope in her heart. How naive of her. She had forgotten that hurtful people were aplenty in this world.

It had all started so well. The lady had been so kind, so warm, even going as far as giving her a beautiful gift. They had really gone out of their way to make her feel welcome. And she'd briefly met a young lord of the house, a handsome young man. Everything had been going well.

Why did she have to walk in on him getting out of the bath? Why did the maid refuse to let her leave? Why was she forced to take part in the most horrible dinner she'd ever experienced? The things he had said to her...

And then going as far as calling her to speak to him separately to threaten her with death if she spread rumours about him... Putting aside the insult of thinking she would ever do such a thing, never before had anyone threatened her with death. Was her life so meaningless to him? Perhaps so. After all, she was a low-class acupuncturist. She was nothing to him. Her life held no value if she didn't behave the way that suited people like him. 'Really? Is that really true?', she thought to herself, fighting internally as she both recognised the possibility and refused to accept it. 'Stop being so stupid.', she chastised herself, gritting her teeth. He had said it straight out. She was worthless. Unimportant. Trivial.

In the short span of an afternoon, she had been ridiculed, insulted, humiliated and threatened with death. His words had cut into her like knives. She was bleeding still, blood flowing from the wounds in the form of salty tears that stained the rough wooden floor of the house as she wept.

The lady of the house had said she would call on her again and, oh, how Yeoreum dreaded it.

　⋆ ౨ৎ ₊ ˚ ⊹ ♡　 home is wherever i’m with you.
　　　　　　　 dated early january of 1870 & takes place at the seo manor in namhae.

The night draped over the Seo manor like a velvet cloak and the garden was blanketed in the soft glow of moonlight, casting a serene aura over the scene as Eunjeong and Seongyeom sat side by side on the pyeongsang. They gazed upward at the expanse of stars, lost in the comfortable silence that enveloped them like a familiar embrace yet somehow also spoke volumes of their shared contentment.

It was in this serene moment that Eunjeong found herself breaking the stillness with a soft inquiry, her gaze fixed on the heavens above. “Are you ready to return to Hanseong?” she murmured, her voice a gentle melody amidst the night’s symphony.

She could sense the Duke’s gaze upon her, his silent contemplation palpable even in the stillness and his expression unreadable in the dim light from what she could catch from the corner of her eye. Seconds pass before a smile tugs at the corners of his lips as he shakes his head. “No, I do not think I can,” he replied softly.

Eunjeong’s surprise was evident as she turned to look at him, an intrigued eyebrow raised in question. Yet before she could utter a word, Seongyeom chuckled, his amusement evident in the curve of his lips before he spoke next. “I do not think I should leave my wife here alone . . .”

Then, Seongyeom extended his hand out towards her, his eyes sparkling with affection. “Will you come home with me, my Eunae?”

Her heart fluttered at his words, a rush of emotion swelling within her chest. It was a sentiment Eunjeong had not allowed herself to hope for, yet here he was, offering it in the most tender of gestures.

With a timid nod, she acquiesced to his silent plea, intertwining her fingers with his in a silent pledge of unity and devotion. Her cheeks flushed with a rosy hue as his grin widened in response and she leaned into the comforting embrace of her husband’s arms, hiding her face in the crook of his neck in shyness. His laughter echoed in the tranquility of the night as he pulled her closer to him, and for a moment, all worries and doubts faded away.

In that moment, as they held each other close beneath the twinkling stars, the weight of the past seemed to dissipate into the ether. Despite the trials and tribulations they had faced, their love had endured and emerged unscathed, stronger and more resilient than ever before.

Thus, it seemed that the path forward was clear — their hearts intertwined and their souls united, they would forge ahead together, bound by an unbreakable bond that defied the passage of time. And as they gazed upon the celestial canvas above, they knew that their love would guide them through the darkest of nights, illuminating their path with the radiant glow of everlasting devotion.

They would no longer waste any precious time together, for a love like theirs could survive even the most unnerving of obstacles.

(How could a love like that be so hard?)
౨ৎ https://youtu.be/WiiIeLG1Qe4

彡　ᴅᴇᴄᴇᴍʙᴇʀ 29ᴛʜ, 1869

by no means a woman of great frustration and anger, tsukino sayuri found herself waking up that morning in a terrible mood.

whether it was the weather, though, sayuri had never been one to shy away from heavy blankets of white snow, or the fact that she had remembered a little too late that it was her birthday... sayuri had gotten herself ready for the day with a frown crackling at her features. perhaps, she was a woman of great frustration, for she found herself in these sorts of predicaments often as of late. it was a mixture of being in a new place, the great highs came with great lows. living in the seol estate was different enough for sayuri to be occupied alone by exploring everything it had to offer. she had spent most of the fall like this, when she wasn't out on the streets in hanseong exploring and taking everything joseon had to offer her. but when fall had settled in, and so did the cold, sayuri took her time in exploring the seol estate. she was a newcomer, someone who had perhaps never been fated to be here, thus— she allowed herself to wander the estate like a ghost.

sayuri had intended to do that today, again.

that is, until she had found the packages and letters left at her doorstep.

the first one she saw was riah's— her best and first friend. sayuri could not deny the tears welling up in her eyes as she read the letter, not much unlike the ones she had usually read from riah or any of her new friends. yet, it felt strange, to have a letter from a friend on her birthday. sayuri had read about these sorts of things in books, but had never experienced it. quickly, the tears had been wiped away— like the nuisances they were, getting the wetness on the parchment and ruining the letter sayuri would treasure for the rest of her life— and she continued. the present riah had given her was beautiful, and sayuri had put one of the daenggis in her hair, gazing upon herself in her vanity mirror.

the next was her father's. he had given her a box, a purple kimono that mirrored their family's seal. sayuri had placed it to the side, knowing exactly what the kimono was meant for and whose it used to be.

"my dearest daughter,

"i hope joseon is treating you well. me and your sisters will be coming soon to be with you before your wedding. i had sent you the kimono your mother wore after the ceremony when she and i got married. since we are still married to this day, i am thinking of it something like a good luck charm. i hope you treasure it in your new home.

"i am excited to see you again,
"your father, duke tsukino."

stamped at the bottom, the family seal: 月野. sayuri sighed, closing the letter and leaving it off somewhere to the side.

the most unexpected letter, however, had been minhwan's. it was unassuming, even if his gifts had not been so. sayuri had thought it was from riah, but the letter had mentioned nothing of it. that was, until, sayuri had found the piece of parchment on the ground and picked it up, reading through the letter. actually, she had to read through it a few times — growing frustrated with each line she read.

ah yes, the source of this frustration.

how could he— how could this— this was not—

sayuri crumpled the paper in her hands. a woman of great frustration.

the parchment was a throw-able ball in her hands, and she stared at it for a few moments. quickly, she opened it once more, smoothing it out with a comb she found somewhere in her vanity, but the crinkled lines remained, never to vanish.

the letter was left on her vanity, and, with a fire in her eyes, she stood and exited her room. "maiko-chan, please call for goro-san. inform him of my intent to go out to the streets of hanseong to shop."

"my lady, are you sure? the snow refuses to let up. perhaps it may be best to stay in the estate for today."

sayuri looked to maiko, one of her attendants from when she was young. she was a few years younger than sayuri, and while sayuri could never truly call her a friend as their employed relationship kept them apart, and the fact that maiko treated her like everyone else did in her life... as something to worship, gawk at, but not to listen to— yet, sayuri knew that when maiko would return to the tsukino estate with her father after the wedding... sayuri would miss her presence dearly. it was silly to think so.

"i am sure. i plan on getting a gift for my fiancee and riah. i do not like to owe people, after all."

⟨⟨ november, 1869 ⸺ shortly after the distribution of the latest copies of the society papers ⟩⟩

the tea was warm as was the small private room they have rented out of for the day. the teahouse’s heating system did wonders to alleviate the cold that numbed eunbyeol’s fingers as she held lady mugunghwa’s paper tightly. under the dim lighting, the marchioness’ amusement was palpable, her brow arching and her lips upturned at a corner. she could hear the frantic flipping of pages from beside her, its rustling livening the otherwise quiet room.

eunbyeol heard a sigh and she turned just in time to see the paper ultimately being abandoned unto the empty seat between them. marquess moon's brows furrowed as he spoke, “rubbish. why on earth would this lady mugunghwa write more about us? the wedding was plenty grand. surely, it deserved to be highlighted in this. . .what ever they call this paper is?”

“out of pettiness, maybe?” a small smile played along eunbyeol’s lips as she, too, lowered the prints to regard her lord. there was impishness playing behind her brown orbs, one that preluded the playfulness of her antics amidst his presence. “have you ever wondered that, perhaps, she had been one of your. . .escapades?”

the marchioness lifted her gaze to meet the other’s own, searching for a response behind his curious crescents. when she had been met with nothing but a ponderous expression, she scoffed in jest. “had there been numerous women that you could not even pinpoint who she could have been amongst them? typical rake behavior, that one.”

“pray tell, eunbyeol. did you really think i would sleep with someone so vile? she could be some decrepit old hag. perhaps, she is not even a woman at all!”

at moon hyeongwon’s frustration, the room, once again, fell silent apart from the whistling of the winter breeze outside the koji windows. the marchioness did her best to maintain a very placid visage — she really did. however, it seemed that she could not contain her laughter, one that so suddenly erupted, filling the room with a joyous cacophony of hiccups and mirth. her lord’s face was quite comical; eunbyeol took delight in riling him up.

yet, her attempts to lighten up the marquess’ sour mood were futile. hyeongwon remained steadfast in his uneasiness, his arms crossing as he repositioned himself comfortably on the chair. the furrow between his brows deepened further. as she quieted down, eunbyeol thought it rivaled the trenches of a battlefield in its depth. she promptly had the very brief idea of running her thumb across it to smoothen its creases, a semblance of comfort in such an unsettling situation.

what on earth was he thinking about?

the marquess sighed deeply, his gaze now holding hers. there was confusion behind his raven black eyes and in askance, said, “we only went there to be in attendance, did we not?.” her sights followed his hand as he grabbed the paper once more, as he tossed it behind him in indignance. the white parchment fluttered whimsically in the air before landing on the matted floors of the establishment. the large heading and icon of its author would have mocked eunbyeol in the past but at present, its bold print and even its contents fell short in its endeavors.

while that may be true for her, however, it seemed that the marquess thought the opposite. “the paper was so slanderous. upstaging the event and calling our appearance a spectacle? is she mad?”

eunbyeol merely watched the emotions run through her beloved’s face with such speed. her fingers clasped around the teacup that stood still atop the table, finding solace in the meager warmth that permeated through her skin. the steam that left it was diminishing by the second but as she took a sip, it was still palatable to say the least. the marchioness cleansed with the warm liquid as she perused her mind with a proper reply to hyeongwon’s exasperation. she knew that he was merely appalled in her behest. his thoughtfulness was endearing but — perhaps, a reassurance was in order?

however, before she could even utter a word, the man was quick to place a hand on hers, his touch gentle and feather-like. eunbyeol, in her confusion, peered up at him and her brows finally mirrored his very own. there were a myriad of emotions playing within hyeongwon’s stare but uncertainty was the most palpable of them all. even the way in which he slipped his fingers in between her own was quite hesitant, the feeling almost fleeting on the skin of her palms and the pads of her fingers. quietly, she tightened her grip on his hand, her digits never letting his go.

“hyeongwon —”

“this. . .this would not be the last time your name shall be painted in a very different light now that you have been seen with me. geum eunbyeol, are you still willing to stay by my side?”

his gaze held as much sincerity as it had on the night that he had confessed to loving her and eunbyeol basked in it — his feelings. they were like a cozy blanket that enveloped her during a cold winter afternoon, and where the tea failed in its purpose, his affections for her made up for it. hyeongwon was her beacon of light in the darkness, yet his love was also as warm as the sun.

eunbyeol squeezed his hand lightly. “do you truly believe that i care for any of this? i went into that wedding with you fully aware of its repercussions.”

truly, seeing them together within each other’s personal space was unimaginable — even to the both of them. in retrospect, it had been a decade-long of hurt and misunderstandings, of repressed emotions and emotional fragility, and the people around them merely watched as they danced around each other in misplaced displeasure. eunbyeol would have never imagined having to contest the ton in their misgivings, would have never thought of having to compromise the reputation she had kept unblemished all this time. hyeongwon’s entrance to her life was akin to a speedy carriage, crashing through her walls and allowing /her/ to spring free. . .

. . .to finally accept the fact that it had been him who she was waiting for all this time.

she would never tell him anything to that extent, however. no.

their gazes lingered on each other’s faced throughout their quiet exchange and it is with gentleness how they regarded each other’s presence. slowly, hyeongwon’s face broke into a small smile; eunbyeol (finally) inwardly sighed in relief.

“i am also glad that i have you, noona.”

the marchioness’ own simper never left her face as she poured him a drink. it was lukewarm unlike the emotions that remained ablaze within her. she would have chosen to call for assistance to replace their tea but eunbyeol, instead, placed that thought on hold.

the lady leaned over the table after she stood, placing a quick kiss unto hyeongwon’s awaiting ones and with a flourish, rang the bell that sat atop the coaster on the table. it seemed that the man had been anticipating her ministration as he had already been smirking after she pulled away. “careful, lest we appear in another society paper’s page.”

it was eunbyeol’s turn to become sour. ugh, what a menace he is.

“it seems that you are more than glad to have me. why don’t you drink boiling tea to calm down your nerves, hmm?”

[post deleted by owner]

[post deleted by owner]

⟨ this incident happens after he broke off engagement with kiwoon's agreement. ⟩

jiwoong let out a heavy sigh as his mother's scolding washed over him once more. breaking off the engagement with the noble lady had ignited a fierce backlash from his mother, but jiwoong remained steadfast in his decision. marrying someone he didn't love was simply not an option, no matter the societal pressures or his mother's expectations.

"why did you have to betray my trust like this, my son?" his mother's voice dripped with disappointment and anger. jiwoong felt a sharp pang of bitterness at her words. her accusations cut deep, especially when he harbored his own grievances about her past actions. "i did what i believed was best for me, eomonim," jiwoong replied, his tone steady despite the turmoil in his heart.

"please understand, i would never intentionally disgrace you." his mother's reproachful gaze bore into him, but jiwoong stood his ground. he couldn't reveal his true intentions just yet. there were secrets to keep, revelations to unfold, and ultimately, redemption to seek.

"do you even love me, my son?" his mother's question caught him off guard. love? the word reverberated in jiwoong's mind, laden with familial obligation and buried resentments.

"of course, i love you, eomonim," jiwoong's voice wavered with emotion. "but trust that i know what's best for my own future. i need to forge my own path, even if it means making decisions that may be hard for you to accept."

"your brother must be behind this, isn't he?" his mother accused.

"eomonim, please don't involve him. kiwoon hyung has never meddled in my personal affairs. i made this decision on my own," jiwoong pleaded.

his mother scoffed, disbelief etched on her features. "defending his side now, are you?" jiwoong sighed, shaking his head. "i'm not taking sides. i'm just speaking the truth."

"you're supposed to resent him, son! he's made our lives unbearable! i should've dealt with him before he got married."

jiwoong's gaze hardened at his mother's words. it wasn't surprising; empress dowager cha was showing her true colors once again. it was only a matter of time before jiwoong fully realized her true nature.

"eomonim, mind your words," jiwoong cautioned.

his mother's expression softened momentarily before she continued. "you know how much i've suffered because of him. have some pity for me. i'm only trying to secure your future as the duke, but he's taken everything."

"eomonim," jiwoong interjected, a hint of frustration creeping into his voice.

it was time to confront his mother, to assert his independence and put an end to her manipulations. he refused to be used as a pawn in her schemes any longer.

"i'm not interested in any of that. i have no desire to become the duke. i will live life on my own terms, with or without your approval. keep the engagement matters away as well. i won't be a part of it."

with that, jiwoong left the chamber, leaving his mother's desperate cries echoing in his wake.

⟨⟨ spring, 1869 ⸺ a few days after receiving seohyang’s missive ⟩⟩

the letter and flowers were dropped onto him like a package on his birthday.

hyunjun’s eyes had widened upon their arrival, his vision tunneling onto the name that was written in script, inscribed on a little note attached to a string around the blooms. im seohyang, it read and his heart leapt up to his throat. his mind repeated her name over and over again until he had almost embarrassingly uttered it before the courier. still, despite the excitement that coursed through his veins after the man had bid him goodbye, a thought nagged at him rather incessantly:

was this the response he was waiting for all this time?

the young lord ran into the house after the mailer’s figure disappeared into a corner, his feet pitter-pattering lightly on the matted floors. hyunjun was careful to make only the littlest of sounds; minjun would be his worst nightmare once he’s realized what his son had done. after all, the younger man had declared his intentions for someone below their social status. hyunjun would have rather died in the war rather than be caught in minjun’s crossfire. the man was too volatile; he could be crippled for life if he would so much as lift a finger against his father.

it was only in the safety of his room, therefore, that he was able to find solace. the lord had ripped the envelope in his haste, apologizing quietly to seohyang’s ancestors as the gash ran through the seal of the house of the birch tree. hyunjun wasted no time in reading through its contents, his face almost too close to the missive as if to ingrain each and every written word into memory.

❝i hereby accept the flowers and your courtship, my lord.❞

was he dreaming? hyunjun had to pinch his thigh. it did hurt; he was fully sober.

“yours, from the moment you’ve unknowingly chosen me,” the young lord echoed softly into the otherwise empty room. his grip tightened along the edges of the missive as realization hit him.

seohyang was now his after a year-long of longing, of missed moments, and of unexpected timings. her hand was now his to openly hold; her heart, now his to cherish. as he went over the letter one last time, hyunjun swore to hold her affections dearly as much as how he had kept his memories of her alive especially when he was at war, fighting for his life.

while still heady with relief and jubilation, the young lord scrambled unto his feet to find his inks and brushes and parchments. it was with great joy that he began to write to her, to reply to his - now - beloved’s acceptance with pride:


“dearest seohyang,

i shall be keeping this short as you have rendered me speechless once again.

you shall never worry of a future without me by your side any longer for i will always stay right where i am until you no longer have need for me.

thank you for returning my affections. i do not think i am as worthy considering how i have loved many before you. it is, perhaps, a ploy by the universe to allow me to fester in hurt so i can be with you in happiness.

from the man who has longed for you from the first time we have parted ways,
kim hyunjun
house of the camellia.”

[ dated :: early december, 1869 ]
tw. mentions of miscarriage, death.

Areum awoke with tears in her eyes.

The trails were not dry yet upon her skin, and that was how she knew it to be recent. Perhaps mere moments before she had awoken. She forced herself to sit up, raising a hand to wipe at her eyes, only to realize that the tears hadn’t stopped. Slowly, they fell down on her blanket, rolling down her cheeks even as she tried to wipe them away.

A deep breath, a sharp inhale.

And then, hollow. A hollow, hollow space where her heart should be. A heavy weight laid where there should be nothing, and not for the first time, she wondered: could a shattered heart break even further? And not for the first time, she had told herself the same answer—every year, every December. Every year, her shattered heart would break even more at the reminder.

A small grave in a place she couldn’t reach easily. A small grave that she had dug with her own two hands in a place that carried far too many memories. A small grave that carried a soul that she failed to protect—

A sharp inhale, a shaky breath.

⌈　 　 “I’m sorry,” she had said then, as her hands became dirtier with the soil she had dug. Beside it was a small bag that contained clothes that she had sewn. “I’m so, so sorry Mama could not protect you.”　 　 ⌋

Her lower lip quivered as she raised a hand to , an attempt to silence that sobs that she knew would follow. Tears overflowed, continuously, like a dam that had been opened. Her other hand found its way to her stomach, and the weight within her chest became even heavier, as though lead replaced where her heart should be.

She could no longer understand what it was that she felt—grief, for the loss of her children? Guilty, for being unable to protect them? Or anger, for her lover had left her when she had needed him the most?

(If she had asked him back then—if she had asked him to fight for them, would he have chosen them? ̶H̶e̶r̶?)

Four years. It had been four years, and yet she still dreamt of the same things she dreamt of when she was but a young girl in love. It had been four years, and yet she could still feel the phantom kicks where her baby should have been. It had been four years, and yet… it hurt all the same, heavy on her heart, reminding her of what she’d lost, and she could no longer have.

She had dreamt of her child in her arms. She had dreamt of her lover by her side. She had dreamt of being /loved/—

She pulled her knees to her chest, grasping onto her clothes desperately, hands trembling. Small. She wanted to be small, small enough for the world to forget as it moved forward. Perhaps, if she was small enough, then the pain she felt—the grief she could not let go of—would disappear, with nothing to occupy.

But hadn’t that always been the case? Hong Areum had always been small, a mere pawn, a slave to the orders of those with power. Even at birth, she had always been small, bringing disappointment the first time she had breathed the air of this world.

Had her birth perhaps cursed this family? Was this the price of not being born a man? Was this the price she had to pay for wishing to be loved?

Her nails dug into the skin of her face, as she pressed harder against her lips. She couldn’t stop the tears. Perhaps there was no use in doing so. No matter how much tears she would shed—no matter how much she wished for her to turn numb and to simply stop /feeling/, she knew that there would always be tears. There would always be that hollow space in her heart, unable to be filled.

There was no use in stopping the tears, she knew, for where there was love, there would be grief. And where there was grief, there would be tears.

So she would cry, until there was nothing left to cry. She would cry, until she no longer had a reason to. She would cry, until she learned how to smile again.

ʀᴇᴜɴɪᴏɴ.
— 9 december 1869, kim manor.

"seojun, how are the orders going?" minjun asked, his voice muffled by the handkerchief he held to his mouth as he stood in the doorway of the workshop. the sudden sound of his voice made seojun jump, causing his hand to slip and deform the mouth of the pot he was shaping on the wheel. he glanced up, wiping the sweat from his forehead with his sleeve. minjun's frown deepened at the sight of the ruined pot. in a rage, he threw down the handkerchief and stormed over to seojun, striking his cheek hard enough to make his teeth rattle. "idiot. you've messed it up. now we'll fall behind again. start over," he snapped, then stormed out of the workshop.

with clenched teeth and eyes shimmering with unshed tears, seojun watched minjun’s back as he left, cursing him in every way possible in his mind. his cheek stung and a bitter taste was left on his tongue. or was it just iron? his cheek throbbed painfully, a metallic taste tingling on his tongue. he stopped the wheel and touched a trembling, clay-stained finger to his lip, finding crimson on his finger, and if things could get any worse, another painful coughing fit seized him.

after it passed, seojun rose slowly from his stool, his movements stiff. after washing off his hands, he began to limp over to his quarters, when suddenly, a firm knock sounded from the heavy wooden gates up front. could it be eunha? his mood lifted instantly and wiped the sour look from his face, replaced by a hopeful smile spreading across his cheeks. he hurried to the gate, his expression turning to one of bewilderment as soon as he pulled it open.

before him stood an older man in fine silk, nearly as tall as him, but shockingly familiar in appearance—the same chin, prominent nose, and eyes. the man seemed to gaze at seojun with the same amount of surprise on his face. “may i help you?” seojun broke the tense silence between them. no response. instead, he came closer to seojun, inspecting his hands, his features, and the scar on his neck. "you must be seojun," he finally said, a gentle smile playing at his lips, his voice warm and comforting, nothing like minjun's.

"yes, that's me. and you are—?" but before seojun could start his interrogation, he’s pulled into an embrace. his body went rigid, arms dropping to his sides, not knowing what to do. why was this man touching him? oddly enough, it did not feel threatening, and not too long after, the ceramist’s body finally relaxed. “seojun-ah. it’s me, your father.”

seojun’s hands moved on their own, forcefully pushing the man off of him as his chest tightened uncomfortably. “what do you mean?” he almost laughed at the absurd claim. it seemed like every time he answered the door, a new person walked into his life, but for it to be his biological father? impossible. his biological father didn’t know he existed. or at least that’s what minjun told him.

"lady huijeong, she was your mother, correct?" the man's tone was cautious.
"don't speak of her," the younger male snapped with his eyebrows knitted together in irritation, his voice sharp and uncharacteristically venomous.
“i’m sorry.” his voice grew quieter and gentler, as if guilt had been weighing on his heart for an eternity.
“about what?”

"i'm sorry, seojun. i left you here, and i shouldn't have," the man said, his eyes full of regret as they took in the fresh bruise on seojun's cheek and his cut lip. seojun edged back, his discomfort clear. “i don’t know why you keep claiming that i’m your son, but i hope you find him. i would like you to leave, please.” he moved to close the gate.

desperately, the stranger reached out to grab the gate, forcing it to stay open, and it was then that seojun finally got a view of his hands. on his pinky was a ring, similar to his that had been left to him by his mother, with the same family seal. “i am jo hyunwoo, marquess of suwon. please, let me just talk to you for a little bit.” seojun nodded slowly, swallowing the lump in his throat as he hesitantly pulled the gates open, allowing the yangban to step inside the manor.

hyunwoo looked at him with smiling eyes as he gently patted his son’s shoulder. “oh, seojun, you’ve grown well. last time i saw you, you were just an infant. we look alike, don’t you think? i read the society papers. i hope you and lady eunha are doing well.” his father was more talkative than seojun expected. all he could do was nod. he was still stuck in denial and disbelief. with a wink, the older male pushed a small wrapped box, with a small piece of paper slightly sticking out from the bottom. "this belonged to your mother. give it to someone you love someday."

“not much of a talker, are you?” hyunwoo jested, awkwardly laughing at himself. seojun’s face was frozen, but he excused his son’s silence and stoutness. he knew that it was a lot to process. “how did you know i was here?” the jungin could not think of a better question to pose. it was like something had jammed the gears in his brain. hyunwoo pursed his lips, finding the question amusing. wasn’t it obvious enough by looks? “the yu’s told me to look for a boy with a scar on his neck, but i did not need to know that to figure out that you’re my son.” the mention of the yu clan sent shivers down seojun’s neck. after finding out how they tortured byungjun, he could never forgive them for their sins.

“none of my siblings know of my illegitimacy, my lord.” seojun knew deep inside that at least hyunjun—and maybe hyunji knew. after all, his fights with minjun were always loud and chaotic, it would be a miracle that they were not overheard at least once. “please, call me father,” hyunwoo insisted with a faint smile. no wonder his mother had an affair with his guy—he was kind. "are you happy here?" hyunwoo asked softly.

“does it look like i am?” hyunwoo’s lips parted to give him a response, but seojun interjected before he could do so. “of course not, but i have no choice. i need to be here for my siblings, or else our father might impose this work on someone else. it destroys your lungs. i don’t want to put them through that.”

“but is that your responsibility? what if you come and—“ he began to object.

“what is going on here?” it was minjun’s voice.

{ Severing the Ties }

As Soo gazed into the tranquil waters of the creek, her reflection stared back at her, distorted by the ripples that danced across the surface. She saw the weariness etched into her features, the exhaustion that weighed heavily upon her soul. The dirt and grime of her journey clung to her skin, a physical manifestation of the burdens she carried.

With a heavy heart, Soo reached for the small blade that hung at her side, her fingers trembling slightly as she grasped the hilt. She knew what she had to do, even though the thought filled her with a sense of sadness and loss. Closing her eyes against the pain of her decision, Soo raised the blade to her long hair, strands that had been her constant companion throughout her life as an assassin. With a swift and decisive motion, she brought the blade down, severing the ties that bound her to her past.

The sound of hair falling to the ground echoed in the silence of the forest, a tangible reminder of the sacrifice she was making. As the last of her hair tumbled down around her, Soo felt a sense of liberation wash over her, as if she was shedding not just her hair, but the weight of her past as well. With her ties to the brotherhood severed, Soo knew that she could never go back to the life she had known before. But she also knew that she was finally free to forge her own path, to carve out a new destiny for herself, unburdened by the expectations of others.

Taking a deep breath, Soo rose to her feet, her resolve renewed as she turned away from the creek and disappeared into the depths of the forest once again. She may be hunted, she may be alone, but she was determined to face whatever lay ahead with courage and conviction.

Soo moved swiftly and silently through the darkened streets, her senses on high alert for any signs of danger. She knew that the assassins pursuing her would be relentless in their pursuit, and she needed to stay one step ahead if she was to have any hope of escaping their clutches. As she passed by a row of houses, Soo's keen eyes spotted a dimly lit window, the flickering candlelight indicating that the inhabitants were fast asleep. Seizing the opportunity, she approached the modest dwelling with cautious steps, her movements like a shadow in the night.

Reaching the window, Soo peered inside, confirming that the coast was clear before carefully sliding it open. With practiced ease, she slipped through the narrow opening, her movements fluid and precise as she entered the dimly lit room. The interior was sparsely furnished, with only a few simple pieces of furniture scattered about the small space. Soo moved silently across the room, her eyes scanning the area for any sign of clothing that she could use as a disguise.

Spotting a wardrobe in the corner of the room, Soo made her way towards it, her heart pounding in her chest as she prayed that it contained something suitable for her needs. With a quiet creak, she opened the door, revealing rows of neatly folded garments within. Her eyes fell upon a hanbok, its fabric shimmering softly in the faint moonlight that filtered through the window. Without hesitation, Soo reached out and retrieved the garment, her fingers tracing the intricate embroidery that adorned its surface.

Quickly shedding her own clothes, Soo donned the hanbok, the fabric cool and smooth against her skin. As she fastened the delicate ties and adjusted the folds of the garment, she couldn't help but feel a sense of gratitude towards the sleeping occupants of the house, whoever they may be.

With her disguise in place, Soo slipped out of the house as silently as she had entered, her movements swift and graceful as she disappeared into the night once more. She may have changed her clothes, but her determination to evade capture remained unwavering as she continued her desperate flight to freedom.

{ 2/2 The Penance of an Assassin }

Soo stood in the room, her mother's silhouette framed by the soft glow of the candlelight. Her heart weighed heavy with the burden of her decisions, the consequences of her actions now threatening the only person she held dear in this world. "Mother," Soo's voice was barely a whisper, the words catching in as she struggled to find the right ones to say. "You need to leave. It's not safe for you here anymore." Her mother's eyes widened in surprise, the flicker of fear dancing within their depths as she processed Soo's words. "But where will I go? This is our home, Soo. I can't just leave."

Soo's chest tightened with emotion, her voice edged with urgency as she pleaded with her mother to understand. "You have to go," she said, her tone firm despite the tremble in her voice. "I can't protect you anymore. They're coming for me, and if they find you here..." Her mother reached out a trembling hand, her fingers brushing against Soo's cheek with a tenderness that brought tears to her eyes. "I won't leave you, Soo. I can't abandon my own daughter."

But Soo recoiled at her touch, the weight of her emotions threatening to overwhelm her as she turned away, unable to bear the pain of her mother's refusal. "You don't understand," she said, her voice raw with emotion. "If you stay, you'll only put yourself in danger. I can't let that happen." And for the first time in years, Soo felt the walls around her heart begin to crumble, the floodgates of her emotions bursting forth in a torrent of anguish and despair. "Please, Mother," she pleaded, her voice breaking as tears streamed down her cheeks. "You have to go. Find someone you know, someone you trust, and stay with them. For your safety. For both of our sakes."

Her mother's expression softened, a single tear tracing a path down her cheek as she realized the depth of Soo's sacrifice. With a heavy heart, she nodded in understanding, her resolve unwavering even in the face of uncertainty. "I'll go," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "But only because I love you, Soo. I'll find a safe place to stay, and I'll wait for you to come back to me." Soo could only nod in response, her heart heavy with guilt and regret as she watched her mother gather her belongings and prepare to leave their home. It was a bitter farewell, a painful reminder of the sacrifices they were both forced to make in order to survive in a world that showed them no mercy.

As Soo waited in her home, the minutes stretched into hours, each passing moment filled with tension and anticipation. She knew it was only a matter of time before her former assassin comrades arrived, their footsteps echoing like an ominous drumbeat in the silence of the night.

When the knock finally came, it was like a gunshot in the stillness, reverberating through the walls of her home. Soo rose from her seat, steeling herself for the confrontation that awaited her, her heart pounding in her chest as she crossed the room to answer the door. As she swung it open, she was met with the solemn faces of her former comrades, their expressions a mixture of apprehension and determination. They entered her home without a word, their movements precise and measured, like a well-trained unit on a mission.

Soo offered them seats, the atmosphere heavy with unspoken tension as they settled around her small table. For a moment, no one spoke, the air thick with anticipation as they exchanged wary glances, each waiting for the other to break the silence.

Finally, it was Soo who spoke first, her voice steady despite the turmoil raging within her. "I suppose you're here to apprehend me," she said, her tone tinged with resignation. "To carry out the sentence that has been passed down by our mentor." Her former comrades exchanged a glance, their expressions unreadable as they considered Soo's words. It was clear that they were torn, caught between their loyalty to their mentor and their bond with Soo, the woman who had once fought alongside them as a trusted ally.

But as the moments stretched on, it became apparent that they had made their decision. One of them spoke up, his voice grave with regret. "We cannot let you go unpunished, Soo," he said, his words heavy with the weight of their shared history. "But neither can we bring ourselves to carry out the sentence that has been passed down." Soo nodded in understanding, her heart heavy with gratitude for their mercy. She knew that they were bound by their oath to the brotherhood, but she also knew that their bond ran deeper than any code of conduct could dictate.

"I understand," she said, her voice soft with emotion. "And I accept whatever punishment you deem fit. But know this," she added, her gaze steady as she met their eyes. "I will not go down without a fight. I will do whatever it takes to ensure my survival, even if it means facing you, my former comrades, on the battlefield." There was a moment of silence as her words hung in the air, the weight of their implications sinking in. But then, without a word, her former comrades rose from their seats, their resolve firm as they prepared to leave.

"We will not forget the bond we shared, Soo," one of them said, his voice tinged with regret. "But we cannot allow you to continue down this path of vengeance and betrayal. The choice is yours to make." With that, they turned and left, their footsteps echoing in the darkness as they disappeared into the night. Soo was left alone once more, the weight of her decisions bearing down on her as she prepared to face the consequences of her actions. But in her heart, she knew that she would never stop fighting, no matter the odds stacked against her.

The clashing of blades and swords resonating within her home, Soo no longer bearing remorse whoever she may have injured with her blade. They may have the same strength and swiftness but Soo's silent demeanor through their grunts and groans had them fall to their knees in defeat as she had injured them gravely.

As Soo stood amidst the wreckage of her former comrades, her heart heavy with the weight of her decisions, she couldn't help but feel a pang of regret as she looked upon the injured form of her student. The young woman lay sprawled on the ground, her breaths coming in ragged gasps as blood pooled beneath her.

Soo approached her student cautiously, her gaze softened with a mixture of pity and remorse. She knelt beside her, her hand hovering uncertainly over the young woman's shoulder as she struggled to find the words to convey her thoughts.

"I'm sorry," Soo whispered, her voice barely audible above the distant sounds of the night. "I never wanted it to come to this."

Her student's eyes flickered open, filled with pain and confusion as she struggled to comprehend the betrayal that had unfolded before her. "Why...?" she rasped, her voice hoarse with pain. "Why did you do this?" Soo hesitated, her gaze faltering for a moment before she met her student's eyes with a steely resolve. "Because I can no longer stand by and watch as the brotherhood descends into corruption," she replied, her voice firm with conviction. "I have seen the corruption that festers within our ranks, and I refuse to be a part of it any longer."

Her student's eyes widened in disbelief, her expression a mixture of shock and betrayal as she struggled to comprehend the gravity of Soo's words. "But... we were supposed to be a family," she whispered, her voice trembling with emotion. "How could you turn your back on us like this?" Soo's heart ached at the pain in her student's eyes, but she knew that she could not falter in her decision. "I'm sorry," she said again, her voice heavy with regret. "But I cannot continue to serve a brotherhood that has lost its way. I have to forge my own path, even if it means leaving you behind."

With that, Soo rose to her feet, her resolve unwavering as she turned to leave her student behind. The student then gripped the bloodied ground in anger and shouted at her own mentor, "I will find you... I will make you pay for what you've done! Bimyeong!"

She knew that she could never truly atone for the pain she had caused, but she also knew that she could not allow herself to be swayed by sentimentality. "Bimyeong is dead... She had drowned in the pool of blood." Soo muttered as she disappeared through the mist. Her path was set, and she would walk it alone if she had to, no matter the cost.

⟨ after yeongho read the broken off engagement letter from eunbyeol ⟩

after yeongho finished reading lady geum's letter, gently breaking off their engagement, a quiet, almost imperceptible sigh escaped his lips. his mind swirled with a whirlwind of thoughts and emotions, each vying for his attention. did he truly ever love eunbyeol as deeply as he had thought? why did the news of their separation leave him feeling strangely numb, devoid of the expected torrent of emotions?

as he sat there, staring blankly at the letter resting upon his desk, yeongho was enveloped in a silence that seemed to echo the weight of his contemplation. the room around him was still, save for the soft rustle of paper as yul entered, bearing a tray of tea. setting the tea down with practiced grace, yul's eyes lingered on his young master, sensing the turmoil that churned beneath his composed exterior.

"i don't feel anything about this," yeongho murmured, his voice barely above a whisper, yet heavy with the weight of his revelation.

yul furrowed his brow, concern etched into the lines of his face. "my lord, is the pain too deep for you to feel anything at all?"

a wistful smile graced yeongho's lips as he shook his head. "no, it's not pain that numbs me, but rather a sense of acceptance," he confessed. "this is what she wants, what she believes will bring her happiness. how could i deny her that?"

reflecting on his own actions, yeongho's gaze softened with a tinge of regret. "i should have realized sooner, seen beyond the surface to inquire about her well-being and the happiness of those around her. she deserves nothing but the best, and if letting her go brings her that, then i cannot begrudge her."

with each sip of tea, yeongho savored the bittersweet taste of realization, a newfound clarity washing over him. "i don't think i'm fully over dasom yet," he admitted, his voice tinged with vulnerability. "perhaps it was her shadow that drew me to eunbyeol, a fleeting echo of what once was. but in her own way, eunbyeol has taught me valuable lessons, reminding me of dasom despite their contrasting personalities."

yul listened intently, his heart swelling with admiration for his young lord's compassion and introspection. "my lord, i will do everything in my power to help you find happiness once more," he vowed, his voice brimming with sincerity. "and if lady seon were here, she would surely mock you for your noble heart."

a chuckle escaped yeongho's lips, the sound light and genuine. "let her laugh," he replied, his tone filled with a quiet resolve. "for i have come to realize that the only opinion that truly matters is the one i hold of myself."

[ dated in mid- 1869. ]

kim minjun sat at his desk, a pen clenched tightly in his hand. the events of the past few days weighed heavily on his mind, fueling a burning anger that refused to be extinguished. despite his daughter's plea for peace, minjun knew he had to act. the yu family could not be allowed to escape unpunished for their crimes against his son, byungjun.

he thought back to the day byungjun had disappeared, a day that had haunted him for ten long years. byungjun had been a troubled young man, always searching for something just out of reach. when he had vanished without a trace, minjun and his wife had been devastated. they had searched tirelessly, convinced that his son had run away.

but the truth was far darker than he had ever imagined. byungjun had been abducted and tortured by their own cousins, the yu family, or so the gossip says. his wife had refused to believe that her son had abandoned them. she had gone in search of him, traveling far and wide, until one day, she had never returned.

it was a loss that had shattered minjun's world. he had blamed himself for not protecting his family, for not seeing the truth sooner. and now, with byungjun back in their lives, but with no memory of them, minjun felt the weight of his failures pressing down on him.

with a steely determination, minjun began to write. his words were sharp, filled with the promise of retribution. he detailed the pain and suffering his family had endured, laying the blame squarely at the feet of the yu family. he threatened them with the full force of his anger, vowing to make them pay for what they had done.

as he sealed the letter, a sense of satisfaction washed over him. he knew the yu family would cower in fear at his words, knowing that he was a man of his word. minjun may not have been a nice man, but suddenly, he was a father driven to protect his own.

days passed, and minjun waited, his anger simmering just below the surface. and then, the news came. the yu family had received his letter, and they were terrified. they knew that minjun was not a man to be trifled with, that his threats were not empty.

from an outside perspective, whispers spread like wildfire through the town. the yu family, once powerful and arrogant, now trembled in fear. and amidst the chaos, a quiet revelation emerged—the yu family now held byungjun's location, a piece of information that could tip the scales in their favor.

as Minjun watched the fear in their eyes, he felt a sense of vindication. he had done what needed to be done to protect his family. the shadows of the past may never fully fade, but minjun knew that he had taken a step towards justice, towards closure. and yet, it was still not enough.

and as he looked at his children, at byungjun who was slowly beginning to remember, minjun knew that he had made the right choice. he may not have been a nice man or a great father, but he was a father who would do whatever it took to keep his family safe.

[ a letter to the yu family ]

dear yu family,

for ten long years, my family has suffered in silence, believing that our son, byungjun, had run away from us. we mourned the loss of our beloved son, brother, and grandson, not knowing the truth of his fate.

but now, the truth has come to light, and it is more horrifying than we could have ever imagined. byungjun was not a runaway. he was abducted and tortured by members of your family, his own cousins, who callously took pleasure in his suffering.

my wife could not bear the thought of her son out in the world alone. she searched for him tirelessly, traveling far and wide, until she disappeared without a trace. her death, brought about by the pain of losing her son, is on your hands.

i cannot undo the past, but i can promise you this—the pain and suffering you have inflicted on my family will not go unpunished. i will not rest until justice is served. you may think yourselves safe behind your walls of lies and deceit, but i will not be deterred.

consider this a warning. if you value your lives, you will stay far away from my family and never darken our doorstep again. cross us, and you will face the full force of my wrath.

sincerely,
kim minjun

[ 1869 : At the Flower Festival ]

Radiant blooms in various colors covered the grounds of the lush gardens all over Hanseong. Not only were these flowers a grand feast for eyes, but also the vast sea of lovers who gathered to view the florals with adoration in their eyes. For Seoyul, however, such sights were quite the eyesore.

She didn’t understand the fascination with flowers and romance that seemed to consume the city during the annual Flower Festival. While others basked in the beauty of the blossoms and the tender moments shared between lovers, Seoyul found herself wandering through the gardens with a sense of detachment.

As she strolled along the winding pathways, lost in her thoughts, Seoyul's gaze fell upon a familiar figure standing amidst a cluster of vibrant blooms.—a man whose kindness had once touched her heart on a rainy day at the docks. She remembered the way he had offered her shelter and his jiwusan, his gentle smile warming her on that dreary evening.

But this time, he wasn't alone. Standing beside him was a woman, her laughter tinkling like wind chimes in the gentle breeze. They were engrossed in conversation, their smiles bright and their features a delicate match. As someone who worked to pair up hopeful daters and marriages, Seoyul could only give a quick nod of approval as if an unconscious habit she had picked up from years of running her matchmaking business. And though Seoyul should have felt a brief twinge of bittersweetness at the sight, instead she found herself smiling.

For in that moment, she realized that the fleeting sentiments she had once held for him had long since faded. Instead, she felt genuine happiness for the man who had shown her kindness when she needed it most. She watched them for a moment longer, the butterflies in her stomach now fluttering with a different kind of emotion—a quiet acceptance that the purpose of the initial meeting was only meant as a fleeting encounter.

With a lightness in her heart, Seoyul continued her stroll through the gardens, letting go of the lingering feelings she had held for the kind man from the docks.

[ 1851 : I Met You In A Field of Flowers ]

She hated the smell of incense. The way the smoke floated upwards like a spineless snake; like a soulless whisper that danced and beckoned spirits to follow its scent to the realm of the departed. When death drums and marches of professional mourners plagued the streets with their pretentious cries, Seoyul felt her blood boil.

The eight-year-old child did not understand why she was not allowed to cry at her own mother’s funeral. And, although her father had explained to her that the nobles and honorable do not mourn for the dead as shedding tears was considered a shameful act. Seoyul found the entire idea of it absurd.

So as the funeral procession continued down the road from her home to the final resting place, she did not follow the march. Instead, she ventured into the field of flowers in the opposite direction. Clad in white, mourning robe, the young girl draped a parcel of few belongings at her side. As she navigated the unclear path of the flower field, her mind swirled with thoughts of escape. She clung to the hope that her mother was out there somewhere, alive and waiting for her. But fate had other plans.

Her foot caught on a hidden root, and she stumbled forward, landing hard on her knees amidst the soft petals. A sharp sting shot through her leg as she felt the fabric of her mourning robe tear against the rough ground. The young girl was disheveled with dirt and grass, drops of crimson seeping from the scrape on her knee. She sat there, hidden in the meadow as faint tears welled up in her eyes. Oddly, it was a mixture of pain and relief; pain from the wound, but relief that finally, aligning to what her father had told her, she had found a reason to cry, to express her grief in a way that felt genuine to her.

And so, she cried, not for her own hurt, but for the loss of her mother, for the confusion and loneliness that enveloped her young heart.

Amidst her sobs, she heard the soft footsteps and rustle through the fields of someone approaching. Through blurry vision, she soon saw a young boy, one who was a few years older than her, dressed in the same white garments of mourning. He said nothing at first, simply kneeling beside her to inspect her injured knee. Without a word, he took out a small cloth from his pocket and began to dab at her wound, cleaning away the blood. His touch was gentle, his movements careful, and Seoyul found herself calming down despite herself.

Once he had cleaned the wound as best as he could, the boy looked up at her and offered a small smile. It was a simple gesture, but it was enough to make Seoyul's lips twitch upwards in response.

Then, to her surprise, he spoke, his voice carrying a hint of mischief. It has been so long that Seoyul does not remember the exact words he had spoken that day. But she remembered, it had made her laugh and forget about her tears. She felt a weight lift off her chest, if only for a moment as the boy's presence was a moment of unexpected brightness amidst her moment of grief.

After Seoyul finally calmed down and wiped away her snot and tears, the boy stood up and reached out his hand for hers. "Come," he said softly, his voice carrying a hint of warmth. "It's time to return."

For a moment, she hesitated, her heart torn by the desire to flee, but as she looked into the boy's kind eyes, she felt a strange stirring within her. So, she took his hand, allowing him to lead her through the field of flowers.

As they emerged from the field of flowers and made their way back to the procession where the mourners began to disperse, Seoyul’s father searched the crowd for her. Seeing her accompanied by the young boy, his expression was overcome with relief and concern when he saw her tear-streaked face.

But he did not question it. When he called for her, she left the side of the young boy who had helped her, not knowing when and if she would ever get to meet him again.

in minhwan’s room one candle was lit, barely illuminating the area. it was bright enough for the count to draw an abundance of lotuses that scattered across his desk and floor, but the main change was that with each new page the delicate flowers were sloppier than before. more wild and lines that resembled waves or rocky edges. the messiness was evident with the ink smears on his hands and sleeves. all of this he could credit to the two full bottles of andong liquor that was stronger than most, but were now bone dry no matter how much he shook the containers for a few more drops. with how young the liquor was compared to the others in storage, it left a stronger burn in one’s throat, something that he did not mind. after it all, that was what he wanted. a brief pain that could help him forget his own problems, but somehow bring his mind to a state away from clarity, logic, and rationality, but most of all guilt.

yet, there he was, laying on the ground. his legs were stretched out. meanwhile one hand was busy looking for this third bottle that seemed to have disappeared, but only a few centimeters away had he bothered to stretch a bit more. perhaps, it was the alcohol, or maybe it was the warmer than usual fall evening, but he had his window open, the breezes cooling him down from time to time. however, on a full moon like this it just reminded him of the same past that guilted him.

this was not a new deal. every few weeks, duke seol’s golden heir would spend his evening pounding liquor bottle after another on a half empty stomach. unlike the meals spent with his fellow officials, where he had an excuse for drinking, he spent those nights alone and drowning in booze and pain. this was once a regular sight years ago, right after the count returned from a job assignment away from hanseong and gangneung. however, these pitiful drinking sessions made their return shortly after his return from the war. for what seemed like months, he shut himself in his quarters nearly reeking of alcohol from his pores. while minhwan eventually emerged from his room and returned to his former daily life at the courts, the nights alone with his alcohol did not completely.

groaning as he pushed himself up from the floor, he was finally able to grab the mysterious bottle from earlier. instead of pouring himself a cup, he drank from the bottle. from how much he consumed tonight, the burn was soon nonexistent and had a chance to go down smooth like well aged liquor. if pushing the buttons further, the drink could had soon been like water.

nearly banging his drink down to the ground, minhwan wiped his face with his sleeve in a sluggish motion. glancing out at the window once more, he spotted the full moon, but only bitterly laugh at this. of course during a full moon he was busy downing alcohol like a fish.

it was a full moon that night months ago, he kicked back bottle after bottle. it was earlier that day when he and his troops encountered the qing in the small village near the border during the war. it was the same village where the residents had to choose between survival and loyalty. in that same village, seol minhwan was forced to make a decision about whether or not he would kill a traitor or his own superior, the same decision that made him waver his about his loyalty to his country. yet was it possible for a little boy to be a traitor? this same little boy that had to choose between those he loved and a nation that did not protect him.

he was only five or six. he was almost the same age as his-

minhwan took a deep breath as he felt his heart beat faster, tighten in his chest. he knew at this moment, he could not let his mind wander there, but it was inevitable. ever since their loss, the pain never left. instead, it was a black hole that dug deeper into his heart and travelled in waves. by some miracle he became better at hiding this ache of his in front of others over the years, but deep down inside he knew that he could never get over this.

on a night like this though, the pain that always lingered with him rocked him completely like waves violently crashing against the rocks. in that state, he could not think anything else, but the source of his hurt. he sighed as he dragged himself to a small cabinet that sat right under the open window, unlocking it with a secret key that was kept close by. inside were some of his awards, paintings, and treasured gifts that he kept over the years. he even kept a letter from king jeongjo to one of his ancestors, a gift that duke seol presented to him shortly after his first government appointment, a symbol of the greatness that minhwan was to strive for.

deep inside though, he finally pulled out a folded tiny white cotton blanket. in the corner was a sewn lotus, next to it a tiger. running his fingers over the stitching, he could not hold back the hot tears forming. he clutched it close to his chest, undoing its careful folds. despite the years that passed, somehow he swore he could faintly smell the same flowers that surrounded their home. that alone made it all more real, as if it took him back to the last time he had his last conversation with her in their home. not the typical hellos and goodbyes they exchanged at hanbamman out of politeness, but ones that came from their souls, ones that lacked logic, but were rich in heart.

now, all he had of them was this blanket. the blanket once meant for their little one.

had he done things differently, where would he be now? would he be back with her in their home with their child? would they had been blessed with another one? what he did know was that he would not be drunk like he was now, not needing a temporarily bliss from a bottle.

it was in these thoughts, minhwan muffled his sobs into the white blanket and stained them with this tears for another night. doing this until he fell asleep, gripping the blanket close to him.

like the seol estate in gangneung, the goo family’s main residence in changwon sat comfortably in the mountain side. its placement provided the best of many worlds, the higher elevation provided protection from typhoons and potential floods. there, one could faintly hear the brightness of town’s people below, the stalls hawking for new customers and entertainers in the square during major festivals. yet those in the estate could be soothed by the nature that surrounded them, the trees bustling from gentle breezes and the sweet scent of the flowers that permeated across and around the property. the close, but safe, distance from the shoreline brought in cool wind for the family in the summers. many would comment from the estate’s gates and garden, one could see all of the town along with the ships that came in and out of the ports, but the water’s brilliant shades of blue was what stood out.

while it was a marvelous sight in the daytime, duke goo kyungmin and his wife, duchess goo jukyung always said that the most beautiful view was in the evening. they were high enough that the stars in the sky were like white diamonds strewn rich black-blue silk. dreamer would believe at this height, they were close to pluck and wear these stars as their own jewelry if one tippy toed just enough. however, the homes in the town illuminated from their lanterns. the lights were changwon’s yellow diamonds scattered around the town, even more so during the festival seasons. it was a diamond shade more rare than its white counterpart and like changwon's people, even more precious.

this something that the young goo kyungjoon could not understand as a child. he was too busy during his summers playing with kyungho on the swings, trying to break the family’s record rather than enjoying the sights. the closest he got to nature were runs in the forests and eating sweet slices of watermelon with his brother, grandma, and mother as their father was away in the courts. as an adult, seol taejoon could see what his parents meant as he sipped crude, but strong, liquor alone at the estate’s pavilion that overlooked the same views that his parents used to enjoy nights together, long after tucking in their twins.

it was in this spot, taejoon wondered about what his father and mother talked about. during their late nights together, would they had realized that the beautiful world they created together would be gone in a matter of no time? that one day they would need to prepare for their devastation? however, with his own wondering, he knew that the answer to his questions was unfortunately, no. they were young and in love, enamored with each other and their family that seemed to come out of a fantasy. they had no reason to prepare for the worst, ignorant and blind of the world’s dangers.

that was their downfall, something that taejoon would never fall to. he knew to expect and prepare for the worst, but never hope for the best. that last part was silly, nearly foolish to have such expectations. he was failed at every turn, dreaming seemed almost nonexistent.

yet, he had one dream.

he dreamed of a day where he finally finished reached his goals, exacting revenge on everyone that wronged him and his family of their happiness. the same people that robbed the goo twin’s innocence, forcing them to mature in a nearly impossible pace that would ruin most, and one that transformed goo kyungjoon into the monster seol taejoon was today.

when all was said and done, seol taejoon dreamed that he could one day shed his mask and be goo kyungjoon once again. as kyungjoon, he could move back into goo changwon estate that was under duke seol’s hands. there, he would live the rest of his days in peace with his paternal grandma, his twin brother, and his mother. the family would eat every meal together, just like every other family told in fairytales. the food would be from the goo farmlands, prepared carefully by kyungjoon himself, made with love for those he cared for most.

he would spend days with his mother and and grandmother. on better days, he and his mother could stroll in the town, where he would buy her whatever accessories her heart desired. they would watch the travelling circus in the square, like the times when his father used to carry him on his shoulders during these performances. on warmer days, they would sit under the trees and read, albeit kyungjoon would be a tidbit slower than his mother and grandmother. sometimes he and kyungho would spar, but it would be to maintain their skill, sometimes in jest and maybe to entertain the town’s children. from time to time, him and his mother would walk along the beach and collect seashells before grabbing fresh octopus for a hearty stew. to end off the night, he would tell his mother goodnight and thank her once again for being his mother.

yet, he knew better than to dream of seol jukyung returning back to her senses and realizing that her two boys were back. while she could never recognize seol juhwan and seol taejoon as her twins, goo kyungho and goo kyungjoon, her youngest boy was content just from being by her side.

that was all he dreamed of, living with his family in peace. not as the seol clan, but as the goo family.

[ Summer, late June, night - Shortly after leaving the side of a lord she held dear ]

Again...
Not again...

The night had always been here sanctum. Her corner of the world to hide in. But yet again she had bared her heart before the Moon and felt its silver spear pierce the broken remnants of her heart’s last foolish point of naïveté. To think she had fallen for its splendid facade and gentle kisses once, only to face the other side of the Moon and falling back down as she had so many many years ago.

To think she was no less naive now than she had been when she was a teen, innocently hiding her forbidden crush on the man set to marry her sister. How she had grown up to despise him for truths that turned out to be lies. From loss to loss, Sunmi had kept falling for every single little sign there was to be found. She had been so hopeful.

And yet the line between naïveté and hopefulness is almost invisible.

She had fallen for tricks once. Let herself get dragged along by a river of curiosity and lust, finding it jettisoning her out into a pool of warmth and love. Sunmi had let beautiful words and small gestures sway her heart to believe after just one meeting, only to have it tossed aside like a spoiled fruit. She had been a flower once, meticulously cared for despite the grafts in her stem. Then the truth had been revealed and her petals had shrivelled along with her heart.

In the middle of it all she had reignited hope again.
A single promise whos reminder came in the way of flowers. A sign to not let go of the hope. To let herself again be pulled away by the rushing rapids of hope and longing. But this time it was not he who had played the tricks on her.

It had been herself.

Of course he could never have seen her as anything else. He had gotten to know her as the sister-in-law-to-be. And ever since he had been protective of her, even in the face of her anger and her longings. He had been there for her to lift her up. And those actions Sunmi had foolishly attributed more meaning. Feelings behind statements that only she felt. At her most pathetic moments she had let the hopefulness pass the threshold of naïveté, and she had not looked back.

Not until now.
Her tears had been flowing before she had even reached her home. The telltale cold kiss of the wind against the wet trails said as much. But at some point they had stopped, as pieces slowly had begun aligning in her head. Like bricks to build a foundation, they had come together to reveal the real truth to her: She was as weak to the pull of the Moon as the tides.

The pieces off her hanbok slipped off of her skin meticulously in an almost ritualistic trance. One piece after the other, she placed them out gently on the floor next to her bed. Her gaze landed on her scars as she smoothened out the fabric of her chima. In the pale light from the windows they looked paler than usual, white bands wrapping around both of her wrists and digging into her skin. Was she truly as strong as he had said when he kissed those scars? Was she truly beautiful with them marring her flesh or had that too been a lie she had so easily fallen for?

Sunmi’s hands trembled as they held the fabric of her quilt tightly, drawing it over her body as her head landed upon her wooden pillow. Its cool touch felt like a hand carressing her cheek, and momentarily the image of both brothers had flashed through her mind.

She could only hope her curled up state and the quilt’s bundled fabric pressed to was enough not to wake the others in the house as she cried. Horrid, painful sobs of feelings she had not fully let set in until now. Each anguished cry had her whole body shaking, tears pooling on the polished surface of her pillow until the world itself faded with her exhaustion, letting a restless, dreamless sleep grab hold of her.

Not again...
Not ever again…

【 autumn, 1868 — shortly after im seohyang’s departure from the military academy.



kim hyunjun was no stranger to goodbyes.

one may see it as a curse, a thorn to his side. what kind of person would be unfortunate enough to witness his loved ones depart from him, leaving him alone to weather the wiles of the world he’s forced to wake up to every single day?

yet, as his eyes are fixed unto seohyang’s retreating figure at a distance, it seemed to him that there was no true ending to anyone’s story — only new beginnings, new chapters to a biography he’s never wanted to close. and, seohyang was one of them, a story.

his.

he really wanted to see their end through.

but why was she special, he thought? what set her apart from all the people who have left him standing so still in the bleakness of his existence?

what of his mother who had left his side while he slept? she had been gone but hyunjun had not been brave enough to actively seek her out?

what of byungjun — gone for a decade but had not been missed?

what of his previous lovers whom he shared nights and aspirations with? what of their memories, ones that were gone with the wind as soon as they left him broken and still longing?

what made her — im seohyang — so special that even the dagger she’s rely weighed heavily in his hand with a purpose, a reminder that she will always be near?

perhaps, the boring ache in his chest would provide an answer, and as hyunjun raised a hand to fist at the dopo lying directly above his heart, his memories of her from months prior came rushing through like waves.

it was, then, that hyunjun began to believe in destiny and fate, and how the gods must have spun their tale so intricately until their very lives wove around each other. for hyunjun understood when someone was merely holding back — he may be weak in thinking but he was not blind. there was wanting in her eyes, one that fought against the words that left her lips. the jungin man saw it as a glimmer of hope, a message from above.

maybe, she did love him too.

who was he to defy that, then? who was he to disregard the heavenly principles when all of the things that had happened to him thus, far led him to her?

“what will it take for you to see that i belong to you?” hyunjun whispered softly, wishing for the wind to carry his queries through and to her.

with a shaky exhale, the man left the tree where he once stood, his steps heavy with resignation and perhaps, newfound determination.

after all, he was no stranger to goodbyes, to stories ending but this one — this one is a chapter that will never end.

< part two >

Footsteps could be heard from outside their chambers, the Duchess immediately wiped away her tears in a hurry before they stained her beguiling face. The quicken steps came closer and just when Seulyu stood from her vanity’s stool she was met with a face she knew all too well. Standing in the doorway to their bedroom was Jiwoon, her distant husband, and shyly hidden behind his legs was a small child.

“Jiwoon…” The name of her dearly beloved rolled off the tip of her tongue softly, she was astounded by the sight of him with a child. A panicked storm started to form in the pits of her stomach as she could almost guess who the young boy was.

“Is he…” Seulyu was at a loss for words, “he’s hers isn’t he?” Fearing the hunch in her heart the woman was sure her assumption proved correct.

She watches as Jiwoon turns to speak to the young child and then had a maid take the boy away nearly just as quickly. The Duke left no more room for questioning the mysterious boy he had brought with him.

Once the child had left with the maid he had been assisted to, Jiwoon his heel to face his baffled wife. The expression Seulyu wore on her face was enough for Jiwoon to grasp to understand her perplexed emotions to this sudden approach of his.

The Duke took careful steps towards his Duchess, “I believe there is no room for explaining the purpose of that child since you already know about his mother.” Jiwoon started to speak in a coldly manner, he left no crumbs behind his stern declaration. He had no shame in the world, and he cared little about how Seulyu may feel in this predicament he himself put them both into.

“I see,” Seulyu responded, “so he is the bastard you created with that mistress of yours during your endeavors in the time of the war.” The matter at hand had been confirmed to its truth and Seulyu could only laugh at the thought of this current situation between Jiwoon and herself. Fact is, he had impregnated the very woman he yearned for in the years they’ve spent apart, and even now in the midst of his failed marriage with Seulyu. Though she had suspected this a long time ago and even made an attempt to prepare herself for this very moment, it still shattered her to the core to learn about the truth in her husband’s heart.

“At least you won’t have to worry about bearing me a child, Seo Seulyu, for I have absolutely no intentions on giving you one to begin with.” Jiwoon continued with his ruthlessness, he now stands before his arranged wife with zero ounce of care for the tears that were streaming down her lovely visage.

“Indeed,” Seulyu nodded to his bold statement, “what made you believe I actually wanted to even give you children to begin with, anyway? Be it whether you blessed me with your seeds or not, I do not want to bear your offspring. You are not worthy of a child from me, Oh Jiwoon, remember that in the future when your bastard’s truth unravels.” The Duchess was beyond angry with her Duke, the only thing left was to ensure he felt the same pain she did.

“Tell me, Jiwoon,” Seulyu closes in on the distance between the pair, an unreadable gaze bores into Jiwoon’s own, “how long do you actually think you can keep your brat a secret? You must have brought him here in hopes that he’d carry on your family’s legacy, yes?”

“What’s your point, Seo Seulyu?” Jiwoon retorted, answering her questions with a question of his own. He knew his wife was no ordinary woman, and no matter how much he despised their relationship, she was once his dear friend. He knew her capabilities and was almost worried she’d try something just to spite him for making her live such a miserable life after marriage.

“My point is merely irrelevant to this conversation Jiwoon, in fact, shouldn’t you be trying to come up with an explanation to why you’ve suddenly showed up with a child that doesn’t belong to us?” Seulyu was playing with fire at this point and she intended to walk through it, there was no turning back. Jiwoon’s gaze wavered slightly before his wife’s words and it only meant they had hit him a little too close to home. Jiwoon knew he couldn’t allow Seulyu to make him nervous.

“All you need to know is that my ‘bastard’ child is none of your concern. He is an Oh no matter who birthed him, because he has my blood running through his very veins. I will only tell you this once, Seo Seulyu, do not come for my child, he is the only piece left of Sera to me and I intend to protect him no matter the cost. Bewarn, I will not repeat myself twice, my dear.” Jiwoon felt a pang in his chest as he voiced his pronouncement to his Duchess. Seulyul’s empty gaze that once lit up the entire world now appeared lifeless. She was no longer the girl he used to know, and although he blamed himself completely for the way their lives came to be, somehow, somewhere, he often tried to find the girl who kissed him underneath the sun, surrounded in a field of lavenders as the warm spring breeze embraces them in that very moment.

Jiwoon carefully reaches up his gloved hand to touch Seulyu, but his hand stopped midair as Seulyu took a step back to avoid his cold, touch. She was in no mood for his games and the fact that he brought home a child that wasn’t hers was the final straw to nearly wrecking her to pieces. The Duchess could no longer continue to glue the pieces of her together anymore, if she were to let him simply touch her, she was afraid she’ll break into a million pieces.

“In the end, there were three of us in this marriage,” Seulyu divulgence, “you will always choose her. Even now when she is no longer here, you still chose her. I wonder Oh Jiwoon, was my love for you never enough?”

“What do you know about love, Seulyu?” Jiwoon retorted once more, answering her questions once again with one of his own.

“I know I love you so much, that it broke my heart to see you love another. I can only blame myself though, I shouldn’t have pushed my affections onto you, Jiwoon. Maybe if things were to happen differently and I allowed myself to let you go from the start, we both would have been happier in the days we could now never live to see.”

The Duchess wore a defeated smile in the presence of the man she had come to love so deeply, “Because I love you, I will shelter your secret of this child of yours. But my Duke take my warning, if his birthright were to ever be questioned one day, it is you who failed in the end and then, I will take my heart back.” Seulyu made sure she had the last word in their heated discussion. Being the one to step away from him first would be Seulyu’s first step to freeing herself from the one-sided misery she’s spent all these years wasting on a man who did not deserve it.