⁝ cha estate.

@✿ cha seonhye (née chae) [h] Kiwoon sat in his study, his mind consumed by worry and dread. The events of the past hours had unfolded like a nightmare, each moment more frightening than the last. He couldn't shake the feeling of helplessness that gnawed at his insides, the overwhelming fear that he might have lost Seonhye and their unborn child if he had been just a moment too late.

His thoughts were interrupted by the sound of the door opening, and he looked up to see the house physician stumbling into the room, a bloodied mess. Behind him stood Handan who ushered the beaten man towards the Duke. The house physician fell immediately to his knees, begging for mercy with a hoarse and weakened voice.

“My lordship,” the man’s voice trembled and grieved, “plus my lordship, I have dedicated generations working for your esteemed family. Please have mercy on me!”

However, Kiwoon’s expression remained grave as he watched the heedless pleas of the physician with an indifferent and cold gaze. "Tell me everything," Kiwoon demanded, “and we’ll see how much kindness I can grant you.”

The physician’s breath ragged as he struggled to speak. "It was... it was the Dowager," he choked out faintly, his words barely audible despite the stillness of the room. "She... she instructed me to poison the Duchess's tea."

Kiwoon's fists clenched, his nails digging into his palms as he fought to contain his rage. However, the Duke to the House of Three-legged Crow was a man with a foul temper, and his blood immediately ran cold at the revelation, one that he also knew all too well. His stepmother had always been a vile woman who desired to see his downfall, and Kiwoon would not question it if she had conspired with others within his very estate to harm his wife, the one and only person who dared to treat him with sincerity and unconditional kindness, a kindness he did not even deserve.

At the thought that there were people who dared to try and take her away from him, Kiwoon lashed out, raising the ink stone on his desk and sending it flying in the physician’s direction. The stone struck the man’s head, splitting open skin and blood that sent him sprawling to the floor a pained, groaning mess.

"Get him out of my sight," he commanded Handan,”if I ever see a sliver of his shadow, I'll make sure he never sees the light of day again."

As Handan dragged the physician away, a servant burst into the room, her face pale with urgency. "My lord," she gasped, "the Duchess, she's awake."

Those very words felt like salvation, an answered prayer he had been waiting for. Without hesitation, Kiwoon rushed out from the study, his heart pounding in his chest as he raced to the chamber where Seonhye would be awaiting him. He quickly scanned the room, eyes landing on her weakened state as she laid on the futon, her one loyal maid Chunseok by her side. The physician and his assistants from Sejukwon were just about finished, when upon the sight of the Duke, an immediate sense of worry washed over the room as if waiting for his reaction.

However, Kiwoon only lingered by the entrance of the chamber, observing Seonhye from a distance as if afraid his presence would disrupt her healing. His heart pounded with relief, his gaze tracing the delicate curve of her form as she lay on the futon, her face pale and drawn with exhaustion. Every fiber of his being ached to go to her, to gather her in his arms and assure himself that she was truly safe.

But a lingering sense of guilt held him back, a nagging voice in the back of his mind reminding him of the prior night and the harsh words exchanged in the heat of the moment. He feared that she would push him away, that she would be disgusted from his touch, and the thought tore at his soul like a jagged knife. For all his faults and shortcomings, Seonhye had been the one light in his life, but now, faced with the possibility of almost losing her, Kiwoon found himself paralyzed by his own insecurities, unable to bridge the distance between them in that room

As he stood there, wrestling with his inner turmoil, Seonhye's eyes fluttered open, and their gazes locked across the room. In that moment, time seemed to stand still, the weight of their unspoken emotions hanging heavy in the air.

Yet, like a coward, his steps betrayed him. Kiwoon faltered backwards. He couldn't shake the feeling of guilt that gnawed at him, that he had failed to protect her, that within the walls of the estate where she should be safe as his Duchess, she instead had been the target of a vile scheme all because of him—because he was not worthy of love in any form—most importantly, hers.

With one last lingering look at her, Kiwoon turned and left the room, the weight of his own guilt heavy on his shoulders. As he made his way down the corridor, he met with Handan, and only said, “gather up the staff, every single one of them immediately.”

@✿ cha kiwoon [ tw: blood, almost miscarr*age, needles ]

A chill wind began to howl, carrying with it a distant rumble from the thunder. The atmosphere darkened with each and every approaching cloud, painting the skies with dark gray clouds, effectively blotting out the sun’s once warm embrace. An ominous feeling had settled upon the estate as the physicians from Sejukwon hurried in and out of the room, each footstep heavy with every passing moment.
 
“Do you think the duchess and her baby will survive this, my lady?” A hush was shared between her lady-in-waiting and the duchess dowager herself, who started making their way back to their own annex of the Cha estate. “It is enough to get rid of this unwanted heir.” She replied without a single ounce of remorse as she opened the doors to her own living quarters.
 
❁
 
“quick! Bring the needles; we don’t have a choice. RIGHT NOW! ” Even in her subconscious state, Seonhye can feel and hear her bustling surroundings: the hurried footsteps of the many people coming in and out of the room, the hush whispers laced with concern, and the fear that emitted from every single one of them in fear for the worse.
 
Seonhye fights for the want and the need to wake up. Her fingers twitched slightly, but her body felt paralyzed, unable to move even the slightest. It hurts; everything does. She feels as if her insides have been set on fire and each of her bones, crushed. With each passing minute, her breath gets shallower and shallower, and Seonhye feels like she can’t grasp onto anything anymore.
 
“Water, bring another basin of water; we need to stop the bleeding before it’s too late. The duchess’ pulse is slowing down.”
 
“Blood?” Seonhye thinks to herself, and the image of the baby flashes through her mind. her baby, the little life Kiwoon and she have made together. She can’t lose it—not now, not when Kiwoon hasn’t even had a chance to embrace it. Talk to the little bump she has.
 
A single drop of tear falls from the corner of her eyes; she wasn’t sure if it was the pain causing it or the sadness that engulfed her entire being as she slowly fades into an unconscious state once again.
 
“Turn her ladyship onto her side,” the physician instructs before he starts tapping the needles into specific points of her frail body in hopes of a final chance at saving her. The room fell into a heavy silence; each passing minute felt like an eternity as everyone waited in solemn silence. The atmosphere grew tense, with only the sound of everyone’s collective nervous inhalation and exhalation audible in the palpable unease.
 
Moments after the final prick of the needle to her left wrist, it triggers a wave of nausea that violently rouses her sleeping figure, and Seonhye finds herself on her sides, retching into a basin in a desperate attempt to purge the poison in her system. “Duchess Cha!” There’s a collective gasp in the air as the duchess doubles over, both in pain and with little relief.
 
The soothing hands from other female physicians rub her back gently in comfort as her body convulses in shock before they lay her back onto the futon. “my ladyship.” It’s an unfamiliar voice that pulls her out of her sleepy state, and a pair of concerned eyes that greets her. “Are you awake?” The physician continues, at which point she gives a little nod of her head. “Where is Duke Ch—, how is the baby?” Her voice is raspy as her feeble hand reaches up to smooth over the little bump through her hanbok.
 
“We managed to save the baby, my ladyship, but the baby is weak, and you are too.”
 
At his words, Seonhye exhales a shaky breath of relief, tears involuntarily rolling down the corners of her eyes.
 
“Kiwoon, does Kiwoon know...?”
 
❁
 
“Duchess.. Duchess Cha is awake.” Duchess Dowager Cha’s lady-in-waiting hurries into her room, closing the door behind her as she kneels in front of her lady’s table. “My lady, the physicians, they’re.. they’ve managed to save both of them.” The silence is palpable between the pair, with only the loud banging of her fist on the table breaking it that follows soon after.

@✿ cha kihyun His brother’s words cut through the stillness of the room, the weight bore down upon him like a heavy shroud, stifling the air like a poisonous venom that stung his skin. A surge of conflicting emotions sat within him as the accusations cut deep into his bones, slicing through the carefully constructed facade of the loyalty and duty that Kiwoon had spent his entire life being meticulously trained and wired like a puppet to do and act just as he had been expected to. Even when the old man no longer breathed in this household, the hold he had of Kiwoon continued to persist.

For as long as he could remember, the young Duke had been taught to prioritize the family’s name above all else. From a young age, his father had instilled in him the importance of upholding the family's honor and legacy, regardless of the cost, the tears, or who they’d have to step on. It was a burden that Kiwoon had shouldered with blind faith and pride, believing wholeheartedly in his father's conviction. It had become a sacred belief that had shaped every decision he had ever made.

But now, faced with Kihyun's bitter words that painted him a picture of betrayal and hypocrisy, Kiwoon found himself grappling with doubts that he had long suppressed. Had he truly been blinded by his loyalty to their father's ideals? Had he sacrificed the well-being of his own family in the pursuit of an unattainable legacy?

As Kihyun's words echoed in his mind, Kiwoon felt a pang of uncertainty gnawing at his insides. Was he truly betraying his brother by forging ahead by setting up marriage arrangements despite his wishes? Or was he simply fulfilling his duty as the eldest son, following in the footsteps of his father as he had been taught to do since birth?

"Kihyun," he began, his voice betraying a hint of desperation as he sought to rationalize his actions. "Do you not see? Our family's honor is at stake. If we do not uphold our lineage and clan to the highest regard, then what are we? What will become of us?"

His words rang hollow in his own ears, the echoes of his father's teachings reverberating through his mind like a poisonous mantra. "Our family's honor, our legacy, it is all we have left. Without it, we are nothing. And while I may have made mistakes, I have always acted with the best intentions in mind."

Doubts continued to gnaw at the edges of his consciousness, threatening to unravel the carefully woven tapestry of his beliefs. And yet he couldn't bring himself to admit the truth—that perhaps, in his blind devotion to their father's teachings, he had lost sight of what truly mattered after all.

For the first time in his life, Cha Kiwoon found himself questioning everything he had ever known, wondering if perhaps there was more to life than the rigid constraints of duty and obligation. But as he looked into his brother's eyes, he knew that he could not turn back now, no matter the cost.

“But, Kihyun,” his voice held firm, “you may choose to reject this marriage arrangement, but know that it is not only me you are defying. You are defying our father, our ancestors, the very blood that runs through your veins.”

Kiwoon couldn't help but wonder if he was trying to convince his brother—or himself. Deep down, he knew that he was treading a dangerous path, one that threatened to tear their family apart.

“So, I will only ask you this once,” he uttered with a tremor in his voice, the weight of his words heavy with the burden of generations past. "Do you wish to remain with the family, to honor our lineage, or do you seek to abandon everything we stand for?"

@✿ cha seonhye (née chae) The Minister of Personnel was often a domineering figure at the assembly of officials, and despite his young age in comparison to the seasoned cabinet who had held their positions for as many moons as he has seen since the arrival of his birth, Cha Kiwoon was still a figure to not be overlooked. He was not one to withhold his opinions nor influence in the court, a tall tale sign of his elite lineage sprouting generations that coursed through his veins. From the moment he could hold a brush in his palm, he spent disciplined nights in the shadows of a candle, and as if keeping vigil he’d kneel before his astute father who molded and criticized every utterance of a word until Kiwoon knew nothing but perfection.

However, unlike previous days, where the Duke from the House of Three-legged Crow paid utmost attention to the discussions and matters of the assembly, he was left in a state of daze throughout the entirety of the day.

In the veil of every faint light that flicked across his orbs was the image of Seonhye’s silent figure laying on her separate futon. He can still envision the space that resided between them, where it felt as if he could have held her had he only been courageous enough to reach out his arm to grasp her, but that distance remained and followed him all the way to the royal assembly.

Even when he retired to the confines of his office at the ministry, scouring through paperwork and documents, his mind still held the weight of her. She remained like a dream, one that beckoned him to the bittersweet calling of a reverie until he could feel her skin on his hands again, stroking the softness of her hair, wiping at the tears that riddled her eyes, erasing her doubts with the brush of his lips on hers like that summer night ago. But instead, he is woken to the reality of the sun nearing the horizon where half of his day had only been spent in the woes of unspoken words and frail attempts to ease the concerns of their relationship.

Soon, he was to head home, back to that silent chamber where he would count the rise and fall of her chest until they lull him to sleep. But, when he left his office, he was met with a distressing commotion that rattled the halls of the pristine institute.

Kiwoon did not mistake the sight of Chunseok, however, unlike the lady-in-waiting’s usual indifference towards him, her appearance is marked by a frenzied bearing, disheveled hair, and wailing pleads. The lady-in-waiting’s eyes widened upon the sight of him, pushing past the guards until she had fallen right before him on bended knees.

“Duke Cha! We must make haste, please. Lady Seonhye..” she panted. “Duchess Cha, She needs medical help, please…” In a panicky voice, tears started to stream down her cheeks. “Please, the.. ba.. please help her.”

A graveness overcame him. He felt as if the world had spun, twisted and turned, throwing him into immediate fear and urgency. Without a moment to hesitate any longer, Kiwoon’s strides were large as he rushed out of the institution. There was no time to wait for the palanquin handlers, instead he immediately found and mounted Handan’s steed, calling out to his guard with urgency before taking off, “call for a physician from Sejukwon to the estate immediately!”

:::

The estate was shrouded within a depressing atmosphere, and as Kiwoon rushed through these familiar halls, it felt heavier than the day of his father’s abrupt passing. A suffocating stillness seeped from every corner, and with each step he took the emptiness threatened to consume him. Kiwoon's thoughts raced, plagued by the haunting possibility that something dire had happened to Seonhye. What could have befallen her in his absence? Guilt gnawed at him, twisting his insides with every step he took.

Finally, he reached the door to their shared chamber, and without pausing to catch his breath, he pushed it open. The scene that greeted him was enough to hush the entire world. It was as if time had come to a standstill, the world around him fading into insignificance as he grappled with the reality of the situation.

Seonhye lay motionless on the bed, her once vibrant presence now reduced to a fragile shell of her former self. The sight struck Kiwoon like a physical blow, his chest tightening with anguish at the sight of her pale form, a stark difference to her bright and cheerful disposition. For a moment, he stood frozen in place, unable to tear his gaze away from her.

But then, spurred by a desire to reach her, Kiwoon crossed the room in quick steps, his heart pounding with a mix of fear and desperation until he knelt beside her, gently taking her hand in his own as he searched her face for any sign of consciousness.

"Seonhye," he whispered, his voice barely more than a hoarse murmur. "Can you hear me? It's me. Please, my wife, wake up."

Within his palms he could feel the light drumming of her pulse on her wrist, a sign of her courage and resistance to lose any hope against the ailment that had come over her. With trembling hands, he reached out to brush a lock of hair from Seonhye's forehead, his touch gentle and reverent. She felt so fragile beneath his fingertips, so delicate and precious.

"I'm not going anywhere,” he murmured, his voice breaking with emotion. “Please, just hold on a little longer."

Soon, the physician arrived, accompanied by a team of servants who quickly set to work. The physician began his examination, his brow furrowing in concern as he assessed Seonhye's condition. After what felt like an eternity, the physician rose from the bedside, his expression grave as he met the Duke’s eyes.

"Duke Cha," the physician began, his voice heavy with solemnity. “The Duchess is with child."

The revelation hit Kiwoon like a surge of thunderous waves that wished to pull him beneath its threatening current, leaving him momentarily stunned. He had been completely unaware of Seonhye's pregnancy, and the news filled him with a mix of conflicting emotions.

But there was little time to dwell on his shock, for the physician's next words cut through the air like a knife.

"However," the physician continued, his voice solemn, "there is a grave complication. The child's condition is in a fragile state, and irregularities in both the mother and child’s pulse shows indication of possible poisoning."

Kiwoon felt as though the ground had been ripped out from beneath him. It does not take long for him to piece together the puzzle. The days in which Handan had conveyed news of his stepmother’s approaches to Seonhye, the feigned kindness to her daughter-in-law, offerings of tea to gain the other’s trust. Kiwoon had done his best to intrude on his stepmother’s advances towards Seonhye, but…

Of course, their disagreement from the prior night. He had failed Seonhye, failed to ensure that the dowager did not come near her. Though fear clawed at his insides, and every instinct screamed for him to protect Seonhye above all else… but, as for the child…

He had never considered being a father before, but as he quietly observed Seonhye’s frail state, eyes lightly tracing over her abdomen, Kiwoon can only remember the flower birthmark on her pale skin that he once traced over with this thumb. It was only then that he realized that night had led to the small life that was now growing inside of her.

Though he was fearful about the prospects of being a father, Kiwoon only questioned, “can you save them both?” Even his question had surprised himself.

The physician hesitated, his expression pained. "Duke Cha, there might be risks—"

"I don't care about the risks!" Kiwoon interrupted, his voice rising with desperation. "I will not lose either of them."

With finality, the physician adhered, “I will do my best to drain the poison out of the Duchess’s body. I ask for privacy, Duke Cha, if you shall allow this space for my assistants and I to work and save these fragiles souls.”

And so, Kiwoon turned towards all else in the room, voice commanding, “what are you all waiting for? Scam!”

Like bugs, the useless servants of his estate ushered out of the room. Among the masses, his eyes lingered on the familiar figure of his stepmother who carried her stoic expression without an ounce of remorse or fear. Kiwoon’s fist tightened and once ensuring the room had been emptied except for the working physicians, he looked over at Handan, giving a subtle nod of his head before heading into the halls and awaiting the coming news—praying and hoping for a miracle.

@✿ cha kiwoon long before today, cha kihyun was aware of his brother's irreparable state. witnessing the man's aspiration to trail the footsteps of a shallow man like their father was more than enough evidence to know that his mind was ensnared by folly, and skewed non-sense. their lineage was never once honorable. there existed no redemption within the confines of a household that ignited and blazed everything that confined its path, regardless of kinship. it was hypocritical.

every little doctrine his father's lips uttered was full of absurdity. he taught cha kiwoon, and the rest of his children that only family would remain when everything else has passed; and that they would need to protect the family's honor until they breathe their last breath. yet, how could a man who preaches the sanctity of family turn a deaf ear as his own flesh and blood, his son bathed in his own pool of crimson blood?

"i thought you were nurtured with all the ill-suited influences, hence why you've grown to be this way," kihyun couldn't help but scoff. "but as it turns out, you're nothing but a fool." he stood tall as he turned his head to meet his brother's eyes. "legacy? how foolish of you to think there's something that honorable left to protect here."

kihyun sensed the fury simmering within him, and a deranged laugh surged forth along with it. "this family you've endeavored to protect has been nothing but a shallow cage all these years, cha kiwoon!"

taking yet another stride closer toward his elder sibling until their faces were mere inches apart, kihyun's gaze bore into his. the mere realization that the man he once revered has been reduced to such a pitiable human being made his skin crawl. "and what of the unfortunate woman you're throwing into the lion's den?" he jeered, his tone laced with contempt. "this union you're trying to orchestrate for political gain will be reduced to ashes should i choose to inflict harm upon her," he taunts him as he raised his sword, pressing the solid sheath against kiwoon's chest. "or will you shove that under the rug as well, just like the many other things father's people did?"

"upset?" he muttered, a sardonic chuckle escaping his lips. "sacrifices." kihyun continued to murmur under his breath, his words perfectly laden with bitterness. drawing his sword, he violently pressed the blade beneath his own chin, toying at the scar from his childhood trauma. "look at me, kiwoon!" he roared, compelling his older brother to confront the haunting remnants of the nightmare he chose to turn a blind eye to years ago. "you speak of sacrifices when it is me you sacrificed long ago!" the flames of his anger colored his skin a fiery hue. "you've turned a blind eye to us all. not just me, kiwoon. but every single soul you futilely tried to protect."

"you did not just betray me once, cha kiwoon." his voice perfectly reflecting his disappointment and resentment. "you've continued to do so for the whole duration of my lifetime." kihyun steps away, letting the blade of his weapon scratch the wooden floors of his brother's study. "i will not stand for this marriage arrangements, you cannot make me."

[post deleted by owner]

@✿ cha kiwoon { t/w: slight mentions of forced ab*rtion and possible miscar**age }

The silence between the both of them felt extremely stifling; one could only hear the sounds of their shallowed breath that mingled in the confines of their shared room, and a mere minute felt like the longest minute while Seonhye waited for a simple reply from her husband. “o-oh.” Was that nervousness that she sensed in his voice? She dare not think so, not when his words were nothing but knives, each and every one hurting her in the most possible ways, over and over again. It was a silly thought, definitely.

Seonhye waited for him to complete his sentence, his words fading out with what she knew was uncertainty. And Kiwoon, whom she knew, was never uncertain. Was he going to apologize? Was he going to add on? Was he going to say something? She waited a few minute, then two, but the silence baffled her when he did not continue.

In the midst of the mental conversation she held with herself, she felt a sudden stabbing pain, akin to a jab to her lower abdomen, effectively knocking the air out of her lungs—something she was all too familiar with during the early days of her pregnancy, which she thought had long disappeared, but even so, she held back a whimper. With a little shuffle beneath her duvet that she gripped tightly in her palms, she attempted to shift into a more comfortable position in hopes that it would soothe the lingering pain. “y-yes.” With a shaky breath, she managed to reply, her eyes closing as she curled up into a fetus position.

As the night continued on, Seonhye felt her body slowly getting weaker as hours and minutes went by. She felt herself drift in and out of sleep, despite the warmth her blanket was providing. She felt her body trembling; beads of sweat had already formed against her warm face. “Cold,” she mumbled weakly, mustering whatever energy she had to tug on her blanket that barely moved. And every single time Seonhye drifted out of sleep into a sleepy consciousness state, the lingering pain from her lower abdomen traveled to different parts of her body, down to her lower back, her thighs, and her sides, each time welcoming a toe-curling ache.

By morning, Seonhye had succumbed to a fever; her weakened state did not allow her to wake up as she would have normally, despite her conscious mind. Her breath was shallow as she remained in the same position Kiwoon had seen her the night before. As much as she wanted to greet her husband, prepare his breakfast, and tie his norigae for him like she normally would, her body ached all over, and each and every movement of hers took much effort. With each and every symptom she had, Seonhye assumed she had caught something—a cold, maybe—the weather was, after all, turning chillier as the days went by.

By mid-day, was when things took a turn for the worse.

With hurried steps, Chunseok had rushed out of Kiwoon and Seonhye’s rooms, grabbing a servant nearby. “Send for a physician, quick, right now.” She said, in panic, before hurrying to find another servant, “Send a message to Handan; tell Duke Cha to come home, Her ladyship.. Her ladyship is unconscious, She's burning, and she’s not responding much. Make haste.”

The news traveled fast within the estate, with Duchess Dowager Cha’s lady-in-waiting hurrying to the scene at first sight. “Let me in. We need to hurry this tonic to the duchess.” Her words were firm, leaving no room for anyone to refuse as she pushed past the servants by the door.

Spotting a panicked Chunseok with a wet cloth in her hand as she tried to cool her down, she demanded Chunseok help Seonhye’s weakening body sit up. “If she doesn’t drink this, she will get worse. You do not want that, do you?” There was no hint of guilt or remorse as she coerced Chunseok into feeding Seonhye the cup of bitter liquid little by little, which Seonhye’s body rejected each and every time. With half the cup gone, mostly left to spill on her hanbok, the other left with a scowl on her face, "useless." She muttered, leaving Seonhye’s lady-in-waiting confused.

As Chunseok laid Seonhye back down after giving her a gentle wipedown, what she spotted next brought horror to her face. Seonhye’s pristine white chima had been dotted with little splotches of blood.

Chunseok had never sprinted so fast in her life, down the streets of the town and with hurried steps into the palace, making a beeline specifically the direction of the ministry of personnel’s office where Kiwoon was working. “I seek an audience with the minister of personnel; right now, it’s urgent.” She pleaded with the guards before spotting a tall, familiar figure walking out; it was none other than Kiwoon himself. Pushing past the guard, she hurried forward. “Duke Cha! We must make haste, please. Lady Seonhye..” she panted. “Duchess Cha, She needs medical help, please…” In a panicky voice, tears started to stream down her cheeks. “Please, the.. ba.. please help her.”

@✿ cha seonhye (née chae) The air was cold and still as Kiwoon waited for her voice to break the silence. His senses seemed to have heightened, feeling every minute passing by in the darkness of their room. He could hear the faint sound of Seonhye's breathing, could feel the tension emanating from her as she lay beside him.

In the dim light of the room, Kiwoon's eyes searched for any sign of her response, any indication of her thoughts or feelings. His mind raced with recollections of their earlier encounter, the sharpness of his words still fresh in his memory. He regretted the way he had let his anger consume him without considering the impact it would have on Seonhye. He wanted to apologize, to tell her that he didn't mean to hurt her, but the words were stuck in his throat, choked by his own insecurities and fears.

Kiwoon longed to be warm and kind, to show Seonhye the depth of his love and affection, but he struggled to find the right words to express himself. He was still learning what it meant to love someone, still grappling with the complexities of their relationship. He wished for nothing more than to be able to hold her in his arms, to whisper words of love and tenderness into her ear, but he remained paralyzed.

As the silence stretched on, Kiwoon's heart grew heavy with regret. He knew that he needed to find a way to break through the walls that had been erected between them, to bridge the distance that had grown between their hearts. But in that moment, all he could do was wait, his ears straining for the sound of her voice, for any sign that she was willing to let him back in.

Then she finally spoke, a soft murmur, a dazed whisper, but it was enough.

“O-oh,” Kiwoon’s faltering voice soon responded. His back was still facing towards her. “Sleep soon. It has been a long day since we’ve returned from the Ryu Estate wedding—” /where we were kind to each other/ he wished to add, /where we seemed to love each other/ but the words do not come. No. They remain enclosed in his throat, lost in the silent night until slumber takes him into a realm of darkness.

The Duke does not dream, for what are dreams when reality seems to be a nightmare?

Soft sunlight graced the confines of the chamber and he awakened to silence again. He turned over, his gaze falling upon the back of his wife. Her frame seemed small and fragile, the warmth of the morning light casting a gentle glow upon her sleeping form. He wanted nothing more than to reach out to her, to pull her into his arms and whisper words of apology into her ear. Instead, he remained still, his eyes tracing the curve of her spine, the delicate slope of her shoulders. He longed to touch her, to feel the warmth of her skin beneath his fingertips, but he resisted the urge, afraid of intruding upon her space.

With a heavy sigh, Kiwoon reluctantly rose from his futon. For the first time since they have been married in the last two months, he has breakfast on his own. When Handan questions if they should awaken the Duchess to share a meal with him, the Duke waves his guard away. His silence was not a means to keep distance between them, simply, he wanted her to forgive him on her own terms and not to be swayed because of a simple gesture from him.

Once he donned his scarlet robe ready to leave for assembly, Kiwoon lingered by the entrance of his chamber longer than normal. There is nothing but an overwhelming sense of emptiness that consumes him as he gazes upon the closed door that separates him from Seonhye. He knows that their relationship is hanging by a thread, that the rift between them has grown wider the more time passes. But he also knows that he cannot force her to forgive him, cannot demand her love and affection as if they were owed to him.

A lady-in-waiting had been standing nearby, a lone norigae placed on a silver platter. It was a symbol of the House of Three-legged Crow, the Cha emblem striking in a ruby plaque with braided threads of gold and onyx. Every morning, Seonhye would ensure she was the one to clasp the noriage onto his robe. Her delicate finger worked the knots with gentle precision, and Kiwoon had learned to hold his breath when she was near. But this morning, she did not come, and so the noriage remained untouched as if it were only her hands that could hold it.

Kiwoon left for assembly, silence is the answer they both received that unfortunate morning.

@✿ cha kiwoon Leaving Kiwoon’s study, Seonhye returned to their shared room, dimissing Chunseok for the night after she had prepped their room for the night. The duchess sat behind their shared table, her knees pulled up to her chest as she sat in the dark, allowing darkness to consume her entire being.
 
Seonhye spent a fair amount of time staring blankly at their separate futons. If not for their current predicament, she would have laughed at how absurd it was for them, as a married couple, to be sleeping separately, but it was not funny, was it? The thought made her heart feel constricted, as if a certain weight was pressing down on her chest, suffocating her with each and every shallow breath.
 
Tears welled up in her eyes, threatening to spill over once more. With her fingers clutching into her chima, Seonhye inhaled a shaky breath, refusing to allow them to fall.
 
“my lady.” Chunseok’s voice came through their closed doors. “Duchess Dowager has brought you some tea after hearing that you weren’t feeling too well.”
 
While it was not unheard of Duchess Dowager’s tendency to serve seonhye tea (that handan seemed to have intercepted each and every time), it was a little unusual given the late timing.
 
“Bring it in.” Tiredness was evident in her voice as she moved to light the wick of the candle.
 
“I met the duchess dowager’s lady-in-waiting in the kitchen just now, and she said that she was just about to find you. Do you think it was about the argu—” There was a pause in her words, her brows furrowing a little before they smoothed out. “Anyway, she said this will help with calming your nerves down and will help you with a goodnight’s sleep.”
 
“oh.” Her gaze softens at the caring gesture. Undoubtedly, Duchess Dowager Cha had always been so welcoming towards Seonhye, and she couldn’t quite put a finger on why Kiwoon disliked her. If anything, she was definitely more welcoming towards Seonhye than Kiwoon was towards her.
 
The cup of tea brought warmth and comfort to her lonely soul as she finished it, her lips forming a little weak smile as she settled it down on the table. “Please convey my gratitude to her lady, Chunseok-ah. I will be retiring for the night.”
 
sending her lady-in-waiting off, she continued with her usual nightly routine before she was faced with a sudden wave of nausea and mild cramp that caught her off-guard. Thinking the sleep might ease the feeling, she slips beneath the blanket of her futon and, as per usual, turned to face the other side. “Aegi,” she whispers to no one but the little sunflower that resides in her stomach. “Umma’s tired.” With a gentle motion, she gives her belly a rub. It was only when she heard the door to their room open that she halted her movement and pretended to be asleep.
 
There’s a soft rustle that Seonhye assumes is Kiwoon preparing to sleep; despite not sharing a futon, she can feel his presence as he settles on the futon next to hers. However, it doesn’t quell her nervousness; her fingers gently picking at the corner of her goerum. His voice makes her freeze, shoulders visibly tensing. Seonhye wants to ignore him and knows that she should have, but she doesn’t. “Hmm...?" Oh, Buddha, does she want to puke again.

@✿ cha seonhye (neé chae) As Seonhye left his study, Kiwoon could only sink into his seat. He rubbed at his forehead, eyes tightly shut, his expression a painful one that conveyed his regrets and the self-loathing he had for himself.

He had hurt her, and he knew fairly well enough that not talking things through would further expand the divide that existed between them. It has become apparent now to Kiwoon, and he was no blind, senseless fool who was unaware that Seonhye held some kind of affection for him. It all made sense as to why she had agreed to marry him in the first place when he sent out the proposal for the political betrothal, and why she was deeply upset over the matters of their current predicament.

At first he believed she had accepted his proposal out of obligation. From their encounter at the Seollal Gala, where they fled hand in hand from her mother’s entourage into the shadows of the night, to their public meeting at the promenade beneath the summer breeze; Kiwoon thought she had used his proposal as a leverage to finally leave her mother’s control. And that was something he knew all too well about.

When was it, he wondered, when he had begun to notice that her small acts for him was more than just an obligation? That she was not merely acting from sheer duties in which she had been raised to be the perfect daughter, or the perfect wife—but doing so out of her own accord?

From their small interactions that may seem irrelevant in the eyes of others, her every action and word had never been insignificant. In the mornings, before he’d leave for assembly, she would tie a norigae on his robe. And in that brief moment, Kiwoon would regard every miniscule movement of hers from the soft flutter of her eyelashes, her soft breathing, and the way her brows pushed together as she focused on the task at hand as if wanting to ensure it was perfect. Or, how Handan had informed him, during some days where he’d send his ward to accompany the duchess on her endeavors at juk!juk!juk! that Seonhye was quite genial around others.

But, why was it that around him, she was more guarded?

Was it because he gave her no other choice?

“My Lord,” Handan broke his trail of thoughts. The private guard stood at the entrance of the study, a well-practiced habit.

Kiwoon only sighed, “what is it?”

The guard’s steps were light, pacing with large, cautious strides until he stood in front of the other’s desk. In his hand was the durumagi that had been cradled in the arms of Seonhye earlier. Handan placed it down gently as if it were a delicate treasure.

“The Duchess left this with her maid. I’ve requested to hand it to you personally.”

Kiwoon took a quick glance at the overcoat, and a heaviness encompassed his body once more. It was not that he didn’t appreciate it, just that it was too much to process at the moment. “Keep it safe.”

And so, his guard did as he was told, taking the durumagi and the concealed baby mittens that had been tucked between the layers away.

Silence accompanied him late into the night, and when the moon was high, and he had finished his nightly routine, he retired to his bedroom chamber. As expected, his wife was already in the room, laying on her separate futon with her back turned towards him. It’s a familiar sight, one that Kiwoon had come to expect and accept. So, he does not question her. He simply slides into his own futon beside hers as their backs face one another.

The candlelight flickers, drawing their frames on the walls as if they were one entity. As Kiwoon’s gaze traced the shadow, it looked as if he was holding her in his arms, a contrast to the small distance and quietude between them. But even so, he wished that he could have been better to her on this day due to her efforts in trying to surprise him with the gift even if things didn’t work out that way.

With a faint breath, he dared to utter in the stillness, “have you fallen asleep already?”

@✿ cha kiwoon In that fleeting moment as he mentioned her name, Seonhye allowed herself to believe that words of reassurance and comfort would soon follow. She allowed herself to believe that while they weren’t wed out of affection for one another, he still held some sort of feeling for her, something that she couldn’t quite describe or put a finger to. Yet again, the words that he spoke only brought a pang of disappointment that she couldn’t hide.

Unaware of his intentions, Seonhye watched as he took a step closer, not to hold her in her arms, not to tell her that he had moved on, but to place that treasured piece of paper back to where it truly belonged—away from prying eyes, deep in his heart, where no one would ever find out. But whatever his intentions were, she knew there was no place for her, just like the present she painstakingly crafted for him, which she held in her arms, unbothered and unacknowledged by him.

As she stood in silence, her gaze never once left the floor as he continued to speak of each and every word and sentence that made her feel even smaller than she normally would have been, smaller than the servants they had in the household. Despite being the lady of the house, his duchess, he never failed to constantly remind her that from the day they wed, they were nothing but mere strangers living together in the same household, sharing the same surname.

And once Kiwoon had finished talking, she pried her gaze from the expanse of the floor to look at him. “You’re right, my lord. I apologize for inappropriately trespassing this sacred space of yours. It is my fault, as always.” She paused for a moment, inhaling a deep breath as she ignored the ache in her heart. “I am, after all, nothing but a mere woman with a title you bestowed upon me.” Seonhye exhaled the words with a shaky breath. “I am just a woman, a wife, unbefitting of even a single ounce of your affection.”

The silence in the room is filled with palpable tension after she halted; her ears are ringing, and she can feel herself getting dizzy from the overwhelming emotions that flooded every single inch of her being. Her sniffles and tears have long stopped, but as Seonhye finally came to terms that she might never be loved by him and that she would be resigned to a fate of perpetual yearning, forever chasing after a love that will remain just out of reach, she released a bitter laughter as she turned away to walk in the direction of his door, stopping just by it with her back facing him. “Isn’t it funny, Lord Cha?" Her words are distant, cold, and empty as she addressed him. “That I am still in love with you? that my heart still yearns for you till this very moment? Even if I have to beg you to spare me just one glance?" Disappointment dripped from the words as they left her lips.

With heavy steps, she walked out of his personal study, brushing past Handan and towards her lady-in-waiting, who had already been waiting there. “chunseok.” her voice, weak and tired as she passes the bundle in her hand, “My lady, isn’t this lord ki—“ Chunseok takes the durumagi from her, eyes filled with confusion, only for Seonhye to cut her off, each word void of any emotions. “You may do as you fit with this; let’s go back.”

@✿ cha seonhye (neé chae) The tension in the room was suffocating as the late autumn breeze pushed against the estate. It felt as if he had been holding his breath, listening as Seonhye spoke word after word. They were an onslaught of uncertainties and questions, most of which Kiwoon had answers for but his reasoning sat on his heavy tongue unutterably, enclosed by his tightened jaw like a bolted gate, or a forgotten password that needed verification before he was allowed to open his mouth and explain himself.

Watching silently as his lawful wife broke into tears, her voice a trembling sob that echoed like the murmurs of ghosts that resided within the walls, was unbearable and upsetting. Kiwoon could not prompt himself to move an inch despite wanting to more than anything else. He wished to drop the parchment in his hand and leave it forgotten on the floor in the same manner he had forgotten about it for many months now. He wished to reach for her small body and fit her closely in his arms once again like that late summer night where they spun a dance of wine between their lips and he had tasted every inch of her to the core of his memory.

How could he explain to her that he had counted every breath of hers in the middle of the night? That when she slumbers like a peaceful kitten on their separate futons, he struggles against the urge to envision them nestled beneath the same quilt with her bare skin a burning flame on his? That the very curve of her exposed neck beckons him in the early break of morning, mocking and tempting him for a feathery touch? That everytime he spoke her name, he is reminded of their intimate encounter, where he drew invisible lines on her flesh; where he had traced her hidden birthmark with the pad of his thumb as he held her waist and sung her name in verses.

He can still recall the faint, faded flower on her skin, a reminder of the sun—a reminder of her bright disposition, the light that had invaded his home the moment she became his wife. But Kiwoon was never good with words, nor was he good with love. How can he be when his entire life was filled with the misfortune of being unloved?

It was only natural for Kiwoon to feel unworthy of Seonhye’s sincere and pure feelings for him. He may not understand yet whether the cluttered thoughts of her in his head would explain if it meant love for her or pity for himself. It was a fine line to marry someone out of affection and another to take in a wife out of obligation. For Kiwoon, their marriage started out as a duty, but could he truly love her with all the broken parts of himself? The broken parts that could hurt her as well?

And so, he took a step back.

“Seonhye,” his tone was sharp and distant, “do not mention Lady Kwon again.” It is not because he still harbored feelings for the madame, but because the former sentiments have been cleaned up and put away before the day he married Seonhye and before the night he had laid with her. Those old feelings no longer mattered; Byeol was no longer part of this picture, and mentioning her would only continue to cause wounds to their mending marriage and blurred standings.

With a deep breath, he worked the nerve to calm himself. His steps were faint as he navigated closer to Seonhye. He lingered his gaze on her teary expression, a gloomy appearance that was rare to imagine she’d be capable of due to her usual pleasant countenance. He wished to lift his meager hands and clear away her tears, but could not will himself to touch her, afraid that doing so would only cause her to cry even more. So, he gently placed the parchment in his hand back into the drawer she had retrieved it from. It was not done so with any intent to hide it, but an unconscious act that even Kiwoon was unaware of, as for him, he was simply just putting it out of sight, out of mind.

“This study is sacred to me, Seonhye. It carries the legacy of my family. It was my father’s room, my grandfather’s room, my great-grandfather’s room, and so on for generations.” Kiwoon lingered his gaze on the bundle in her arms, the durumagi cradled like a treasured gift. He could understand her intent, however, as she was the Duchess to his estate, he also needed to remind her of her position. “You are free to wander wherever you want in this estate. But this room has always been the only exception. Not any of my siblings, the duchess dowager, or even Handan is allowed to step foot in here without my consent.”

Kiwoon lifted his eyes to study her face again. “If you wish for me to glance at you, my wife, then I only offer you this proposition.” He swallowed the strain in the back of his throat, an indication to reconsider the next words that would be spoken from his mouth, but the line between caution and care was much too delicate. “You are my wife by title, Seonhye,” he said, “I expect you to know your place.”

@✿ cha kiwoon Seonhye felt like a deer caught in a red light as he stood in silence. She watched as his stoic face turned into anger, and just as she had predicted, it didn’t take long before Kiwoon strode towards her with big strides. All it took was four steps, she counted, before he was standing tall in front of her, a brush of his hand against her, to sweep that piece of paper off her hold.

“What do you think you’re doing?” His voice laced with anger caused her to flinch slightly, and this time, it was her turn to stand in silence as the other continued each word laced with venom that Seonhye had never thought she would hear from him. As much as she knew how much he did not want to partake in this union, he had always been a man with little words; he was curt, a true gentleman that would never hurt a woman.

Seonhye could barely pry her gaze away from her hands, which once held Kiwoon’s prized possession. The mere words that left her husband's lips were a stark reminder that placed her in her rightful place in this household. “i’m sorry.” There was an evident tremble in her voice as she exhaled a shaky breath. Her gaze moves to the paper clenched tightly in his hand, and she spots what breaks her heart even more, the faint lipstick pressed against the corner of the parchment paper. And it was in that moment that she knew who the sender was.

“You might not believe me, Kiwoon." There was no need for her to put on an act, not behind these closed doors where she knew only Chunseok or Handan might be waiting. “But I was not snooping.” There’s a pause in her words before she starts feeling a sense of physical pain in her chest; she knew it from her heartbreak.

“You wouldn’t be this angry if it were someone else standing in this room on this day, would you?” It was never Seonhye’s personality to argue. For many years, she had been groomed to be a perfect wife, a submissive one at that—one who would never argue nor talk back, one who would be at the beck and call of her husband. Yet, tonight, she finds herself overwhelmed with a myriad of unanswered questions.

“Does it upset you, my lord, that it is me standing in front of you tonight and not her? Does it upset you that it’s me who sleeps by your side every night under the same roof? Does it upset you that I am not Lady Kwon that you love?” Her voice is oddly calm despite the questions thrown at the duke. However, the thought of him answering these questions is enough to make her stomach churn in the worst possible ways, and she feels the urge to throw up because of her morning sickness.

“Then why did you whisper my name that night when you made love to me?” At the mention of their shared night, Seonhye feels a flood of memories wash over her: how he kissed her so tenderly, how his hands caressed each and every one of her curves in the most gentle way possible, and how they shared a moment of pure bliss while they looked into each other's eyes. “Why did you give me that hope of a possible future?” she continued, a hand instinctively moving down to caress her flat tummy where their little sunflower was carefully protected; their little one, Kiwoon, has yet to find out.

Seonhye had always been known to be the sunshine in the household; she radiated warmth and brought joy to the people in and around her estate. Despite the difference between the societal classes in their household, she was selfless when it came to them; there was never a day anyone would have seen Seonhye not smiling. But for the first time in two months since her move-in, she breaks into an uncontrollable sob, tears cascading down her cheeks like a waterfall, each drop carrying a weight of unspoken emotion and grievance all at once.

“If you knew, then you would know the pricks on my fingers I endured over the days to surprise you with a gift for your birthday. If I mattered, even just a little to you, then you would have known it is never character to snoop into your personal stuff or anyone's stuff as a matter of fact…” Seonhye inhaled sharply, catching her bottom lips between her teeth as she tried to stop herself from crying even more. "But you don't know, Kiwoon, you know nothing of me because I don't matter."

As Seonhye finally calmed down from her distress, shoulders slumped as she gave up, she opens to speak once more. “What will it take, Kiwoon?" She mumbled softly, her voice tired, barely above a whisper. “What will it take for you to spare your wife a little glance?”

@✿ cha seonhye (neé chae) The sight of Seonhye in his study gave him pause as he stood frozen by the doorway. His heart was pounding in his chest as he took in the scene, and his discerning gaze quickly noticed as she fumbled with a piece of parchment paper and tried to hastily tuck it back into one of his books. Had it been any other letter, perhaps he may not have reacted the way he did. However, the worn and frayed paper between her fingers once held a significance to him that he would be unable to explain if she were to ever ask him about it.

It was a memento of his past, a time when he had allowed himself to feel something other than duty and obligation, where his naive heart sought solace in the company of a woman who was destined to cast him away. But that letter was once a prized possession in which he believed the very brushstrokes of the writer, though nothing scandalous nor intimate had been written, was a respite from the burden of his existence at the time.

But, sometime ago, he had forgotten about it, not remembering exactly when the letter had seemingly left his consciousness. Kiwoon had tucked it somewhere, and left it to be forgotten by the sand of time. But now, of all days, here it was in the hands of his obliged wife.

Though they have been married for two months now, their marriage was a far cry from being affectionate. Somedays, they walked on eggshells around one another, sat in silence at the dinner table, and slept on separate futons. He had upheld his promise of loyalty to her, that she would be the sole duchess to his estate and he truly had no one or anything else that consumed his mind except the very questions that kept him awake in the middle of the night as he listened to her faint breathing, and he would quietly wonder with tortuous musing if he had yet to understand if he loved her.

This uncertainty should not have been his excuse, but he worried that she would misunderstand the content and his intention. So, Kiwoon only reacted with the only emotion he knew whenever he was put in a tricky situation.

A surge of anger rose within him, fueled by years of loneliness and resentment that lingered beneath his bones. Without thinking, he strode forward and swiped the letter out of her hand, his voice dripping with fury as he questioned her presence in his study. "What do you think you're doing?" he demanded, his voice laced with venom. "This is my private study, Seonhye. You have no right to be here without my permission."

As he stood there, blinded by her unknown intentions, Kiwoon couldn't help but feel that she had violated his trust. Seonhye was his wife, after all, and she didn’t need anyone’s permission to wander the estate to her heart’s content. However, he had trusted too few, always agitated by the thought that everyone was out to get him due to fear and uncertainty that had plagued him for years. He couldn't bear the thought of Seonhye being the same as the others, that she would only try to get close and then dispose of him.

@✿ cha kiwoon “My lady, have you finished Lord Kiwoon’s garment?” Chunseok’s voice was laced with anticipation as she watched Seonhye weave the final stitches delicately through the silk fabric, completing the intricate sunflower motif that had adorned the simple outfit.

With the recent revelation of the news that plagued her mind, Seonhye was afraid that she wasn’t able to finish the durumagi in time for her husband’s birthday, yet as her hands trembled from the sheer fatigue that came along with the hours of not resting to complete it, she snipped the final thread with precision. “Finally.” The duchess breathed a sigh of relief as she dusted the sheer grey and white garment that was finally completed, ridding it of any loose stray threads before packing it.

It was to no surprise when Seonhye found out from the house servant that, despite it being an important day for celebrating the birth of the duke, Kiwoon was never one to hold an extravagant affair; instead, she learned that it was quite the opposite and that he was someone who would rather enjoy the day by himself.

Nonetheless, her being a new addition to the household, she ordered the servants and the kitchen to make him at least the most basic birthday dish of all time, seaweed soup, alongside some other dishes that her family would have prepared during a birthday celebration in hopes that he would one day learn to incorporate it into his lifestyle.

Seonhye had then left the servants to do their work, only returning back in the evening to give a quick look. After all, her nausea would never have allowed her to stay for long or cook for him personally; she was only left with one task for the evening: hiding his present that nestled safely within her arms.

The lady knew from Handan that Kiwoon loved spending his time in the studies, especially on such a day when she knew he needed a moment of respite. And that gave her an idea of where to place her gift so that he would be able to promptly spot it the moment he came back. So there she was, hunching behind the table in his study room, the door to the compartment under his table open, while finding a suitable spot to stash his surprise. “If I shift this, maybe...” she mutters to herself while moving the book aside, only for it to drop onto the ground, a piece of parchment paper falling out of it—all worn out but well preserved—a birthday letter.

But without giving it a second thought, Seonhye placed her present neatly in the compartment. As she knelt silently, for a fleeting moment, Seonhye contemplated placing the baby mitten she had recently sewn on top of it, wondering if it was a good time to surprise him with the news too, and perhaps, just perhaps, Kiwoon would have understood it’s meaning.

However, just as she was about to do so, she heard a soft creak of the door open. In a flash, she hides the small piece of baby clothing within her sleeves before picking up the worn-out parchment paper on the floor. “Kiwoon? You’re back early.” Seonhye greeted him nervously as she scrambled to keep the folded paper back into his book that fell out. “I wasn’t going through your things; this fell out while... while I was just cleaning, and I was just placing it back.”

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@✿ cha seonhye (neé chae) It was close to evening by the time his carriage came to a stop at the front gate of his family estate. Upon exiting his transport, a round of servants came to greet the Duke of the House of Three-legged Crow per their usual routine. Some helped to unload the carriage while Kiwoon stepped out into the cool autumn air adorned in his ministry robe as he returned from his daily endeavors at the royal assembly.

Handan was there to assist him through the gates, as the Duke carried an air of authority that often demanded high regard from those around him. However, within his own estate in recent days, some might say that he had turned over a new leaf. It was almost discernable, as it seemed that Kiwoon had softened in his demeanor, becoming more approachable and attentive to the matters of his household.

Had it been any other day, perhaps he would have been as rigid as usual, however, today was different—it was his birthday. A day not celebrated under the roof of his esteemed home.to reflect on the passing of time and the weight of his responsibilities. But this year, there was another presence in his home: Seonhye, the duchess to his estate, his wife.

“Handan,” Kiwoon called as the two meandered through the opulent halls, “what has the Duchess been up to as of late?”

“My Lord,” Handan spoke softly in reply, “the Duchess usually keeps to herself in the estate. So far, there haven't been any concerns.”

The Duke lightly nodded, content enough at the answer. “Continue to keep an eye on her,” he ordered as he made his way to his office, “I ask for privacy now.”

Handan knew very well of his employer’s routine, where his office was a sacred place where Kiwoon could retreat into quiet contemplation. With a bow of acknowledgment, the guard stepped back, allowing the Duke to proceed unhindered.

As Kiwoon entered his office, he closed the door behind him, shutting out the world beyond. The room was a sanctuary, adorned with bookshelves filled with ancient tomes and artifacts, each holding a story of its own from generations of his ancestors through the present day. It was a place where he could have a moment of respite, close his eyes and let the silence of the room wash over him.

But the moment he turned around to head to his desk, he came to find that he was not alone as there was an unexpected intruder standing in the room. As it turns out, it was none other than Seonhye.

@✿ cha kiwoon The atmosphere was bathed in silence, and the only sound that was shared between both of them was their breath that echoed against the walls of Kiwoon’s room and the gentle sound of the wine as she poured another cup for him.

It was only then that she belatedly realised the endearment that spilled from her lips. ‘My love?’ she thought to herself; it was embarrassing to say the least. While her feelings might have been no surprise to some of them around her, it was safe to say that these feelings she held for him over the years were still unknown to him, and she would not allow herself, of all people, to ruin them.

“I’m sor—” Her voice is soft, almost inaudible, but it breaks the silence between them. Seonhye expects a frown, no less, perhaps disgust? Emotionless? However, it surprises her when she spots his lips form into a small smile from the corner of her eye—one she had never seen before, not in the years of knowing him, and definitely not during the meetings they’ve encountered with each other.

Without meeting his gaze, she focuses back on the wine bottle settled in the hand—not a very good idea considering how warm her hands were and she was probably ruining some good wine. But Seonhye doesn’t look at him. She doesn’t dare to. Instead, she allows him to take the bottle of wine from within her hands. She watches in silence as he pours a glass for her. However, the unexpected brush of his hand as she receives the glass from him sends her heart into a tumultuous frenzy, racing like a wildfire fuelled by the gentlest breeze. Caught off guard by the electrifying touch, she feels a sudden rush of emotions that floods her entire being, and Seonhye believes it might possibly never return to its normal even if she tells her heart to ‘calm down’.

Seonhye hasn’t even had one cup of wine, but she feels a warm blush creeping up her cheeks, painting her pale skin with hues of soft pink and red, and she hopes that the other is too tipsy to actually notice it. At his words, she blindly follows him, her brows furrowing in concern at the tipsy state he was currently in as he raised his cup, watching as droplets trickle down the sides.

As the marchioness looked at him, she couldn’t help but wonder about the myriad of thoughts that went through his mind. Was he drinking because he was sad? Was it because he was angry? Was it to drown out how he was feeling? Perhaps get rid of them? A temporary relief? did he wish she was someone else? Seonhye didn’t know, and perhaps a part of her didn’t want to know, convinced that ignorance was a bliss.His words, however, pulled her out of her own reverie as she flashes him a reassuring smile—a genuine one.

Briefly turning away from him, Seonhye winces as the burning liquid slides down . It was clear to the other how she was not an avid fan of drinking; she probably doesn’t even remember when she last shared such a fine bottle of wine and had been more often known as the worst drinker amongst the friends who much enjoyed such moments of reprieve. It didn’t long, usually only taking her a quick moment after she consumed a cup for the alcohol to kick in.

‘Perhaps this is what it feels like when you’re tipsy’ Her mind whispers to her. ‘Everything feels weird, and everything seems weird.’ However, it’s what follows after that renders Seonhye completely still, the soft thud of her cup finding itself sideways on the table as the Kiwoon tucks stray hair off her face, only to continue tracing her skin ever so gently with his fingertips. Seonhye releases a shaky breath she never knew she was holding back until now, and she wonders if Kiwoon can feel her fluttering pulse beneath his fingertip, each beat a strong thunderous echo.

“kiwo—my lord.” The endearment leaves her lips naturally, her eyes fluttering close as Kiwoon leans to press his lips on her forehead. In that fleeting moment, Seonhye thinks to herself, Maybe they could just work out. Perhaps not now, but someday in the future.

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@✿ chae seonhye A subtle tug pulled on the corner of his mouth, and a soft smile formed on his lips; one he didn’t know he was capable of. Hearing the endearing term slip from her was a title so foreign he had never imagined being called by it ever in his life. Maybe it was the alcohol that clouded his mind, but at the moment, the term felt strangely fitting, almost comforting.

He had lived his entire life with walls built up, solely feeling as if everyone kept him at an arm’s length. His abduction and seeing the enemies that wanted his downfall only strengthened the belief that he was incapable of ever being loved. However, the moment she called him with such endearment on her tongue, Kiwoon couldn’t help but feel as if she was proving him wrong.

Recalling the past days in which he had been found near death and returned to his estate in such a weakened state. But despite his battered wounds, Seonhye remained beside him, tending to his injuries in the darkest hours, her touch a balm to his wounded soul. Although he wished to protest and send her away, there was also a part of him during those long days that had been grateful she did not abandon him. He had known loneliness more than anyone else, been indulged by the whispers of shadows that plagued his mind, and yet she had been there for him when he was most vulnerable.

What is it with her? He wondered as he watched her pour him another glass of wine. Why did she stay? Why did she choose to care for him when she had no obligation to do so?

Slowly, his hand reached for the wine bottle in her hand, and he gladly poured a second glass for her. Then, he set down the bottle and handed her the glass. Their fingers brushed lightly, but a jolt of warmth spread through him. It wasn’t just the alcohol anymore. There was something in the air, one he couldn’t quite wrap his mind around.

Their eyes met in that moment, a comfortable silence enveloped the room as the candlelight casted shadows on the walls. For the first time in a long while, he allowed himself to let go of the weight on his shoulder, all the burdens he had carried finally released him, if only momentarily.

Raising his glass, and with a steady voice despite his tipsy state, he began, “this drink is for you, Lady Chae,” his gaze on hers, “for everything you’ve done, for…” and then he couldn’t help but consider their betrothal and the delicate standing of their future.

Kiwoon wondered what will become of them in the end. The only marriage he ever knew of was his father and stepmother, a union born from necessity. However, he knew that despite all of that, there was no denying that his stepmother’s obsessive love for his father was what drove her to push her non-biological children into a corner. And as Kiwoon stared at Seonhye, he couldn’t help but hope that their future would be different. That their impending marriage, though formed through political alliances, would have mutual respect, understanding, and perhaps…

He paused, his voice softened to a whisper, “and for everything else that lies ahead of us.” His gaze searched hers, searching for any doubt, but all he found was a warmth and sincerely in her eyes, a surprising reassurance.

Their glasses clinked together, the sound echoed out in the quiet room as they both emptied the rich wine in one sip. The taste was sweet on his tongue, and as they lowered their glasses, Kiwoon glanced at Seonhye. Time seemed to stand still, his mind a haze of mixed emotions, and as if he moved without control, his hand gently tucked a strand of hair behind her ear.

His fingers brushed against her cheekbone and traced along to the thin skin behind her ear. Kiwoon marveled at the softness on the tip of his finger. Their eyes remained locked, wordless glances that spoke through that fleeting moment. It was as if she could peer through his soul, unraveling the layers of his guarded heart with just a glance of her eyes. And despite his wounds, he slowly leaned in closer, their breaths mingling in the spaces between them.

He cradled her face in the palm of his hands, and in that moment, a sense of clarity seemed to wash over him. It was strange, as if he was seeing her for the first time. He realized that she was more than just his betrothed; she was going to be his duchess, his wife, the person who would stand by his side. The revelation was daunting, but as he held her within his palms, it did not feel unfamiliar at all.

Within the heavy silence, Kiwoon closed the distance between them, and he dared to place a tender kiss on her forehead, one that he hoped would be a payment for the debts he will owe her in the future.

@✿ cha kiwoon It was still vivid in her memory: the night Chunseok had ran into her room frantically, her hems of her hanbok soiled by the rain and mud that splattered across her pale chima as her feet took her through the wet estate grounds and into Seonhye’s room. “My lady!” extending her hands to shake her lady, who had finally succumbed to slumber.

Many weeks ago, upon receiving Jiah’s letter that very night of Kiwoon’s abduction, Seonhye barely was able to get proper sleep. The first night, despite it being late into the night, she barged into her brother’s room, dressed in her pajamas, tears streaming down her face as she pleaded with her brother to rescue Kiwoon. “We must find him, Orabeoni." anguish, pain, and sadness laced in her voice—it wasn’t because Kiwoon was her future husband, and it wasn’t because she was his future wife; the tears that rolled down her cheeks weren’t of obligation, but the undying love Seonhye harbored for Kiwoon over the years of knowing him. That night, she stayed up with only a candle in her room that accompanied her throughout.

Despite her family dispatching one of their most well-trained swordsmen, each night as Seonhye waited impatiently at the front of their estates, she was only met with disappointment. There was no news of Kiwoon, not a single sighting; it was as if Kiwoon had vanished without a trace, never to be found. The same thing went on for three days, then four, a week, then one and a half weeks, and each night, she was greeted with an “I’m sorry, my lady.” Slowly shattering any hopes of what Seonhye had left within her.

It was the night before marking the second week of his abduction, that Seonhye overheard one of the men telling her brother. “Lord Chae, it’s been two whole weeks; how long are we to continue this aimless search for Duke Cha? We think that he’s dead, and even if he is alive, he could be barely hanging on a thread. We think you should tell Lady Chae about the bad news. I don’t think she would—“ With the door slammed wide open, Seonhye marched in, albeit weakly—her body succumbing to the days of not resting, barely eating, and accumulating worries for her fiancé—and with all the strength she could muster, she raised her voice at them, “You must find him; I do not care by what means, whether he is dead or alive... whether..” and she pauses, feeling extremely lightheaded with each passing minute. “my lady.” Chunseok’s voice is soft beside her ears, and her arm around her waist to assist her. It’s that moment where Seonhye finally gives in, her body falling to the ground as she breaks down in tears at the thought of losing her beloved. “… we have to find him, orabeoni, I beg you. Do not give up hope.” That night, with the aid of the physicians, Seonhye sleeps soundly, not without the visible dried streaks of tears down her face.

“chunseok?” her voice hoarse, it was evident she had been crying in day. With the help of her lady in waiting, Chunseok looks at her with a little smile, tears welling up in her eyes. “They found him; they found Duke Cha, my lady.” These words woke the young lady up almost instantly. They had found Kiwoon; he was alive, he was— “Chunseok, get me a set of fresh clothes and a bowl of water. We have to go to the Cha estates right now. I need to see Kiwoon.”

weeks. weeks, she spent aiding him. The image of Kiwoon all battered up, beaten, bloodied, and bruised still fresh in her head, even to this very day. She remembered her body trembling at the sight. afraid that even as she held his hand, even when she placed gentle kisses on his bruised hand that he would break any given moment. Seonhye refused to sleep, afraid that he might be gone the next morning and that while she slept, heaven would take him away from her. “Seonhye.” It was his brother’s voice that pulled her out of her reverie, his tone firm yet filled with worry as he watched her get thinner day by day. That night, she spent a maximum of three hours sleeping in the guest bedroom of the Cha estate before returning to his side.

“He is awake," was the news she had finally been waiting for.

Tonight, she continued the routine she had been doing over the weeks in silence, her hands skillfully working on the remnants of his wound. Despite the others’s resistance, Seonhye was adamant about it; the thought of almost losing Kiwoon plagued her nights, and it was the one thing she had refused to give in to despite the duke’s displeasure.

“all done.” The marchioness exhaled softly as she traced the bandage gently with her fingertips, making sure it was properly in place. The air that hung between them was infused with the scent of alcohol, and it had been her first time witnessing him in such a state—a drunken state, which amused her slightly. “I will take my le—“ she attempted to announce while retracting her hand, only for the warmth of his hand to envelope around hers, stunning the young lady in return.

“my lord.” Uncertainty laced her voice as she looked at him, yet the idea of pulling her hands away from his hold never crossed her mind. “y-yes, my love.” The endearment slipped from between Seonhye’s lips; however, she paid no mindless attention to it as she poured him another glass of wine.

@✿ chae seonhye Kiwoon slouched against the cushions of his chair as dim candlelight casted shadows across his private chamber. He had drunk himself to numbness which is unlike the Duke to the House of Three-legged Crow. His tolerance for alcohol had always been low as he was not one to find reprieve in such past times. But now, the scent of alcohol floated heavily in the air along with the numerous bottles that were drained and forgotten as they scattered about the room.

His head throbbed with each beat of his heart, a relentless reminder of the night's excesses as he struggled to make sense of the world spinning around him. But amidst the haze of intoxication, one thing remained clear: the gentle touch of Seonhye's hands as she tended to his wounds. His vision drifted as he tried to focus on her blurry figure.

He watched her through half-lidded eyes, her movements slow and deliberate as she cleaned the bruises that tainted his skin. Her touch was gentle, almost tender, and despite the fog of alcohol clouding his mind, Kiwoon couldn't help but feel a sense of appreciation towards her.

Seonhye had been by his side since the moment he was rescued from his captors. He struggled to recover from the ordeal for many days, but she tended to him with a gentle kindness and unwavering patience. He doesn’t know if her actions were due to her genuinity or if it was obligation due to their betrothal. From their last encounter at the promenade, he felt the large divide between the two of them, and at one point thought that it would remain as such.

But at this moment, he doesn’t know if it’s the alcohol or the concern he could see in her eyes that makes him feel this way. And though he had never considered feeling any sort of affection for her, as he looked at her now with her face illuminated by the candlelight, Kiwoon couldn't deny the flicker of something within him. It was a feeling he couldn't quite name, a warmth that spread through him despite the chill of the night air.

Yet, that feeling was quite daunting and even the alcohol couldn’t numb him from it. as he looked at her now, he couldn't help but wonder if there was more to their relationship than he had initially thought. Had he been blind to the possibility of something deeper between them? Or was it simply the alcohol playing tricks on his mind?

Slowly, his hand found ways to hers, and he spoke with such straightforwardness that even he did not have time to process the words that fell from his mouth. “Lady Chae, you’ve worked hard. Would you like to have a drink with me tonight?”

@✿ cha kihyun His younger brother’s voice had been laced with bitterness, like a poison brewed within their veins from the day they were born into the Cha lineage. It was like an inescapable calamity, a blood oath payment passed from generation to generation all just for the sake of their selfish honor. But despite the younger one’s fury, Kiwoon remained composed as he met Kihyun's gaze.

"My brother," Kiwoon began, his voice calm and measured like a practiced verse, "every decision I have made is to safeguard our family's legacy."

Ever since the passing of their father, Kiwoon had shouldered the burden of their family’s lineage, navigating the unclean waters of politics and intrigue with a cunning hand and a heedful mind. But rumors of their late father's involvement in the Tamna Massacre had begun to cast a shadow over their family, threatening to tarnish their proudful name. And as the eldest son, it fell to him to protect the honor of their family, to ensure that the possible crimes of their father remained buried.

Although this decision was made on his own accord, it had come at the cost of his broken relationship with his family. Kiwoon knows it all too well to be the villain in their eyes, the betrayer of their hopes and dreams. But he could not falter from his duty. He had made deals with the devils and danced with danger, all to preserve the fragile remnants of a broken dynasty.

With a subtle breath, he continued, “the girl I have chosen for you will be to your liking; if that is what you worry about, then ease your mind. It is necessary that our family secures political allies now more than ever, Kihyun.” he emphasized, “whether you understand it or not.”

Despite his insistence, he knew that Kihyun was hurting, that the wounds of their past ran deep. All his life, all Kiwoon knew was trying to appease their father. He was a puppet that hung on strings from limb to limb, a slave to duty and tradition that had been forcefully fed to him like a doctrine of faith. But beneath that face of duty also laid resentment.

The scars of their upbringing ran deep, etched into Kiwoon's very soul. He had spent a lifetime chasing after his father's approval, seeking validation in the eyes of a man who could never be pleased. And in the end, it had cost him everything. They had been born as if there were thorns on their skin; both not knowing warmth or comfort from those around them, and the ways in which they sought kindness from each other had met with distance in more than one way.

Kiwoon slowly rose from his seat and as he stood before his brother, he could see the same pain reflected in Kihyun's eyes. It was a pain that Kiwoon knew all too well, a pain born of years of neglect and betrayal. But Kiwoon could not afford to dwell on the pain of the past any longer, he could not allow emotions to dictate his judgment at this time of crisis.

“You are upset. You hold years of grievances towards me, I understand.” He paused, allowing his words to sink in before continuing, “but I have made sacrifices, Kihyun. Sacrifices that I pray you all will understand one day.”

@✿ cha kiwoon the walls of the cha estate were merely a husk of a home to cha kihyun. a desolate shell, a cage that denied freedom to its dwellers. at the tender age of ten and two years, he was awakened to the realization that these walls perpetuated his nightmares and that it wasn't a home that he could come back to.

the vivid memories that flooded his mind at night time as he lay on the same heated floor of his chambers were horrific. and yet, even then, in the eyes of the 12-year-old, nothing caused him more horror than the way his father turned his back on him, face tainted with disgust as his own son fought for his life, seated in the pool of his own blood.

kihyun may not have succumbed to death's embrace that night, yet, he emerged from it as if his heart was hollowed from the betrayal. it has struck him to the heart with an invisible sword of abandonment. the memory of the late duke's callous dismissal of his own son's attempted assassination haunted kihyun's every waking moment for years, and it has etched resentment deep within his soul that since that night, kihyun's soul began rotting from the inside.

he was but a mere boy, insatiably yearning for someone to recognize the weight of pain he harbored; if only someone could acknowledge the suffering that he carried on his small shoulders. however, cha kihyun knew all too well that his late father had always blamed him for his mother's tragic passing during childbirth. yet, what truly extinguished the flicker of hope that kihyun held onto desperately was that the only one left, the one person he had chosen to believe in, had chosen to turn a blind eye to his suffering and cast him aside. cha kiwoon, his brother, has consigned his existence to the shadows of oblivion.

who was left for the clueless boy to turn to? kihyun was left to wander the reality on his own devices. and thus, in the present time, he found it rather ironic how people dared to pass judgment upon him, they knew nothing, oblivious to the abuse his young self harbored in the hands of those who were supposed to teach him what love is.

cha kihyun has recently been preoccupied with a lot of things. there were a lot of things one must do to take care of the children from the slums of hanseong. as he tirelessly worked to serve as a beacon of hope for these lost souls, news about his engagement reached his ears through someone else before he could ever had any opinion about it. furious at the sudden agreement that he has no recollection of, he marched towards the cha estate, fueled by anger that made his skin crawl.

his footsteps were thunderous as he hurriedly sought the direction of his brother's study. handan was right by the door, standing guard, stoic as ever unperturbed by the obvious storm that kihyun was brewing within him. kihyun sneers and with a swift motion, he attempts to shove the man by the man aside, his hand gripped on the sheathed blade pushing handan by the chest. and yet, the trusted right-hand man did not budge. scoffing, kihyun hissed, "if you do not wish bloodshed in this godforsaken estate tonight, out of my way, you dog." seemingly realizing that kihyun was not in his right mind at that moment, handan took a step away, and kihyun violently pushed the doors open, the wood groaning in protest as he forced his way inside, marching towards the spineless brother of his that sat calmly in his study as if he has done nothing wrong.

he imagined himself to be unable to hold his words back, and yet, as he stared at his own brother with resentment, kihyun found no words coming up to his mouth.

finally, cha kiwoon seized the moment and addressed him so nonchalantly. it only d the flames of kihyun's burning temper even further. "how shameless can you be to ask me as if you did nothing?" he spat, with so much disdain. "an engagement forged without my consent?" he scoffed, as he took a step, closing the distance between them. setting his sword on the table with a thud, he leaned and gripped the edge of the table until his fists were white. "just who do you think you are to expect obedience from me? for me to follow your whims?"

@✿ cha kihyun Alone in his study, Kiwoon watched the soft glowing flame of candlelight cast shadows on the walls. The shelves, adorned with various scrolls and documents, were kept neatly in order as if they had remained undisturbed for centuries. A soft late night breeze knocked against the window, a mild disturbance to the silence, yet also a welcomed visitor within the confines of his solitary space.

The Duke to the House of Three-legged Crow had been restless, unable to lull himself to sleep as his mind was afflicted by the relentless spirals of intrusive thoughts that were more haunting and disturbing than the last. Since the beginning of the season, the whispered rumors surrounding his late father’s involvement in the Tamna Massacre had largely taken over the majority of his attention. He has sent his men to investigate, finding the perpetrators who dared to spread such vile discussions amongst the ton, and one by one these pests have been chased out of the capital.

However, a shadow still loomed over the Cha estate, slumbering in the darkened corners of Kiwoon’s mind. Despite his efforts to silence the ill tongues of gossipmongers, the seed of doubt had been planted, and the more he sat in the contradictions of these rumors, the more it bloomed into an immoral vine of despair that clouded his judgment.

In order to quell the atrocious situation, Kiwoon had no choice but to arrange himself into a betrothal with a prominent family in hopes of securing an alliance that would solidify the Cha family once and for all. However, this was not enough. To ensure that the same would be for his siblings, he had undergone a daunting task, sending out letters to prestigious families to propose matches for them as well. Kiwoon knew that it would go against their wishes and they may spite him for arranging such matters behind their backs, but he could not afford to waste anymore time.

There was no turning back for him, and for better or for worse, he was going to see through this to the end, no matter the cost.

Then, with the wind came hurried footsteps from the halls, a burst of interruption blew into the quiet space and Kiwoon glanced up to meet the figure of his younger brother, Kihyun, marching towards his desk. The older barely budged, although his jaw tightened at what seemed as a sudden urgency in the other’s steps. Behind his younger brother, Kiwoon noted his personal guard, Handan whom he presumed had failed in attempting to keep the younger one from barging in.

Kiwoon’s gaze flickered to Handan briefly in a silent reprimand and the guard bowed apologetically before retreating from the study, leaving the two brothers alone in the suffocating atmosphere. Soon, the Duke fixed his gaze on his brother. A silent and cold distance had been woven between them through the years, and such personal meetings like this were much rarer than they necessarily needed to be. He could not place a certain event or time as to when this divide between them had started—perhaps, it was unavoidable.

“Is there a reason you’ve come to greet me so late in the night, my brother?” His voice cut through the heavy silence that accompanied them as a frosty detachment lingered on his surface, shrouding his hidden regards. “It must be urgent seeing that you couldn’t wait until morning.”

@✿ cha jiah Kiwoon did not utter a single word. He listened attentively as Jiah’s voice, filled with resentment and tension, echoed through the gardens of the Cha estate. Her disagreement with his earlier statement was not unfamiliar to him, and yet, he continuously absorbed them like a stoic figure in the midst of the emotional storm created by years of estrangement. He allowed her words to wash over him, accepting them without resistance, until she fell silent.

While the weight of her words settles in between them, he does not respond or try to defend himself. The cycle of animosity between the members of the Cha family has plagued their relationships for as long as Kiwoon can remember. Despite his silence, he knows that one day, their unresolved issues will need to be addressed and dealt with if they are to find peace and harmony within their family.

But, perhaps, it is not today.

Today, Kiwoon chooses to let the heavy silence linger, allowing both himself and Jiah the space and time they need to reflect on their emotions. She isn't wrong. Although they may harbor the same sentiments about the strange state of their family and share disdain for the duchess dowager, he is well aware that their wounds may be completely different. Scars have yet to heal in this ruined place with the expectations and burdens of their family name weighing heavily on both of them.

The echo of her footsteps fades as Jiah leaves, leaving Kiwoon alone amidst the whispers of the garden. Even though the perfectly maintained flowers surrounding him appear to offer a sense of calm, the turmoil within his heart remains.

Kiwoon let out a soft sigh, sitting down on the bench as the night air wrapped around him. He contemplates the intricate threads that have woven a tapestry of discord within their family, wondering if, one day, they can unravel the knots and mend everything that has been broken.

The future may hold the promise of reconciliation, but for now, there is only a hushed acknowledgment that healing takes time. Kiwoon looks up at the sky where the stars twinkle in the black expanse. He closes his eyes and, like it always has, the silence accompanies him.

[ fin. ]

@✿ cha kiwoon Jiah's features softened, a subtle blend of surprise and something resembling gratitude touching her expressive eyes. The rosy hue from the cold air now seemed to carry a different undertone, one painted with a flicker of warmth brought on by her brother's unexpected act of concern.

She watched as Kiwoon's stoic demeanor, usually a barrier between them, had momentarily shifted, revealing a side rarely seen. As he applied the cool salve with detached precision, her gaze lingered on his face, tracing the lines that spoke of shared struggles under Cha Seonok's oppressive rule. A silent acknowledgment passed between them, a mutual understanding that transcended their strained relationship. In that moment, the icy distance between them seemed to thaw, if only for a fleeting heartbeat.

However, Jiah's momentary softening, fueled by the unexpected act of concern from Kiwoon, quickly dissipated as a reminder of the past seeped in. The tenderness she felt clashed with the haunting echoes of her disdain for her father, a man she despised with every fiber of her being.

“Do you really think we are that similar, orabeoni?” The flicker of warmth that had briefly touched her eyes now gave way to a guarded gaze, and the rosy color of her face seemed to recede. Kiwoon's actions, though well-intentioned, could not erase the deep-rooted resentment she held for their shared patriarch. In that fleeting moment of vulnerability, the veil lifted, but the scars of her upbringing proved too entrenched to be easily overshadowed.

“We may both feel the same way towards my mother, but you and I are still worlds apart. It has always been that way.” As Kiwoon's words lingered in the air, Jiah's mind involuntarily traced the similarities between him and the man she loathed. The subtle nuances, the echoes of her father in Kiwoon's actions, acted as a stark reminder that despite the tentative bridge they seemed to be building, the chasm between them ran deep.

The jade box, a symbol of potential reconciliation, suddenly felt heavy in her hands. The underlying tension that had briefly loosened its grip now tightened again. Jiah, well-versed in the art of self-preservation, instinctively retreated to the familiar territory of skepticism and resistance.

“The games we play are different.” She met Kiwoon's gaze with a resolute stare, the softness in her expression replaced by a steely resolve. It was a swift return to the defensive stance she had mastered over the years, shielding herself from any hint of vulnerability. The acknowledgment of shared scars and the attempt at connection faded into the backdrop of a strained relationship, as the walls she had meticulously built came crashing back into place. “I can fend for myself.”

Jiah, clutching the jade box containing the salve, turned away from Kiwoon without casting a backward glance. The courtyard, once a brief arena for a delicate dance of reconciliation, now echoed with the footsteps of retreating resolve. The tension that hung in the air, though momentarily disrupted, resumed its place in the unspoken dynamics between the Cha siblings. As she walked away, her silhouette framed by the pristine beauty of the estate, the air seemed to carry the weight of unresolved histories and fractured bonds. The fleeting glimpse of connection evaporated like mist in the morning sun, leaving behind a silent acknowledgment that some wounds, no matter how delicately tended, remain eternally unhealed.

@❃ na soo Kiwoon was paralyzed in a state of confusion as Bimyeong's actions unfolded. Her unexpected touch, the gentle cupping of his cheeks, and the tender kiss on his forehead left him unable to respond. He struggled to process the sudden surge of feelings that came with the unfamiliar warmth that lingered on his skin.

The room fell into silence as Bimyeong spoke. Her words echoed in the air and mixed with the smoke of the incense. It felt like a sacred promise, her vow of keeping an eye on him despite her physical presence, carried a weight that resonated with the trials they had to face. Kiwoon's gaze followed her movements, his eyes searching for answers as she turned away and headed out of the room.

However, he did not stop her nor did he want to question the meaning of her act of the affectionate touch of her lips on his forehead in the midst of her departure. The door closed behind her, leaving Kiwoon alone in the room, grappling with the complexity of emotions he seldom allowed himself to feel.

"Happiness..." he mused, the word danced in his mouth as he contemplated the concept that had eluded him for so long. Bimyeong's words lingered in the air, challenging his beliefs about the broken world they existed in. The truth in her words stirred something within him, reminding him of the unforgiving reality they faced.

The silence of the mourning hall enveloped him like a veil as Bimyeong's act of kindness and the genuine care in her eyes left him questioning his own worthiness of such gestures. His upbringing, marked by a lack of affection and a constant struggle for acceptance, made it difficult for him to comprehend the sudden warmth she had extended to him.

He pondered the words she left behind—a reminder of the responsibility he bore, the weight of the lineage that he had inherited. The burden of expectations, the difficulty of fixing a broken world, all of it pressed heavily on his shoulders. Yet, amidst the turmoil of his thoughts, one realization struck him.

"No..." he whispered to the empty room, a quiet admission, "I didn't deserve it at all..."

Echoes of Bimyeong's departure lingered, leaving behind a conflicted soul searching for his meaning in a world tainted by darkness. But the kindness he had received from her, the care he witnessed in her actions, became a reflection of the compassion he had longed for, but in the end, he felt unworthy of having received any of it.

[ fin. ]

@✿ cha jiah Kiwoon's gaze remained fixed on the rosy color of Jiah's face. He tried to present a facade of indifference to shield against the circumstances that had brought them together in the courtyard. His relationship with Jiah was strained and their interactions were rare with few conversations, and yet the blood they shared was impossible to ignore. Stubborn and cold they both have been all these years, but an undeniable tie ran deep through their veins, a bond that couldn't be easily severed.

Jiah's will and determination remained unwavering even though Cha Seonok tried to bring her spirit down and the young lady's adamant desire to defy her mother's plans resonated with Kiwoon. Although he chose not to reveal the extent of his sympathy to his sister, his lips curled slightly, recognizing that beneath the surface of her delicate appearance, Jiah could easily weather any storm if she chose to.

He walked toward her with measured steps, calmly opening the box containing the salve as he looked at her wound with a detached gaze. "You can spite her all you want," Kiwoon responded, his voice carrying an unspoken burden from the years he endured silently under Cha Seonok's mistreatment. "Go ahead and drive her mad if you wish." His fingertips gently applied the cool salve to his sister's face, a contrast to the distant demeanor displayed.

The Cha children were all aware of the duchess dowager's frequent bitterness and mistreatment of those she resented, and perhaps in this brief moment, Kiwoon sought to extend a gesture of concern to Jiah as a silent acknowledgment of the hardship they endured under her oppressive reign.

With the salve applied, the newly appointed Duke lingered for a moment, his gaze fixed on the aftermath of the poorly executed task he had done in tending to his sister's injury. His eyes, usually sharp and observant, scanned the area where the salve had been applied with a subtle furrow in his brow. A mix of self-reflection and frustration crossed his face as he realized that he had seldom been attended to all these years and the unfamiliarity of tending to someone else had caused him to be somewhat clumsy.

A soft sigh escaped Kiwoon's lips, a sigh laden with the weight of silent struggles and the realization of his own limitations. Then he thought about Jiah's question of marriage in regard to himself. If he had wanted to spite his stepmother, he might have married someone whose family could provide him with support and security in his dukedom. Yet, Kiwoon's answer was simple.

"My reasons go beyond opposing her," he answered, "but you and I are more alike than we care to admit, Jiah." He admitted. "If you wish to resist your mother's mind games, it will take more than just rebelling against her wishes for you to get married," he told her. "As for me," a slight grin formed on his lips, "I refuse to play her game. Nothing enrages her more than not being able to determine your next move." Kiwoon's gaze, usually distant, held a flicker of amusement.

With those words, he placed the jade box containing the salve in her hand, a silent act of peace. "We both carry scars and sometimes healing requires more than just salves." His words suggested his desire to connect with her, to repair the rift that had existed between them for so long. "We may be pawns in her game, but we can still determine our moves."

@✿ cha kiwoon Soo blinked at the older man, he told her that she was no longer in need of service. Does that mean she would not be seeing him? She looked at the man, her face is still stoic but emotions, raging to express what she wanted to say. She looked at him, listening to him as he told her that she deserve to find happiness away from here.

Happiness? Soo had buried that feeling a long time ago when her mother left her from a delusional and abusive father. "Happiness..." She muttered as she saw the other let go of her hand.

"Free...?" He said she is free now. She is not free, not every one of them is free because of the corruption of the world. Her hands slowly went up to his face, gently cupping both of his cheek, Soo looked at him once again. "Wherever I go, there will always be a broken world awaiting for us. There's no such thing as a broken place when the world itself is broken, ruined by the evil of man." She muttered.

"Even if I leave, I will always look back and keep an eye on you." She added, Soo leaned in and kissed Kiwoon's forehead as a sign that she cares for him deeply, subconsciously.

Then she turns away, "Do not forget, he left you to fix his mess. You are the only one who can fix this... orabeonni." And she left, like the wind has swept her presence in an instant.