⁝ monologues.

彡　ᴅᴇᴄᴇᴍʙᴇʀ 29ᴛʜ, 1869

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

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

sayuri had intended to do that today, again.

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

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

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

"my dearest daughter,

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

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

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

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

ah yes, the source of this frustration.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

what on earth was he thinking about?

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

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

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

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

“hyeongwon —”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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[post deleted by owner]

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"eomonim, mind your words," jiwoong cautioned.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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


“dearest seohyang,

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

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

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

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

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

Areum awoke with tears in her eyes.

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

A deep breath, a sharp inhale.

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

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

A sharp inhale, a shaky breath.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

ʀᴇᴜɴɪᴏɴ.
— 9 december 1869, kim manor.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

{ Severing the Ties }

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

{ 2/2 The Penance of an Assassin }

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[ dated in mid- 1869. ]

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[ a letter to the yu family ]

dear yu family,

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

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

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

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

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

sincerely,
kim minjun

[ 1869 : At the Flower Festival ]

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

yet, he had one dream.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Again...
Not again...

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

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

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

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

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

It had been herself.

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

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

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

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

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

Not again...
Not ever again…

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



kim hyunjun was no stranger to goodbyes.

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

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

his.

he really wanted to see their end through.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

maybe, she did love him too.

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

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

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

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

< part two >

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

<Sometime after the second papers were published>


The moment Yejun came back home after his work to clean himself up before heading out, he could sense the difference in the air around the house. The chill was there whenever lord baek was around. Maybe the other person that could bring the same chill would be his big brother. He tried to make himself unknown as he passed by his father’s study but the moment he heard his name, he knew that he couldn’t avoid this confrontation. it seemed that his father was waiting for him for this particular purpose.
As Yejun entered Lord Baek's study, he could sense an air of tension hanging heavy in the room. The atmosphere was cold and dreadful, and Yejun couldn't help but feel a knot forming in the pit of his stomach as he awaited his father's words. There’s only one fear for him which was Eun’s safety.
"Yejun," Lord Baek began, his voice carrying a steely edge that was supposed to send a shiver down Yejun's spine. “Sit." His father said but Yejun had gotten used to this coldness.
Taking a seat opposite his father, Yejun braced himself for what was to come. He knew that his relationship with Eun had stirred up gossip among the Ton.
Lord Baek's gaze bore into Yejun's, his expression a mixture of disappointment and anger. "Do you have any idea what you've done?" he demanded, his voice low and dangerous. "Your actions have brought disgrace upon our family name."
“What have I done?” Yejun asked. “for as long as I remember, I hadn’t done anything but to your level and Junwoo that I believe is the true disgrace to our family name.”
Lord Baek's hand came down hard across his face. “Fool.”
Yejun held his ground even with the slap. his gaze was hard and stubborn. It’s always like this when it came to his father. A battle in every single meeting they had.
“You seek knowledge and yet you don’t know a thing when it came to the girl you like.”
Lord Baek threw the stack of papers in front of him to his face, giving Yejun another slap to the face but he remained still and just listened, gathering details to give his answer. Little did he know, he would end up with no words to say.
“Did you know that your Seo Eun kissed Duke Moon in the garden? The one with the name Moon Jaehoon to be exact and apparently they have a long history together.” Yejun barely could hear anything else after that. Lord Baek snickered as the older man knew that this time he had won from his rebellious son. “You should do a background check at least.” The words were just background noise to the word ‘kiss’ that rang in his head and where it happened mattered. He couldn’t help but making a comparison to himself. The hesitance that she had when he requested one when they’re on public and never be granted. now, she easily did it with that lord. It broke him and as much as he tried to keep a poker face, he faltered.
This time he had lost. He should have known that he would. His father was a great strategist while he was a romantic. He thought he would stand a chance when it was about his name on the papers. However, his father had read him all to well and attacked him with something that he was completely blind of.
What he hated was the feelings that came with it. It felt like a mockery. A slap that felt much harder than the slaps that he had gotten earlier. And the pain in his chest was so bad that it was much worse than the wounds from the war.
Lord Baek stood from his seat and went to Yejun. He gave Yejun a hard slap to his back. “stop bringing shame to our family, Yejun.” Lord Baek warned.
Yejun stood up from his seat, clearly didn’t want to listen or be in the room any longer. His head hurt just from one simple fact that his father had thrown to him. He wanted to be left alone. He wanted to think. He wanted to numb himself. He didn’t want to feel this disappointment after putting his whole trust to someone.
As Yejun was about to leave, lord Baek dragged him by his collar and tossed him to the ground before a few kicks landed on his stomach. Finally, the older man was venting out his anger on him. Was he surprised by it? No. He let the older man do it instead of fighting it this time. he wanted the pain to numb the much greater pain he was feeling. Even if he wasn’t watching, he could paint the image clearly in his head.
“One more time your name is in the papers with hers. I’ll make sure to kill her in front of you.” Lord Baek spat, his voice dripping with disdain.
Yejun slightly staggered as he got up, patting himself clean. He left without a single retort to his father’s words. Even if he wanted to say something, he couldn’t. He had lost his confidence. As much as he hated to admit it, he started to doubt their love.
He left the house right after. He didn’t even bother to clean or fix himself. All he wanted was something to numb the pain and so he went to seek his old time friend, alcohol.
He was a fool, just like what his father had said. He was a fool to fall for Eun. He should have known when it came to duke moon, he was just nothing. She loved that lord so much and he was no one. He saw firsthand how she was dealing when duke moon was gone. She loved that lord so greatly and now that the latter was back, there was no way she would pick him.
His feet brought him to the nearest tavern. He spiraled down his insecurities. tears finally streamed down his bruised-up face. Alcohol burned his system as he downed it without a stop with the hope of numbing the pain.
For that night, visiting Sook was forgotten as he couldn’t bear to face the fact if he saw her with someone else or that he came to an empty room.

Diary Entry: Mid-Spring, 1869

As spring blooms adorn the landscape with their delicate hues, yet within me, a storm brews. As I sit here in the solitude of my chamber, surrounded by the silence of the night, I cannot help but ponder the cruel irony of fate. Amongst my siblings, I am the lone wanderer, destined to tread the path of solitude while they find solace in the arms of their beloveds.

Why is it, I wonder, that I am fated to walk this path alone? Is it punishment for past transgressions, or simply the cruel whims of fate? My heart aches with a longing so profound, it threatens to consume me whole. How many blind dates must I endure, how many false promises must I entertain, before I find the one who will truly see me for who I am?

But even as I lament my own misfortune, a bitter truth gnaws at the edges of my consciousness. For it was not fate alone that conspired against me, but the hand of one whom I once held dear. My 'one true love,' engaged to another, yet still haunting my thoughts like a specter from the past. His betrayal, a wound that refuses to heal, a scar that mars the fabric of my being.

And so, I find myself questioning the sacrifices I have made, the trials I have endured, all in the name of love. How much more must I give, how much more must I suffer, before I am deemed worthy of happiness? In the depths of my despair, I turn to you, Mother, with a plea that echoes in the chambers of my soul. Is this truly the path you envisioned for my happiness, or am I condemned to wander this lonely road for eternity?

[post deleted by owner]

Part one of two.
　　　⌜late september of 1833。⌟
Sitting in a mannerable position on the seat of her vanity, Seo Seulyu stares at her reflection through the mirror, there was another version of herself looking directly back at her. She wore the same dejected expression on her lovely visage and there was absolutely no sign of emotion behind her sorrowful eyes. She almost looked―dead.

Behind those breathtaking eyes, tells of a memoir from her past, a tale like no other crashing onto the deep sea’s shorelines and like the sea itself, their story remained a mystery with little truths to tell; it all started with a young boy placing a freshly braided flower crown onto the top of his best friend’s head.

　　　a glimpse into the past ⌜may, early spring of 1826。⌟
Lifting her head up to meet his nervous gaze, young Seulyul smiled widely before him, “Thank you, Jiwoon, I love the crown you’ve so effortlessly crafted for me, it is beautiful.” Seulyu kindly gives her compliments to the boy, as she carefully caresses the floral crown made specifically just for her.

Jiwoon’s anxious gaze turns into relief and he then mirror her tender grin, “It was no trouble at all Seulyu, I am delighted to know something as simple as making you a flower crown could so easily please your taste.”

“Indeed,” the young girl nodded in agreement, “I find the aesthetics in simplicity more to my liking than what every other Yangban girl yearns for. My mother always lectures me for my bland sense of taste, but this is me, and there is no one else I would rather be, then me.” Jiwoon’s delicate smile only seems to widen as he listens intently to the young girl’s statement. She had such a determined mindset and her eyes sparkled so beautifully as she spoke about her goals and beliefs. There was something appealing about the way Seulyu open-mindedly spoke about her thoughts, like she was not afraid of anyone hearing it. No matter the person.

“You’re so radiant Seulyu, a girl such as yourself is truly born-to-be fitted for the title of a Duchess someday, whoever your parents grants permission to become your husband, he would only know blissfulness within his marriage with you.” Jiwoon spoke once more, stating about a matter that had yet to cross the young lassie’s mind even once.

Seulyu didn’t respond right away, she knew about her upbringing very well and she knew she’d eventually become a man’s Duchess one day. Blessing his livelihood with her moral support and bearing him heirs to continue his family’s legacies.

However, the mere mention of it only seems to disheartened her. Sensing this, Jiwoon peers into her stone eyes for answers, “Seulyul? Are you alright?” He softly continued, a worrisome chill was beginning to form in the pit of his stomach.

Seulyu quickly nodded as she then reached for Jiwoon’s hand, sending an electric shock through his entire body, were they in the presence of others, the young girl’s actions would have been deemed inappropriate.

“I am fine Jiwoon,” a soft smile crept onto her lovely visage once more, and she tenderly linked their fingers together in a squeeze to reassure Jiwoon of his concerns, “whether I become someone’s Duchess or not, I just truly want to be happy with that person. My nanny used to always tell me stories about how she and her husband fell in love, they had the kind of love that seems to only appear once in a lifetime for a single person.” Seulyu’s gaze wavered slightly in that very moment, she wasn’t sure if it was a wise decision to speak about this kind of thing with someone of the opposite , but she had no real friends other than Jiwoon himself, a friend was the best choice to choose from when it comes down to spilling the values of someone’s true desires to.

Jiwoon could feel his heart racing upon Seulyu’s sudden change of behavior, she looked so vulnerable he almost wanted to consume her completely. And not in the way a person would do so because they felt a spark of romantic interest in them, this was a kind of selfish desire. Like he wanted this moment with Seulyu only to himself and no one else. At only sixteen years old, Jiwoon knew of what it feels like to be attracted to someone and although he did not feel it with his dear friend, he still didn’t wish for her to become another’s possession. Oh Jiwoon was a young boy growing into a young man after all, there eventually comes a time when a man learns about what it is that he wants and what it is that he needs in his life.

“Do you even know what it is like to fall in love, Seulyu?” Jiwoon asked out of curiosity, they’ve come this far with the conversation, he might as well dig deeper.

But, had he known that their fates were going to intertwine in a way that would break Seulyul’s heart into pieces and their genuine friendship engulfed into flames before their eyes, he would have never asked Seulyul about her heart to begin with.

In the midst of that very moment, Seulyu leaned in closely and presses her lips onto Jiwoon’s without warning, it should have been enough to express Seulyul’s sincere feelings through to him, but because he did not feel the same about her, Jiwoon could only grant her this pleasure of temporary ecstasy underneath the sun on a splendid spring day.

　　　past-tense ended ⌜late september of 1833。⌟

A single teardrop drizzles down Seulyu’s rosy cheeks as she reminisce on a happier time with her beloved husband Jiwoon, though the memory in itself meant more to her than him, at the tender age of sixteen, she had truly fooled herself into believing Oh Jiwoon had felt her love and had returned it as well, the fact that he did not pull away from her sudden kiss then led her to assume his affections for her.

In the end, she only played herself.

【 ʏᴇᴀʀ 1869, ᴍɪᴅ-ᴏᴄᴛᴏʙᴇʀ: ᴜɴᴋɴᴏᴡɴ ɪʟʟɴᴇꜱꜱ. 】

Shortly after her marriage to Kiwoon and her move into the Cha Estates, Seonhye found herself enveloped in a fog of unfamiliar sickness.

exhaustion had clung to her like a constant companion. Despite having an ample amount of sleep daily, Seonhye often found herself stealing afternoon and evening naps, even if she hadn’t been doing much in the household. Chunseok had once told her that Kiwoon had come home once only to find her sleeping under the duvets midday but had no intention of waking her up.

Nausea, too, was a stubborn shadow that bewildered Seonhye. More often than not, she found her daily intake of food lessening throughout the day even when she felt hungry, blaming it on the taste that did not fit her tastebuds despite it being cooked in the same method. Yet, even as Chunseok brought her favorite dishes from the Chae household, Seonhye found herself having instances of wanting to retch.

Despite all the uneasiness that was bugging her, Seonhye brushed all the signs off, attributing them to the stress of her recent marriage and the unfamiliar environment that she was currently in.

As the weeks rolled by, her discomfort intensified, and she found herself facing routine occurrences of cramps and then spotting that soon followed, but Seonhye played it off as nothing more than the arrival of her monthly cycle, which was pretty irregular since she was a young lady. Even so, as she curled up beneath the futons in pain, she had never breathed a word to her husband, Kiwoon, after all, it would only be viewed as a nuisance.

On one particular mid-October morning, in the middle of her bi-weekly visit to Juk! Juk! Juk!, a wave of nausea hit Seonhye like a sudden storm in the midst of her preparation for the day’s opening. This time, however, Seonhye found her doubled over in pain in the back gardens of her food shelter, the searing pain from the cramps rendering her helpless. It was a scene that her best friend, Eunjeong, stumbled upon upon her arrival, eyes widening at the sight of Seonhye in distress, concern etched on her face.

Swiftly, Eunjeong, with an arm around Seonhye’s current feeble body, and the help of her lady-in-waiting, Chunseok, brought the lady back to her own family’s physician, the urgency of the situation palpable in the air as they waited for the results.

“Alert Lord Kiwoon about young lady Chae's condition right now— ”Eunjeong urged Chunseok, only to be intercepted by Seonhye’s quiet plea. “Please don’t, Jeong-ah. I will be okay.” She reassures her best friend.

As Seonhye laid between the warmth of the futon, the truth that unfurled before her was not something she expected.

“My lady, you’re pregnant.”

His words sent a ripple of shock and disbelief through her. How did she not see this? How could she be so oblivious to the symptoms? The morning sickness, the fatigue, the aversion to her favourite food, her mood swings, the cramps—all suddenly made sense.

“Do you plan on telling him?” Eunjeong’s voice broke through Seonhye’s reverie, prompting her to move her hands to her flat abdomen, where the little one was safely protected. “No,” Seonhye whispers softly. “He doesn’t need to know, not yet.”

[ 1869, end of September ]

Ever since her stepson, Cha Kiwoon, had gotten married to Chae Seonhye, the Duchess Dowager to the House of Three-legged Crow, Cha Seonok’s anxiety had only grown like poison ivy that clung to the walls of their home. She saw in Seonhye, not just a stepdaughter-in-law or the new Duchess, but a threat to her influence and control over the estate. The marriage could mean a successful alliance to strengthen the Duke’s standing that would leave her in the shadows.

So, Cha Seonok had to change her plans by donning a mask of kindness whenever she approached Seonhye in hopes of gaining the other’s trust in the lonesome home. However, Kiwoon knew of his stepmother’s wickedness, intercepting her from the shadows much to Seonhye’s obliviousness. But Cha Seonok was no fool. She took her time, waiting for the moments when Kiwoon’s duties called him away to assembly, leaving Seonhye vulnerable to her manipulations.

It was during one such absence that the Duchess Dowager’s keen eye noticed the telltale signs of illness plaguing the new Duchess. With a calculating mind, she sought out the house physician, feigning concern for her stepdaughter-in-law’s well-being. The house physician, who held a venomous loyalty to the Duchess Dowager, told Seonhye that she was experiencing signs of stress. However, he revealed in secret to Cha Seonok the truth—the Duchess was with child.

Cha Seonok was met with great annoyance, realizing that Kiwoon had succeeded where she feared the most—an heir was on the way. Unwilling to surrender, she concocted a plan to ensure that the unborn child would never see the light of day. She sought out rare herbs and whispered incantations, crafting a tea that could diminish the life growing within Seonhye’s fragile body.

Now all she had to do was wait for when Kiwoon would let down his defenses so she could have the opportunity to present the poisoned tea to Seonhye.

{ 1/2 The Penance of an Assassin - two days after Kiwoon was saved }

Soo stood before her mentor, her gaze steady despite the weight of their disapproval bearing down upon her. She recounted the events that had transpired with Cha Kiwoon, the decision she had made to release him from his captivity, and the reasons behind her actions.

But her mentor's expression remained impassive, his features etched with disappointment as he listened to her reasoning. When she finished speaking, there was a heavy silence that hung between them, the weight of their conflicting ideals pressing down upon her like a vice.

"You have broken one of the fundamental tenets of our brotherhood," her mentor's voice was cold and unforgiving. "You allowed your personal vendetta to cloud your judgment, to interfere with the mission at hand."

Soo's heart sank at his words, the reality of her actions crashing down upon her like a tidal wave. She had known the consequences of her defiance, but she had never imagined that it would come to this.

"I stand by my decision," she said, her voice steady despite the turmoil raging within her. "Kiwoon is innocent of his father's crimes. He deserves a chance at redemption." She responded to him, "I could not stand by and watch an innocent man suffer unjustly."

But her mentor shook his head, his resolve unyielding. "Your loyalty lies with the brotherhood, not with your own sense of justice," he said. "For this betrayal, you are hereby stripped of your title as an assassin... and sentenced to death."

Soo's world seemed to spin as the weight of his words settled upon her. Death had always been a looming specter in their line of work, but she had never thought that it would come to this.

The mentor commanded her fellow assassins to lead Soo to the prison as she awaits for the day she will be sentenced to death. But Soo refused to accept her fate lying down. As her fellow assassins moved to apprehend her, she fought back with a ferocity born of desperation, incapacitating them with swift and precise strikes before fleeing from their hideout into the darkness of the night.

With each step she took, Soo knew that she was running from more than just her pursuers. She was running from the life she had known, from the brotherhood that had been her family, and from the consequences of her own actions.

But she refused to give up, refused to surrender to the darkness that threatened to consume her. For Soo knew that as long as there was breath left in her body, she would fight for the truth, for justice, and for the chance to redeem herself in the eyes of those she had betrayed.

⟨ set dated after kiwoon's wedding and flower festivals ⟩


the image of the woman that held a place inside his heart appeared in his mind. jiwoong's mind grew dizzy each time her beautiful features grazed his thoughts. she was undeniably beautiful and breathtaking, and jiwoong felt fortunate to have her, but the stupid deals made by his family broke everything apart.

he and the love of his life are now separated.

his so-called fiancée was a pretty nice girl, and jiwoong won't deny that, even though sometimes she can also get out of hand. but on the day of the festival, while strolling through the crowds, his eyes met hers.

cheon sumin.

were his eyes playing a trick on him? he could clearly see a small young boy along with her, not to mention that his features resembled his a lot. he was too stunned to move, and before he could even process, he rushed to find sumin's whereabouts, leaving his fiancée behind.

sweat dripped from his forehead, his heart beating fast as he searched for her. he missed her. he missed her a lot. his pearl – he wanted to hold her in his arms again. there was no trace of her anymore, and jiwoong sighed at his failed attempt. in that moment, he decided that he would find her back, no matter what.

reaching his estate, jiwoong rushed into kiwoon's chamber. "hyungnim, i want to talk with you."

kiwoon sat at his desk, looking through some civil documents when jiwoong entered his office rather unannounced. although the duke was rather peculiar about being disrupted when he was focused on matters of work, he set aside the scrolls and his paintbrush to face his half-brother. "it is late already. have you come to find me over an urgent matter, my brother?"

"help me to break off this engagement. I want to find my lover and bring her here, whether mom likes it or not."

the duke gazed at jiwoong rather indifferently, leaning back into his seat as he questioned, "your lover? do you mean cheon sumin?" kiwoon had clearly remembered the girl that he had paired with at the seollal galla by chance and how he had run into her at his wedding as well. but shock had graced his face when he saw her with a young child-one who looked like the splitting image of jiwoong himself. "and what will you do if you break off your engagement? do you plan to marry the sangmin girl and take in her child?"

jiwoong fell silent at the question before he firmly nodded. "yes, I will take her as my wife, but wait – the child. what do you mean by that, hyungnim?"

kiwoon tilted his head slightly, trying to discern if jiwoong was pretending or truly uncertain. however, he knew it wasn't entirely impossible for the other not to know. "she has a child, a little boy." he added, "who looks like you."

"is that why she's running away from me? when I saw her before?" jiwoong sighed out of frustration. "please hyung , if it's really my child, my own blood, then I need to see them. I want to take responsibility. " admitted him feeling determined. he doesn't even care about his mother anymore. for what? for several years already, she manipulated him to hate on kiwoon, breaking apart their siblings bonds. it's time to halt now. whatever it is, he will confront his mother. "help me hyungnim. break off this engagement for me and sumin. I intend to marry her. "

the duke listened intently to his half-brother. hearing his determined plea, he had no reason to withhold the other from doing what he wanted. it was enough that they've suffered at the hands of their ancestors who sought to ruin them in a cycle of distrust. but kiwoon was certain that it will no longer be carried on their backs any longer. "if that is what you want, jiwoong," he said, "i will write to count seon and annul your engagement to lady yebin. however," he suggested, "if you wish to marry cheon sumin, you must also announce that child is yours. he is of our family's blood after all."

"I will definitely declare the child as mine, hyungnim. I'll do anything and everything to make her my wife. please help me out."
"since you've asked," kiwoon gave a brief nod to his head, "i will help you."

[post deleted by owner]

- filthy. summer, 1862. late at night in the streets of the capital.

The sweltering heat of the day had turned into a stagnant warmth in the night. It clung to the skin, making one always aware of its presence. For those more privileged, they could seek shelter in well constructed buildings that sufficiently shielded them from the worst of the heat and afford the tailors to make garments of lightweight fabric. Miyoung was not one of those individuals. The heat made her feel sluggish, like she was trudging her body through mud. Forgoing a layer of hanbok felt distasteful, and yet, she could not stand the idea of sweating out her clothes, so she untied her jeogori to leave it still covering her arms. And she was on her way home, it would be fine.

As she was passing an area of taverns and teahouses, she heard a commotion from one of the taverns. A man was being dragged out by another and the two were shouting about something. Miyoung glanced for only a moment before deciding to continue on her way home. Rowdy men being kicked out of establishments was a normal occurrence, so it was best to not gawk or draw more attention to them than necessary.

And yet, as she continued walking, she felt as though she was being followed.

Miyoung clenched a fist above her chest and took a deep breath. Whipping her head over her shoulder, she saw the man that was kicked out of the tavern, stumbling clumsily behind her. The lights from the buildings were behind them, but she could make out the details and material of his hanbok - they were very nice. Perhaps a man of higher status. She huffed out in discontent and turned around, picking up her pace.

"Don't think I didn't see you watching me, you coy girl," the man slurred out. This time, she did not turn around, but she could hear his footsteps speeding up to match hers.

In an instant, a million thoughts were running through her mind. She couldn't lead this dangerous stranger back to where she lived, but with each step, they were getting closer to the outskirts of the capital. She knew the roads well enough to hopefully shake him off, so Miyoung took a left turn, weaving through a row of homes. He was not too far behind, gaining on her quickly.

She took a right turn, then a left. Her heart was racing, she could hear the pounding in her ears.

"Help! Someone help me please!"

Before she could take another turn, there was a tight grip on her skirt and a tugging. Miyoung writhed and tried to pry the man's hand off her clothes, but he soon grabbed her arm and turned her to face him. Now, forced to be face to face with her attacker, the smell of alcohol assaulted her senses. She punched the man in the stomach, trying to force him to let go, but he did not budge.

"Don't put up a fight, let's just make this easy," he hissed.

"Get off me! Someone, please help!," she screamed. She threw another punch, this time landing it on the man's jaw, making him release her to clutch his face. In the split second she had available, Miyoung resumed running. But it did not take long for the man to resume the chase. Why was he so relentless? Why did he want her specifically? Her lungs were working overtime, was hoarse from exhaustion coupled with the heat. Would someone come to her aid?

Taking a right turn, she realized she had reached a dead end. Caught in an alleyway between two buildings, Miyoung felt burning hot tears run down her face. He was right behind her and she had no means of escape. Turning around, there he was, lurching towards her step by step. And this time, she spotted a glint of something at his side. It was a knife. Her blood ran cold.

This couldn't be how it ends for her. She was only 20 years old and had so much life ahead of her. How would her father continue on, first losing his wife, and now his daughter? There had to be something around that she could use as a weapon. Her eyes were darting around, searching, scanning, seeking for anything at all. But all she could see was the man getting closer.

She broke down into a sob, looking down at the ground in defeat. This was truly it.

Feeling a tight grip on her hair, Miyoung's head was tugged up to be face to face with the man and she clenched her jaw, trying not to cry out in pain. The glimmer of the knife she noticed from the corner of her eye before the man began to clumsily try and cut through her skirt, starting near her bust. In a final attempt to save herself, she writhed around and used both hands to try and get his hand away from her hair.

"Quit struggling! Would hate to make that dirty skin even dirtier now," he snickered to himself.

As the knife traveled down the length of her body, it tore through the cotton material of her skirt with ease. The hot night air was beginning to smother her newly exposed skin. Finally, Miyoung raised her knee and jammed it against the man's stomach, making him stumble and release her hair. She couldn't breathe a sigh of relief, though, as she felt a sharp pain below her ribcage. Clutching the area and doubling over in pain, she saw the knife on the ground. Blood on the blade. Blood dripping down around it.

As she was preparing herself to make a run for it, another man came into the alleyway. He said very little as he took care of the drunkard, getting rid of him as swiftly as possible. Miyoung was still clutching the wound, trying her hardest to keep herself covered while also forced to use her hanbok to try and catch the blood. The stranger that came to her rescue extended a hand to her and she thankfully bowed her head, allowing him to lead her out the alley and to the nearest clinic.

"Red thread"

[Sometime in August 1869 in the dead of night]

The feel of silk, accidentally brushing fingers with another’s and the warmth and reassurance after falling into someone’s arms. It felt as if these memories were her own and yet she had no recollection of them happening in the past.

“My lord.”

She utters as she tipped her head up to gaze at the man who made her heart beat fast and yet before she could even peer into his visage, his form blurs. As well as the environment around them.

Again.

Riah opens her eyes, fully grasping reality and knowing that what she just experienced mere moments ago were just dreams—strikingly vivid. As if his touches still lingered on her skin, she pulled her covers closer as she took deep breaths. It’s not real. He’s not real.  The marchioness stares at the ceiling, letting her eyes get used to the dimly lit room. It had been quite a while since she’s had such vivid dreams about the same man.

As a realist, these dreams remained a secret to everyone. For fears that they might think she suffered delusions. But she’s long since given up the notion of meeting the man—if he ever existed. The dreams started when she was fifteen years old, back then the boy in her dreams would be studying Confucianist texts and calligraphy as well as learning swordsmanship and nothing of distinct significance. No trace of identity that could make Riah ponder who he might be. And the young countess at the time, dismissed her dreams. Finding the excuse for them being her unconscious desire to break free from such a stifling existence. They had become her escape from her boring routine.

However, one cannot stay young and dreaming forever and as soon as she accepted that fact. The dreams too stopped.

They wouldn’t recur until the year 1868.

In the depths of one of her recurrent dreams, Riah is transported to what appears to be the outskirts of Hanseong, or perhaps a town unfamiliar to her. The scars of war mar the landscape, with charred remnants of dwellings and the acrid scent of destruction lingering in the air.

Seeking refuge from the chaos, she finds herself within a makeshift shelter, its interior illuminated by flickering candlelight. The tang of medicinal herbs fills her senses, mingling with the metallic scent of blood and the ominous sight of scattered weapons strewn haphazardly about the space.

Her gaze is drawn inexorably towards a figure lying prone upon a crude bed, bathed in shadows and agony. The man before her is a portrait of suffering, his body bearing the cruel marks of battle—deep lacerations and seeping wounds that speak of untold pain and hardship.

Though years have passed since she last dreamt of him, Riah recognizes him instantly—a visceral certainty that defies logic or reason. He is no longer the boy of her distant memories, but a man weathered by strife and adversity, his once youthful visage now etched with the harsh realities of life amidst conflict.

As dread and panic tighten their grip around her heart, Riah moves instinctively, compelled by an urgent need to reach out to the wounded man lying before her. With trembling hands outstretched, she takes a hesitant step forward, her desire to offer solace and aid overpowering her fear.

But before she can bridge the distance between them, the scene begins to blur, the man and the war-torn environment melted away like fragments of a fading memory. In an instant, the dream slips through her grasp, leaving her grasping at shadows and echoes of what might have been when she opens her eyes.

Left alone in the quiet darkness of her subconscious, Riah is haunted by the lingering ache of unfulfilled longing and the weight of worry that will keep her restless and awake for hours to come.

At her age, such dreams of a fairytale romance seemed foolish and out of reach. Yet, try as she might to suppress them, her mind refused to heed her wishes, weaving fantasies of a love she could never truly possess.

As drowsiness enveloped her once more, Riah silently pleaded with the night to spare her from these haunting dreams, to grant her respite from the phantom who haunted her thoughts.