“Ah....”
Something struck her, and Hwayeong came to a sudden stop.
Sohwa, gathering the brushes and paper to put them back in the drawer, looked up in concern.
“Is anything wrong?”
“...No, it’s nothing.”
Waving it off, Hwayeong gave a few firm nods to herself, as if piecing something together.
Now that she thought about it, they’d always met at night—so no wonder Sinyeong had seemed like he had all the time in the world.
Of course he’d looked idle. They’d always met under the wall between Baekryeon Lodge and the consorts’ quarters, or in the shadows of the annex after dark.
Nights had always felt more generous—with time to talk, to linger, to actually see each other.
Too bad they couldn’t do that anymore.
And with that wistful thought, Hwayeong picked up her pace again.
* * *
The back of her neck prickled.
At first she thought she was imagining things, but the moment she stepped out of the hall she knew—those eyes following her weren’t just in her head.
