On a bright, clear day, even the sun seemed to show no mercy. It beat down relentlessly on the people below, scorching them all the same. Among them sat a young man, grumbling not just about the heat, but perhaps, the heat of his own heart.
"Oooh, it's so hot... Seriously! Don't you think so, Soran?"
A mischievous nobleman, dressed in bright, vivid robes, perched lazily on the edge of a well where Soran was drawing water. He waved a Chinese-style fan to cool himself as he watched her lift a bucket from the well.
Soran glanced at him with a faint smile before returning to her task.
"Don't you?" he insisted, raising the fan to cover his mouth while widening his eyes in mock dramatics, leaning closer to her.
"It is hot," Soran replied, still smiling gently as she scooped water, "But I can handle it. I've done hard labor all my life. Compared to that, kitchen work like this is nothing."
"Oh? Is that so?"
He continued to hide his mouth behind the fan, nodding theatrically as if her words had deeply enlightened him.
"But I thought the kitchen maids weren't letting you work?" he asked with an arched brow.
"I begged them to let me help," Soran answered as she filled the final bucket to the brim. "It took quite a lot of pleading before they agreed."
Upon hearing that, the nobleman curled his lip in disbelief. He couldn't understand her. Why didn't she take the chance to rest like the other servants? Why not sneak off and shirk a little work? He was still pondering this strange girl when he suddenly flinched at the sight of her lifting the full bucket.
"W-Wait! You're finished? You're leaving already?"
He jumped down to stand beside her as she prepared to walk away.
"Yes," she replied. "And you, my lord? Don't you have any duties today? What brings you here to chat with me?"
Her question was sincere, innocent even. But the young nobleman's mind twisted it into something else entirely; he thought she didn't want to speak with him.
"Hah… Fine, fine," he sighed with a mock pout, turning away. "So you don't want to talk to me anymore, is that it?"
Soran couldn't help but giggle softly. She glanced at him, thinking that perhaps, if the person she had to marry were someone like him, it might not be so bad. He wasn't cruel or arrogant like some nobles. But she had no such feelings for him, no romantic stirrings. Still, she smiled.
He caught the sound of her gentle laughter and slowly turned back toward her.
"You are something, you know that? Always teasing me," he said, laughing as he tapped her shoulder lightly with his fan.
"I must go now. I have more work to do," Soran said without hesitation.
"I don't get this household…" he grumbled, fanning himself and glancing up at the sky, then to the trees.
"They say you shouldn't be working, and yet you've got more work to do. So who's the liar here…"
Soran lowered her gaze humbly, gripping the heavy bucket.
"But if you're not supposed to be working, what are you doing here?" he asked suddenly, curiosity overtaking him again. He leaned in toward her with wide, questioning eyes.
Soran met his gaze but said nothing. How could she tell him? That she had come here to be married? What if he turned out to be the groom? And what if he continued acting this way, playful, indifferent, unaware? If she revealed the truth, he'd surely laugh at her. Or worse, walk away without a second thought, believing she had schemed to marry into wealth.
"…You don't know, do you?"
The young nobleman stepped back, closing his Chinese fan with a snap, a puzzled look forming on his face.
"I don't know, sir," Soran quickly replied, swallowing hard with an audible gulp.
"Ah… then go on, take that water to those deceivers," he said, waving his fan dismissively.
Soran bowed her head, glancing back once at the nobleman, who still wore a suspicious expression. She then hastened her steps, bucket in hand. Though she couldn't quite put her finger on it, there was something odd about the nobleman today, his tone, his way of speaking about the people in the house, as though there were deep grudges buried beneath his words. Still, his presence had somehow made her feel… less alone in this vast and unfamiliar household.
After walking for a while, Soran arrived at her destination and moved to pour the water into a large container.
"Hey, Soran!"
A familiar middle-aged woman came rushing toward her, panting heavily.
"Yes?" Soran turned to her, puzzled.
The woman stopped in front of Soran, clearly out of breath, her face twisted with urgency and worry.
"You can't be doing this! Come, quickly!"
Thud!
Before Soran could react, the woman grabbed her by the arm, causing the heavy water bucket to drop and spill across the floor. Soran turned sharply, staring at it in confusion.
"W-What's going on?" she asked.
But the woman didn't answer. Instead, she pulled Soran away without hesitation. Soran couldn't fight back, not out of weakness, but out of confusion and respect. She simply followed.
Eventually, they arrived at a small, beautifully decorated building. Soran looked around, wide-eyed, as the woman beamed with pride.
"Lovely, isn't it?" she said, smiling like someone reliving an old dream.
"This place is...?" Soran asked hesitantly, then froze.
A group of courtesans appeared, elegantly dressed, their beauty overwhelming. They greeted her in unison:
"Come in, my lady!"
Their charming smiles were so enchanting that even Soran, a fellow woman, couldn't help but feel captivated. She quickly shook her head to snap herself out of it and stood straighter, trying to appear stern and composed.
"Go on!" the older woman urged and gave Soran a gentle shove forward.
Soran stumbled but caught herself, lifting her head just in time to see the courtesans approaching, smiling sweetly.
"Let's go, my lady!"
Before she knew it, she was being ushered inside.
"No! Let me go! Please, Auntie, help! They're going to undress me...!"
Her cries echoed from within, but the older woman outside simply listened with a wicked grin, satisfied that her job was done. She turned to leave, pausing now and then to sneak another glance.
"W-What is this?!"
Inside the room, Soran flailed her head side to side, trying to prevent the courtesans from applying makeup. But it didn't take long; they had her bound like a mummy and dressed her from head to toe.
Soran sat, stunned, gazing at her reflection in the mirror. Her fingers brushed her cheeks softly.
"You're so beautiful," one of the courtesans said kindly, offering a warm smile before exiting the room.
"We'll take our leave, my lady," the rest of them chimed in, bowing politely before vanishing one by one.
Left alone, Soran stared at herself in the mirror, her eyes brimming with tears.
"So this… is my face? I can't believe it…"
She ran her hands slowly over her made-up face and the vibrant clothing, then lay down gently on her side on the floor. Her tears finally fell. She didn't know whether she was overwhelmed with joy… or sorrow. All she could do was cry.
That night, a night others might consider joyful, was for Soran the turning point of a young girl's life, one she entered unwillingly. Worse yet, her marriage came without celebration, without family, without even a whisper of recognition. Trembling, she stepped into a small, dimly lit house tucked in the corner of the estate.
Wearing a brightly colored jeogori, Soran carefully removed her shoes and stepped inside. The only light came from a single, flickering candle. She looked up and saw a slender man in deep navy robes, seated in silence. A wide-brimmed ceremonial hat obscured his face. One hand rested on the table. His stillness made it clear, he did not welcome this union.
Soran sat down across from him, a low table between them. Though the candlelight was faint, it could not hide her beauty, nor could his hat conceal the quiet charisma he carried.
She kept her head bowed, waiting for him to speak. But silence was her only companion until his voice, cool and steady, broke through the stillness.
"Soran."
He spoke her name correctly. Soran slowly raised her eyes to meet his and realized at once: this man, this groom, was not the nobleman she had spoken with earlier.
"Yes… How do you know my name?" she asked quietly.
"It's not surprising. My father has sent many women to serve me over the years. The moment I saw you, I knew what this was. But… none of those women ever stayed. I couldn't love any of them. I suppose I'm pathetic, incapable of seeing beauty in anyone anymore. I simply cannot love."
It was perhaps the kindest rejection she could have received.
Soran smiled softly, and in that moment, understood clearly. The man she had fallen under the spell of… was this very person. The owner of this secluded house.
"You needn't worry about me, sir," she replied gently, though her voice trembled in contrast with her words.
He fell silent again, as though weighing something carefully, before speaking with finality.
"This marriage… is as if it never happened."
He was right. Not only had the ceremony been quiet and hidden, but there was no bond of love between them either.
Soran could do nothing but force a smile in response. Though the candlelight hid the details of his expression, she could sense the chill in his gaze.
"Then… what should I call you?" she asked. "I don't even know your name."
The man stood.
"Is it something you need to know?"
Without waiting for her answer, he walked to the corner and quietly prepared his bedding, leaving her alone at the table.
Soran watched him disappear into the shadows, too nervous to move. She sat frozen like a statue, unfamiliar with her new surroundings.
The silence of her wedding night was broken only by dew and the soft wind, nature's reluctant gift of celebration. Loneliness had become her groom tonight. It held her hand with cold fingers and sang her to sleep with empty lullabies.
Soran slowly leaned forward, resting her arms on the table, and curled up on her side. Her heavy eyelids closed, not knowing that just moments later, a warm hand gently lifted her, cradled her, and carried her into a softer, warmer slumber before vanishing into the breeze.
Morning sunlight streamed into the room.Soran slowly stirred from her messy bedding.She blinked, startled by her disheveled state, and immediately grabbed at her clothes in alarm.But when she glanced to her side and didn't see the young nobleman, she let out a deep sigh of relief.She had been worried that something might have happened during the night while she slept.
Rising carefully, she slid open the door to greet the morning air, only to gasp in surprise.
There he was, the young nobleman, fast asleep while leaning against a wooden pillar just outside the room. His expression, though blank, was endearingly peaceful in slumber.She glanced back into the room where she'd awoken, and it was strange. Her last memory was of falling asleep at the table.And yet somehow, she'd ended up sleeping on the bedding inside.Her eyes drifted back to his sleeping face, and she couldn't help but smile softly.
"How could you do this, Father!"
"Pyeonghwa, you know perfectly well what your younger brother is like. Why raise your voice over this?"
Minister Kim, their father, spoke with firmness, causing Pyeonghwa's expression to stiffen with frustration.He clenched his fists in fury. The woman to whom he had gifted the jade bracelet… was now in his younger brother's hands.
"You spend your days either playing or sulking over women. Is that all you do? It's honestly baffling how you ended up my eldest son. If you'd spent half that time studying, you'd be a high-ranking official by now. And you already have plenty of women to choose from!"
Lord Kim scolded his son with a weary tone before turning away and disappearing into the house.
"Hmph… as if you understand anything,"Pyeonghwa muttered bitterly.
It was true that he was the elder son of the family, but not from the same mother as his younger brother.His mother had died in childbirth, and his upbringing had been starkly different from Youngwon's.Youngwon had been raised in a warm, loving household until his mother, too, passed away from illness.Still, despite the advantage of affection, Youngwon was no more skilled than Pyeonghwa.He buried himself in books, rarely interacting with the outside world.His frail health kept him pale and slender, far from battle-ready.
Unlike Pyeonghwa...clever, strategic, and physically capable, Youngwon was delicate, solitary, and quiet.Though they shared the same father, their relationship was cold and distant.
"Mmm…"
Youngwon stirred slowly, his body slumping to the side. He nearly toppled over.
"M...My lord!"Soran cried out and rushed forward to catch him just in time, pulling him into her arms.
Their eyes met briefly as Youngwon's gaze landed on her pale neck, the proximity causing his eyes to widen in shock.He immediately turned his head away.
Soran, equally startled, clutched him tighter in panic as she glanced downward.When she realized just how close his face was to her chest, she yanked her arms away, her cheeks burning with embarrassment.Youngwon, freed from her hold, averted his eyes as well, equally flustered.
"I.....I'm sorry, my lord,"Soran stammered.
"Ah, no… It's fine. You were only trying to help me. I… I should be the one apologizing for troubling you."Youngwon replied quickly, unable to meet her eyes.
He clutched his chest where his heart was pounding, shaking his head to clear his thoughts.Without another word, he turned and retreated into the room.
Soran watched him go, puzzled. She didn't quite understand what had just happened.To her, it seemed like he might be upset with her.
Inside, Youngwon was trying to calm his racing heart.Though he'd managed to run from her gaze, her scent and the warmth of her embrace lingered in his mind.He closed his eyes, took a deep breath, then peeked through the narrow gap in the door.Soran was still sitting quietly where he'd left her.
Once he'd composed himself, Youngwon stepped outside again.Soran stood and bowed to him slowly.
"Thank you, my lord… for putting me to bed. I must have been such a burden. I'll return to the servants' quarters now. I'm very sorry for earlier…"She spoke with guilt in her voice and expression, clearly misunderstanding the situation.
Then, she began to gather her few belongings.
Grab!Youngwon reached out and caught her by the arm.She turned toward him, startled by his grip.
"Don't. If you leave now, someone might try to buy your freedom and make you a concubine.You're not that kind of girl… am I right?"
His eyes were steady and resolute as he searched hers.Then, slowly, he released her arm.
Soran didn't answer. She turned and quietly resumed packing.
Youngwon watched her in silence, sighing inwardly.He couldn't accept this marriage, not truly, but he also couldn't bear the thought of letting an innocent girl be passed around like a possession.
He stepped forward and gently took her hand, which was picking up a bundle of cloth.His expression softened as he tried to meet her eyes.
But she avoided his gaze, focused only on her belongings.
Youngwon gripped her shoulders, firmly this time, and spoke with calm sincerity:
"Let's do this. Stay here. But we won't cross any boundaries. I promise you."
"That's not the point!"Soran interjected quickly, frustration creeping into her voice."What, am I supposed to let you sleep outside in the cold again? I'll never get out of this place alive at that rate!"
Youngwon blinked, surprised by her outburst, then chuckled.
"Then how about this…"He said with a sly smile, leaning in close to whisper beside her ear.