[Flashback, Seo Yul's Family]
Inside the main hall, Seo Yul's family gathered around the low wooden table, steaming bowls of rice and plates of vegetables filling the air with warm, fragrant aromas.
"Seo Yul," his mother said, arranging a plate of rice cakes, "don't let your swordwork make you forget how to enjoy your food." She smiled, brushing a lock of hair from his forehead.
Yul grinned. "Mother, I can slice a rice cake as cleanly as any practice target!" He held a rice cake upright and lightly pressed his knife down, half of it split perfectly in two.
His youngest sister squealed. "Again! Again! Show me again!" She clapped, bouncing on her seat.
His elder sister rolled her eyes but laughed. "If he keeps slicing everything in half, we'll never have enough for breakfast!"
"Ha! You're just jealous I'm better than both of you," Yul teased, grinning.
"Better at making messes, you mean," the youngest chirped, sticking her tongue out.
Their father laughed, shaking his head. "Eat first, fight later, or the rice will grow cold."
They all laughed, passing bowls, teasing each other, and sharing small stories from the morning chores. The hall echoed with joy, with clinking dishes, and the warmth of family bonds.
"Yul, don't hog the rice cakes," his elder sister warned, nudging him playfully.
"I'll save some for you… maybe," he replied, a teasing glint in his eyes.
The youngest shrieked, grabbing for the last piece, and Yul laughed, letting her snatch it away triumphantly.
-p--
Yul and his sisters went for training at the family's training grounds. The sun shone warm and golden, the grass soft underfoot.
"Remember, little one," Yul said to his youngest sister, bowstring drawn, "steady your hands, steady your breathing… aim, and release."
"I'm trying!" she pouted, squinting at the target.
"Lower your stance a little. Yes, yes… that's perfect!" He guided her hands over the bow, helping her draw and aim. Her arrow flew true, embedding into the target.
"I did it!" she shouted, jumping up.
"Good, good!" Yul cheered.
His elder sister swung her practice sword with a smirk. "You're too slow today, Yul. Watch this!"
She feinted left, spun, lunged, and he parried, dodging smoothly. "Ha! You'll have to try harder than that!"
"I'm just warming up," she replied, grinning, wiping sweat from her brow. "Don't start bragging yet."
They sparred for hours, laughing, teasing, correcting, and sometimes scolding each other. Every movement, every strike, every smile felt natural alive.
"Again!" the youngest shouted, trying to swing her wooden sword like her siblings.
"Careful!" Yul warned, blocking her blade gently. "You'll poke your eye out!"
"I want to fight like you!" she said determinedly.
"And you will," he said softly, ruffling her hair, "but first, learn patience."
The afternoon sun dipped low, turning the training grounds golden. Yul's elder sister, Minah, swung her practice sword with precision, sweat beading on her forehead. The youngest, Hae, struggled to nock an arrow.
"Yul! You're letting her hit the target too easily!" Minah teased, panting.
"I'm teaching patience," Yul replied, smiling. "She'll need it in battle someday."
Hae frowned, tugging the string of her bow. "I am patient! You just don't notice!"
A deep, commanding voice broke through the air. "Seo Yul! Training can wait come with me!"
Yul looked up to see his father, broad-shouldered and imposing even in casual clothes, standing near the gate. The late sun caught the lines of his face, highlighting the warmth and authority in his expression.
"Father, just a moment," Yul called. "I'll help Hae finish her aim."
Minah smirked. "Go, Yul. The little one can manage. Don't worry about her."
"I'm fine," Hae said stubbornly, standing straight, gripping her bow. "Go! Bring back something big for dinner!"
Yul laughed, sheathing his sword. "Very well. Let's ride."
The horses waited, glinting in the golden light. Yul mounted, feeling the familiar sway beneath him. Beside him, his father adjusted the saddle straps on his horse.
"Keep close," his father said, his voice low but firm. "The mountains are tricky. Stay alert."
"Yes, Father," Yul replied, tightening his grip on the reins.
They rode into the forest, the scent of pine and damp earth thick around them. Birds scattered as their horses thundered along narrow trails. The wind cut across their faces, the thrill of the chase pulling a rush of adrenaline through Yul's veins.
Hours passed, and they returned triumphant with a deer slung across their backs. The sun had nearly vanished, leaving only the deep purples and reds of dusk.
But something was wrong. A thin ribbon of smoke twisted into the sky from the direction of the estate.
"Father… look!" Yul's voice cracked, pointing toward the estate.
His father squinted. "That's no kitchen smoke. Ride faster!"
Their horses leapt forward, hooves pounding the stone path leading home. The closer they got, the more screams cut through the evening air.
---
Inside the estate, chaos had taken hold.
"Get away from me!" Hae cried, parrying a masked attacker's blade.
"Hold your ground! Don't give them an inch!" Minah shouted, spinning and striking. Blood streaked her face; her robes were torn. Yet her stance remained unbroken.
"Mother!" Hae screamed as their mother ran forward, only to be shoved back by an intruder. "No! Stay back!"
"Yul! Father! Help us!" Minah's voice rang out, desperation sharp in her tone.
Steel clashed, sparks flew, and fire licked the edges of the hall. Smoke and blood filled the air, thick and suffocating.
Hae screamed again as a blade found her side. She fell, a red stain spreading across her clothes. Their mother's cry tore through Yul's heart.
"NO!" Yul shouted, lunging forward. "Hae!"
His father drew his sword. "Stay close!"
They crashed into the fray, striking attackers back, dodging wild swings. The clash of metal on metal echoed, punctuated by screams, shouts, and the crackle of fire.
Minah fought desperately, her voice raw as she shouted at her enemies. "You will not take us!" She swung again, blood streaking her cheek, every strike fierce and deliberate.
Yul parried an attacker and glimpsed a familiar sword, his cousin's. The realization hit him like ice. Another attacker had the tattoo of his uncle on his ear. Betrayal and fury spiked through him.
But there was no time. The fight raged, and his family needed him.
A masked man lunged at Minah, and she blocked just in time, gritting her teeth. "Yul! Father! Don't let them win!"
Yul's father roared, felling an attacker with a powerful strike, but another came from behind, striking him down. "Father!" Yul cried, trying to shield him.
Minah's arms shook with exhaustion, her face bloodied, sweat and ash mingling on her skin. She looked at Yul one last time, lips moving silently: "Run… save yourself…"
Before he could respond, she was struck down.
Yul froze, heart hammering, blood from his own scratches running down his face. He couldn't move, couldn't breathe, just stared at the devastation.
The old steward grabbed him roughly. "Yul! Move! Now!"
He yanked Yul through a hidden doorway into the secret passage behind the hall. Branches tore at his skin as they ran into the forest, the screams and flames echoing behind him.
Yul woke screaming. Sweat drenched him. Sheets tangled around him. Heart hammering, he gasped, clutching the blankets.
"No… no!" he shouted. "Mother..."
The jade hairpin pressed into his chest. "It was a dream… just a dream."
His trembling hands clutched the pin. But the images of fire, blood, betrayal, and screams lingered in his mind.
"I survived… I have to survive," he whispered. "I… I must live."
---
The room was dim, soft gold from the morning sun peeking through the latticed window. Seo Yul stil clinging to his skin, the sheets tangled around his legs like vines.
His breath came in sharp bursts. His chest ached.
The fire.
The screams.
Minah's voice, mouthing the words that shattered his soul: "Run… save yourself."
He sat up slowly, pressing the heel of his palm against his eyes. "It's over," he whispered to himself, voice hoarse. "It was a dream... a dream…"
But the weight in his chest didn't lift.
He looked down at his hands. They still trembled.
"Pull yourself together, Yul," he muttered. "You're not Seo Yul anymore. You're Yeonhwa now."
A sudden knock on the wooden frame of his room made him flinch.
"Yeonhwa!" a sing-song voice called out from behind the screen. "Are you alive in there or did you run off with that bold stranger last night?"
Another voice chimed in with a giggle. "Maybe he took her back to his quarters! Did you hear him? 'Don't tell anyone I was here'? So mysterious."
Yul sighed.
The nightmare had barely faded, and now… this.
He rose, wiping the sweat from his brow with the sleeve of his robe. His feet touched the cold floor and he slipped on his delicate shoes, every piece of the costume he wore, a sharp reminder of the mask he now lived.
He slid open the screen slowly and stepped into the main hallway of the courtesans' quarters. The soft shuffle of feet, rustling robes, and clinks of ceramic tea cups echoed through the space.
The air was thick with perfume and curiosity.
"Yeonhwa!" a girl in pale lilac robes practically skipped up to him, her long black braid bouncing behind her. "So it was you last night! Don't even try to deny it. We all heard the crash."
"I didn't see anything," said another courtesan, lounging with her chin on her palm, "but Minari swears she saw a man.. a man climb into Yeonhwa's room through the window like some lovestruck thief."
"Did he kiss you?" someone whispered behind him, breathy and dramatic.
Yul gave them all a polite, tired smile. "You lot gossip more than palace guards after a feast," he said softly, voice smooth but dry.
That only made them laugh harder.
"Oh come on, Yeonhwa! You must tell us something. Who was he?"
"Did you recognize him? Was he handsome?"
"Was it a secret lover or a paying guest?"
Yul turned and began walking down the corridor. "He was drunk. Mistaken my room for someone else's. That's all."
"Hah! You lie with such grace," one girl called behind him.
"He ran like the guards were after him!" another teased.
Yul paused at the end of the hallway, casting a sideways glance over his shoulder.
"If you see him again, tell him he owes me a window."
The girls burst into laughter, their voices echoing down the hall as Yul turned the corner.
But inside, he didn't laugh.
His stomach twisted. That man from last night… he hadn't seen his face clearly. But the way he moved, the way he spoke, it was no ordinary drunkard.
Yul needed to stay invisible. Gossip could be dangerous. The wrong whisper in the wrong ear and someone might start asking questions.
And if anyone discovered who he really was… He wouldn't survive it a second time.
---
[Later that evening]
Minari sat beneath the canopy of silk curtains, fanning herself lazily. Her gaze drifted toward the open doors, legs dangling over the side as the evening deepened.
She let out a soft sigh and leaned back, resting her palms on the polished wood. The room was empty, but she felt the weight of her thoughts pressing down like a heavy silk blanket.
"Why do I even do this?" she whispered aloud, though there was no one to answer. "Why spend my nights entertaining men who can barely notice the difference between beauty and money?"
Her gaze drifted toward the moonlight spilling through the small window. She could almost see the glittering rooftops of the palace, the distant gardens, and the courtiers who walked so carefully along the paths. A small laugh escaped her lips, bitter and soft.
"One day," she murmured, tapping a finger against the wood, "I'll be someone who doesn't have to bow. Someone who decides for herself. They'll remember my name then. Minari, not a courtesan, but a queen. Or at least, someone they can't ignore."
She closed her eyes, imagining herself in that life. Powerful, untouchable, commanding respect without even trying. She smirked faintly, the edges of her lips curving with mischief.
"Yes… that's the dream," she said softly. "And until then, I play the game. I survive. I watch. I wait."
"Make way! The Minister's son has arrived," whispered one of the junior courtesans, scrambling to adjust her robes.
Minari let out a slow, audible sigh. "Why is that toad here again?"
Sure enough, Song Myeongho, the spoiled son of Minister Song, swaggered in, his bright crimson robe trailing behind him like spilled wine. His eyes scanned the room and landed squarely on Minari.
"I came to see you, Minari," he said with an overconfident grin. "Pour me a drink, won't you?"
Minari didn't bother to bow. "I'm not in the mood to entertain a child who throws tantrums when refused."
The courtesans in the room froze. One dropped a hairpin. Another gasped quietly.
Myeongho's smile tightened. "You think you can reject me?"
Minari rose from her seat, chin tilted high. "I don't think, I know."
His face darkened. "Then I'll take another. You..." he pointed to a trembling girl nearby. "You'll do."
The girl hesitated but was nudged forward. Several other courtesans followed, masking their reluctance with forced smiles.
That night, the wine flowed. Myeongho laughed too loudly, eyes twitching with veiled irritation. He lifted his goblet.
"To forgotten favors," he sneered.
The courtesans exchanged uneasy glances but drank nonetheless.
---
By morning, the house was in chaos. Groans echoed through the wooden corridors.
The air stank of wine and sour stomach. The polished floors, usually shimmering with the shine of flower oil were littered with bowls and half-soaked rags. Even the head matron was too busy groaning in her chamber to bark orders.
Courtesans lay curled on the floor, sweating and pale. Minari, still healthy, stood beside Yeonhwa near the medicine cabinet.
He hadn't drunk last night. He never did. He hated how men acted when drunk... grabbing, laughing too loud, breathing too close. Instead, he'd sat quietly beside the group, smiling where needed, but never raising a cup and suddenly stepped out.
"They're poisoned," Minari whispered. "It's that bastard's doing."
Yeonhwa's eyes narrowed. "He poisoned everyone who drank with him."
Minari nodded grimly. "I told you he was a toad."
From behind them, an elder maid arrived, breathless. "The royal court sent summons. Tonight is the Crown Prince's birthday. They require our best."
Minari turned toward the ill courtesans, her jaw tight. "Well, that leaves only one, Yeonhwa. I will be taking care of the other courtesans."
Yeonhwa stilled. "Me?"
He hesitated. His stomach sank.
"Do I have a choice?" he asked.
The girl blinked. "It's the royal court. Do you really need me to answer that?"
Minari smirked. "Congratulations, darling. Tonight, you meet the princes."
Yeonhwa gave a bitter smile, heart thudding.
As Minari walked off, she muttered under her breath, "Don't forget to bathe in rose water. Royals have delicate noses."
[Royal Chambers]
The palace bloomed with golden light. The palace was alive with color and music. Red and gold banners fluttered along the main hall, each embroidered with the emblem of the royal family. Lanterns hung from every wooden beam, their warm light reflected in polished stone floors and mirrored in gilded pillars. Outside, fireworks were set to burst over the gardens, though the first had yet to ignite.
Courtiers and nobles filled the hall, voices humming like bees in a hive. Servants flitted between tables stacked with fruits, sweets, and delicacies of all kinds. Musicians plucked the gayageum and flutes, and dancers twirled in silk and tulle, entertaining the guests.
Crown Prince Yi Hyeonjin sat at the raised dais, regal in his deep blue robe embroidered with golden dragons. His expression was composed, a perfect mask of calm, though the narrowing of his eyes betrayed a sharp mind at work, noting every whisper and glance among the assembled nobles.
To his side, Prince Yi Dowon stood with the air of authority that drew respect and fear alike. Guards and ministers treated him with the deference reserved for a man whose word could start or end a career. Yet, beneath that stoic posture, Dowon's eyes flickered occasionally toward the entertainers, the mischief of youth hiding behind a disciplined mask.
Games and contests filled the morning and afternoon. Archery competitions, poetry recitations, and even chess matches drew noble participants eager to show skill or wit. Laughter echoed through the halls, and the aroma of roasted meats and sweet pastries mingled with the faint scent of incense burning in golden censers.
Hours passed, and one by one, VIPs began to leave, their laughter fading, their bows shallow, their whispers of flattery trailing behind them. It was then that Yeonhwa of the courtesan house entered.
The room seemed to shift as she glided through the grand doors, her hair adorned with delicate blossoms and her lavender robe flowing like mist. Eyes turned, whispers followed, but Yeonhwa's gaze remained focused, calm, and measured. She moved not as a girl seeking attention, but as one fully aware of the power in the quiet of her presence.
Her performance was understated but mesmerizing, a low, haunting song that wrapped around the golden pillars of the hall, touching each noble as if the sound itself carried memory and longing. Slowly, the remaining guests drifted away, their obligations done, until only the Crown Prince remained seated, watching her every move.
The music faded, leaving the hall hushed. Hyeonjin's dark eyes met Yeonhwa's, his expression unreadable but intense, a mixture of curiosity and approval. The lingering laughter from earlier festivities, the scent of flowers and incense, all receded to nothing. Only the two of them remained, the silence between them heavy and electric.
Prince Dowon, who had been observing from the shadows, melted into the edges of the room unnoticed, allowing the moment to remain unbroken. The mask of the dutiful prince was still in place.
And so, Yeonhwa and the Crown Prince were left alone. two figures in a golden hall, their next words and actions poised to shape what was to come....