The rain had started by the time Seo Rin was led into the Duke's mansion.
Thunder rolled softly in the distance, and the scent of wet earth mixed with candle wax filled the air. Servants hurried quietly through the halls, bowing deeply as she passed.
Her long ivory dress was damp from the rain, the fabric clinging lightly to her form. Despite the exhaustion in her eyes, she stood tall — graceful as ever.
Min Jae walked ahead of her in silence, his black suit now faintly glistening with rain. The sound of his boots echoed across the marble corridor, steady and controlled, just like him.
Finally, he stopped before a large door.
> "This will be your chamber for now," he said without turning around.
Seo Rin nodded. "Thank you, Your Grace."
Her voice was polite, distant — nothing like the warmth they once shared.
The words Your Grace felt like a wall between them, one that neither of them dared to cross.
Min Jae's gaze flickered to her. "You don't have to call me that."
> "Then what should I call you?" she asked softly.
He looked at her for a moment, then turned away again. "Call me whatever you wish."
The silence stretched. Rain pattered against the window panes, and the wind whispered through the open balcony doors.
Seo Rin hesitated. "Jae."
The sound of his name — spoken by her voice after years — hit him like lightning. His chest tightened, but he forced his expression to remain cold.
> "You shouldn't stay here long," he said. "People will talk."
> "I don't care about people," she said quietly. "I care about surviving."
Her words made him pause.
Something inside him — that careful control he always kept — wavered for a moment.
> "Then tell me," he said, stepping closer, "why come to me? After all this time, after everything you ran from."
Seo Rin lifted her eyes to meet his. "Because you're the only person who once saw me as human."
His breath caught.
For years, he had been surrounded by people who feared him — nobles, soldiers, servants — all bowing to his name, never to his heart.
But her words… they reminded him that once, someone had looked at him and seen more than a Duke.
---
That night, the rain grew heavier.
Seo Rin sat by the window of her new room, watching the droplets race down the glass. The chamber was beautiful — silken curtains, golden lamps, soft carpets — but it felt like a cage.
Her reflection on the window looked foreign to her. Pale skin, tired eyes, a faint scar near her collarbone. Every mark told a story she wished she could forget.
A soft knock broke her thoughts.
> "Come in," she said.
A maid entered, bowing. "My Lady, His Grace has requested that you join him for dinner in the west hall."
Seo Rin hesitated. "Tell him I—"
She stopped mid-sentence.
Avoiding him would only make things worse.
> "I'll be there," she said finally.
---
The west hall was quiet when she entered. A long table stretched across the room, filled with silverware and dishes she barely recognized. Min Jae sat at the far end, staring into his wine glass.
He rose when she approached. "You're late."
> "I didn't plan to come," she admitted, sitting opposite him.
He poured her wine without a word. The candles flickered between them, casting faint shadows across his face.
> "You've changed," he said after a moment. "You used to be afraid of wine."
> "And you used to smile," she replied.
The corner of his lips twitched. "Maybe both of us lost something."
They ate in silence for a while. The only sound was the clinking of cutlery and the soft rhythm of rain against glass.
Finally, Min Jae spoke again. "Where were you all these years, Rin?"
Seo Rin's hands tightened around her glass. "You really want to know?"
He met her gaze. "I've wanted to know for ten years."
She looked down, her voice low. "After my father found out about us — that I was close to you — he called me a disgrace. He said I would ruin the family name. So he sent me away to a manor near the border. I was locked there… for years."
Min Jae's fingers froze midair. "He imprisoned you?"
She nodded faintly. "It wasn't chains… but it might as well have been. Guards, closed gates, no letters, no visitors. Just silence. Until one night, I escaped."
The Duke's hand clenched on the table. For a moment, the calm in his expression shattered.
> "If I had known…"
> "You couldn't have," she cut in softly. "We were just children."
He looked at her, eyes burning with something unreadable — anger, regret, sorrow all at once.
> "You shouldn't have had to face that alone," he said.
Seo Rin smiled faintly, though her eyes glistened. "Neither should you."
For the first time that night, they both let the silence feel safe — not cold, not awkward, just… real.
---
Later, as she returned to her chamber, Seo Rin stopped near the window overlooking the garden.
The rain had slowed to a drizzle. The moon, half-hidden behind clouds, cast a soft glow on the wet stones below.
And there he was again — Min Jae, standing in the courtyard, coat draped over his shoulders, staring up at the same sky.
She watched him quietly, her heart aching with emotions she didn't have names for.
> "You still can't sleep when it rains," she whispered to herself.
He looked up, almost as if he had heard her from across the night. Their eyes met — just for a second — before she drew the curtains closed.
---
That night, neither of them slept.
He sat by the fire, remembering her laughter beneath cherry blossoms.
She lay awake, hearing the sound of his voice echo in her heart.
And though they were only a few rooms apart, it felt like the distance between them was still the same as it had been all those years ago — wide, painful, and filled with everything left unsaid.
---
Outside, the rain finally stopped. The moonlight broke through the clouds once more, touching the mansion like a gentle hand — a silent reminder that some bonds, no matter how wounded, never truly fade.
---