Hwayeong let out another long breath and looked over at Sinyeong with a faint smile.
“So yes, I hate the rainy season.”
She stared out at the falling rain, voice light but distant.
“It’s damp. And it puts me in a mood.”
Sinyeong watched her in silence, then slowly spoke.
“You still miss him.”
At those unexpected words, her smile faltered. But just as quickly, she forced a faint smile and replied calmly,
“Yes, I miss him very much. It’s strange—though it’s been three years and I can barely recall his face, I still remember his breathing. Harsh and shallow. And his hands... always cold and pale, but I can still feel how they used to stroke my hair. That’s why I was so taken aback when I first saw Prince Sinhui. The sound of his breath, and those pale, cold fingers—they reminded me so much of my brother.”
Only then did Sinyeong finally understand why Hwayeong had always paid such special attention to Sinhui.
