Chaos erupted throughout the household of the Deputy Governor's estate as rumors spread that the Deputy Governor Yoo's daughter had ended her relationship with a young scholar. The daughter's name was Inhyung, a woman whose beauty resembled a painted portrait, admired by many young scholars in the neighborhood.
Whenever she appeared in a brightly colored hanbok, her radiant smile like a blooming peony, she was warmly welcomed by her admirers and those around her.
But after breaking up with that scholar, Inhyung became deeply sorrowful.
She refused to leave her private chamber for days, her body growing thin, and the rosy fullness of her cheeks fading noticeably.
Still, the young scholars who adored her beauty continued to visit persistently.
Though she tried repeatedly to face the outside world, she always ended up returning to weep quietly alone in her room.
This time, Inhyung suddenly fell ill, and the news quickly spread throughout the alleys nearby.
Deputy Governor Yoo, her honorable father, was heartbroken almost to the point of despair upon seeing his daughter suffer such pain from a failed love.
During the height of this rumor, it reached the ears of Pyunghwa, Yeongwon's older brother.
"Thank you very much,"
Pyunghwa said as he handed money to the messenger, who quickly jumped over the back wall of the house and disappeared.
Pyunghwa smiled slyly, lightly fanning himself with a Chinese folding fan, indifferent.
As he was leaving the backyard gate, he crossed paths with Yeongwon.
Feigning mockery, Pyunghwa spoke in a taunting tone,
"Oh? You're like this because of her …..Inhyung."
He waved the fan, searching for a reaction in his younger brother's eyes. Yeongwon stopped but pretended not to care and continued walking calmly.
"She's gravely ill now, her heart broken by that scholar,"
Pyunghwa added sarcastically, aiming to provoke.
Of course, Yeongwon had yet to forget Inhyung, no matter how deeply it pained him.
He closed his eyes, struggling to control his emotions and calm his mind.
"Why do you tell me this?"
Yeongwon asked coldly, his voice devoid of feeling.
Pyunghwa smirked, "I don't really know. Maybe you want to see her one last time."
Then he walked away with a satisfied demeanor.
Yeongwon glanced back at his brother until he disappeared, clenching his fists in frustration and pain.
He didn't know what Pyunghwa truly wanted, but his brother's words were harsh and cutting.
At last, Yeongwon entered a silent room and sank, his heart aching from wounds reopened once more.
Pyunghwa's words about Inhyung echoed in his mind relentlessly.
They stung deeply, but thinking of Inhyung's serious illness, he felt worry and concern above all.
In his mind, she was still only his former love, and he had always believed that was true love.
The large house of Deputy Governor Yoo stood amid rose gardens and ancient pine trees.
Soft sunlight fell on the tiled roof, decorated with dragon and phoenix motifs.
A gentle breeze carried the subtle fragrance of peony blossoms from the garden into the house.
Birdsong echoed beautifully in the quiet of the morning.
Yet beneath this peacefulness lingered a somber and anxious feeling deeply rooted in the hearts of those within the home.
At dusk, as moonlight bathed the treetops and dewdrops, it was nature's gentle signal for all within Lord Kim's grand estate to prepare for rest.
A soft breeze rustled the roots of pine and plum trees, carrying the faint scent of wildflowers into the home.
Though the night was peaceful, a single voice cut through the silence, echoing across the vast estate.
"Please, let me see her, just once, I beg of you!"
A deep voice, filled with yearning, rang out from a young man.
"No!"
A firm voice replied, belonging to a middle-aged man who stood guard at the house's entrance.
"Please, I beg you, have mercy on me!"
"I said no, and I meant it! Leave at once, or I'll be forced to use strength!"
The strict steward stepped forward, placing a hand on the hilt of his sword, his eyes sharp and unyielding.
The young man, named Kureum, strained to peer into the estate, hoping for even a glimpse of Soran.
But hope gave him nothing in return. Still, he remained, unable to abandon his pursuit.
The commotion caused by Kureum eventually reached the ears of Lord Kim himself, the estate's master.
The elderly man appeared, dressed in a deep blue hanbok of fine gemstone silk.
His gaze was steady, full of calm, yet resolute, as he looked upon the young intruder.
"Who is that?"
Lord Kim approached the steward at the gate.
The steward, sensing the seriousness of the moment, immediately bowed with respect.
"I don't know, my lord. He claims to know Lady Soran,"
The steward answered politely.
The old man observed Kureum from head to toe before lowering his voice and asking sternly:
"Is it true, what he says?"
Kureum quickly dusted off his worn hanbok and nodded humbly.
"Then what is your relation to her?"
Lord Kim asked cautiously, a hint of suspicion in his voice.
"I am merely a friend of hers, my lord,"
Kureum replied, his face shadowed by sorrow and his tone humble, as if terrified of rejection.
The elderly man let out a deep sigh.
"Hm… Then come in."
His voice carried a hint of relief.
Kureum couldn't help but smile with joy, his pale face lighting up as if life had returned to him.
Yet the joy was mingled with tension; he nearly overreacted and moved to embrace the steward in thanks, but caught himself just in time.
Lord Kim returned inside and summoned a maid.
"Go and bring Lady Soran to meet her guest."
He ordered, then turned to Kureum.
"Wait here in this small reception room."
Kureum glanced around the room.
Brush-painting scrolls decorated the walls, while paper lanterns cast a soft glow across the polished wooden floor. He felt both excited and nervous at once.
The elderly man sat down beside him and asked kindly:
"How long have you known Lady Soran?"
"For a very long time, since we were children,"
Kureum replied earnestly, a warm smile on his face.
"You must be very close to dare come all the way here at such an hour,"
Lord Kim said with a faintly amused tone.
"I apologize, my lord. I just couldn't help but worry for her. We've never been apart like this."
Kureum said with sincerity.
He looked Lord Kim in the eye, hoping the powerful man would feel guilt, or at least sympathy, for his actions.
The old man pondered for a moment, then spoke:
"If you wish to remain close to her, I will allow you to be in charge of her safety."
"But remember this, she and you are only 'friends.'"
Lord Kim patted Kureum's shoulder twice.
"I believe a brave young man like you won't have trouble fulfilling this role."
Kureum's face turned pale instantly. Because, in truth, he had never once thought of Soran as just a friend. But he did not dare contradict Lord Kim's command.
The faint sound of footsteps echoed through the cold, still night, each step laced with weariness from both body and soul. Soran paused beneath a tall cherry blossom tree near the kitchen pavilion. Moonlight filtered through the branches like a silvery veil, casting a soft, melancholy glow that seemed to pierce the emptiness in her heart.
Rustle!
Another set of footsteps approached from behind. Soran immediately turned around.
"Kureum… is that truly you?"
Thud!
She threw herself into his arms, lips trembling with tears of joy.
"Soran, are you well?"
Kureum gently released her from the embrace and looked her over from head to toe. Her silk garments shimmered in the moonlight, and her precious ornaments reflected her current life in the noble house.
"You… look well-off,"
He said quietly, sorrow threading through his voice, the kind of sorrow that belonged to someone who had once been left behind at a crossroads. Though they stood face to face now, the distance between them felt farther than any lonely night.
"Don't say that. I receive a monthly salary now. The young master was kind enough to hire me so I could support my family."
Soran replied with a bright smile, unaware that the "comfort" Kureum saw may have come at an unspoken, immeasurable cost.
"Is that so…"
Kureum murmured, turning his face away as sorrow once again settled into his chest. Even standing beside her, he felt as if she were a world away.
Thud!
Without warning, he pulled her back into his arms tightly, so tight she could barely breathe.
"Kureum! I, I can't breathe!"
But instead of letting go, he held her even closer.
Soran could feel his heart pounding rapidly with longing, while hers remained steady, always distant from him.
He rested his face on her narrow shoulder, drenched in yearning and memories.
"I'm truly glad you came to see me…"
Soran whispered, her hand gently stroking his hair with a tenderness only old affection could bring.
"I'm glad… too…"
Kureum's voice trembled. His eyes welled with tears, and he took a deep breath, trying to hold them back.
Soran stepped back from the embrace and took his hand instead.
The two stood silently beneath the tree, surrounded by the soft rustle of leaves and the distant chirp of crickets. A gentle night breeze carried the scent of midnight blossoms, wrapping them in a fragile warmth.
Suddenly, Yeongwon appeared and saw them.
He froze.
Soran and the man beside her were laughing together, speaking intimately as if they shared a bond deeper than anything she ever showed him. His chest burned.
"M-My Lord!"
Bunsu's voice startled him.
"Why aren't you in bed? What are you doing here?"
"I should ask you the same thing!"
Bunsu replied bluntly.
"I just came to sneak a bite now that the kitchen's empty."
"I… I just went out for some fresh air."
"Oh! Bunsu! Ah… Young Master…"
Soran ran up quickly, her heart pounding. She bowed deeply, but Yeongwon said nothing. Without a word, he turned and walked away, leaving Soran and Bunsu standing in awkward silence.
"My lady! Don't just stand there! Go after him!"
Bunsu whispered urgently, cheeks flushing.
"I… I'll go!"
Soran nodded quickly and rushed off after Yeongwon.
"Go on… just go already…"
Bunsu muttered to herself, exhaling a long, weary sigh before turning and walking away under the dim, flickering moonlight.
The night breeze whispered through the trees, stirring their ancient boughs with a sigh as soft as silk. Moonlight trickled through the leaves of the old persimmon tree like a veil of pearl, falling gently upon the stone path where two figures stood still, beneath a weathered wooden fence, faded by time.
Soran stood before him, her fair face bathed in moonlight, delicate as an early plum blossom, unaware of the season's change. Her heart trembled quietly in her chest as she gazed at the man before her, who stood unmoved, like a mountain too high to climb.
"Is something troubling you, my lord?"
Her voice came softly, respectfully, like a murmur borne upon the wind.
"I simply… worry for you, my lord. The night is cold. Should you fall ill, I would find no peace."
Yeongwon did not meet her gaze. His reply was level, distant.
"I could not sleep… so I came out for a walk."
The words struck her like a closed gate, polite, yet unwelcoming.
Still, Soran took a step closer, her eyes quietly earnest.
"Then… might I walk beside you, if you will allow it?"
Her question was like spun sugar in the winter wind, tender, but laden with a fragile hope.
He looked up at last, yet in his eyes lingered the shadow of another, the man who had made her laugh so freely only moments before.
"That man… who was he?"
The question fell from his lips like a blade drawn without thought… sharp, unpolished, yet wounding all the same.
Soran startled, ever so slightly. She knew well this question carried more weight than words could hold.
"Kureum… is an old friend of mine, my lord."
Her tone was calm, yet eager to restore trust.
"Lord Kim has already granted him leave to enter."
"If Father has shown him mercy, then I have no right to object,"
He said evenly, though within his voice, sorrow stirred quietly beneath the calm.
His footsteps faded into the night breeze, but within his chest, the echoes rang louder than temple bells at dawn. Even though he told himself, she means nothing to me, every word he spoke felt like a knife turned inward.
Soran inhaled softly.
"My lord… will you not rest a little longer?"
"No… I… am very tired,"
he answered at last, then turned away, his form retreating down the silent path, leaving her behind beneath the garden fence.
She stood there, unmoving, her lips pressed tight. She did not know whether to reach out… or simply let him go. Only his shadow, stretching beneath the moonlight, seemed too distant to catch.
Leaves rustled gently above, the wind passing like time itself.
Their shadows stretched long across the cold stone path, side by side, but their hearts walked in separate directions.
Beneath the ancient trees and the ever-watchful moon, the night stood witness, silent, unjudging, to the quiet storm neither dared release.
The words left unspoken…The feelings unspoken…All waiting….For one of them to finally speak.