The pavilion is bathed in the morning light.
She crosses the courtyard slowly, one hand resting on her belly, now gently rounding.
The maids follow close behind, worried by her unsteady steps.
Yi Sun-sin returns from an audience.
His tall figure commands the passage, his gaze instantly finding her — still and small in the middle of the courtyard.
He approaches. His face is stern, as always, yet his eyes linger on the hand resting over her belly.
— "You walk too much. This isn't the time to act proud."
She answers, startled:
— "I… I only wanted to feel the evening air."
He signals the maids, his tone leaving no room for refusal:
— "Prepare a chair. From tomorrow on, she is not to cross the courtyard without assistance."
She looks at him, lips parted. He doesn't even glance her way when she murmurs softly:
— "You're… worried."
He turns sharply, his cold gaze fixed on her.
— "I'm ensuring the heir survives. Nothing more."
And yet, as he walks away, his steps slow — just enough to make sure she is seated in the shade.
And she, silent, understands: his words are cold, but his actions already protect her.