Enna stepped outside into the cool darkness. Her slippers brushed against the stone path, soft as moth wings.
Above her, the moon hung round and bright—like a watchful eye in the ink-stained sky. Its silver light bathed the courtyard, turning the tiled roofs and tree branches into silhouettes of quiet poetry.
She paused.
Her gaze lifted to the heavens, her hands folded before her.
And then—her heart gave a small, uncertain beat.
A flutter.
A whisper of something unspoken.
She imagined a face she had never seen. A name she had only just begun to say aloud.
Juho.
And without reason, something within her stirred.
But just as quickly, something else twisted—a faint ache. Like memory trying to speak.
Her eyes misted ever so slightly as she looked toward the stars.
"Mother, it seems though it's now the turn for me. I don't know if I will marry this man or not… but let's see who he is."
She smiled—gently, as though the sky might respond—and turned back toward her room, the moonlight following her like a silent blessing.
The peach blossoms scattered like drifting snow across the village courtyard, their pale pink petals glimmering in the noon sunlight. Beneath the shade of an ancient zelkova tree, noblewomen in flowing hanbok of soft jade, indigo, and crimson silk gathered, their jeweled hairpins catching glints of spring light as they oversaw the preparations for the flower-viewing banquet.
"Did you hear the news?" one of the women whispered, her slender hands arranging a tray of chrysanthemums. Her tone was laced with both curiosity and pride. "Lady Enna will soon meet Sir Juho for the matter of their marriage arrangement."
At once, a lady seated nearby gasped, her silk sleeves brushing the ground as she leaned forward. Then, after a pause, she nodded knowingly, lips curved in agreement.
"I suppose it was long expected. Their families are both of great renown—what finer match could there be? Sir Juho is admired at court, and Lady Enna… her grace has been the talk of the province."
Another lady, strolling gracefully among the blossoming apricot trees, glanced at the servants who bustled about laying mats and setting bronze vessels beneath the sunlight.
She lifted her fan and murmured, "And yet… I wonder. Lady Enna is generous beyond measure, yes, but…" her voice softened into a secretive lilt, "there is a part of her—quiet, hidden—that seems far more discerning than most would believe. I cannot help but feel she may not take to Sir Juho as easily as others expect."
The group of women stifled laughter behind their silk fans, the sound lilting like birdsong in the spring air.
"I can see what you mean," another said, lowering herself onto a wooden swing strung between two trees.
The lacquered swing creaked as she swayed gently, the wide sleeves of her hanbok fluttering like sails.
Her companions soon joined, their laughter carrying into the courtyard where petals rained down like blessings—and like secrets whispered by the season itself.
The narrow street bustled with the fragrance of spring herbs and the chatter of vendors. Silk awnings flapped gently in the wind as commoners cried out their wares—dried roots bundled in twine, earthen jars of bean paste, glistening fish displayed on straw mats. Amid the hum of barter and footsteps, Lady Enna walked with quiet poise, her jade-colored hanbok trailing lightly over the dust.
"Lady Enna," her young servant murmured, keeping close at her side.
The girl's voice was tentative, almost swallowed by the clamor of the market.
"Yes?" Enna answered softly, her gaze lingering on a row of silver-scaled carp.
She reached out, brushing a finger above them as if to choose which would be boiled into broth for the patients at the village hospital.
"It is now all over the village," the servant continued in a hushed tone. "That you are soon to meet Sir Juho."
At that, Enna drew her eyes away from the fish and turned toward the girl, who could not yet be more than sixteen. The servant's eyes widened, as though she had spoken out of turn.
"D-did I say something I should not have, my Lady?"
Enna's lips curved into the faintest smile, gentle as the sunlight slipping through the market stalls.
"No. The whispers reach me as easily as they reach everyone else. I suppose people take an interest in such proposals."
"Of course they do," the servant replied, her voice brightening with innocent devotion. "You are the very sunshine of this village."
Enna's smile lingered, though her eyes strayed again toward the crowd, their depth unreadable.
"It is this afternoon, my Lady," the girl added carefully. "Are you… ready?"
Enna turned her gaze back to her with a small, playful tilt of her head.
"Why? Do I seem unprepared to you?" she asked, her voice light but tinged with a quiet shyness.
The servant laughed and shook her head, the beads in her braided hair clicking softly.
"Most noble ladies would have spent this time before their mirrors, painting their lips and dusting their cheeks. But you, my Lady, are here at the market, buying food for the sick."
For a moment, Enna studied her servant with warmth in her eyes, the bustle of the market fading into the background. Then she turned, picking up the basket of fish herself.
"Once I have placed these at the hospital, I will return and prepare," she said with calm resolve. "Go ahead of me and take out the purple gown—my father's gift from the new year. That will be the dress for today."
The servant's face lit up with pride, and she bowed her head eagerly.
"Yes, my Lady!"
Back at her home, the room was ordered and pristine—its polished wooden floor reflecting the soft light of an oil lamp. Lady Enna sat before a bronze mirror, her face calm and composed. Her hair had been bound into a sleek, high bun, secured with a single pearl-studded binyeo that glimmered faintly beneath the lamplight. Slowly, with practiced precision, she touched her lips with a stain of crushed petals, the red blooming gently against her pale skin.
Her movements were meticulous, graceful, as though each gesture were part of a sacred rite. At last, she rose from the mat, and with deliberate care, changed into the long flowing gown her father had gifted her at the turn of the new year—a robe of deep purple silk, its folds heavy yet luminous, catching light like twilight waters.
When she stepped into the courtyard, her main servant girl and two male attendants awaited her. All three brightened at the sight of her, their expressions unrestrained. The girl raised her thumb in playful admiration, and the two men mirrored her gesture, grinning with boyish loyalty.
Enna flushed softly, lowering her gaze as she offered them a shy, dignified smile.
"Shall we go?" she asked gently.
"Yes, my Lady," her servant girl replied, falling in step beside her.
The wooden gate creaked open, and the two women made their way down the village path. The late spring sun bathed the streets in gold, and petals from pear and cherry trees drifted lazily in the breeze. Villagers looked up from their stalls and chores to greet Enna with warm bows and nods. Their respect was tinged with affection; she was known not merely as a noblewoman, but as the village's own beloved daughter, whose kindness reached even the lowliest homes.
Enna returned each smile with sweetness, her every step composed and measured, her purple silk brushing the earth like a whisper.
At last, they reached the towering wooden gate. The building beyond loomed with grandeur—a noble meeting hall crafted from the finest timber, its roof sweeping upward like the wings of a crane. Ornamental carvings of lotus and phoenix adorned its columns, and above the high wall, a great cherry blossom tree bent outward, its branches spilling clouds of pale pink into the sky.
The servant girl stepped forward, raising her small fist to knock three times against the heavy door.
The sound reverberated deep within the hall. A moment passed before the door creaked open, and a servant boy appeared, bowing low in deference.
"Lady Enna," he said respectfully, lowering his gaze. "We have been expecting you."
"Greetings. This is Lady Enna," the servant girl announced with a graceful bow, extending her hand in a polite gesture toward her mistress. "Might I ask if Sir Juho is within?"
The servant boy returned the courtesy, lowering his gaze.
"Yes, Lady Enna. Sir Juho awaits you inside. Please, this way."
He stepped aside, leading them through the wide wooden gate into the stone-paved courtyard.
Enna's breath caught faintly in her chest as she walked beneath the blossoming cherry tree, its petals drifting around her like silent witnesses. Her heart fluttered, quick and unfamiliar—never before had she stood on the threshold of a meeting that might shape the course of her life. Yet, outwardly, her steps were measured, her posture calm and serene, her every movement carrying the dignity expected of her station.