At that, Enna felt her heart quicken against her will. He seemed changed before her eyes—no longer merely the son of a noble house, but something different, something deeper.
It was a radiant spring day in the capital of the Hana Kingdom. Within the spacious courtyard of Juho's noble residence, the air was filled with bustle and fragrance. Servants hurried to and fro, carrying trays of wedding delicacies and arranging silk-draped tables beneath the sunlight, while blossoms scattered from the eaves as though Heaven itself were blessing the day.
Outside the great wooden gates, townsfolk gathered, whispering among themselves as they peered into the grandeur beyond.
"Today, Sir Juho takes a bride," they murmured, their voices tinged with curiosity and admiration.
"They say she is a lady from the western village," another added, "a woman of integrity, known for her kind heart. I have heard she has long tended to the hungry with her cooking, never weighing the worth of man by his station."
Within the yard, Juho appeared, clad in resplendent robes of azure, the groom's attire embroidered with auspicious patterns of cranes and clouds. Upon his head rested a tall black gat, adorned at the side with a fresh blossom—a token of new beginnings. He walked with measured steps across the busy courtyard, yet his eyes wandered toward the gate as though drawn by unseen threads.
Behind him followed a loyal servant, who noted the direction of his master's gaze.
"Sir," the servant ventured with a smile, "are you waiting upon Lady Enna? Fear not—her carriage shall arrive in a moment."
Juho's lips curved faintly, his eyes falling to the ground as though he were a youth caught in secret thought.
"It is strange," he admitted, voice low, "how my heart quickens. As if it beats louder with each breath. I, who have faced the solemn courts of men, now tremble before this hour of union."
The servant, touched by the honesty in his master's tone, bowed his head with a gentle smile.
"It is only natural, my lord. Today is the day when two lives become one. Even the steadiest of hearts must stir at such a moment."
As their words mingled softly beneath the warmth of spring, the great gate creaked open. All eyes turned. From beyond, there emerged a stately carriage borne by four sturdy attendants, its lacquered panels gleaming beneath the sunlight. At its side walked a young servant, her step light yet attentive, guarding her lady's presence within.
"Lady Enna, we have arrived," the young maid whispered, her voice trembling with both reverence and excitement.
The four bearers lowered the lacquered carriage with utmost care, the polished wood settling gently upon the stone courtyard. Juho's gaze fixed upon it, unblinking, as though the world itself had narrowed to that single door.
At last, the curtain lifted. From within stepped Enna, clad in a resplendent crimson hanbok, the silk glimmering beneath the spring sun. A warm smile adorned her lips, her presence radiant as a blossom newly opened.
"How pleasant the air is today," she remarked softly, her voice like a melody. She turned to the bearers and inclined her head with graceful courtesy. "You have borne me safely—my thanks to you."
The four bowed deeply, their faces touched by her kindness.
Then, as if led by unseen threads of fate, Enna's eyes lifted—and met Juho's. For a breath, all sound seemed to fade: the bustle of servants, the murmur of guests, even the rustle of petals upon the breeze. It was as though Heaven itself paused to witness their gaze.
Enna was the first to break the silence, her lips curving with gentle serenity.
"Sir Juho, you look most distinguished today."
Juho's chest stirred. He allowed a smile to cross his lips. His voice was low, steady, yet carrying warmth.
"It is only our second meeting, yet you appear fairer than the first."
Enna's smile deepened, tinged with playful grace.
"Then perhaps my bridal adornments have served their purpose," she replied, a spark of mischief glinting in her eyes.
Juho shook his head ever so slightly, his gaze unwavering.
"No," he murmured, each word weighted with sincerity. "It is not the paint upon your face, nor the silk upon your form. It is you, Lady Enna—your light, shining from within. Or should I say—my wife, from this day forth."
Enna's composure wavered.
Her heart leapt as though a hidden bird had taken flight within her breast. She lowered her eyes briefly, a gentle smile touching her lips, even as warmth flushed her spirit.
Soon after, the households of both families gathered within the courtyard, their gazes solemn and joyful. Enna's father, Park stood to the side, hands folded behind his back, watching with quiet pride. Beside him, Kwon, Juho's father, also observed, his expression grave yet softened by the warmth of the occasion.
Before the elders, the young bride and groom bowed deeply to one another, their movements refined, as though taught by generations of ancestral custom. At last, they lifted the pearl rings and gently placed them upon each other's hands—tokens not merely of adornment, but of eternal promise.
At that moment, the court musicians struck their zithers and flutes. The resonant notes of instruments mingled with the spring air. Sunlight streamed through the apricot blossoms, scattering petals across the stone courtyard like silken rain.
Servants and guests whispered blessings under their breath, while the elders exchanged satisfied nods. Under heaven's benevolent gaze, and the bright sun of spring, the union was celebrated with beauty and reverence.
"May your day be blessed," Enna said softly, offering a gentle smile as her husband stepped forth from the house clad in the deep-blue robes of a royal official.
Juho turned, his eyes warm.
"Today I shall return early. His Majesty holds the grand monthly assembly, yet my ministry rests this day. When I come back, let us share a fine supper together. After all, it is your birthday, Enna."
As he spoke, the autumn wind stirred, carrying with it the crisp fragrance of fallen leaves. Red and gold drifted from the branches above, swirling like silken banners in the air.
Enna's smile deepened.
"That is good to hear. Have a safe day, my lord."
She lingered at the gate, watching him depart, his loyal servant in tow.
Within her heart, she reflected, 'I once thought marriage was not meant for me. Yet now… I find joy in him. He is a man of kindness and diligence.'
Just then, her young handmaiden drew near, her eyes glinting with mischief.
"Lady Enna, do you grieve so dearly that Sir Juho has gone to his duties? You gaze upon the closed gate as though it still holds his shadow."
Enna turned toward her with a shy laugh, hiding her blush behind her sleeve.
"No, it is nothing," she said. "Come, let us go to the infirmary. The foodstuffs have already been delivered, and the poor await our care."
The servant girl bowed with a smile, and together they set forth, the autumn wind following them down the stone path, as though blessing their footsteps.
"Yes, Lady Enna," the servant said with admiration. "It is wondrous indeed—though you dwell now in the great capital, far from your native home, still you carry on the same deeds of kindness you once did there."
Enna turned her gaze toward the girl, her lips curving into a serene smile.
"It brings me joy," she replied softly, "to place whatever humble talents Heaven has granted me into the service of others. To do good for those in need—this is no burden, but my blessing."
That night, shadows weighed heavily upon Enna's countenance as she sat by her husband's side. Juho lay upon the bedding, his face pale and drenched in sweat, while a court physician knelt beside him, taking his pulse with furrowed brow.
"Is my husband well?" Enna asked, her voice quiet yet edged with urgent restraint, as though she feared her own sorrow might break forth.
The physician did not answer at once. His expression remained grave, his gaze fixed upon Juho's trembling breath. At last, he lifted his eyes.
"Lady Enna… may I speak with you outside?"
Enna's face darkened at his words, though she strove to preserve her composure. Rising slowly, she smoothed her skirts and bowed her head.
"Very well. Let us go."
Leaving behind the dim chamber where Juho lay struggling in uneasy slumber, Enna stepped into the evening courtyard with the physician. The lanterns swayed in the cool autumn wind, casting unsteady light across the stone path and the shadowed garden.
The physician's voice lowered, heavy with reluctance.
"Forgive me, my lady… but I fear Sir Juho is stricken with a grave illness. His condition is most serious."
At those words, Enna felt her heart plummet like a stone sinking into a well. Her breath caught, and she pressed a trembling hand against her chest.
"A serious condition…?" she whispered, her heartbeat thundering in her ears, as though the very earth beneath her had begun to tremble.
"Lady Enna," the physician began with deliberate care, his voice low as though each word bore weight. "How long has it been since your husband, Sir Juho, began to suffer heavy breathing, along with severe headaches and nausea?"
Enna's brows knit tightly. She searched her memory, sifting through the quiet days since their wedding—the laughter, the gentle words, the small moments of comfort she had cherished. Yet beneath those memories lay scattered fragments she had overlooked: a sudden pallor in his face, his hand pressed against his temple, the moments when his breath seemed strained.
Her chest tightened with regret.
"To me… he seemed well enough," she whispered, her voice breaking.
A sharp pang struck her heart, as though she had failed in her most sacred duty—to guard and care for the one bound to her.
"Why do you ask so?" she pressed, her voice trembling, her hands clenching within her sleeves. "I beg you—speak to me with precision. What is it that afflicts my husband?"