On a bright, dazzling day, the sun poured its light relentlessly, as if determined to test the endurance of everyone standing beneath its burning glare. The wide courtyard of the grand estate was filled with the fluttering of cloth, paper lanterns swaying from wooden beams,and the steady chorus of cicadas hiding beneath the eaves of ancient chestnut trees, that cast gentle shadows across the warm stone paths.
Amidst this serene and timeless beauty, a noble young man lounged comfortably at the edge of a stone well. The colorful parasol above him fluttered lightly in the heated breeze. He held an ornate Chinese fan, waving it with playful elegance.e As he teased the young woman, drawing water.
"Ah! It's unbearably hot! Isn't that right, Soran?"
Soran lifted her gaze with a soft smile before lowering her head again to scoop water with calm precision. Her sleeve brushed against the smooth stone edge. A faint fragrance of flowers drifted from her clothes, mingling with the earthy scent rising from the moist ground.
"It is hot indeed, my lord," she answered politely."But I've worked hard all my life.A little task in the kitchen is nothing for me."
The young man nodded theatrically, as though he had just learned some profound truth.
"But I heard the head cook forbade you from working.Is that not so?" he asked, raising a brow in mock surprise.
"I begged until she relented," Soran replied, lifting the now-full bucket from the well."It took quite a while to convince her."
The young man twisted his lips skeptically, still unable to understand why she never chose to rest like the others. Part of him wondered if she ever shirked work… or if she was simply incapable of laziness.
Before Soran could answer, he jumped down from the well's edge, eyes widening as he realized she was about to leave.
"Wait! Are you done already? You're really going?"
She turned to find him staring at her in bewilderment.
"Yes, my lord. And you? Do you not have duties today? Why are you here… speaking with me?"
The question was sincere and innocent, yet to the young man, it sounded as if she simplydidn't wish to speak with him.
"Ah… I see. You don't want to talk to me anymore, is that it?"
Soran let out a quiet laugh. If the person she was meant to marry was like him,perhaps it wouldn't be so terrible. He wasn't rude or arrogant like many nobles,though she felt nothing romantic toward him. Still, she offered him a gentle smile.
Hearing her laugh, the young man slowly turned toward her again.
"You're strange, you know that? Always teasing me."
He chuckled and lightly tapped her shoulder with his fan, playful yet careful.
"I must go. Work awaits," Soran said without hesitation.
"This household is beyond my understanding," he grumbled, fanning himself in a sulky manner as he looked up at the sky and the surrounding trees.
"They say you're forbidden to work, yet you do more than anyone else. So who, exactly, is lying?"
Soran lowered her gaze, gripping the heavy bucket tightly.
"And why should I not work? And you, my lord....Why are you here?A man should not spend the entire day lingering around a young woman. Especially… a young woman like me."
Her tone sharpened slightly. She was growing irritated,thinking he was about to belittle her worth, albeit unintentionally.
The young man leaned in with renewed curiosity, eyes bright.
Soran met his gaze briefly....before turning away, letting silence speak for her.
"So you don't know?"
He snapped his fan shut with a sharp sound and pretended to ponder deeply.
"In that case, go on then! Take that water to those 'liars' of yours!"
"My lord, what are you talking about? I truly don't understand."
Soran bowed politely before quickening her steps through the estate's lush garden, following the scent of pine and warm earth lingering in the air.
Though puzzled by the young man's mix of mischief and sympathy,she couldn't deny the warmth it brought her....a rare feeling in a household that often felt far too quiet.
Upon reaching the kitchen area, the fragrance of spices-ginger, garlic-mingled with the clatter of bowls and the cheerful chatter of workers.
"Soran!"
A familiar voice called out.She turned to see a middle-aged woman, apron stained with food, hurrying toward her.Her face was pale, breath shallow, eyes filled with urgency.
"What is it?"
The woman stopped before Soran,one hand pressed to her chest as she panted,fear clouding her gaze.
"Don't do this! Quickly- come with me!"
Thud!
Before Soran could react, the woman grabbed her arm tightly. The bucket slipped from Soran's grasp, water spilling across the ground in a sweeping rush.
Soran spun around, eyes wide, staring at the overturned bucket.
"What… what is happening?" she asked, bewildered.
But before she could receive an answer, the woman tugged her again-hard-ignoring Soran's confusion. Unable to resist out of respect and uncertainty, Soran hurried after her until they reached a beautifully decorated small pavilion.
The polished wooden doors gleamed under the soft light, and the air was thick with the scent of incense and sandalwood.
Soran's eyes wandered around the place as the middle-aged woman who had brought her here beamed with a wide smile, a smile glowing like a lantern at dusk.
"It's beautiful, isn't it? This place…" the woman spoke with excitement overflowing in her voice, as though she were revealing a secret long kept. Time once bound by fate was now mixed with hope and dreams; all of it shimmered through her laughter.
"This place is…?"
Before Soran could finish her question, a group of young women appeared at the entrance. They wore brightly colored hanbok, their faces adorned with delicate makeup, and jeweled brooches that sparkled like stars.
They stepped forward, their voices harmonizing softly.
"Welcome, my lady of noble birth!"
They smiled sweetly, their charm so captivating that even Soran, who was a young woman herself....felt momentarily bewitched by their grace and allure.
Soran shook the thought away. Lifting her chin, she straightened her back with firm determination, hoping it would shield her from any improper behavior they might attempt.
"D-Don't come any closer! What are you trying to do!?"
She stepped backward in panic, but the cook who had escorted her suddenly pushed her from behind, sending her stumbling toward the waiting girls.
"W-Whoa...!?"
But the young women stood calmly with cool, poised smiles, ready to catch her as she stumbled into their arms.
"Good luck, young lady," the middle-aged woman said in farewell, watching as the girls ushered Soran into the building.
"We welcome you, my lady!"
Without hesitation, they grabbed her hands and pulled her inside.
"Let go of me! Let go right now! Auntie, help me! They're going to take my clothes off, help!"
Soran's cries echoed loudly through the doorway.
Outside, the middle-aged woman listened with a darkened, troubled expression, exasperated by the chaos unfolding inside. But soon her expression shifted, as if remembering that her task was now complete. She walked away confidently, though every so often she turned back, smiling slyly at the commotion she had caused.
"I don't know whether to pity you or congratulate you, Soran!"
The cook shook her head before finally forcing herself to leave and return to her duties.
"What… what is all this…?"
Soran's trembling voice cracked as she shook her head violently, trying to resist the swift hands of the ladies swarming around her. Their fingers danced across her skin, brushing on soft layers of powder and elegant strokes of color. No matter how fiercely she struggled, their slender hands were quicker than the wind, draping her in layers of silk, each piece embroidered with silver and gold threads, shining like an ancient painting brought to life. By the time they stepped back, Soran could hardly recognize herself.
Slowly, she lifted her eyes to the round pine-wood mirror carved with delicate patterns. Her breath caught the moment her gaze met her reflection. The face she had always known as plain now glowed with a beauty so refined she looked like a noble lady from a legend. Her fingertips brushed her porcelain-smooth cheek, wonder and confusion blooming within her like the first flower of spring.
"You are truly breathtaking…" one of the women whispered. Her voice was soft, tinged with something bittersweet, as though the beauty before her stirred memories of a distant past. After speaking, she quietly stepped away.
"Please excuse us, my lady," the women said in unison, their farewell harmonizing like bamboo flutes. They bowed with graceful reverence before leaving the room one by one, until silence reclaimed the space, accompanied only by the gentle glow of the fading evening light filtering through the woven wooden window.
Soran remained still. Her gaze stayed locked on the mirror as tears slowly welled in her eyes, spilling down her cheeks in silence, blurring the face of the dream-like woman reflected back at her.
"Is this… truly me?" she whispered. Her trembling hand reached up again, touching her cheek, brushing over the soft fabric that now wrapped her body.
Moments later, her slender form slumped sideways onto the polished wooden floor. Her eyes fluttered shut in exhaustion. A single tear lingered on her cheek, shimmering like a drop of dew on a flower petal at dawn.
Outside the window, the sky shifted from pale gold to soft violet-gray. The leaves of an ancient plum tree swayed gently in the evening breeze. Delicate white-pink petals drifted down without a sound, like the quiet sigh of heaven and earth. The tall grass bowed softly as the cooling wind swept through.
Autumn was drawing near. Blossoms bloomed only to await their inevitable fall, just like the young woman before the mirror who was beginning to understand that beauty was not freedom, but a silent chain binding her to a fate she could not choose.
The wind rustled through the bamboo behind the house, lulling her toward a dream, one she could not tell was hope or merely a trembling illusion of her fragile heart…
Amid the silence, Youngwon had returned to the library. He set the manuscript of his novel onto the table before glancing toward the small wooden annex that connected to the main residence of Lord Kim, his father.
"Where has Bunsu wandered off to now…"
He muttered to himself, reaching for a book of old texts to ease his boredom. Then a thought struck him, he had received a letter earlier that day, left for him at the bookshop outside town. A letter from his anonymous reader.
The name written on it was:
"Peony… the Withered One?"
Youngwon sat down and slowly opened the letter to read its contents.