It was said to be a night of bliss, a wedding night for the bride who glowed like moonlight in early spring. Yet Soran's heart was silent, cold, and unbearably tired, as though she had already surrendered to a life that had never belonged to her.
"Must I… truly marry a man I have never met?Or is it… that young master…?"
Soran stared at her reflection in the bridal mirror. Tonight, she should have been more radiant than ever. Yet half a year had already passed since she was forced to work in the Kim household.
In her heart, she prayed her groom would be Young Master Pyeonghwa, the owner of the jade bracelet she wore. But the cook....Bunsu's mother....had already told her firmly:Her groom was certainly not that young master.
The night was eerily still. Even the moon hesitated to cast its light,hiding behind pale silver clouds, as if unwilling to witness the lonely fate of the girl below.There were no zithers, no laughter, no wedding guests, not even her own family knew of the ceremony. Everything unfolded in silence, like a wind that left no trace behind.
Her slender legs trembled as she walked toward the smallest, quietest annexof the Kim residence. Shadows of trees swayed, and the faint scent of peonies, already beginning to shed their petals, drifted through the evening air . The chirping of crickets echoed like an ancient, sorrowful melody.
Soran wore a clean chogori. It's soft, vivid color blooming like the first petals of spring sakura. Barefoot, she stepped onto the cold wooden floor, removed her shoes at the threshold, and entered the small house. Only a single candle illuminated the dim room.Old wooden walls hid in deep shadow, revealing only whatever its faint orange glow could reach.
There a man sat behind a low table.
He wore a navy hanbok, his posture composed and quiet.A black hat shaded his face so deeply that not even the outline of his expression could be seen. One hand rested calmly on the table, the other tucked beneath his robe.
Even without a word, the chill in the air between them spoke louder than any greeting.
(I....I've seen this young master before!)
Though his face was hidden, Soran remembered.She had seen him once, the beautiful young master who showed her the way to the kitchenthe very first day she arrived at the Kim household. That brief meeting had left her confused and restless for days. A man as exquisite as a figure from an ancient Chinese painting…
Her eyes widened. This was more than anything she had dared to dream. Yet the coldness in his demeanor made her more nervous than she had ever been.
Soran knelt across from him, the small wooden table between them, as fragile and transparent as a wall neither dared cross.
The trembling candlelight cast wavering shadows across her face. Even without a smile,Her beauty remained undeniable .And though his features were hidden in darkness,The refined lines of his form and the noble poise in every movement made it impossible to look away.