The golds of the palace shimmer beneath the lanterns; music fills the air, cups are raised high.
The king, satisfied, praises the brilliant victory that has restored peace to the coasts.
Yi Sun-sin stands tall, his armor still marked by the sea, an unbending figure amidst the splendor.
Then comes the moment of reward. Precious silks are unrolled, chests of jade and calligraphed scrolls are presented. The courtiers applaud.
But a murmur ripples through the hall — a figure appears, led by two eunuchs.
It is a young woman with foreign features, dressed in a modest hanbok yet adorned with jewels. Her steps are hesitant.
As she approaches, the king proclaims:
— "Let the man who has cleansed our seas also receive a richer home. Here is a concubine, a token of gratitude for your deeds."
A heavy silence falls.
Yi's wife, seated among the court ladies at the back, freezes. Though not yet twenty, she sits straight, eyes lowered. But in her chest, her heart tightens like under the edge of a blade.
Yi bows deeply, his face expressionless. His tightly pressed lips betray a flicker of tension — quickly hidden beneath a firm, grave voice devoid of emotion:
— "I accept the honor bestowed upon me by His Majesty."
No more words. No lingering glance at the young woman. No smile.
Only the cold acceptance of a command that cannot be refused.
Applause resumes, drowning out the silence within his wife.
She does not protest — a wife of Joseon does not protest.
She bows as well, as one bows before a blade.
And in her heart, she knows: whether he desires it or not, this gift has opened an invisible crack within their union.