Night fell slowly over the Kang residence.Paper lanterns swayed gently in the breeze, casting a soft golden glow across the garden.The large pavilion in the back, where the Oh family was staying, shimmered in orange light like a scene painted on silk.
From the outside, everything looked peaceful.But behind those thin wooden walls and gauzy curtains, there were words no one was meant to hear.
Of course, Han Eun-bi was in the wrong place at the wrong time — again.Her task that night was simple: deliver a pot of tea and some snacks to the guests resting in the pavilion.
Simple… in theory.
As she approached, she froze.Two men's voices came from inside, low and grave.
One was Tae-gwang's, deep and commanding.The other, calm but weighty — Kang Seong-won.
"...You know that letter must not fall into anyone's hands but the king's," Tae-gwang said slowly."I thought it was secured," Seong-won replied carefully."Secured?" Tae-gwang scoffed. "You and I both know someone already opened it. Hidden ink doesn't glow for no reason."
Eun-bi's eyes went wide.A letter? Hidden ink?
They were talking about that letter?!
She crouched closer, pressing her ear against the wall.But before she could catch another word—
The sliding door behind her opened. Quietly.
"What are you doing here?"
That flat, cold voice. Jun-yeol.
Eun-bi jumped so hard she almost tossed the tea tray."Ah! I—I was just... checking if the tea was still hot, Sir!"
"For half an hour?""Tea warmth is about dedication, not time, Sir!"
Jun-yeol stared at her blankly, though his eyes flicked briefly toward the pavilion.
"Leave. Now. And don't repeat a single thing you heard."
Eun-bi swallowed hard. "But I only heard... two sentences! Maybe three! And I didn't even understand half of it!"
"Exactly," he said quietly. "Don't try to."
Later that night, while everyone slept, Jun-yeol still sat in his study.Tae-gwang's words echoed in his mind.The letter. The secret ink. The threat hiding inside.
He unrolled the parchment once more, eyes lingering on the half-covered sun symbol — the crest of an old royal family.But what disturbed him most wasn't the message... it was how Eun-bi kept getting pulled into it, over and over, as if fate itself refused to leave her out of the story.
Meanwhile, in her small room, Eun-bi lay wide awake.The conversation replayed in her mind like a scene from a thriller.
"If that letter reaches the palace... that means there's a traitor inside," she whispered."And if that traitor is here... I'd better act like the dumbest person in all of Joseon."
Then — footsteps.Soft, deliberate, right outside her door.
She held her breath, eyes fixed on the sliding panel that shifted slightly open.A shadow moved past, but no sound followed.
"That's... definitely not a cockroach," she whispered.
When she turned toward her desk — her blood ran cold.
The letter.The same one that had been locked in Jun-yeol's study that afternoon,was now lying neatly on her table beside the still-burning candle.
"No, no, no, no. Not again. Is this thing haunting me now?"
The faint ink shimmered in the candlelight, glowing softly like it was alive.New words appeared beneath the sun symbol:
"The one who writes... shall open the path."
Eun-bi backed away slowly, eyes wide.
"Wait. I'm the writer. Oh, no. Don't tell me this letter is actually talking to me!"
Inside the pavilion, Tae-gwang spoke again — but this time, not to Seong-won.Behind the curtain stood another man, cloaked in black, wearing the same half-sun insignia embroidered on his sleeve.
"She's here," Tae-gwang murmured. "That girl is the one who triggered it all."
The cloaked man's reply was cold as steel:
"Then let history write her name by its own hand."
The night in Joseon looked calm.But beneath the glow of lanterns and the whisper of the wind,the wheels of destiny began to turn —and Han Eun-bi, the clumsy servant who never belonged in this era,was quietly becoming the axis of a story that could change the fate of a kingdom.