Lee Seung was growing impatient. Sargeant Han had been arrested the previous night but had not divulged anything of use so far. He was a beloved officer, and keeping his arrest under wraps had been burdensome, even though the Royal Investigation Bureau representative who had accompanied the small team of investigators that Sim Junho headed had kept things smooth. However, it would not be long before Prince Bongrim would get the wind of it, and he was not someone any of them could cross easily.
Why?
A question that had perplexed all of them. What had made someone so highly respected such as Han cross over to the Barbarians?
The breakthrough came when Wang Jung's junior officer mentioned something in passing about a slave that Sargeant Han seemed to be fond of. Seung had latched onto it, forming a vague plan.
A few quick threats, and Han's story unravelled.
"Why would I not do it, Commander Lee?" spat Sargeant Han. "I didn't ask to be born, raised like a sheep, follow every command, and please everyone at the expense of my heart. They told me to be a proper son, I was. They told me to be a good husband, I was. But in return, the only person who mattered to me was dehumanised, treated like she was less than an animal, and punished because she refused to stay within the confines of the boundary they drew for her. And you call them barbarians?" He laughed, his tone dredged with bitterness, "They promised me a new life where they would grant the full citizen status of a wife to the woman I love and the child I want to raise as ours, providing him the same opportunities available to other children. The old King understood people like us. And yet you ask why? It was not even a choice!"
The deposed King had tried to uplift the position of the slaves and make marriage between a slave and a yangban possible; he had also lifted the limitations placed on children borne out of such unions.
The bitterness was rooted in an evil that might not end in Seung's lifetime.
"Treason for a lowly woman?" The junior interrogating official sneered while the two younger interrogators laughed.
Blood trickled from a gash from Han's forehead that dripped over one swollen eye, covering it with a red viscous veil. He slid a one-eye glance at Seung and spat, the spittle of saliva and blood coating a small patch of ground inches away from Seung's boots. "Ah, love... It's a powerful thing, isn't it? Makes men do all sorts of things they wouldn't normally consider. But then, I suppose you'd know that better than most, Commander Lee. Especially when the stakes are so... personal."
Seung didn't react to the jibe, looking at his former friend with despair and anger.
"You might still have to do it. After all, I once heard of a healer who would cross any line to save a life, even if it meant damning herself in the process," Han mocked.
Wrath flared up like an inferno, a rage so fierce that Seung felt as if it could reduce the world to ashes. Seung's vision tunnelled to focus on Han's hatred, seeing past the injustice and only revelling in the need to crush the mouth that dared implicate Minjae to get back at him. A line of sweat trickled down his temple as he tried to rein himself in.
"Don't you dare justify your treachery, Han. Are you so past your senses you choose to forget what they did to the women they captured? You truly believe they will be any different toward your, or any Joseon, woman they get their hands on?"
"Our men have been ravaging their own women in the guise of help since those marauding Japanese came," Han lashed out.
"Pay heed, Han. Confuse our soldiers with mountain bandits, and I will have your tongue drawn out," Seung said.
"Commander Lee, I fought battles before you were weaned from your mother's bosom. You know my words are true," Han said, a bitter edge to his voice.
Seung stood and signalled to the man in charge of Han's interrogation. "Keep pressing on until he yields all the names. Fetch his slave in and tie her alongside him."
Han howled in rage, "Leave her be, you bastard!" Han then looked down and lowered his voice, "You keep her safe, and I will refrain from naming people important to you," he pleaded.
Seung's stomach lurched, threatening to hurl its contents. He willed himself to keep his face motionless.
Outwardly, he shrugged. "Whoever is guilty will also suffer the same consequence," he said, hoping no one could discern the bald-faced lie he uttered.
"Will they, Commander Lee, will they?" Han's accusing echoes followed Seung out of the underground cave, which concealed any follow-up sounds his former friend might have made.
Seung rescinded the order to bring in the slave. Han's jibes had hit the mark, whether he liked it or not.
Navigating the quiet corridors of his hanok towards his chamber, Seung wondered if tonight would be the night when the veil from the fog of Minjae's past would finally rise. Uncertainty marked invisible prints on the ground, contrasting the confident strides of his boots towards his chamber where he hoped Minjae waited as she had promised. Fumes of nervousness gutted his insides. Lee Seung, one of Joseon's top undercover Crown officers, had lost count of the times he found himself hesitating whenever Minjae's past crossed his mind, of the times he had asked himself why he needed to know it so desperately. In her presence, all his nightmares dissipated, only to return to plague him in solitude. Seung paused, momentarily distracted by a frolicking shadow that the cold, moonless light sketched across the courtyard.
Could it be that he feared that the past would come back to haunt them or that it held secrets that would shred the fabric of their lives, as Minjae often claimed? Or was it something more—an arrogant need to show her he could protect her from the ghosts of her past? Seung had always acted on his gut instincts, his decisions rooted in cold logic and foresight. The idea that he had no clarity to his misgivings terrified him. Crippled by doubt, the best he could hope was that the truth was somewhere in between, and he was ready to face the cut of the double-edged sword.
He need not have worried. Kim Minjae was not in his chamber. Instead, he was greeted by Choi Jina, decently dressed for a change, with a short note clutched in her hand, written in precise, flowy, artistic letters:
"I must leave tonight. Forgive me, Dari. I disappointed you again, Minjae."
Disappointment rushed through him like a stone sinking into the depths of his heart. This was more than disappointment; it was the haunting fear that, no matter how much he longed for her, Minjae would remain forever distant, like an exquisite butterfly wing that powdered into dust when touched.
Ache pushed through the back of his eyes.
Why Minjae? Why? With a roar of anguish, he balled the note in frustration and threw it across the floor, watching it bump across the smooth floor as silent as the heart that made no sound when shattered.
Choi Jina's hand on his arm felt like a branding iron, searing his already frayed nerves. Instead of soothing him, it ignited a fresh wave of anger. His gaze snapped to her, eyes narrowing with suspicion and barely restrained fury. "Did you drive her away?" His voice was low, each syllable cutting like an angry, honed blade. "Did you hurt her again?" His pulse thundered in his ears, a primal urge rising to protect Minjae at any cost.
She stepped back in alarm, shaking her head vehemently. "No, no, I didn't! I-I asked Physician Kim to wait for you, but she wrote this note and left," she explained, her eyes darting away from him.
"Why are you in my room?" he barked.
"Eomoni asked me to spend the night with you," Choi Jina said, her hand fluttering to her throat, the pupils dilating in a telltale sign of fear.
Of course. Seung had forgotten his mother's obstinate demand.
Seung sighed.
"I am sorry. I didn't mean to yell at you." Suddenly, his anger folded like a fire doused in sudden rain. He would not let his anger get the better of him.
There was always tomorrow. Seung would make sure of it. Minjae may have had a good reason for leaving.
He shrugged off his heavy overcoat and hung it on a peg of the wooden rack. He turned to find Choi Jina with a cup of warm tea in her hand. The drink warmed his bones' chill, caused not by the cold outside. Sargeant Han's imprisonment, Minjae's secrets, the uneasy feeling that he was missing something important, his mother's pressure, his father-in-law's manipulation, and most importantly, his inability to anchor himself in the ocean of emotions that ebbed and flowed inside him - they were adding up.
"Thank you," he said gratefully, depositing the cup on the surface of the chest closest to him.
His wife stepped closer, her steps bold, knowing.
Seung felt slightly irritated at his space being invaded, but he also felt guilty for not giving her the respect of a wife she deserved. The least he could do was not to flinch in her presence.
She reached for the ties of his gat. The back of his fingers gently moved her wrist away and undid them himself.
Her hands fell to her side, a faint flush darkening her cheeks. "Seeing to your satisfaction is my duty. If you want, I can speak to Physician Kim -"
"Enough, Choi Jina," Seung interrupted her roughly. He would not discuss Minjae with her.
Expelling an exasperated breath, he hung the gat over the peg.
Undeterred, she quickly pulled at the strings of his hanbok, unfastening them before he could react. She raised her eyes, invitation written all over her face.
"Please let me take care of you, Dari," she whispered, her voice controlled, seductive.
Seung watched her with a curious detachment as she traced his bare chest with her warm hands, pushing the hanbok over his shoulders, the lust in her eyes but a fleeting shadow, offering nothing of substance, nothing that could satiate the fire that Minjae burned within him. He had encountered so many women like her—beautiful, sensual, their desires flickering like candle flames in the wind, easily extinguished and just as easily replaced. He was only a means to an end, just like they were to him.
Much like the relationship he shared with her now. He provided her a place in his family tree, a home and security. She managed his household and would give him children if he allowed it.
Transactional.
Perhaps try to understand her better. Gil-ae's words drifted to him.
She reached for the ties of her own hanbok. Seung caught her wrist. "No. Not tonight." Or any night, Seung thought uncharitably. "I am tired and need to sleep. I have to leave for work early," Seung hedged.
"Just grant me your time until I am with a child, Dari. I will only come to you when the time for conception is ripe. If nothing else, then we should do it for Eomoni. She wants grandchildren to play in her lap. Please help me fulfil our duty to the family tree. I promise I shall never ask for more."
Dear heavens, how many ways could she keep repeating the same thing? Seung thought sourly, her words grating on his overstretched nerves like nails on stones.
Children had never featured in his scheme of things until Minjae had come along. How hard was it for this woman to understand he wasn't interested in them or her?
However, his conscience decided to make an appearance right then. "There is more to being a husband and wife than making children," he said gently.
She stilled, surprise colouring her face. Her face contorted in frustration. "I have never seen a man who refuses sensual pleasure no matter how many women he has had!"
No sooner had the words left her mouth than a hand flew to cover it, her eyes round like saucers. "I-I am sorry, I-"
Seung sighed. He gathered his hanbok and tied it with practised ease. He poured her a cup of wine and motioned her to sit.
"I used to think so, too," he said. "But something could be said about biting dust by misguided cynics like us." He peered into his wine cup, tracing the rim absentmindedly. "Once, I aimed to live free of attachment—to you, to any woman. Take my pleasure when offered and return only what was necessary. But then, I realised the life I was leading for so long was like indulging in sickeningly sweet food—enjoyable at first but quickly becoming unbearable. True fulfilment, the kind that nourishes the soul, can only come from the meal that calls to you, and you never tire of it, no matter how much you eat. It's the food you want to return to every day," his voice dropped, "every night."
Soo Hyun nursed the cup in her hand with a strange expression on her face.
"Did you ever feel this way?" He asked, studying her bent head.
"I am not sure if I understand, Dari," she said.
"Your brother thinks you left the chamber on our wedding night not for a man but for some other reason," Seung ventured.
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In reply, she emptied the cup down her throat and refilled it before topping his cup, taking her place across from him on the other side of the table.
Her movements were methodical and efficient. Though not quite devoid of elegance, they lacked the grace he had greatly admired during their marriage ceremony.
"Tell me about the man you left the marriage bed for," he asked. His hunch was probably correct. Her father had fed her family stories that made her look better in their eyes.
Soo Hyun swallowed. "He - he was older than me, maybe by fifteen or twenty years. He was - kind," her voice was soft, almost hollow. "He treated me like a human being."
Did she still love that man? It was a curious thought. Seung was surprised at the relief he felt. Perhaps he could send her to him if and when the opportunity arose. Choi Se-min had mentioned she was treated unkindly growing up. Possibly, there was some truth to it. Her stepmother reminded him of a snake. Living with that woman could not have been easy if she didn't like you. Choi Si-wan might have been overcompensating by supporting his daughter's terrible choices.
Yet, why the sudden appearance of fear in her eyes whenever her father was mentioned? Seung wondered.
"Yet you left him," he observed aloud.
She shrugged. "He liked money more than anything else in this world. He became greedy."
Bribing someone like that was the easiest way to get rid of him. It puzzled Seung how such a man had seduced a gently bred girl like her, especially considering her father's power. It seemed like suicide.
"Are you still in communication with him?" Seung asked.
"Why do you ask, Dari?" She asked pensively.
"I just want to know if you ever experienced the affection of the heart for someone." He genuinely hoped someone could take her off his hands. Someone who cared for her more than he did. A self-deprecating smile lifted his lips. What a strange thought for a husband to have.
"I don't know. The day Father decided I was to come to you, I never saw him again."
Seung's brows furrowed. "You were with him all this time? But-" he paused, not sure how to phrase the question. "But I thought there were others-"
Her face paled. Seung realised how insensitive his question was.
"I am sorry, I am not judging you," Seung said kindly. "You don't have to answer that."
She thought for a while. Then said: "That man - he-he didn't mind when other young men..." She kept her head bowed. "But I didn't form attachments."
He stared at her. What kind of man was he? How did her father allow such a lowlife near his daughter?
"Did he force you with others?" His face darkened at the thought.
She bent her head, swirling the wine in her cup.
Unpleasant air roiled his gut. Was it because he had refused to take her back as his wife that she was forced into things like that? Guilt assailed him.
"Tell me about your mother," he changed the subject.
"Mother? I-I don't-" she stumbled, "she died when I was born. I grew up with my grandmother."
Seung leaned towards his left, his elbow on his cross-legged thigh bearing his weight. "I heard your grandmother was a healer," he said.
She cleared her throat. "I have heard of it, but I don't remember."
Choi Se-min said she once wanted to be a healer. But Seung didn't pursue her any further. As far as he was concerned, there was only one healer for him, and he was trying very hard not to think of her with disgruntlement for breaking her promise tonight.
They sat for a while, and Seung racked his brain for another subject to engage her with. Even though she spoke a lot, Seung found she was surprisingly tricky to converse with. They might have more to discuss if they spent time outside his house's confines.
And pigs would fly.
"Royal Inspector Jo Hee Bong and his wife invited us to their home a few days ago. I will send them a missive that we will meet them tomorrow and share a meal," Seung said.
The expression on Choi Jina's face changed suddenly, and a hardness overcame it.
"I don't think I am ready to see Kim I-On, my Lord," she said edgily.
"She is my closest friend's wife and your childhood best friend. I am thankful she sheltered you that night. It's time we let the past go," he said gently but firmly and didn't miss the flare of her eyes at his subtle warning tone. He had no intention of losing Bong Hee's friendship over Choi Jina's strange obsession to keep a distance from Kim I-On, not when he suspected it had to do with the overreach of his father-in-law.
However, he didn't want to send her back to her chamber on a conflicted note. Deciding to make her feel better, he reached into his desk.
For some reason, Seung didn't want to share the 'gift' Choi Se-min had handed in the morning yet. He felt a connection to that little girl, which was absent from the grown-up woman sitting before him, and he wanted to hold on to it a little longer despite the small pang nudging his conscience.
He had planned to return the books to Minjae - even though Se-min said Choi Jina had once loved them too, but Minjae had better use for them and dearly wanted them, to the extent of making that trip to Hanyang - but Minjae would not need the old woman's sketch.
Seung drew out the paper, its edges sharp and crisp on his fingers, and handed it to her.
Choi Jina accepted it, almost eager in her pleasure of receiving something from him.
"This is beautiful. I didn't know you were an artist, Dari," she gushed. Seung felt relieved, a little less guilty, to see her smile.
"Who is she?" She asked, focused on the sketch by the blazing lantern light that illuminated every wrinkle and line of the much older but very beautiful woman in the drawing.
Lee Seung stared at her.
Why did Choi Jina not recognise her own grandmother she grew up with?
Perhaps he was mistaken; the sketch might have been of someone else. An arrow of foreboding shot down his spine. Seung shook his head to clear it. He was overwhelmed with everything and chasing shadows where none existed.
He needed to see Kim Minjae.
∞
Sometimes, the river flowed to the parched.
Minjae could not think of a better analogy when she was woken up by a hand covering her mouth. Her heart almost gave up in fright, but the arm around her held her tight against a solid wall that was cold to touch but pulsed with manic energy she knew too well. Her bleary eyes adjusted to the cavernous darkness of her room and settled on the faint whites of the deep eyes of the man she loved so much trained on her, debating whether it was safe to remove his palm without waking the entire Ganghwa with her scream.
Minjae shook her head, and Seung gently freed her mouth, the crook of his arm still cradling Minjae on her bed while he kneeled on it.
"How did you get in?" She whispered, incredulous, pushing herself up, only to be held tighter against his chest.
He brought his mouth close to her ears. "How should I punish you for breaking your promise?"
A stab of remorse and guilt cut through her. "I am sorry, I had to leave. I had forgotten Grandmother is ill and needed medicines," she said half-truthfully.
He had no problem reading the pause that told him she was avoiding the real reason.
"So why did you neglect to mention that little detail in that note? I learnt you have beautiful calligraphy but not much else," he said.
"I was in a hurry," she hedged.
"Well," he whispered, "now we have all the time." He settled in a little more, pushing his thighs under her and gathering her closer, his cold hands starting to venture over her heated body out of habit.
"You are not supposed to be in women's quarters. It's bad etiquette. What if the Royal soldiers find out?"
"Then I will be forced to do the right by you and take you as a concubine," he chortled.
"You must leave, Dari," she whispered fiercely, pushing at his chest. Her palms tingled from the layer of cold plastered onto his clothes. "You should not be out this late. You might catch the chill."
He pressed his nose against her cheek, its tip nudging a fiery desire within her with its frozen tip. "Then come home with me," he said simply. "I can't live without you anymore."
"I can't," she replied. Not yet, but soon, Minjae promised herself silently.
"Why did you run away tonight?" he asked gruffly.
"Lady Ryu wants your marriage to succeed, and she does not take kindly to your interest in me." Giving him some semblance of truth would keep him from sniffing too much, at least for now. "I will be there tomorrow morning to check on your mother."
"All my mother needs are some grandchildren, and I want you to be their mother if I have any, so that's settled," he smiled, and even in the dark, she could see the impish dimple on his cheek. She outlined the rim of the cleft with her thumb. "Also, did we create any in Hanyang?" He placed his hand on her belly.
Minjae sighed and shook her head.
"Then we should try again."
"Are you sure you want to create any with this pit viper?" She could not help. His words had hurt more than she cared to acknowledge.
In the dark, she could feel his beats pick up erratically. "I am sorry," he said huskily. "I hurt you. You know I didn't mean it, right?"
She nodded against his chest in the dark. "I hurt you too," she said. "But I didn't know you would react that way for hiding that I was the girl you met that day."
"I should have asked you outright, but I felt you had been lying to me all this time, and I couldn't take it."
Minjae stilled, dread freezing her blood. His words cut through her like a blade, and every fear she had ever known slammed into her, a tidal wave crashing over fragile defences. If this small lie shook him, what would the truth do?
He planted a tender kiss on her brow. "Please forgive me. I still haven't thanked you for saving my life and being my light all these years. It has to be fate that brought the light I had been searching for in the form of a woman who means more than my life," he confessed, his whispers louder than any words ever spoken aloud. "It's just that I want the darkness between us to disappear. I know rescued women like you do not want to talk about their trauma, and I am sorry for pushing you. But the thought of you being in danger, unable to do anything to protect you, has robbed me of sleep. Especially now with all the dangerous revelations that are upon us. Sargeant Han has not divulged anything but has threatened to implicate you more than once to deter me. And to think my own Father-in-law wants you dead.....you have to come under my protection, Minjae. He would not be able to touch you then."
Her lips parted, but no sound came. How could she explain? How would she ever make him understand that everything she hid, every lie she told, was to protect them both? But even as the justifications formed in her mind, she knew they would be feeble, pitiful against the raw, unfiltered truth that awaited him.
"It's decided," he continued. "Nothing can keep me away from you, no matter the gravity of what you perceive as unredeemable acts. You are coming with me. You can continue your healing work; I will see to it. I will tell Eomoni tomorrow. Once I convince her I will work very hard to provide her with grandchildren, she will be happy," he said teasingly as his hands slid over her breast.
Minjae shook her head. "It's not the right time. Eomoni is not yet well."
His fingers stilled, though his thumb encircled the mounted tip through the cotton. "Did she say anything to you?"
He sensed the hesitation before she could cover it up with a firm 'No'.
"Illegal grandchildren are not what she has in mind. It will only distress her further," she said, pushing his hand away, only to have it travel down to her thighs, which were still ensconced under the quilt.
"It's an improvement from not wanting any children at all," he said dryly.
"Dari!" she cried in warning as his hand pulled her skirt up under the quilt.
He had no plans to heed her. "I have a mind to kidnap you and keep you on a constant edge of desire until you divulge every little thing haunting your mind." He sounded mighty pleased with himself. "Now, why did I not think of it earlier?"
Minjae jumped as his fingers danced on her core. "Please, Dari," she pleaded, even as her hips undulated against her wishes.
"Please, what, Minjae?" Seung teased as his exploration deepened. "Stop? Or never stop?"
"Please do not jest," she squirmed, her mind fighting the pleasure her body relished. "Someone... will h-hear," she stuttered and inhaled laboriously.
Seung found endless satisfaction in watching her steadfast composure crumble under the weight of passion.
"Close your eyes," he ordered.
She complied. He covered her lips, her suppressed moans sinking into the depths of his soul. Seung gathered her closer, his awareness narrowed down to the scent of the woman in his arms and the intense hunger to possess her raging in his body. Seung ignored his own need, instead revelling in her response to his attention to her most intimate desires. When she trembled through her release, he almost groaned in rapture and torture. Something tender blossomed in his heart as he soaked her sobs of pleasure into his mouth.
None of them were in a condition to hear the door slide open. But Seung's alert senses caught the shift in the air, the faint rustling and the slight creak of the floor. Minjae became aware belatedly. She struggled, trying to create a distance. He barely had time to push Minjae's skirt down her legs and move in to shield her body from whoever it was before something hard crashed down on his skull. His head jerked forward violently as a shockwave of pain radiated from the point of impact.
Instinctively, Seung's hands flew up to his head, but he was too late to stop the second blow, propelling him forward on Minjae's chest, his body draped at an awkward angle over her face and body, braced by her arms.
Dazed, he struggled to push himself up, his mind reeling. The room spun violently, the walls seemed to close in around him, and for a brief, disorienting moment, he was only aware of Minjae beneath him, praying she wasn't hurt. Whoever it was, the offender would find themselves in dire straits, he vowed, their days upon this earth swiftly drawing to a close.
He heard a loud 'thud' - possibly the assailant dropping their assault weapon, but he didn't have time to breathe because now, someone was clawing at his shoulder, making incoherent sounds, trying to get him off his prone position.
He shoved off the hands, but then they reached for the - knot of his head!
A searing pain shot through Seung's head as the attacker yanked at his hair, the tight pull threatening to tear it free from his scalp. He elbowed blindly, the force throwing the offender off balance, and a howl - of a female - emitted. The 'someone' fell on their back, their indignant cry scoring nails on walls.
A faint light from a lamp on the floor outside the partially open door created a single beam that travelled fewer than two feet inside the chamber. Whoever came in carried the object of assault and obviously didn't have enough hands to bring the lamp inside.
Minjae surfaced from somewhere under him and finally found her voice.
"Woo Sari, no!" She cried out sharply.
Seung finally managed to turn around, collapsing onto his behind with his legs splayed out like a collapsed marionette. He braced himself on one hand, momentarily bewildered, and stared in disbelief at his nemesis - all five feet of indignation and wrath squatting before them, frothing venom at the intruder - which, incidentally, was him - looking for an opportunity to attack again.
He had faced hardened warriors, spies, and assassins, yet here he was, nearly toppled by a woman half his size wielding what seemed like a wooden - chopping board?
He almost expected her to challenge him to combat —perhaps with a soup ladle as her next weapon of choice. It would have been comical if it weren't so mortifying.
"Woo Sari, enough," Minjae's voice cut through the chaos with calm authority, as if this were a daily occurrence she had grown resigned to and turned to him in distress. "Dari, are you hurt?"
Her hands expertly went over his head and neck to check for injury. Though pleasurable it was to feel her fingers thread through his hair, albeit objectively, his eyes were fixed warily on the tiny creature who was still trying to figure out who had committed the audacity to encroach on her mistress's sacred space.
Seung grasped Minjae's wrist. "I am all right," he said, refusing to make any further spectacle of himself.
He saw the precise moment recognition dawned on Woo Sari. Her round eyes in her plump face became rounder, her mouth forming a perfect circle of shock.
She babbled something incoherent, dropping to all fours, her knees nearly touching her chest as she knelt, pressing her hands flat against the floor and her forehead to the ground. More unintelligent phrases fell from her lips, though Seung began to catch fragments of the thickly accented speech.
'I am sorry' might be a universal language of repentance, he thought wryly, but it did nothing to erase the sting of what had to be the most bizarre and embarrassing defeat he'd ever faced, wincing as he rubbed the tender spot on the back of his head.
A groan escaped him as the door slid open some more, and Kim Da Bom stood, a much larger lamp in her hand, surveying the scene like a displeased land overseer who found her labourers slacking.
Worse, Kim Seo Jun's baritone floated in from behind her, "What was that noise?"