Seung stretched his arms lazily over his head, relishing the rare sensation of a deep, dreamless sleep. The hanji covered window bathed his chamber in warm gold, though it did little to soften the sharp chill of the late afternoon. It had been a long time since he felt so rested.

After depositing Minjae on her bed, he returned home to find his mother walking around the compound with his sister. He wasn't sure what exactly ailed his mother, but he was glad to see her regaining her strength.

However, the morning hadn't unfolded as smoothly as he had hoped.

Prince Bongrim had been irked, forced to agree to Governor Kim's request to release Choi Se-min from his duties and send him back to Hanyang. With a dry chuckle, the Prince had remarked, "His Excellency Lord Choi, relying on someone? Even his own son? I find that rather amusing, don't you? Though I must admit, I'm intrigued."

Apparently, Lord Choi had delivered a message to the Governor by having his daughter, Choi Jina, give it to her friend Kim I-On, the Governor's daughter. Prince Bongrim held Seung accountable. "You should have advised your wife not to meddle in Court matters, Lee Seung," he had said.

Seung was certain there had been some misunderstanding. After all, Choi Jina hadn't crossed paths with anyone from the Governor's household until yesterday. But he wisely held his tongue. Instead, he reported that Physician Kim couldn't attend to the young Princess because she was indisposed.

Sim Junho, who had been sparring with the Prince in a friendly match of swordplay, raised an eyebrow at Seung upon hearing the mention of Minjae.

Seung responded with a frown of his own.

The breach of protocol had not gone unnoticed by the Prince. "How is a man like yourself carrying a message from a villager? That is highly disagreeable, Lee Seung."

However, the Prince was not as annoyed as he pretended to be.

A small smile tugged at Seung's lips as he recalled Prince Bongrim's remarks about Minjae.

"That village healer is an impressive woman, though, isn't she?" the Prince mused, tilting his head with a speculative gleam in his eye as he looked at Seung. "Not only is she talented, but she is quite... fetching. How unfortunate she carries the stain of divorce. Otherwise, a woman of her beauty and talents could have found a place as a Royal consort."

Seung suppressed the sudden, brash urge to plant his fist in the Prince's angular face, belatedly realising the Prince was likely teasing him with his poorly-formed humour. Fortunately, he restrained himself just in time to catch the next remark, which almost made his self-control worthwhile.

"When I offered her a favour for saving my daughter's life, I expected her to ask for something personal. Instead, she chose access to the royal library of medicinal books. What use could someone like her have of such books? I have no doubt it was her subtle way of putting the royal physicians in their place for meddling with her. She has a clever way of settling scores," the Prince laughed heartily.

How typical of Kim Minjae. The Prince obviously wasn't aware of Minjae's love for books or that she could outread many of them if it ever came to it. The arrogant assumption caused a wry smile to ghost Seung's lips before he caught Sim Junho's knowing look and arranged his face to be more impassive.

Before more could be said, Ka Min Kyu appeared, striding into the yard like a fox coming in to explore the chicken coop he planned to raid. "Your Highness," he said, bowing with so much flourish that Seung thought if he was strung, he would thrum. "I bring news from Hanyang. Everything is well. The supply boat to Ganghwa's military quarters has just arrived safely."

This man had been harassing and pursuing Minjae. Seung's lips curled with loathing, anger coiling like a poisonous snake in Seung's gut as the fractured conversations from the woods surfaced in his thoughts, his hands trembling with the urge to strike.

Unaware of the scrutiny, Ka Min Kyu continued. "The men are well-stocked, and no issues were reported along the route. I will ensure the goods are distributed as needed." Prince Bongrim nodded in approval, handing over his sword to an attendant and letting an eunuch wipe his forehead and hands. "Good work. You may go." As Min Kyu bowed and left the yard, Seung's eyes followed him until he disappeared.

The distaste in his expression didn't go unnoticed by either the Prince or Junho. "I don't trust that man," Seung said, his voice little more than a growl.

Junho nodded in agreement, his usual light-heartedness replaced with a more serious demeanour. "He's always been... slippery. He checks out, though. So far, nothing suspicious unless you count his affinity for visiting the Kisaeng House every night and following a few peculiar habits. He makes the women undress each other and read poetry while he watches but never touches any of them. The rumour is he has whipped a few of them, but no one ever filed a complaint because he didn't leave a mark."

A kisaeng seldom filed complaints against influential people. It did not serve their establishment well.

A chilling realisation settled upon Seung—Ka Min Kyu's interest might carry dangers far graver than mere harassment for Minjae. If such attentions were troubling even those with treasonous dealings, the peril ran deep. Bile thickened his throat.

The Prince's mouth drew back in a quiet disgust. "There's something... off about him. I've seen his eyes linger too long where they shouldn't."

Seung clenched his jaw, grateful that the Prince had noticed as well.

The Prince stood with a final look and quietly left, followed by his eunuch and the two court ladies, his blue silk hanbok with phoenixes drawn on it making the faintest rustle as he walked away. Junho and Seung stayed where they were, a quiet settling between them.

Junho's eyes lingered on the empty spot where the Prince had stood.

"You need to keep Kim Minjae away from the Prince's scrutiny until we can completely clear her of any misdoings," Sim Junho had advised. "Do not forget to be present at dawn tomorrow. By then, Nam Dami should be ready to break." Nam Dami had been apprehended earlier that morning. Most commoners were quick to reveal their own and their neighbours' secrets after a full day of sitting tied to a chair—alone, afraid, hungry, and thirsty in darkness, anticipating the worst. "Additionally, I believe we have fulfilled our purpose; Minjae need not visit your residence at night any longer, unless Lady Ryu explicitly requires her presence. We can establish Minjae's whereabouts in the area if necessary. Just ensure that your guards and servants can testify to it."

The unhappy news landed with a thud in his chest. Their midnight sojourns were something he had come to cherish; though little had come of them so far, he had still held hope.

Seung sighed. Keeping Minjae shielded from those who might harm her was like trying to hold back the tide—futile. He wondered if she had obeyed his request to rest. Still, the selfish part of him hoped she would not miss the chance to visit his mother.

The truth was, he desperately wanted to see her at night.

On his way back from the Palace, he stopped by Jo Hee Bong's home to check on him and his new family. Hee Bong confirmed that the Governor had indeed submitted a formal petition to the Grand Prince for Choi Se-min's release, and with little influence at court, the Prince could not deny the request.

"The Grand Prince was displeased," Hee Bong said. "But what could he do? Father rarely refuses Kim I-On's requests. It appears our wives have resumed their friendship, and Lady Choi requested her brother's immediate return. Please extend my heartfelt thanks to Lady Choi for aiding Kim I-On yesterday. It seems I expressed my gratitude to the wrong woman."

It was unlike Jo Hee Bong to make such a mistake, but Seung had chalked it up to the nerves of being a new father. Still, the revelation that Choi Jina had met Kim I-On caught him off guard. Then again, despite threatening her in the earlier days, he rarely monitored her activities, so it made sense he hadn't known. But why had she kept this from him? What about Choi Se-min made the women around him so guarded?

Changing into his official uniform with the help of his manservant, Seung decided to visit his mother before heading out for his evening official duties.

A slight commotion caught his ears. A few of the servants were scurrying around the far end of the courtyard. It didn't take a genius to realise that his wife was again on one of her cleaning sprees, with one notable exception - it seemed like she was having some kind of a disagreement with Gil-ae.

Curious, Seung ventured closer. He seldom interfered, but he had always been a little protective of his sister and just wanted to make sure she was alright.

"This chamber is not supposed to be opened. It has our memories!" Gil-ae sounded angry.

"It's not like I am stealing something! I am just making space and cleaning out what's damaged or broken. The space is cramped and dirty, and I don't appreciate you speaking to me in that tone!" Choi Jina retorted from somewhere inside the storage room where his mother and sister stored mountains of chests that seldom saw the light of the day. He almost empathised with Choi Jina. Hoarding sentimental things was not his style, though he did have a few items that mocked his hypocrisy. Minjae's bracelet, for example.

Seung turned, planning to quietly exit, but something caught his eye.

A ragged, old fabric doll the size of a small dog, with more stitches on it than the cloth it was made of.

It was lying on a heap of other discards of various shapes, sizes and colours, but everything else faded into the background as his eyes fixated on that one item that had changed the trajectory of his childhood. The sight of the doll triggered a wave of nausea, pulling him into the past, into that moment when everything had shattered.

It had been right after the lunar year celebrations of 1624. The rebellion against His Majesty King Injo had been suppressed.

Seung had jumped from the palanquin soon after it left their house, visiting a family with a little girl where they were supposed to stay the night. Ignoring his mother's objections, he insisted he must return home to retrieve something he had forgotten. His nine-year-old self confidently assured her he would ride back on horseback with a servant by his side. It was a doll. His sister had long forgotten the sweet girl who had gifted it to her to soothe her tears. Gil Ae had tossed it aside when they arrived home, insisting she was too old for such things. But Seung hadn't forgotten. He was why his sister cried that day, pushing her and losing her kerchief in the pond. He hid the doll for two months, waiting to return it to that little girl. The tightly clutched doll felt like a treasure—a noble quest as he prepared to ride alone for the first time.

As he dashed to the stable, he noticed strange men with their faces covered outside his father's chamber.

A sense of foreboding slithered down his spine.

He had heard of bad things happening to other families—women being taken away and children murdered by strange men.

Quietly, he propped the doll against a tree, slipped behind it, and climbed onto the porch from the back, avoiding the stout man guarding the entrance. Through a small window, Seung crawled into an adjoining room, from where he could sneak a peek into his father's chamber.

There was blood. Everywhere. His father lay on the floor in a sea of red while a large man sat hunched over him, his back to Seung. The man's thick leather tunic shielded his body, and a straw hat concealed his head.

His father's lifeless eyes seemed to warn him, even in death.

The room tilted, and Seung had to grip the wall to steady himself. His stomach lurched violently, the acidic taste of vomit creeping into his mouth. Seung's throat burned with the scream rising inside him, but before the sound could escape, a hand clamped over his mouth, yanking him backwards.

Bound. Muffled. Thrown into the dark of a closet.

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Two things seared into Seung's mind before the blow came. The man locking him up was tall—and he limped. And just before everything went black, Seung saw the scar on the man's face.

A breeze carried the sounds of children playing outside in an alleyway. Stray dogs barked somewhere in a turf war, wrenching back to the present. His wife and sister were still speaking, but their voices drifted uncomprehendingly around him. Even after years, Seung could still feel the metallic scent hit him like a punch, making his head spin. His hands felt clammy. A sheen of sweat clung to his forehead, one droplet escaping down his temple.

The women noticed him at the same time and bowed in greeting.

"I didn't intend to discard anything of value, sister-in-law. I was simply sorting through the things I thought you no longer needed. Is that doll of any significance to you?" Choi Jina's voice softened, the irritation from moments before replaced by a sudden charm, clearly for Seung's benefit, though the shift barely registered as his mind wrestled with his painful memories.

"What?" Gil ae sounded confused before she spied the doll her brother was holding.

Seung didn't realise he had picked up the old, stained doll. Its once-bright-coloured blue hanbok with a small green norigae still dangling from its side had dulled and blotched with time. Uneven stitches, clumsily sewn by a child's hand, covered its peach-coloured hands and face.

"Oh, that's not mine," Gil-ae said, "I don't know how it came to be here. But I don't want you to touch any other boxes, please."

"Oh, I was worried. May I discard it, then? It's so old and torn. Perhaps some servant left it behind by mistake," Choi Jina said, her eyes raking the doll in Seung's hands disgustedly as if it carried some venereal disease.

Blinking, Seung looked at the tall woman. Did she truly not remember? She had been around five or six years old then, so her memory may have faded. However, her brother -younger than her - had remembered it so vividly that it seemed incomprehensible that she wouldn't, especially since the doll was filled with her own handiwork, a piece of her childhood. How could she forget something so personal, shaped by her own hands?

"Dari, I am sorry. I meant to clean the garbage. I apologise for the ungainly sight," Choi Jina said.

"This....is not garbage. I will keep this," he said.

From the periphery of his eyes, he saw his wife wriggle her brow questioningly at Gil-ae, who shrugged and shook her head in reply.

Choi Jina wrinkled her nose. "But Dari, it's dirty! Who knows where it has been."

The vanity in her voice grated his nerves. The doll had been her constant companion for years before she had given it away. How was it possible she didn't recognise it at all? Was she pretending to not acknowledge it because she was ashamed?

"Oraboni, let me wash it for you," Gil-ae offered.

Seung shook his head. His throat felt tight, a dull pressure settling in his chest. Beneath his skin, a faint tremor spread like a current, the sensation coiled at the back of his neck, the quiet crackle of unease spreading through his limbs. A terrible thought was forming in his mind, and disbelief scarred his insides at the preposterity of the idea.

"Choi Jina, I wanted to speak to you privately," he said.

"I will go first. I have to be in the kitchen anyway," Gil-ae quickly left.

Seung motioned at the doll. "This doll was with me the day my father died," he said.

Sympathy clouded Choi Jina's eyes, followed by a contrite look. "Oh, I am sorry, forgive me. I didn't realise."

Seung looked at her carefully as if seeing her for the first time. Her arrogance from their wedding night was still evident, but it now had a more polished edge. The likeness ended there. She was taller than he remembered. Seung often thought he had dreamt of her elegance at the wedding. Supposed to be one of the rare, well-read women in the country known to recite Naehun by heart, she hardly ever picked up a book, and her handwriting was the most dreadful he had ever seen in a noblewoman, her lists often unreadable. While she was good at most things she was lauded for, she wasn't anything extraordinary. Clearly, being Choi Si-wan's daughter afforded her accolades she scarcely deserved. She did have her merits. Few could be as parsimonious as her, and she didn't shy away from physical labour, as was evident from her coarse hanbok, with a mop in hand, a streak of dust lining a stray strand.

"Did you have a chance to meet Kim I-On before yesterday sometime?" He kept his tone even, though his mind whirred beneath the surface.

"No, but I wish I did. It was nice to be there with her yesterday," she said, sounding relieved to have a change of topic, adding, "It was almost like old times."

Seung nodded. "Lord Jo sends his gratitude to you for helping Lady Kim during the birthing process."

"It's the least I could do for a friend," she said with a smile that didn't reach her eyes.

"Did you know your brother is leaving the island?" Seung asked.

His question seemed to throw her off momentarily before her face lit up with genuine relief. "Is he? Oh well, I am sure he will be happier back in Hanyang."

Seung pulled at the hem of the dirt-crusted skirt of the doll, the rich silk still rustling between his fingers.

"What is the reason for your rift with your brother?" Seung asked, his eyes trained on her face, studying it as if it were a piece of unsolvable text.

Her eyes shifted. Her free hand clutched her skirt. "My brother fell into bad company and caused trouble. Since then, I have kept my distance."

"What kind of trouble?" He asked.

Her thumb nervously made small circles on the rounded top of the wooden mop's handle. "I'd rather not speak about it, Dari. I don't want his past to reflect poorly on him."

Her answers were perfect. Almost rehearsed.

Rehearsed.

He had once role-played being a merchant by the day and a deaf and mute man by the night. But if he had to take a guess, rehearsing for fictitious characters would be much easier than impersonating someone real.

Seung didn't take his eyes off her. "I always meant to ask. On our wedding day, your hand looked bruised. How did you injure it?"

Turning her left palm face up, she flipped it over, blinking. Seemingly at a loss for words, she swallowed. "I-I don't remember."

Wrong hand. The loop of doubt coiled tighter around his mind.

"That's strange. Your esteemed father tried to prove that the letter you wrote was false because it did not match your handwriting, and you explained it away by saying your writing hand was injured."

Her head whipped towards the hand holding the mop. "Yes, I recall hurting it, but I don't remember how. I must have hurt it more when I fainted during the wedding," she said.

Her response felt smooth as if the lie had already been crafted long before the question was asked. Seung's patience thinned, but he kept his expression neutral, unwilling to reveal just how deeply the suspicion was now gnawing at him.

"Do you have the books your mother wrote?" Seung asked.

"Books?" She tried to keep the confusion out of her voice, and Seung attempted to keep the revulsion out of his.

"Your brother told me about some books your mother had written, and I wondered if we could add them to our collection," he said, betraying none of the storms that whipped his insides.

"She did?" She repeated, her eyes blank.

She had no idea.

"Well, maybe your brother was mistaken..."

Her shoulders were taut with nervous energy, like a string pulled too tight, ready to snap. "Oh, yes, now I remember. I don't have them. I'll ask my stepmother when I go home next time. She might know," she said.

"It's rare for a noblewoman to write books. My esteemed mother-in-law sounds remarkable," Seung kept his voice blaise but respectful. "Do you know what she wrote about?"

The woman before him blinked like a cornered animal, caught in the sudden flare of a fire torch. "I- No, I mean, I didn't. May I please request your leave? I must clean this up before dusk falls."

She bowed to him and disappeared inside the storage room so fast as if chased by ghosts.

Back in his chamber, Seung dropped the doll on his table, watching it intently. It had been once fiercely loved and given away as an act of supreme kindness. His manservant lit the lamps. The orange glow from outside didn't quite filter through into the room. The old man polishing outside made small, laborious movements on a pillar.

When his head gama-bu presented himself, Seung's stomach clenched tightly as though bracing for impact.

"Did you make any trips to the Governor's House prior to yesterday with Lady Choi?" He asked.

"No, My Lord. While we carried Lady Lee Gil-ae before, and once we also took Physician Kim, it was our first time taking Lady Choi," the man bowed deeply.

"Yesterday morning, you went to Physician Kim's house," Seung stated.

The man shifted uneasily and cleared his throat. "I was told not to speak about it, My Lord."

Seung stepped closer to the man, towering over him. "Who did you take there?"

"It was My Lady Choi Jina, My Lord. She said it was about some woman's ailment and didn't want anyone to know," A drop of sweat trickled down the man's temple.

Woo Sari's never seen her, so she must be new to the apothecary. Minjae's words replayed in his mind.

The gama-bu's exit didn't even register.

Woo Sari, who had grown up with Choi Jina; Woo Sari, who had once tried to tell him something before vanishing, turning up years later almost dead; Woo Sari, who never once enquired after her former mistress, and her former mistress never mentioned her.

Woo Sari, who didn't recognise her own mistress, had never seen her before.

Because this woman had never been her mistress. Or his wife.

But that wasn't why the room spun around him.

Seung inhaled, suddenly short of air. His pulse thudded in his neck, a tightening sensation creeping into his chest. Fumes roiled his gut.

The distorted pieces crowded his mind, ugly in their insistence, finally arranging themselves to form the elusive image, grotesque in its completion, that had tormented his days and chased his nights away.

Minjae would not do this to him. To them.

Lady Choi...Lady Choi...Lady Choi....the surety in Jo Hee Bong's voice when he had looked at Minjae.

'It appears our wives have resumed their friendship.....'

Woo Sari, whose devotion to Kim Minjae took his breath away.

Two people on the island who knew her true identity.

Seung dragged the ties of his gat free of their loop and clawed at his throat, forcing himself to inhale jaggedly, each gasp scraping against his lungs.

It couldn't be. Yet....

Seung's hand shot out, gripping the edge of the table, fingers white against the wood.

The quiet nostalgia lingering on Choi Se-min's face.....a face that looked familiar because it carried the essence of a woman who was etched on Seung's heart....a certain sideways look, the scrunch of the brows while thinking, the tilt of the stubborn chin.....how did it not strike him?

'Noonim wanted to be a healer like Halemoni...'

The flashes of Minjae feeding him a brew in Hanyang, which her grandmother had taught....

'Brother-in-law Lee, has she ever fed you her famous concoctions?'

I only make it for people close to me..'

Seung gripped his head, the fragments piercing his consciousness like jagged pieces of a broken mirror.

'Aunt Yoo Joo wrote down many of Halemoni's healing methods in her books...I used to bribe Noonim with those books.'

Yoo Joo... His mother had mistaken Minjae for someone else that very first night. He had thought his mother was hallucinating.

His grip on the table loosened as his body swayed. The room tilted, a blurry mass of colours spinning around him.

A straight, petite back towards him. Graceful even in her rejection. 'I understand you have come to this room with some anticipation. However, it would behove you to lower some of those expectations.'

'You are wrong, Commander Lee. I am not brave. If I were, I would not be here with you today, on this road, playing this silly game.' Minjae's voice, steady, limpid irises floating in a sea of remorse.

'Is she anything like how you remember her?' The hitch in her voice...

'Why can you not simply tell me!'

He had trusted her. Loved her. Begged her.

'Perhaps because I hope you never find out?'

'I was fifteen years old, about to be married to a wonderful man when those thugs abducted me that day.'

She had been talking about him! To his face, unblinking, letting him make it a game.

'Returning to my husband's home as his wife is a dream I am no longer in a position to chase.' The calm certainty of the statement, unshakable and absolute.

The rare slip so off-handed it never registered.....' She is not your wife, I am!'

'I am the daughter of your father's killer.'

It was not some obscure, faceless man she had run from.

His pulse pounded in his ears. Betrayal didn't feel like the quiet, knife-to-the-back pain he had imagined. No, this was worse. It was a roaring inferno, a deep, visceral fury, hotter than anything he had known. He couldn't deny it any longer, couldn't twist the truth to fit his wishes.

Minjae had deceived him.

Every shared moment twisted in his mind, a mockery of the life he thought they had, standing on the ashes of the life they could have had. How dare she steal that from him?

It could only mean one thing: she didn't trust him. She didn't believe in him. If she had, she would have given him the truth—trusted him to protect her from the storm she feared.

But instead, she had locked him out, leaving him in the dark.

Five years. Five fucking years.

His vision blurred, not from tears, but from the heat of anger that consumed him. His legs dissolved into dust, forcing him to sink to the floor, barely noticing the bite of the hard floor on his knees. He gripped the chamber pot with ice-cold hands and hurled the contents of his stomach.

Putrid bitterness scorched his throat, each retch dragging him deeper into the abyss. He retched and heaved until he could not heave any more.