The choice not to reveal her identity proved easier than Minjae thought. At one point, she had considered revealing her identity, if only to see Lee Seung's arrogance crumble under the weight of his guilt for the cruelty he inflicted on her.
In the end, she opted for safety. Her family in Ganghwa was already under surveillance, and there was not much she could do other than ride the storm out. She was convinced of their innocence and as eager to sniff out the culprit who had sullied their cause as the men who held her captive. It only made sense to keep her identity secret and protect everyone from Lord Choi Se-min's wrath, which would target anyone opposing him. If he learnt she was alive, he would not stop at Kang Do or Lee Seung but even hurt Se-min and anyone else who could back her claim.
Minjae winced as she remembered her father's cold, indifferent eyes whenever he looked at her. The whispers of servants, the cruel words that slipped through the walls—each memory was a knife twisting in her gut. Deep down, she had always known Choi Se-min wished she had never been born.
Moreover, even if she had tried, would Lee Seung would have believed her?
The staged rescue was set for exactly one week from today. According to their covert plans, Minjae had discreetly informed everyone on the island after returning from Ganghwa two weeks earlier. Captain Park was tasked with delivering the woman, and three days later, she would be covertly transported to a secluded temple. From there, she would be dispatched to her final, undisclosed destination. This woman was integral to their operation, a crucial pawn in the intricate web designed to ensnare those trafficking in dangerous secrets.
For his part, Seung and Wang Jung had planned new documents and fake rescue routes for the royals and shared them with a select few.
Kim Minjae had returned to the Lee household a few days ago and had resumed her treatment of Lady Ryu, who had been inordinately pleased to see her.
This morning when she entered the courtyard, she was greeted by Jeon Suji, delivering fresh cuts of meat to the cook. Jeon Suji wriggled her eyebrows at the woman who claimed to be Lee Seung's wife, receiving what seemed like boatloads of gifts from her parent's house. The woman's face was stoic, but her eyes gleamed at all realms of silk, rice and beans sacs, and knick-knacks that had arrived for her from the capital.
Minjae's heart skittered for a moment, nostalgia hitting her like a whiplash, so potent that she almost doubled over.
Amid the emotional wreckage left by Seung's actions, the close shave with her father, meeting with Se-min and Kang Do, and being in her grandmother's house, the walls she had built over the years swiftly crumbled. The pain of loss sharpened the daggers poking from those walls, severing her ties to her childhood as well as to Lee Seung. Minjae wanted to physically harm the woman for taking her place, for pretending to be someone she was not, for touching everything that should have been hers...
Her legacy.
She had even lost the books and her grandmother's sketch. Seung never returned them, and she didn't ask.
"Are you all right?" Jeon Su-ji was shaking her arm. "Minjae?"
She snapped back to her present, disoriented.
"You look like you have swallowed a bee hive," Su-ji jested, though she kept a close eye on her. "Are you sick?"
Minjae shook her head. The woman - Seung's wife, Minjae had to remind herself - chose that moment to look at their difrection. Her smile tightened as she slipped a thick envelope in her sleeves.
Giving a respectful bow, Minjae tried to clamp the sudden jealousy that consumed her. She received a curt nod as an acknowledgement.
Now that Seung had cut her from his life for good, would he turn to this woman? She was beautiful, and with her newfound knowledge of how things worked between a man and a woman, Minjae knew the woman had what could drive any red-blooded man wild. Images of them in bed seared her mind, and Minjae felt physically sick.
She had to stop. She had work to do. And she had a goal to reach.
"Don't stay out too late tonight; tomorrow is the procession," Suji elbowed her. "I heard the men in the Royal security are beautiful to look at."
Minjae rolled her eyes. "Continue that line, and you will lose your head."
"I am not exactly a candidate for chastity belt," Suji laughed.
Gil-ae greeted her at the door, the young woman's smile spilling into a wide, welcoming grin.
"I am so glad to see you, Physician Kim," she mouthed while Minjae waited to be announced by the maid. Though the sounds were muffled, Minjae could hear Lady Ryu's angry voice coming from inside the chamber. "Come see me when you are done," Gil-ae said, then bent towards her, conspiratorial, "The temperature inside is high, but do not let it trouble you. It's almost a daily occurrence now."
Minaje bowed and watched Gil-ae retreating back with a smile. In an ideal world, she would have gained a sister. She wondered what Gil-ae meant by her cryptic statement.
She received her answer as soon as she stepped into the chamber.
By temperature being 'high', Gil-ae meant both Seung and his fake wife were in attendance to Lady Ryu and getting what looked like a dressing down.
Her breath hitched, and her stomach went on a dive.
She had been back on the island for twelve days and eight since she returned to the Lee house as Lady Ryu's physician. She had not even glimpsed Lee Seung.
Seeing his dark head bent towards his mother while saying something soft and soothing, Minjae felt a swarm of butterflies scrape their whispery wings against her insides. The noises around her coalesced with the blood rushing in her ears.
An angry flush stained Lady Ryu's face, her brows scrunched as she shook her head at whatever Seung said. Seung gently patted her hand before he rose and turned.
Their eyes met. The intensity of heat in his charcoal eyes burned a fiery path right into her soul before they shuttered, travelling down the length of her in a quick once-over.
The temperature dropped and then soared before falling again. The skin of her arms pebbled.
Minjae wiped her face clean of all expressions and did what she was here to do - tend to Lady Ryu, who neither bestowed her a smile nor looked at her, which was not normal.
Fewer and fewer things qualified for normal in Minjae's life anyway.
Seung and the fake wife sat behind her. Minjae was acutely aware of their eyes following her movement - or were they?
She glanced at Seung. His face was dark, his brows drawn into a fierce line, and he kept his eyes fixed on his mother. Her gaze involuntarily shifted to his fake wife and was rewarded with a triumphant slash of her mouth. Cursing herself for falling into the trap, Minjae ignored both of them and focused on her needles. She silently praised herself for keeping her fingers steady when Seung murmured something softly to his fake wife.
What could have upset Lady Ryu so? She was wound tighter than a spool of cotton on a spinning wheel. Minjae eyed the single red envelope lying on the table by her bedside. Minjae wondered if it had come bearing bad news.
It was a bargain with the devil.
How much did Lady Ryu know? Did she know about the letters?
When she left, Minjae could have been one of the faceless figures serving the household for all the attention Seung paid her.
A vice grip twisted the bleeding organ inside her rib cage. What else had she expected?
Gil-ae was waiting outside her mother's door when she stepped out. "Do you have time to accompany me to a friend's house today during the hours of Mi Si (未時)*? She is due to give birth soon, and I pledged to bring you to her. They have only just arrived on the island, and the journey has been arduous for her."
"I do not have much experience with pregnant women or delivering children, My Lady. There are some highly skilled midwives I can direct you to," Minjae said gently.
Delivering children was not her speciality, and her waking hours were already glutted with a long list of women demanding her presence, regardless of whether their need was genuine or not. She did not want to add to her burden, especially for another Yangban elite who thought anyone who served them subsisted on air and their curses alone.
"Oraboni had already told them about you, so she has been insisting on someone she can trust, even if you cannot help her with childbirth," Gil-ae persisted.
Minjae finally relented and agreed to accompany her.
"Lee Gil-ae, I do not recall you taking my permission to leave the house today," The fake wife's sultry voice interrupted their conversation.
None of them had heard her entering the corridor.
Lee Gil-ae's mouth tightened as she turned to greet her supposed sister-in-law with a polite bow.
"We discussed this yesterday, Sister-in-law," Gil ae said calmly, though her eyes two furious slits of coal.
"Perhaps. That does not automatically translate into permission. I cannot allow you to leave the house that close to sunset."
"You seldom allow me to go out during the day," Gil-ae protested.
Minjae felt a pang of sympathy for the younger girl. Gil-ae embodied all the virtues expected of a refined Yangban woman, and Minjae could not help but chafe at the restrictions imposed upon her by the woman.
The fake wife dared to look bored. "That's enough. Please go attend to Mother-in-law," she instructed haughtily.
Pricking needles at the base of her neck and soft footsteps alerted Minjae to Seung's presence before she heard his voice.
"Is there a problem?" Seung asked.
Minjae bowed and stepped aside.
"Oraboni, I want to take Physician Kim to Lord Bong Hee's house to meet his wife and was asking Sister-in-law for permission," Gil ae said sweetly.
"Oh!" Seung said. "That's a good idea. Do that."
The fake wife's face rearranged itself in rigid lines.
With that, he walked away, with not even a cursory glance at Minjae to acknowledge her bow.
Gil-ae sent Minjae a conspiratory victory smile and slipped into her mother's room.
Minjae felt the blade of the fake wife's gaze pierce her rather than see it.
"Well, what are you waiting for?"
A tired sigh escaped Minjae. "To leave after you, My Lady. It's rude for me to leave earlier."
"You dare to teach me etiquette?"
"One can never learn enough of it," Minjae returned.
"For a servant, your tongue has grown too long. Consider this a fair warning; I might shorten it one day. If you think you can rekindle My Lord Lee's interest by hovering around here or sweetening his sister, then you are mistaken," she said acerbically.
The sore laugh travelling Minjae's throat left behind an acid aftertaste. "You wanted my help to convince Lord Lee to come to you. Here is some free advice. Sweetening up to the sister might be the first step towards it."
The fake wife scoffed. "I don't need your advice anymore. You are no longer a competition. I wonder what happened," she said, with a gleam of speculation in her narrowed eyes, unsettling Minjae. "Did he already have his way with you?"
Blood poured out of Minjae's veins and pooled somewhere at the bottom of her stomach, making it cramp.
An ugly red climbed the woman's cheekbones. Her gaze dropped to Minjae's midriff before raising her eyes with a look so putrid Minjae could smell it.
"Are you with a child?" She asked.
"It's none of your business," Minjae said coldly, her barren chest wishing she could have said yes to that question.
"Which means a no. Good. Men like to get women like you out of their system and come back to their wives. You can leave now," she said, with a cruel twist to her lips, injecting the words with blades that filleted Minjae's flesh.
Minjae stumbled out, shame and fury scorching every part of her body, along with the darkness she had come to recognise too well - grief.
∞
More than anything else, it was her look of disappointment in him that raked Seung's insides to ribbons of throbbing pain that refused to recede even after three weeks of that fateful day up on the hill behind the gambling house in Hanyang.
He was slumped against a chest against the wall of his dark chamber, welcoming the mild discomfort from the indentation of hard metal knobs digging into the flesh of his back.
His rage burned more scarlet, singing everything in its path until everything felt like a mass of pain that made each draw of breath painful.
He was not the one who had lied. He was not the one who had pretended to be someone he was not throughout the time they had known each other. He was not the one who had risked their life to defend another man they met secretly, right after spending days in his arms, crying out their pleasure for him.
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Yet how could she make it seem like he was the one who had betrayed her?
Seung chugged the liquid from the wine pitcher, uncaring the dribble that blotched his tunic.
It wasn't her obscure history or potential treason that twisted his gut. It wasn't even that she might not reciprocate his feelings. He didn't know what she felt for him, but he had been content with whatever little she gave him.
It was that Minjae had hidden the fact she was the girl with the bracelet.
Why had that one thing crushed him so completely? Perhaps because she had been his saving angel for so long. He hated her for destroying that intangible source of strength. Perhaps, it was the straw that broke the camel's back.
Seung had given her the benefit of the doubt when he first found the mole. More than one woman could have a mole in such an odd, private place, right? After all, there was no chance Minjae could be there, and she was much older than that little girl...but his heart had started cleaving when she lied about the books and the sketch. He had trusted her to at least share that she had gone to meet someone that night. She didn't.
Her face had paled the night she had seen the bracelet in his hand. His suspicion had hardened into icy certainty.
His chest had cracked with anguish at the look on her face when she realised he had brought her to the place that probably had been causing her nightmares ever since that fateful day five years ago. It had not taken him long to figure out that her visceral, naked fear in the woods the day he met her had stemmed from this encounter.
Self-loathing had warred with vindication.
Her reaction only incensed him further. If she had apologised, perhaps said something—anything—to show she cared, or that she had a valid reason to pretend she didn't know him when they met, it might have soothed some of the hurt. Instead, she looked at him as if he had shattered her trust and destroyed her world.
She could have been a plant from the beginning!
Sim Junho's words danced around him like snakes biting into him with fangs, orchestrating a million cuts that poisoned him but didn't kill.
He didn't want to believe it. Even now, part of him refused to accept that Kim Minjae could be so cold. But his pragmatic side knew people often were not what they pretended to be. And truth be told, she had warned him to stay away, making up stories to keep him at bay. Stories that now didn't hold any water.
Yet she gave herself to him. Only him.
'Engage Lee Seung. Neutralise.'
In a language only Kim Minjae could read.
Every memory was now tainted with lies and deception. Kim Minjae had lied and lied and lied until every lie she uttered had become the truth.
Seung had successfully avoided her after returning to Ganghwa for two whole weeks.
Until today.
When he saw her in his Mother's chamber, all his vows to forget her fell like frozen pebbles in hail, crashing and melting into puddles of need around him.
He forgot about his mother's fury at his consistent resistance to Choi Jina or that he was delinquent in his duties towards his late father. His wife, sitting beside him, faded into obscurity. The chamber jigsawed into a puzzle before the pieces floated back together to a cohesive shape. His chest splintered, Minjae's presence sneaking in beneath his skin like a knife peeling his skin off, leaving him raw and bleeding.
Seung had forced his eyes to stay on his Mother, as he willed himself to ignore Minjae’s shrunken form and strained expression. Yet somehow, his senses had followed every little turn, every little shadow, every fluid motion of her incredibly graceful movements as she tended to his mother, her face was seared in his mind, with that look of disappointment he could not shake off.
Little did Kim Minjae know that had it not been for him, she would have been arrested, her body shredded until nothing but death would reprieve her of her misery. In the larger scheme of things, she was a woman, a nobody, and no one cared as long as she served their purpose.
Except for him.
"How dare you? I saved your life!" He shouted to no one and hurled the pitcher across the room.
It shattered into millions of pieces.
A few minutes later—or was it hours—he could not keep track anymore, the door slid open, and he saw the gleam of dark-coloured silk enter the room. Two more cotton skirts followed, along with brooms, dustpans, and mops.
Seung had stopped protesting Choi Jina's entry into his room as long as she kept it to the job she had entered for. It was a routine they had settled into with an uneasy truce as two people forced to endure each other's company. His new role took him away to the Ganghwado Palace for long hours, and he threw himself into work like a maniac. If he was home, he shut himself into his office chamber, waiting until he could no longer delay coming to his bed-chamber and his nightmares. Choi Jina brought him food. She stayed until he was done, sometimes as soon as he sat down, forcibly pushing food down his throat until it threatened to reappear.
"Dari?" Choi Jina called him softly.
He sensed movement around him. Trays of food. Tables. Choi Jina working to unlace his boots.
Seung looked at her bent head. His wife.
The woman who started it all, the mockery his life had become. There was a time when he felt a fist-in-the-gut anger when he looked at her.
Now?
He didn't feel anything. He could not even remember why he had felt so angry at his wife. Kim Minjae consumed every living cell in his body to a point where everything else seemed black, a dark veil he could not lift to let light enter.
"Dari, please, come with me," she urged. "The Royal procession is tomorrow, and you haven't eaten anything. You need to get some sleep."
She sounded frightfully convincing as a dutiful wife. Seung felt his body move. He was so tired of arguing with the voices in his head that he didn't have the energy for much else.
Choi Jina wrapped an arm around his waist, helping him across the room until he flopped on the bed. She placed something in his mouth that he chewed, feeling like his mouth was filled with sawdust, then waved her hand away as she brought it closer to his mouth a second time. She sighed.
Choi Jina untied the strings on his hanbok and eased it off his shoulders. Again, he shook her off, tossing the annoying piece of cloth away. She motioned the maids to leave the chamber. She then adjusted his pillow and gently placed the nightwear beside him.
Seung was aware of the female body hovering over him. He had failed Kim Minjae; he had failed his father, and he had failed his sister. Could he at least be a filial son to his family?
He did not know right and wrong any more.
As Choi Jina started moving away, he caught her hand, the other clasping the nape of her neck.
His subconscious registered the look of shock on her face. He watched her face transform rapidly into a look he had no problem recognising. Lust. Choi Jina drew closer and placed a tentative hand on his bare chest. And then her lips closed on his.
They were soft. He felt her tongue, the eagerness of her movements. He recognised expertise when he met it. There was no hesitation. No tentative budding of awareness. No surrender. No useless emotions heightening his senses.
He had a duty to fulfil and produce an heir.
Seung was a man who had bedded many women he never connected with emotionally. What better way to black out painful memories than to kick some sense into his body with his lawfully wedded wife? After all, whatever she had done in the past paled in front of what Minjae had done to him.
An angelic face with liquid midnight eyes and succulent bow-like lips intruded his mind like warning bells.
He closed his eyes tight and focused on the mechanics of the kiss with the woman presently in his arms.
His wife drew closer. She brought his hand up and placed it on her chest.
He obeyed her silent instructions. Her breasts were large and pliant, and they responded to him.
Strain built behind his eyes. Seung waited to feel the familiar stirring of an arousal. Of anything other than this deep abyss that sucked him.
Choi Jina smelled feminine. And something else that his sloshed mind didn't register.
What it did register instead was that she didn't smell honey and lavender with that dizzying underline of patchouli. She didn't taste of a sweet flower mingled with the raw essence of a woman he could not have enough of. She didn't feel like - Kim Minjae.
His mind swirled like a murky sewer as images of Minjae flashed—her quiet laughter, the languid action of her raising a cup so gracefully to her lips that he half expected a melody to break out from the movement, or her flushed face, the sweep of her desire laden lashes, lips swollen from his kisses, how soft she felt in his arms, the way her body twisted bonelessly into positions he wanted her in.
And the stricken look of disillusionment on her face......and the mask of nothingness she wore whenever she saw him.
Choi Jina felt his coldness before his hand slipped to his lap, limp, listless, uninterested. She lifted her head. Seung turned his face away.
He felt her hand creep below his waist, and he caught her wrist. He didn't want Choi Jina in his life, but he had never disappointed a woman before, but his stomach churned at what he was doing. Seung felt a deep ache rising within him, the pressure suffocating him.
No woman deserved to be humiliated like this.
"I am sorry, I should not have..." he said. "I can't do this."
Choi Jina left the chamber wordlessly, closing the door softly behind her, leaving his world pitch black that buried his shame.
You do not believe in fidelity and will never belong to one woman.
He didn't feel the flesh break from the indent of his nails in his palm.
If only she could see him now.
Kim Minjae had ruined him for every other woman in the world, including his own bloody wife.
∞
When Minjae arrived to meet Gil-ae later that day, the young woman was practically brimming with excitement. Their palanquins transported them to a massive structure that served as the Governor's house.
Minjae felt nostalgic looking at it. The previous Governor was a kind and generous man. His moral support had meant the world to the fifteen-year-old her, who had found herself thrust into a life she had no experience with.
"Why are we here? I heard the new Governor lives alone, and I am not allowed to treat men any more," she made a face.
Grand Prince Bongrim, the epitome of a Confucian scholar, found that the island practices did not fit neatly into any of the boxes rigidly defined in the scholarly doctrines he followed.
The crackdown was swift. Unmarried women were barred from serving men, which almost led to the closure of Kim Da Bom's inn since Nam Dami and Im Ji Won could no longer work there. Kim Minjae had to pitch in until the Royals left the island. Hired help in the form of a few urchins and young men who had become available after the harvest were unreliable and inefficient. Han So Ye's kisaeng house had never seen more empty corridors. Yangban men on the island had suddenly developed a penchant for reading Confucian verses all day and most nights.
Everyone's nerves were frayed.
Kim Minjae was no longer allowed to attend to the soldiers at the hospital. All the women had been ordered to leave the hospital premises within forty-eight hours of the mandate being issued and find alternative work.
However, even though the Royals had arrived with royal physicians in tow, there was plenty of work to be found because, along with the royals, at least three dozen new Yangban families had flooded the island.
Nonetheless, it meant Minjae had to travel more and put up with the tantrums of more entitled women who treated her like anything from a dog faeces to a saint saviour.
"It's his daughter," Gil-ae explained. "Oraboni's friend is the Governor's son-in-law. They're staying here for their firstborn, as tradition requires."
Minjae nodded wearily, unable to share Gil-ae's enthusiasm for the couple. She had a long day, and all she wanted to do was return home and sleep, her mind already anticipating the comfort of her bed. Kim Da Bom had granted her a reprieve for the next two days, a rare luxury as more soldiers were busy with extended training hours.
A liveried servant greeted them, checked their identities, and led them to the women's quarters. The compound bustled with activity, with the constant movement of servants attending to their duties.
Two attentive maids ushered the guests into a spacious chamber. The room's linear space was divided by intricate hanji curtains, some inscribed with evocative sayings. Graceful hangings awash in a palette of vivid tones splashed the room with vibrant energy. A stunning room divider adorned with sweeping tulips and graceful swans imparted an extra refinement.
Minjae felt charmed.
The Mistress of the room commanded attention, dressed in a refined cream and beige hanbok with a gem-studded binyeyo pinned securely in the large bun at the nape of her neck.
Gil-ae skipped to the woman while Minjae waited behind the maids, patiently to be called.
"Lady Kim, so kind of you to entertain us," Gil-ae gushed, sitting across from the woman.
"The pleasure is truly mine. What brings me the honour of your lovely company today, my lady?"
The voice.
Kim I-On.
Shock nailed Minjae's feet into the wooden floorboards beneath her. How had she made such a novice mistake of not doing her homework before meeting a new Yangban woman?
She dug her chin into her collarbone, praying that five years had made enough difference that she could pass as a familiar face you-could-not-place rather than the best friend's face you-could-never-forget.
Lee Seung already had a wife who made enough noise among the Yangban women, who thrived on social manoeuvring and flaunting their husbands' ranks. The fake wife's reluctance to send Gil-ae made more sense now, though how she had managed to avoid an encounter with Kim I-On until now was baffling. However, her presence meant Kim I-On had no reason to suspect Minjae was anything more than a humble healer.
The summons of 'Physician Kim, come' from Gil-ae broke through her disorientation.
Minjae dragged her feet, feeling as though they were weighed down by invisible stones, and bowed deeply, not daring to lift her face.
"The fame of your talents precedes you, Physician Kim. You come so highly recommended that I felt I had to meet you," said Kim I-On, her voice carrying a smile. "Please, sit."
How could her voice remain unchanged after all these years? A lump formed in Minjae's throat as she nodded and sank into her seat, keeping her face as deep in shadows as possible.
Thankfully, Gil-ae resumed her chatter, and soon the women were exchanging notes on cooking, stitching, gardening, and other topics. Servants and other low-ranked individuals seldom partook in conversations with high-ranked people, though women often made exceptions. Kim Minjae was mighty glad none of the women made any such attempt. A few more minutes and Minjae could make an excuse and leave.
"What did you say her name was?" Kim I-On asked suddenly.
Minjae's pulse ratcheted up.
Gil-ae, animatedly explaining her latest cooking experiment that had gone wrong, stumbled to a confused stop.
"Physician Kim? Her name is Kim Minjae. She is wonderful. Though she cannot help with childbirth, she can assist with other ailments," Gil-ae's voice dropped conspiratorially, "Please do not tell His Highness, but she is said to be the best with needles in all of Joseon and has stitched thousands of wounds on men," she boasted with pride.
Minjae cringed.
"Is that so?" Kim I-On said, a strange speculative tone lacing her voice.
Minjae didn't dare to look up. Sweat created small river channels on her back, and her calves cramped. Her hands shook as she clamped them together, pursing her lips.
Please don't, Kim I-On, she prayed.
"Are you not, Physician Kim?" Gil-ae asked cheerfully, unaware of the panic that had stitched Minjae's throat.
"It's too kind of you, Lady Lee. I assure you Ganghwa is filled with physicians and nurses who are far more talented than me." Minjae was proud of her steady, calm voice.
Kim I-On sighed and moved. The unexpected movement drew Minjae's eyes to her involuntarily.
Her friend was heavily pregnant and was frowning at the bulge in her midriff.
"Are you all right, Lady Kim?" Gil-ae asked, concerned, looking at Minjae for help.
"I think I might need some assistance," Kim I-On said. "Lady Lee, could you wait outside while I consult with Physician Kim?"
"Of course!" Gil-ae sounded thrilled to be of use and left the women alone.
"My feet have been swelling, and I feel thirsty all the time," Kim I-On said.
Relief.
Kim I-On had not recognised her.
"My lady could have excess sweetness in her blood. Additionally, the blood could be rushing faster than normal in your veins. Many expectant mothers face the problem," Minjae said, her breaths normalising. "I have an herb mixture that will help. I can send it tomorrow. Needle therapy will give you much relief if you care for it."
"Will it take long?"
The question hung as a meaningful pause.
"Not too long. Let me send Lady Lee home," Minjae replied.
A few minutes later, Minjae arranged the needles she needed. Kim I-On laid on her back, her swollen, semi-clothed frame supported by cushions. Minjae had ordered some calming tea that I-On could sip while she worked her way through.
No one said a word, tranquil energy filling the room as Minjae inserted, twirled, lifted, and thrust the needles at various points around her belly. She left them for half an hour, carefully removed them one by one, gently massaged the points and sat back with satisfaction. "You will need two to three treatments per week for this to be effective. Why did you not ask for this earlier? Anyone could have helped you." Minjae started putting the used needles back in her pouch.
Kim I-On reclined gracefully, resting her head upon a silken cushion and closing her eyes. "I've always been terrified of needles, except when they're handled by someone I trust implicitly. Your skill with needles was always unparalleled, even if it was only a simple rose you stitched back in school. Your skill somehow made it stand out. Did you know I used to be so envious of it? I am relieved and grateful that at least that has not changed in all these years."
The needles clattered to the floor from Minjae's nerveless fingers, weightlessly, soundlessly mocking the silent denials Minjae made with the vehement shaking of her head.