starlightxsvt

[starlightxsvt]

Scars Leave a Beautiful Trace | c.sc

synopsis ➳ ❝an arranged marriage with the man the entire land is afraid of. the man with a crimson eye. they call him the grim reaper. cold, ruthless, unforgiving. yet you are drawn to him, curious to see the man hiding behind the cold, hard exterior. and the man behind is hauntingly beautiful but your forever with him is not promised.❞ pairing ➳ husband general!seungcheol/ x wife noblewoman!reader genre ➳ historical romance (joseon era), angst, pining, smut. wc ➳ 25.4k + 1040 (patreon) warnings ➳ blood, mentions of war, scars, minor character death, attachment issues, arranged marriage, mentions of cheating, severe injury, miscommunication. cheol is an ass in the first half, reader is lowkey a simp, jealousy, big dicc cheol, bondage, virgin sex, rough, unprotected sex, fingering, teasing, edging, dirty talking, praise kink. a/n: this is a work of fiction, so take this with a grain of salt. it will be historically inaccurate, so my apologies beforehand. (also, surprise?? posting it a day early hehe)

glossary:

Jangot – Veil-like cloak for women

Binyeo – Decorative hairpin

Yakgwa – Honey-ginger cookie

Jeonbok – Traditional sleeveless vest for men

Dasik – Pressed tea cookie

Jeogori – Upper garment or jacket

Chima – Skirt worn by women

Baduk – Strategy board game (Go)

Daenggi – Ribbon for braids

Hour of the Ox – 1:00–3:00 AM

Hour of the Tiger – 3:00–5:00 AM

Orabeoni – Respectful term for older brother

+82 some miracle

only listen to my general

“Daughter, this is General Choi Seungcheol, your betrothed. Greet him properly,” your father commands softly, his eyes trained on you.

Your breath stutters in your chest.

Whether from the loaded tension in the air, the silence of the room or your future husband’s penetrating eyes on you, you are unsure. 

His eyes…

You saw them once, a long, long time ago, and you remember them in explicit detail because they are heterochromatic. His right iris is red, a shade of fiery crimson that is scary but also hypnotizing—a stark contrast to his left iris, which is pure black. 

You wish it were only his eyes that were lethal. Unfortunately for you, it is his presence itself. It is the way he silently sits there, poised and alert, holding his sword in his right hand and softly drumming his left index finger on his knee, as if telling you to hurry up. It is the way his face remains unreadable, a porcelain white canvas containing a pair of eyes fiercer than a mountain lion's, a sharp nose that is slightly crooked on the left, and pink lips that are pressed in a thin line. The most daunting of it all, the scar on the right side of his face, just below his eye and on top of his cheekbone. It is no more than a couple of inches long, but the gash looks deep, even after it has healed and imagining the pain behind that curse rakes shivers down your spine. 

Finally, you snap out of your reverie.

With a shaky exhale, you bow down and speak as humbly as possible. “Please accept my greetings, my lord. It is a pleasure to meet you.”

— 

Choi Seungcheol is well known throughout the kingdom, highly feared and revered. In fact, many hold him in the same regard as the king, which is not unfair or surprising. He is the Minister of War and the General of the royal military, the right-hand man of the King and his most trusted subject. Since his boyhood, he demonstrated excellent swordsmanship, and paired with his keen intellect and faultless war strategies, he quickly rose through the ranks and became the King's favourite. His name spread far and wide after he brought victory to the nation in two consecutive wars. He attended the first one when he was only eighteen, and he became infamous for that.

That war with the nearby enemy nation was extremely brutal, as it took away the lives of many of the best men in the military. When Seungcheol returned to the capital with the enemy General’s head in his hands, he was a changed man who had altered the course of history. Bloodied, beaten and bruised, he sported the deep scar on his face, fresh and bleeding. 

Rumours spread from there. Though he brought the nation victory, the townspeople gossiped about everything from his scar, his crimson eye, to his temper, claiming that he was a madman or possessed by an evil spirit. 

You have heard a few things from your father, too. He has agreed that the war changed the man, rightfully so. As the state minister, your father saw firsthand how brutal and merciless the war was till the last moment. So much so that he stepped down from his position afterwards.

He lost his son in the war, after all. Your older brother, whom you vaguely remember because you were only eight at that time. 

Nothing was the same after his passing. Your father lost his spark, your mother became quiet and indifferent, and the house fell into a deathly silence that felt haunted. The silence still lingers, fourteen years later. 

It has been a long time, so long that sometimes you feel like those days never existed. Yet, you remember them vividly: the pain of your mother’s death four years after your brothers, the remaining light dissipating from your father's eyes and the house falling into a perpetuating state of darkness, a place where everyone remained silent, from the slaves to the master. A place that never truly was illuminated, even during the brightest days of summer. A place that you had to call home but wasn’t your home. It was a graveyard where you floated through, watching the world outside bathe and shine with colours when the second war was won, when the king became the father of a boy, when the economy flourished. Seasons passed and years went by, yet your house never celebrated a holiday or a special occasion. 

You saw your father survive each day, haunted by his past and unaware of the present. Every day, he would see students from morning till noon, fulfilling his duties as a scholar before retiring to his room and staying there till the next morning.

The only time you saw some life in him was three years ago, when he called you one day in his chamber to announce that you would get married to Choi Seungcheol once he returned from his three-year trip to another country. Choi Seungcheol, the General of the Royal Military. The man with heterochromatic eyes, who came to your brother’s funeral years ago.

That’s how you have remembered him. The man with two different colored eyes, who stood in the rain with a grim expression on his face as they lowered your brother into the ground.

Over the years, you have heard notorious things about him. He has gained an infamous reputation among the townspeople. Many people believe that he is insane and that he murders people for fun. Word goes around that he is a womanizer, a man without a heart, a man who did not spare his own brother and executed him for treason.

You don’t know how much of this is true.

It all might be true; he just might be the devil living in a human body, but funnily enough, you do not care.

You will do anything to get out of this house. Living here for the past fourteen years has been like being buried alive. You are breathing, yet you don’t feel alive—you don’t remember the last time you felt that way, if ever.

And if a diabolical, insane man is your ticket out of this grave, you will take it. You will accept it with open arms and a smile on your face.

— 

The marketplace is crowded.

You gently tread through the throng of people, holding your jangot over your head as you eye the stalls leisurely, nothing in particular catching your attention. 

“My lady,” Jihye whispers, walking alongside you. “You have been circling the market for the past half an hour. What are you even looking for?”

A dejected sigh flows past your lips. 

Last time you came to the market, a pretty flower binyeo caught your eye. You had not received your salary yet at that time, and so, you could not purchase the piece. You had aimed to buy that binyeo today, but now that you've received your pay, it's no longer available. You have been scouring the market ever since, looking for something similar, but there is none.

“You know what, let us buy some yakgwa and head home,” you say, looking for a snack shop. Jihye smiles, her eyes flickering excitedly at your mention of buying sweets.

A few feet ahead of you, you spot a sweet shop. Instead of focusing on the plethora of sweets laid out, your gaze travels to the right, stopping on two men standing by that shop, their backs facing you.

Something about the tall, broad man dressed in black makes you stop in your tracks. Particularly, his long ebony hair feels oddly familiar to you. 

The man shifts a little, and you catch the slightest glimpse of his side profile through the busy street. Immediately, you squeak and hide behind a nearby stall.

It is General Choi, your husband-to-be.

“My lady, what is wrong?” Jihye hovers around you worriedly. Without looking away from the man, you dig into the sleeve of your hanbok, fishing out some coins and handing them to Jihye. 

“Here. Go buy as much yakgwa as you want.” You murmur, pushing her towards the shop while you get more comfortable in your hiding spot.

You don’t even know why you are hiding. You did not do anything wrong, and you surely have no reason to spy on your future husband in the middle of a busy marketplace.

Still, you continue observing him converse with the other gentleman. His stance is poised and powerful as always, and dressed head to toe in his signature black military clothes, he looks like death itself. Haunting but hypnotizing; which would explain why you cannot look away. 

And then, suddenly, he turns around, locking his eyes with you straight, as if he knew exactly where you were hiding. 

With a gasp of mortification and terror, you immediately whip your head away and bump into a passerby. Bowing your head in an apology, you let the woman pass through before tentatively turning your head back to the street.

Choi Seungcheol stands right behind you.

“Ah!” You yelp, taken aback and stumble a few steps behind. He reaches out immediately and grabs your elbow in a flash, saving you from the fall.

Flushed and breathless, you gape at him like a fish out of water.

He has the usual grim and unamused look on his face, peering down at you almost like he is judging you. His hair is tied up in a half bun, and his bangs frame half of his face, covering his odd eye and the scar. It is a shame, you find yourself thinking as you observe the rest of his face, counting the moles on his pale skin.

It is when he lets you go that you realize he had been holding onto you all this time, and you stood there like a statue.

How unladylike!

First, he catches you spying on him, and now— 

“My apologies, my Lord.” You immediately take several steps back, putting a safe distance between the two of you. Full of shame, you keep your head low as you murmur, “I was simply startled to see you.”

“It seems that you were spying on me.” His voice is smooth and rich, calm and authoritative. “No!” You gasp. “I was just…um…looking. I thought you…ah…looked somewhat familiar…”

He cocks a thick brow in amusement, the faintest smirk creeping up on his lips. 

What are you even saying?

Cringing at your own words, you press your lips shut and scowl at the ground, cursing the heavens for your predicament.

“You are not at the palace today?” He asks. You welcome the change of topic with great relief.

"No, my Lord. I asked for a break from my duties this week as I am preparing for the wedding.”

With no mother or close female relatives, it is up to you to prepare your wedding. 

Generally, you do not like skipping work. It has been two months since you secured a job at the palace after a lot of struggle. Your father was not very happy with the idea of you working, especially in the palace, but he ultimately gave in. 

You work as a teacher to the children under the head court lady of the palace, teaching them how to read and write while they train to be future court ladies. Sometimes you also work as a bookkeeper for the royal library, but that is something you do voluntarily and out of your love for reading. The pay is not very much, but it gives you a sense of freedom and identity, something you struggled to find for the last twenty-two years.

“Head Court Lady Yeo speaks very highly of you.” General Choi states. You do not understand whether he meant it positively or negatively, given his flat tone. Confused, you chuckle awkwardly. “It is a pleasure to work under her guidance. She is very patient and—”

Suddenly, Seungcheol reaches out to you, grabbing you by the arm and harshly tugging you towards him. Completely oblivious as to what is happening, you bump into his chest as his arms snake around you, protectively holding your body next to his.

Less than half a second later, a man riding a horse whooshes by, yelling out apologies to all the people for his rowdy horse. Dear Lord, you were about to be trampled by a horse if not for him.

“Are you alright?” 

His voice makes you look up at him, wide-eyed and panting. It takes a moment for you to realize that he is holding you against his chest, his warm hand resting on your shoulder in a protective grip while your hands rest on his shoulders, gripping the fabric of his jeonbok for support.

With your heart pounding loudly in your ears, it takes you yet another moment to remember how inappropriate this is, the way you are pressed against him. In a flash, you free yourself from his hold and shuffle back, murmuring a mortified apology. At the same time, you hate how much you miss his touch on you.

How odd.

“My lady, are you alright!” Jihye comes running down the street, a packet of confectionery in her hands. 

“Y-yes, I am okay. Let us get going.” You announce, immediately turning away from General Choi, desperate to escape this mortifying situation.

“Hold on.” The deep baritone of his voice steals a breath from your lips. Your body instinctively listens to his command, and you carefully look behind to see him picking up your jangot, which you probably dropped earlier and were about to leave without.

Once more, you cringe at your clumsiness as you watch him brush off the dirt before extending the material towards you. With shaky hands, you reach for it. “Thank you, my Lord. I wish you a pleasant day.”

The next second, you rush out of the marketplace as if the grim reaper himself were chasing after you. Behind you, Jihye struggles to keep up, but you couldn't care less, hiding your face in embarrassment.

That night, under the blanket, you lie wide awake. The memory of General Choi’s hand on your body and his chest pressed against yours keeps repeating in your head in a loop. A foreign, warm sensation pools in your belly, and you find yourself shamefully fantasizing about your future husband, forsaking slumber.

—

You got married today. 

According to the elders of the town, it is one of the most important days of your life, yet it felt like every other—quick and ordinary. Probably because the groom was barely there.

During noon, he came in to fulfil the basic rituals before marching out, leaving a note for you with Jihye. The work in the palace is too demanding, so he must go. He would see you tonight at his place. That was all he said.

Hours later, night has fallen and you are now in his home.

You sit alone in a chamber prepared especially for you. His servants made sure you were comfortable, helping you bathe and prepare for the first night with your husband before leaving you alone to sit with your thoughts and hear the hum of the crickets in the nearby forest.

You declined their offer to serve you dinner. It is only appropriate to wait for your husband and share the first meal together. 

Adorned in fine silk and pretty ribbons, you sit and wait for your husband to come, watching the flame of the candle dancing and melting away the wax. 

You are nervous. It is your first night with your husband. You, who has never even looked at a man for a second too long. You are now married to one of the most feared men in the kingdom. You have heard people talk about his ruthlessness in bed. Apparently, the girls in the brothel talk about it all the time, especially when he visits. Jihye said that whoever spends the night with him needs an entire day to recover.

“Lady Choi,” Head Servant Yang suddenly calls your name before opening the door. “Master has arrived. He is taking a bath currently.”

You snap out of the thoughts of bedding your husband and give her a shy smile. “Could you please set the table then?”

“Of course.” The elderly woman bows and walks out of the room, arranging for dinner to be set in your chamber.

Ten minutes after the dinner is served, General Choi walks into the room. Fresh out of the bath, he is dressed in his nightwear and his hair is tied up in a neat bun, giving you an uninterrupted view of his face. Once again, you find yourself hypnotised by his heterochromatic eyes.

“You did not have dinner?” He asks, sitting down in front of you. His movement is as graceful as always, silent yet stealthy. His posture is upright, the muscles of his shoulders taught as he sits and regards you with careful eyes.

“I was waiting for you, my Lord.” You reply meekly.

“You should not have,” he states, his tone almost condescending. “I am sure Head Servant Yang informed you that I return from work late most days.”

“Today is a special day, is it not?” You find yourself speaking boldly. Your words are firm like the gaze in your eyes, and for a long moment, the chamber is plunged into suffocating silence.

General Choi keeps looking down at you, his gaze as intimidating as ever, and you half expect him to draw his sword from its sheath and slice your head off. Instead, his lips curl upwards, and a noise of amusement leaves his throat. 

“Lady Choi, you seem upset.” He states, his voice half challenging and half something you cannot pinpoint. Sarcasm? Threat?

Unsure how to reply to that, you bite your lip and stare at the food laid out in front of you. All your appetite is gone now.

“Let me tell you something, Lady Choi.” Your husband leans closer to you over the table. Something about the way he utters your title forces you to meet his gaze. Like always, the fierce look in his eyes steals away your breath.

The man is hauntingly beautiful.

“I am certain you have some expectations from this marriage, and I cannot hold that against you. However, let me inform you now, I will not be able to fulfil your expectations, whatever they may be. So, I suggest you completely let go of your expectations, for your own good.”

What? You are sure no woman in Joseon’s history ever had to hear these words on her wedding night.

“My Lord, I do not understand.”

He does not bother clarifying his words. Instead, the look in his eyes shifts, his gaze sharpening on you. Lazily, he pours himself a drink from the pitcher and chugs it down.

“I know what this marriage means to you.”

You hold your breath and watch him, alarmed. He smirks. “It means freedom. It is your way out of that house. So, let this marriage be just that. A way out for you and a duty obliged for me.”

Well, consummating the marriage is also a duty. So is spending time with your wife and sharing a meal with her on your wedding night. You want to yell the words out, but you press your lips shut and stare at him, still processing what is happening.

“As long as we maintain our boundaries, this will be a great union,” he announces almost like he is reassuring you. You feel anything but that.

You feel abandoned, yet again.

“You should eat now,” he says, standing up. “I will retire for the night.” Without sparing another glance at you, he leaves the room. For a long moment, you silently sit in your place, your fancy garment and jewellery suddenly becoming too heavy on your skin. Ignoring the sensation, you reach for the rice, nibbling on the grains with your chopsticks.

You do not understand why tears prick your eyes.

— 

The next morning, an unknown man waits for you as you step out of your chamber and put on your shoes, ready to leave for the palace.

Your husband had left early in the morning, and while the news hurt you slightly, it also left you with relief. After last night, you have not had enough time to process your emotions to face him.

The strange man bows as he sees you approaching. “Greetings, Lady Choi. I am San. As per General Choi’s orders, I shall accompany you from now on for your safety.” Stupefied, you blink at the man. His build and posture indicate that he is a military person, but you do not understand why your husband would have someone guard you.

“My husband put you up to this?” You raise a brow. “Why?”

“I am afraid I cannot say. It was his order.”

You narrow your eyes at him. “So, from now on, you will what? Follow me everywhere?”

“Yes. Whenever you need to go out, I shall accompany you.”

“Is someone trying to kill me?” You ask, point blank, blinking at him.

San makes a noise of surprise before an awkward laugh spills from his lips. “O-of course not, my lady.” You keep eyeing the strange man with suspicion as you start heading for the front door. “Alright then, let us leave.”

— 

You bump into your husband at the palace.

At noon, when the sun is high in the sky, you finish teaching the young girls. Then, you head to the library to cool off and see if the head librarian needs any help. With no new work for you, Librarian Kim serves you some tea and sweets, congratulating you on your marriage. On your way out, he gives you some dasik to take home and share with your husband.

The husband who seems to want to do nothing with you.

With gratitude, you take the sweets and head out of the library, done with your day's work at the palace. That is when you see him. Below the steps of the library building, he approaches, followed by two other men, all dressed in uniforms. Their movements are quick and determined, almost like they are on a military mission.

General Choi takes notice of you as he climbs the stairs. Flustered and oddly shy, your first instinct is to hide. With no place to do that, you stand your ground and bow, “My Lord—”

He walks past as if he did not see you.

You stand rooted to your spot, blinking at the ground.

What just happened?

He ignored you. He blatantly ignored you. His wife. There is no way he did not see you. He did. His eyes met yours, and he held your gaze before looking away.

Hurt and humiliated, you stand there for several long moments, the sun scorching your back. You are tempted to storm back into the library and demand why he did that, but you know better than that.

For one, there is always the danger of him chopping your head off. You heard he once cut off a man’s head just for looking at him too long.

The other issue is more personal. Walking in there would make you look desperate, especially in front of others. You are supposed to be a newlywed happy wife, not someone who chases after her husband when he ignores her in public. The thought makes you feel like pins prickling your heart.

Once more in your life, you are insignificant. You are the lesser one, the one who can be forgotten, overlooked.

With boulders forming in your heart, you head home.

— 

Your husband returned home late today as well.

You had your dinner long ago, and Jihye prepared your bed for you. However, you did not get under the covers. In the dimly lit space of your bedchamber, you have been sitting with your head on your knees, curled up in a corner and watching the candle burn.

No matter how hard you try, you fail to get past the incident earlier today. You simply cannot comprehend why your husband would ignore you like that.

Your curiosity gets the better of you. With a resolved breath, you step out of your room and walk into his bedchamber. You knock at his door. “My Lord, may I come in?”

A beat of silence. “Yes.”

Opening the doors, you find Seungcheol tying the knot of his undershirt. The material is thin and white, giving you a pretty decent glimpse of his silhouette. Flustered, you immediately lower your gaze and shake your head at yourself. 

You did not think this through. Of course, he would be in his sleepwear, like you.

Shit.

It takes you another second to realize you, too, are in your sleepwear. A thin white top over your underskirt. With the realization dawning on you, you cross your arms over your chest and look up at him, conflicted and embarrassed.

Like always, his face gives nothing away. In the calmest of tones, he questions, “Did you need something from me?”

“Uhm…well…” Once again, you get distracted by the visual of your husband. In the dimly lit room, he appears even more stunning, the light of the candle casting strange shadows on his figure, contouring his muscles underneath the thin fabric. With his long, black hair undone, some strands fall on his face, covering his eyes. Through the curtain of his hair, his odd eye shines exceptionally bright in the darkness, stealing your breath.

“I am sure the reason for your visit is not to stare at me, Lady Choi.” He states once more, and you finally snap out of your thoughts.

Closing the door behind you, you gather all your resolve and stand straight.  “My apologies. I wanted to talk to you.”

“I am all ears.” He says, not looking at you. He busies himself by placing his sword next to his mat and sitting down comfortably.

“Why did you ignore me today at the palace?” You get straight to the point. The man turns to look at you slowly, his eyes sharpening ever so slightly. Despite him sitting, you feel as if he is towering over you, and you cannot help but hold your breath, waiting for whatever is to come. Something flashes in his eyes, and once again, you do not know what it is. Rage? Annoyance? Amusement?

You have no clue.

“It seems that you are disappointed, Lady Choi.” He finally replies, his tone containing that tinge of amusement he has with you. Like you are a circus monkey whose action provides him with fleeting, insignificant pleasure. 

You wait for him to elaborate, but he does not, looking at you with a challenging stare. You hate how…diplomatic he is all the time. “Why did you do it?” You repeat, trying to appear as stern as possible, which is almost comical. In front of you is the man people call the grim reaper.

General Choi shifts his position, resting his arm on his knee before fixing his gaze back on you. His tone is quiet, serious. “Let me tell you something, Lady Choi. In public, we are not to acknowledge each other. Do you understand me?”

The ground has been snatched from beneath your feet. You fall into an endless pit, your heart crushing into tiny bits with each of his words. Why? Why would he say something like that?

“Why?” You don’t mask the hurt and desperation in your voice. He ignores you. “If that was all, you may leave now. I wish to get some rest.”

Tears brim in your eyes. Why does he treat you like this? What crime did you ever commit against him?

Your mouth hangs open, shocked and helpless at his attitude towards you. Defeated, you silently pad back to the door. Before you open it, however, you pause. Slowly, you turn back to him. “Why did you assign that man to follow me around?”

He does not look at you. “San is one of the few men I trust. He will keep you safe.”

He has this tendency to never answer your question directly. He dances around it, giving curt, memorized answers. It feels like you are talking to a wall, frustrating and pointless. The next words slip past your lips thoughtlessly and barely above a whisper. “Why do we not sleep in the same room?” That finally gets his attention. He slowly turns his head to look at you, his pupils wide with shock. Like, he cannot believe that you just said that. 

Right. Why did you say that out loud? You look away in embarrassment, cringing at your words.

“So…” he starts to get up. You step back, alarmed.

Why is he getting up? He will slice your head off for sure this time.

With the grace of a lion about to devour his prey, he inches closer to you, his eyes flashing almost unnaturally. You keep walking backwards until your back meets the door and there is no place left to go.

He stops a mere inch away from you, so close that your clothes brush, so close that you can see his chest underneath his nightshirt, so close that you can inhale the scent of soap on his skin. Your breath catches in your throat, and your eyes fall shut on their own.

“My wife wishes to sleep with me. Is that it?” His voice is heaven against your ears, deep, husky and warm, leaving your brain fumbling. You open your eyes to see him staring straight at you, and immediately, heat shoots up all through your body from your toes. 

“I…I didn’t…mean…” You stumble over your words, the sight of him so close to you, messing with your system.

He stares at you, his lips curling up in a smirk. “I am sure you have heard what they say about me.” He pauses. His hand reaches out towards your face, and you hold your breath in alarm and anticipation. With the faintest of touches, he drags his index finger against your jaw and down your neck. “I am sure you know how I am…in bed.” He whispers against your ear, and you can feel your heart physically drop as tingles shoot through your entire body.

At this point, you have forgotten how to breathe. 

“You could not handle me, Lady Choi.” He says and then, absolutely shocking you, leans closer to your neck. Tucking a stray piece of hair beneath your ears, he takes a long inhale of you and then slowly steps away from you.

You feel like you are on fire, beads of sweat gathering on your temples. Your mouth remains agape, processing what just happened as you stand pressed against the door, frozen like prey in shock.

“Good night, Lady Choi.” He says in the most nonchalant way possible, going back to bed. You manage to summon all your strength and rush out of his room, shutting the wooden panels loudly behind you. Outside, you gasp for air, clutching your chest, your heart racing like you just ran for your life. You stand outside the door for a long time, taking in deep breaths and trying to get your heart to calm down as foreign sensations flood through your veins, leaving behind an ache you have never felt before.

You want your husband, you realize. You want him to do all those filthy, animalistic things that you heard of…with you.

— 

You have accepted your new life. A married woman without a husband’s attention or acknowledgement.

In the last two weeks, a routine has fallen into place for you. You wake up, go to work, come home for lunch, spend the afternoon with Jihye lounging around before having dinner and going to bed. Throughout the day, setting eyes upon your husband is rare because he leaves with the sunrise and gets home after dinner. Most days, he has dinner in his chamber by himself, and on the rare occasions he is home early (twice), he shares it with you.

The freedom you thought an advantageous marriage would give you has not come. In fact, you feel more restricted than before. With San following you around like a hawk, you have lost interest in going outside to explore the neighbourhood. Jihye, too, has been weird lately. She vehemently opposes you going outside, especially to the market or other crowded areas and always runs your errands for you.

After a lot of thinking, you have come to a conclusion. Your husband has a mistress. Maybe, mistress is not the right word. If anything, you feel like the mistress in this relationship.

“I am sure he has someone he loves.” You hum, nodding to yourself. 

It is a Thursday afternoon in early spring, the warmth of the sun shining on you as you return home from an unusually long shift at the palace. A few steps behind you is San, ever present like a shadow, following you down a steep road to home.

With him around, you have started to voice your thoughts, no matter how crazy. There is nothing to hide from him after all. He sees it all firsthand, how his boss never spends time with you. 

You have another theory. San knows about the other woman. He has to, right? That is why General Choi employed him to guard you in the first place. He probably knows where your husband goes during his free time, and it is his job to make sure you never see him. 

General Choi seems to have bought off Jihye somehow, too. You find that absolutely bizarre, considering her long loyalty towards you. You are deeply hurt by her betrayal, and so, you have decided to shun her until she comes to you and explains what is going on.

That leaves you with San only.

“I’m right, no?” You turn around to take a glance at him. As usual, he looks helpless and awkward, almost like he is about to leave everything behind and run for the hills. You continue. “He has to have known her for a long, long time. However, I do not understand why he didn’t marry her. Is she not a nobleborn?”

You stop for a moment.

“Ah! She is someone from the brothel, probably, right?”

San continues looking at you helplessly, an awkward smile plastered on his face. You continue walking, nodding to yourself. “No wonder he told me not to expect anything from him. He also said that he fulfilled his duty by marrying me. No one will pester him now because he has the perfect cover.” You nod your head, impressed. “I have to give it to him. This is a good plan.”

The path down the cliff comes to an end, and you stop, admiring the sun slowly going lower in the western sky. The birds fly in the sky in groups, returning home as the sky changes colour, a deep tint of orange taking over the blue.

Is she pretty? You wonder to yourself. She must be. There must be something about her that keeps a man like him hooked. 

The thought pains you. More than it should.

You understand it. You really do, but what you don’t understand is why he married you. Why did he trap you into this marriage? The least he could have done was be honest with you instead of avoiding you like the plague.

The more you get to know this man, the more cowardly he seems. The thought brings an unironic smile to your face. The most feared man in the country, yet he refuses to communicate with his wife. He does not have the guts to speak the truth, which makes him nothing but a coward in your eyes.

“Let us stop by the market.” You announce, taking a different route. San rushes in front of you, alarmed. “Lady Choi, w-why?”

You stare at him, slightly annoyed. Why is he acting like this? Is General Choi supposed to be there now? With his lover? All the more reason why you must go.

You continue walking, ignoring San.

“My Lady, please. Tell me what you need and I shall get that for you after I escort you home.”

“San,” you abruptly stop and glare at him. “I shall tell you what I need right now. I need you to shut up and follow me quietly. Or, you can just leave and report to your boss that I am breaking protocol. Whatever fancies you.”

The man makes a pained sound, groaning almost like a wounded animal. However, you don’t wait for him, marching down the path with determination. Helplessly, he chases after you.

— 

The marketplace is less crowded than you expected. You heard there have been attacks by gangs in this area, so people are more reluctant to leave their houses, especially as evening approaches.

With the roads not as crowded as usual, it takes you only a couple of minutes to spot him. He stands out, as always, his broad shoulders and tall build catching your eye from far away. You observe him for a moment from afar, squinting your eyes to see what he is doing exactly.

He stands in front of a trinket shop, carefully going through the pieces laid out in front of him. 

Wow, is he shopping for something for his hidden lover? 

Bemused, you watch him, eyes scanning for a woman near him, only to find no one.

“My Lady, we should really get going. This area is not safe, and—” Ignoring San’s plea, you head straight towards where your husband stands.

“My Lord, what brings you here?” You chirp, standing right behind him. The man immediately turns around, his pupils blown wide in shock. You do not miss the way he hides something behind him. It takes a moment for him to register that it is you, and once he does, that grim look settles on his face. “What are you doing here?’’

San rushes next to you, “My Lord, I am so sorry—”

General Choi cuts him off with a raised hand and gives him a look of dismissal, which sends the young man scurrying away. Ignoring his question, you say. “It seems like you were finished with work early today.” You pointedly look at the shop behind him.

“Yes. I finished early today.” He states, expressionless. “Are you returning from the palace now?”

“Yes, the work at the library took longer than usual. Some records were accidentally destroyed, so we had to salvage them.”

“I see.” He nods. You wait, wondering if he has anything more to say. He keeps gazing at you silently, his odd eye hidden behind his hair. You have noticed that he always hides it in public. Why? To avoid detection? 

Finally, he speaks, his eyes narrow and his tone sharp. “You should not be here. I am sure you are aware of the looting and killing taking place in this area.”

You hate his tone. Frowning, you reply. “Thank you for your concern, My Lord. I was aware. I just wanted to explore—”

You are cut off.

The next sequence of events takes place exceptionally quickly. First, you see your husband’s gaze shift and focus on something behind you. The very next moment, he yanks you towards him, making a swift turn so that his body covers yours. You lose your footing from the harsh tug, gripping onto his arms with a yelp of surprise.

Something whizzes past you, sharp and quick, that makes you jerk and hold onto him tighter.

Gasps, yells and screams of people echo all around you. You blink, befuddled, staring at your husband, who holds you tightly against his body, looking behind him. Following his gaze, you find San chasing after a man who dashes away through the crowd at remarkably fast speed, shoving people and running over stalls on his way.

Your husband whips his head back to look at you, his eyes wide with alarm. “Are you okay? Look at me!” He shakes you, his grip on your arms fierce. Something wet touches your fingers. Slowly, your eyes trail to your right hand, which is grabbing General Choi’s bicep.

There is a tear on his sleeve, a couple of inches above your fingers and red liquid oozes out from the thin cut. You gasp, your breath escaping your lungs in a choked wheeze.

Finally, everything clicks.

Someone just shot an arrow at him. Who? An enemy? A gang member? An assassin?

“Oh…oh my god! My Lord!” You clutch onto his sleeve, panicking.

General Choi ignores your cry and forces you to look at him, tilting your chin upwards. “Are you hurt anywhere?”

Is he seriously worrying about you right now?

“I am fine.” You choke on a sob. “But my Lord, you are bleeding! What…what should I do?”

He rubs a gentle hand on your back, pulling you closer to him. “I am fine. It is nothing.” He assures, his eyes scanning the place carefully as if looking for someone. You panic. “My Lord, we need to go home. Come on. You are hurt!” You urge, tugging him with you, even though you cannot make him move an inch.

The man stands rooted to his spot, his eyes still scouring through the marketplace. Finally, he nods and pulls you into his arms, holding you protectively. “Let us go.”

— 

After your relentless nagging, you finally get your husband to sit still so that you can treat his wound.

“I told you, it is nothing serious.” He admonishes when you step into his bedchamber with a rag, a bowl of water, and some medicine. Ignoring him, you hurry closer to him, inspecting the wound.

You have never treated someone before, but your mother was a very good nurse. She helped a lot of people during the war with her vast knowledge of medicinal herbs. You remember watching her work for hours, and even though you never directly learned from her, you are confident you can do this right.

The memory of his blood seeping out and wetting your hands sends shivers down your spine, and you have to take a deep breath to get yourself to calm down. Your heart has been racing ever since, the adrenaline yet to wear off.

“You should take off your shirt.” You whisper, wetting the rag in the bowl of water. Your husband complies, slowly removing the garment and shrugging it off his shoulders. Your breath catches in your throat once you lay your eyes on his body.

It is not his muscular build but the plethora of scars littering his body. Small and big, they taint his chest and all the way down to his lower abdomen, and you cannot help but stare, wincing at the marks that look particularly nasty.

What has this man been through?

General Choi snatches the rag from your hands and starts treating his cut. Embarrassed, you protest, but he cuts you off. “I can do it myself.” His response, like always, is curt, but you ignore it, too distracted by his scars. The one on his left abdomen looks particularly ghastly, and you know for sure it was a deep stab wound. 

The amount of pain he must have been in…

The thought makes you shudder, and you bite your lip, holding your tears back.

“This is why I assigned someone to protect you.” His voice pulls you out of your thoughts. “I am sure he told you to return, but you insisted on going to the market.”

“Who was that man?” You cut him off, unable to prevent yourself from voicing your worries any longer. Why did they want to hurt him? 

His lips thin, and something flashes over his eyes, leaving you guessing. He pauses for a moment, looking at you impassively, almost like he knows a secret that you don’t. “They were probably from some gang. They have been causing havoc recently, as you know.”

You know it is a lie. It is blatant that he is hiding something from you, and you cannot help but sigh out loud, sagging onto the floor. You do not even have it in you to fight with him right now. You are just glad he is okay. The bleeding has stopped now, and as you watch him apply the herb on his cut, a small sigh of relief flows past your lips.

Finally, it feels like you can breathe.

Silently, you help him tie a clean rag around his bicep before wiping the residual herb from his fingers. “You should take a bath.” He keeps staring at your face as if he is trying to understand something.

“Are you sure you are okay?” he asks, his tone soft. His gaze, for the first time, appears to be almost tender, and for a moment, the concept of language evaporates from your mind.

You want to say a lot of things. You want to yell at him, scream at him to explain himself and cry in his arms. You are unable to do any of that. “I am fine,” you whisper, your voice small and shaky.

He keeps looking at you for a few more seconds before nodding and getting up. Just as he is about to exit the room, you call for him. “My Lord?” “Hm?” He turns around to look at you.

You pause, hesitating. “I know you brought something today. At the market…” you trail off, unsure why you are saying this. His body tenses, and he looks at you warily…like he has been caught. For a second, you pray that he comes clean, but he remains silent, waiting for you to continue.

You swallow a lump in your throat and look away. Your voice is wobbly when you speak. “You should wrap it. Put it in a nice box. Women love gifts that are nicely wrapped. The woman…whoever you bought it for…you should wrap it.”

You do not dare to meet his gaze, so you sit on the floor, staring at the bowl of water that is now tinted red from his blood. He does not reply but walks out the door, his footsteps padding softly over the wooden floors.

— 

That night, you lay in bed awake, replaying the event at the market over and over again in your head. And as you keep revisiting that moment, a shuddering realization dawns on you.

What if…what if…

The arrow wasn't meant for General Choi but for you?

The more you think about it, the more probable it seems. The arrow would have originally hit you if not for him moving you out of the way. The thought makes you bolt up from your bed, your heart racing as beads of sweat gather on your temples. Tossing the blanket away, you step out of your sleeping mat and start pacing around your room.

Today's events are a mystery to you. You have no enemies, and neither does your father. Hell, he has been out of politics ever since your brother died. You simply have no reason to have someone shoot an arrow at you in the middle of a marketplace.

If it were not for your husband, you would have died for sure.

Shit. Who would do that? 

Your mind starts spiraling to the point that your temples begin to throb. You press the spot with your fingers, trying to make the ache go away.

It doesn't.

Instead, paranoia starts settling in. Suddenly, the thought of being alone in your room frightens you so much that you feel a chill in your bones. Unable to tolerate the deafening silence and the darkness any longer, you step out of your chamber, taking tentative steps towards your husband's room. The hallway is dark except for one small lamp flickering at the end of the long corridor, an eerie quietness hanging heavy in the air as the whole house sleeps.

You come to stop in front of your husband's room, your hands hesitating to pull open the wooden panels. 

What are you doing here? Sneaking into your husband’s chamber in the middle of the night?

With the resolved exhale, you pull open the door. In the darkness, it takes a moment for you to spot your husband sleeping on his side, his long raven hair splayed messily over the mat.

You remain rooted in your spot outside the door, hesitating yet once again before gingerly making your way inside and quietly closing the panel behind you. The room would be pitch dark if not for the faint light of the lamp flickering outside, filtering in through the panel. You take a moment to let your eyes adjust to the visibility before placing yourself next to him. With his sword resting between the two of you, you silently lie down, gazing at the silhouette of his face in the darkness.

Your heart aches. He got hurt because of you. 

Why do you feel such a strong attraction towards this cold, stubborn man? Why does it hurt you so much to see him hurt? Most importantly, is this how he feels about his lover? Does her pain make him hurt like this as well? Is that why he refuses to be with you, unable to resist his heart's longing?

So many questions and no answer to soothe your wretched soul. 

You keep gazing at him, a strange sensation filling your heart. He is physically so close to you, right within your reach, yet it feels like he is a million miles away, tucked away in a place for which you have no key. At the same time, lying next to him like this, you feel oddly comfortable. With him next to you, the silence and the darkness of the night are bearable, no longer stealing your sleep.

With a heavy ache in your chest and tears in your eyes, you fall asleep, happy to be in the same space as your husband.

—

When you open your eyes next morning, the sun is high up in the sky and the light flooding into the room immediately tells you that you have slept way longer than you should have.

Shit. You missed work today.

All concerns of work, however, fly out the window when you register where you are. You fell asleep on the floor next to General Choi yesterday. Then why are you sleeping on his mat, his blanket tucked around you, and his pillow under your head? 

With a gasp, you sit up and look around you, double checking to make sure you are in the right place.

How did you get here? Did he tuck you in after waking up? How did you not wake up?

Your face flushes with heat, imagining him carrying you and putting you in his bed. No wonder you feel so well rested after a long time. You must have slept like a log throughout everything.

Did you snore? Did you drool? Did you say something weird in your sleep?

“Oh dear lord, help me!” You whine, putting your face in your hands, cringing at all the possible ways you might have embarrassed yourself. Once you are over the initial wave of embarrassment, you spot a trinket on top of the small wooden table by the mat.

Curious, you shuffle closer. It is a bineyo with a beautiful butterfly in pink and blue, exactly the one you had been looking for. With a gasp, you lean closer, mesmerized by the way it sparkles underneath the sunlight. Next to it sits a letter, face up.

Dear wife, 

I am sorry I did not wrap it. I was interrupted by someone before I could choose a box. I do not know how the misunderstanding came to be, but this was meant to be yours from the beginning, not any other woman’s. I hope you like it.

From, Your husband

Your hands cover your mouth in shock and absolute glee before clutching the letter and the hairpin to your chest. Tears brim your eyes, your heart melting like a caramel under the sun, warm and sweet.

It seems like you misunderstood his actions. Still, some things remain unclear.

“Jihye!” You yell. She rushes in a few moments later. “My lady, you are awake! Master said not to disturb you. He said he will let Head Court Lady Yeo know that you will not go to work today.”

Ignoring her words, you quickly motion for her to come closer to you and sit down. “You,” you narrow your eyes at her. “You have been hiding something from me.” She blinks, her gaze slowly lowering to the floor.

“What did General Choi tell you? He definitely told you something. That is why you have not been letting me out of the house by myself.”

She looks at you helplessly for a long moment before sighing. “Okay, I will tell you, my lady. But you have to promise me you will not tell Master. I gave him my word.” She winces.

What could it be? Eager, you scoot closer to her. “I will not. Now out with it.”

“On the first night of your marriage, he called me and asked about you. What you like to eat, what your favourite season is…things like that.”

Wow. Your heart races with each of her words.

“Then, he asked me what you were doing in the market that day. You know that noon a week before your wedding? When we bumped into him? I said that you were looking for a hairpin. He asked in detail about the hairpin, and I told him that you were looking for one with a butterfly. Then, he ordered me to keep you from going outside, especially to crowded areas, as much as possible. He said it is not safe for you. And he made me promise not to tell you.”

A lot of the blanks start filling up. He listened to her and got this hairpin for you. No wonder!

You keep finding yourself revisiting that moment in the market. The way he protected you. The worry in his eyes, the way his fingers gripped onto you, the way his voice was filled with worry when he asked you if you were ok. The realization that you may have misunderstood him greatly starts settling in your bones. 

Maybe there was no one else from the beginning. Maybe it was only you all along. Maybe everything he did was to protect you. But protect you from what? Did he know that someone was after you? Who? Why did he not tell you anything?

No matter, you shall set the record straight when he gets home today. You have caught a glimpse into your husband’s heart, and it turns out he is not as cruel as they say. Now, there is nothing strong enough to stop you. He has had his way until now, and now, it is your time.

“Did he say when he will return?” You ask Jihye, your heart racing.

“No, my lady.”

“No matter.” You smile. “I will wait for him.”

— 

The heavens seem to be on your side because your husband returns home right before sunset. As he takes a bath, you prepare in your room, getting dressed for the evening.

Jihye braids your hair for you before helping you put on your hanbok, a soft yellow jeogori with a pastel pink chima. 

Just as you are almost finished with your makeup, Head Servant Yang knocks at the door, letting you know that your husband has finished his bath. With a smile, you stand up and walk over to the mirror, smoothing your skirt.

“Jihye, how do I look?”

“Absolutely beautiful, my lady!” She squeals. “Master will not be able to resist you tonight!”

You throw a scandalized look at her before reaching for the hairpin your husband gave you. Gingerly placing it on your hair, you complete the look and twirl in front of the mirror. “Alright, let us go!”

You knock twice at your husband’s chamber.

“Come in.”

Exhaling a shaky breath, you open the door and find sitting on the floor, wearing a navy blue hanbok. A book sits open on his lap, which is discarded once he lays eyes upon you.

Silence.

You hold your breath, watching his eyes scan you top to bottom, before going up again and finally stopping at your hairpin. He looks awestruck and speechless—a look you have never seen on him, and you struggle to stifle a smile.

“May I come in?” You ask coquettishly. 

“Ah—yes, of course.” He blinks and sits up straight. With a smile, you walk into the room and sit in front of him, closer than you have ever been before. "How is your arm?” You ask, jutting your chin towards it. “Do you need me to apply some herbs?”

“No, it is fine. I changed the gauze after my bath.”

“Are you in any pain?”

“Thank you for your concern, Lady Choi, but I am well.” He sets the book aside. “What brings you to my chamber?”

You ignore his curt replies. “Thank you for the gift, my lord.” You smile, saccharine sweet. Titling your head, you show him the trinket nestled in your hair. “How do I look?”

“Hm?” He gapes at you, eyes wide, clearly taken aback by the question. “Uh…it suits you. You look lovely.”

You smile like a lovestruck fool. “Thank you, my Lord.”

Silence. He keeps looking at you like it is a staring competition. Realizing he will not be the first one to break the silence, you continue with a sigh, “I have some questions, my Lord. I hope you will answer them honestly.” His gaze shifts, something unreadable briefly flashing by his eyes. His hands on to rest on his knees, his back straightening as he takes a moment before subtly nodding his head.

“Is there someone trying to kill me?” Your gaze does not waver. General Choi’s lips press into a thin line, his thick brows forming a frown, a look of pure displeasure settling on his face.

You do not back down. “Yesterday, the arrow was meant for me, was it not? You knew someone was after me. That is why you assigned San to be with me. That is why you told Jihye not to let me go outside.”

Another beat of silence. “Yes.” He murmurs, his haunting gaze piercing yours.

You swallow. “Who is it? I do not understand…I do not have any enemies— “

“They are my enemies.” He cuts you off. “The arrow yesterday…yes, it was meant for you, but it was also meant for me. It was their warning to me.”

“What warning? Why are they after you?” You cry.

His gaze narrows. “That is private information. Only the King’s most trusted men are aware of it.” You look down, worriedly chewing on your lower lip. After a beat, you ask, “Is that why you ignored me in the palace that day?”

“Yes. I thought the less I interacted with you, the better.” He pauses, his gaze focusing on the lamp burning at his side. “I am sorry for putting you in danger, but rest assured, they will be dealt with.”

You are not really worried about losing your life. If anything, his being in danger scares you more. Odd, is it not?

“Why did you let me misunderstand, my Lord?” You ask softly.

“That was not my intention.”

“But it happened anyway.” You cannot hold back the bite in your voice. “From the first day of this marriage, I believed that you have someone else.”

He remains silent, looking almost guilty. It scares and infuriates you. “Tell me! Do you?”

“No,” his voice never loses its quiet composure. “I do not.”

“Then why did you lie?”

For the first time, you see his gaze soften. For once, it looks like he is not scowling but rather, he appears ashamed and helpless. The hidden frustration inside you reaches its tipping point. “You could have told me! You could have said that I was in danger instead of pushing me away like I disgust you and letting me think that you were seeing someone else!” 

You hear him exhale a breath. “How do you expect me to tell my young, newlywed wife that her life is in danger because of me, her husband?”

The guilt is raw and vivid in his voice, echoing throughout the room like a haunted cry. This new side of your husband knocks all the air out of your lungs, leaving you feeling helpless as you stare at him, tears pricking your eyes.

“My Lord—”

“I know I am not the best match for you. You got married to be free, but instead, this marriage became a trap for you. How could I tell you that? I believed it would be better to let you think all crazy things about me rather than taking away your freedom by scaring you. I apologize for my shortsightedness.” A lone tear rolls down your cheek. He is not the best match for you? What is he saying?

Unable to hold back any longer, you close the little distance between the two of you and leap into his arms, hugging him tightly. With your arms wrapped around his neck, you rest your face on his shoulder, your fingers tightly holding onto the fabric of his hanbok. “Please do not apologize, my Lord. I understand you.”

Against you, your husband’s entire body remains tense, his hands awkwardly raised into the air like he is too scared to touch you. You ignore his hesitation and hold onto him tightly, your heart breaking and healing simultaneously. The warmth and comfort of his body soothe all the anguish in your heart, making you never want to let him go.

Finally, his hands touch your back, his large palms holding the small of your back, softly patting you.

Loosening your arms around him, you take a peek at his face and find the most sincere look in his eyes, warm and kind, the complete opposite of how you have seen him until now. You truly believed he was beyond all emotions, cold and mechanical, but right now, as he holds you in his arms and gazes at you with so much reverence and softness, you can only think of him as this quiet, considerate man who is misunderstood greatly.

Something in you shifts. No longer afraid, you shift in his arms, positioning yourself better on his lap before kissing him.

You press your lips against his without thinking, pulling him closer by the lapels of his hanbok and holding your lips right there, against his, soft and warm. With your heart hammering in your chest, you stay there, testing the waters. Your husband remains frozen at first, almost like he is waiting for you to back out. Once sure that you will not, he reaches for you, gently cupping your cheek with his right hand to tilt your face. The kiss deepens just a tad bit, his lips pressing against you just hard enough. His touch on you is meticulous and guarded, like you are a wild animal he does not want to frighten. You know he is being gentle for your sake, so you take the lead, snaking an arm around his neck and kissing him the way he led you.

Slow, sweet and passionate.

It is everything you imagined and more, all your dreams coming true and giving you a taste of ecstasy. By the time your lips part from his, there is a ringing in your ears along with your heart galloping like a race horse and a strange, tingling sensation between your legs. You feel drunk on your husband’s kiss, your eyes involuntarily trailing to his lips that are now shining with saliva.

You want this man so much, body and soul.

Your husband’s fingers remain against your cheek, his thumb stroking your cheek, slow and tentative like you are the most precious porcelain. Mirroring his hand, your fingers cup his cheek, your thumb gently tracing the scar beneath his odd eye. The skin is harsh and bumpy under your touch, making your heart heavy. You want to kiss it, tell him that he is beautiful despite it, tell him that you feel his pain, but something shifts.

His gaze grows unfocused, something foreign flashing by in his eyes, like he has been woken back to reality. With a sudden noise, he clears his throat and retracts his hand from your face. The action pulls you out of your haze as well, making you suddenly hyper aware of the fact that you kissed him.

Holy shit. You kissed your husband. And he kissed you back. And it was amazing.

Clearing his throat once more, your husband looks away, carefully trying to put some distance between you and him. Flustered, you take the hint and stand up rather unceremoniously. As you take a step back, however, misfortune befalls.

The ghost of clumsiness yet again takes over your body, and you trip over your skirt. With a loud, unladylike yelp, you fall backwards, terrified but also anticipating the brutal hit to the floor.

It does not come. You do not fall on the ground because your husband saves you, reaching for your arm and tugging you back towards him just in time. Something else happens in the process. The ribbon of your jeogori comes off.

You realize that several moments later, too preoccupied with trying to calm your beating heart and processing what just happened. As you stay pressed against his body, your arms tightly holding onto his shoulders for balance, General Choi’s eyes skim over your face before fixing beneath your neck and on your exposed shoulder.

This time, something dark and carnal takes over his gaze, his eyes sharp and narrow, staring intently at your bare skin. Your heart beats so loudly you fear he can hear it, and for a moment, you are sure you will pass out from the intensity of his gaze and the swirl of emotions—desire and shame, surging within you.

Like before, he is the one who backs away, quietly clearing his throat and looking away. Embarrassed, you quickly fix your jeogori and clutch it tightly to your chest while also scrambling off his body.

“I—” you stammer, mortified to look at his face. “I will see you for d-dinner then, my Lord.” Picking up your skirt to avoid further accidents, you rush for the door, eager to be out of his sight.

His voice forces you to stop right at the door. “Why did you come to my room last night?”

You halt, processing his question. Then, with quick fingers, you tie your jeogori and carefully turn around. Your husband looks at you inquisitively. “Were…were you awake, my Lord?” You ask. He did not even sir when you came into the room.

In reply, he nods. You look around, trying to find the words. “I…was scared to be alone. I kept thinking of what happened at the market, and I do not know…” You trail off, embarrassed and worried about his reaction. He, however, keeps looking at you intently before shaking his head up and down in understanding.

“How did you know I came in? You did not even move a muscle. I thought you were asleep.”

“I smelled you.” He states, his face expressionless. You take a step back, alarmed. “Do I stink?”

He shakes his head. “No. I meant that I smelled roses. You smell like roses.”

Oh. “I see,” you mumble shyly, your fingers twiddling with the fabric of your skirt. He regards you quietly for a beat before murmuring. “You can sleep with me tonight as well, if you desire it.”

“Really?” You squeal, not hiding the excitement brimming in your voice. 

“Yes.”

“Thank you, my Lord!” You smile so big it hurts.

— 

After dinner, Headservant Yang sets the mattress for the two of you with a suggestive, happy smile on her face that makes you grin goofily. 

Once finished with your nightly routine and dressed for bed, you pad into your husband's chamber and find him already lying down, his eyes closed and his hands resting over his chest. One could think he was asleep, but you know better now. With wonder, you observe that the place of his sword has shifted and moved to his left, right next to his mat, now that yours occupies the space it took before.

“My Lord,” you ask softly, “shall I blow out the candle?”

“Yes.” He replies, not moving or opening his eyes. Carefully, you pad over to the study table and blow out the candle before finding your place on the mat. With the noise of the crickets humming outside, you lie on your mat, pulling the blanket up to your chin and staring at the ceiling. Your blood thrums in your veins, your brain too wired to fall asleep. The excitement of lying next to your husband keeps you awake.

Once your eyes adjust to the darkness, you take tentative peeks at him and find him in the same position as he originally was. Is he sleeping? You wish you could tell.

“My Lord?” You speak, quiet as a mouse.

Silence.

“Hm?” He hums.

“Why do you sleep with your sword next to you?”

“Force of habit, I suppose…from the war.”

You hum in acknowledgement, looking at him eagerly amid the darkness. After a short pause, you call for him again. “My Lord?”

“Yes.”

“Can I sleep with you from now on?”

Silence. Seconds pass by, but no answer comes, and you start to think that he has fallen asleep. Just then, he finally replies, his voice quiet and deep in the solitude of the night. “If you wish to.” You smile, happy and wide, even though he cannot see you. “Thank you, my Lord.”

Another short pause later, he murmurs. “Goodnight.” You take it as a sign that he does not wish to talk anymore, and with a nod, you shift and lie on your side, your right arm resting underneath your head.  “Goodnight, my Lord.” You whisper with a smile.

— 

You wake up just before sunrise. 

The spot next to you is empty, and with no sign of your husband, you step out of his bedchamber in search of him. It is a rest day, so you wonder where he is so early in the morning.

You find the man in the backyard, already dressed, quietly observing the flowers in the garden. “My Lord?” You call for him.

“Oh, good morning.” He acknowledges you with a small nod. “Why are you up so early?”

“I woke up and you were not there. Is everything okay?”

“Yes.” He assures. “You should sleep some more.” You pause, carefully observing him. In the soft morning light, the man looks different, more relaxed and homely, dressed in his hanbok and his long raven hair draped elegantly against his back.

How can you leave his majestic man just for a few more hours of sleep?

“My Lord?”

“Hm?”

“Let us go for a walk.”

— 

After quickly getting dressed, you and your husband go for a stroll, the early morning sun softly gleaming in the sky.

Your husband heads towards the nearby forest, which leads to a cliff offering a nice view of the town and the hilly background. He walks quietly with his hands behind him, his movements deliberately slow to accommodate your pace. With a soft smile that never leaves your lips, you walk alongside him, your heart thrumming happily.

Can this be called a date?

Without any words exchanged between the two of you, you navigate the path through the forest, your eyes skirting towards him every now and then. The silence between you is not awkward because you can see from his face that he is thinking deeply about something. So, you let him think and use the solitude to take peeks at his handsome face, memorizing the details of his visage.

By the time you reach the cliff, you are out of breath.

“Wow,” you wheeze out, panting for air as you rest with your palms on your knees. 

“Are you alright?” General Choi asks, peering down to see your face. “Yes,” you nod, trying to control your breathing. “It has been a while since I came up here. The view is magnificent.”

“It is.” He hums, looking over the cliff. “That last time I came here, I was a child.” You share, standing up and gazing at the view. It is truly still beautiful.

“Why so long ago?”

“What?” You blink, looking at your husband, who is regarding you with a curious tilt of his head.

“Uh…” you think. “My father…he was not fond of me going out much. Especially anywhere far, after my brother died. He liked to keep me within his sight.”

He keeps looking at you attentively, and you wonder what he is thinking. Is he judging you?

Needing to fill the silence, you ramble. “On top of that, I have always been clumsy. I’m sure you have figured that out by now. Once, when I was a child, I somehow broke my arm playing in the yard. My brother ran all the way to the physician’s office with me on his back. With him gone, my father thought it would be better for me to be within the house. For my safety and his mental peace.”

“It was suffocating, no? That is why you married me. For freedom.” Your husband observes. You nod, albeit shakily, thinking of your days back at your parents' home. The cold treatment of your father and the way you were never enough. Not enough to take away the pain of them losing their son.

In the silence, you take a moment to gather your thoughts before facing the man next to you and voicing a question you have always wanted to ask. “Why did you choose to marry me?”

He takes a moment to answer. 

“Because no one else wanted to. A lot of ministers tried to get me engaged to their daughters, but the girls refused when they saw me. Some even rejected just after hearing my name. They feared me.”

You find it ridiculous. “Why?” Your tone drips with bewilderment. “My reputation,” he shrugs. “My face does not help much, I suppose.”

“What do you mean?” You frown, leaning closer to him. He regards you in silence, as if the answer to that question is the most obvious thing in the world. “I am ugly.”

“What?” You gape at him, utterly befuddled. Does this man truly think that? His sharp eyes narrow on you, his brows knotting in confusion. “I do not know if you are making fun of me.”

“Why would I make fun of you?” You cry. This entire thing is ludicrous. “I simply find it absolutely enraging that you think so!”

He remains mute, watching you like you are an equation he needs to solve.

You take a tentative step closer to him, mumbling, “It is true that your reputation is scary. I also feared you for that in the beginning. I do not know if you are aware, but people say all types of crazy things about you.” You pause, inching even closer to him. With a few small inches between the two of you, you look up and meet his eyes, hoping to convey your sincerity. “But as I got to know you…I have realized there is nothing to fear. You are undoubtedly a cold man, my Lord, but you are also warm. Your heart is always in the right place. That alone is enough to make you the most beautiful man in the land.”

His face relaxes, and you can see how his gaze softens, the turbulent storms ever present in his eyes dissipating for a moment. 

In the back of your mind, one thought runs rampant. You want to kiss him. In the soft morning light, he looks as breathtaking as ever, his lips soft and kissable. Remembering the touch of his lips against yours last night, you muster the courage and lean up on your tippy toes, pressing a quick, chaste kiss on his lips. The man immediately leans back, a look of surprise on his face. Ignoring his reaction, you smile and step back, facing the view again. Your husband clears his throat before silently joining you in gazing at the view.

A while later, you voice out another thought. “My Lord, when you said not to expect anything from you, what did you mean?”

He takes a moment to answer. “I don’t know. Just do not expect anything from me. I cannot give you anything.”

Frowning, you face him. “But you have already given me so much.”

“I do not believe that.”

You sigh. The cranky man is returning. Hitching your skirt, you walk closer to him, determined. “What did you mean, my Lord? I cannot expect what?” He huffs out a frustrated breath. “Whatever a wife expects from her husband, I suppose.”

Your frown deepens. “What? Love? Attention? Devotion?”

“I will be devoted to you, but I cannot give you love.” His words are like a punch to the gut. “Why not?” You plead.

He hesitates. “I…just cannot.”

“You cannot or will not?”

His eyes, sharp and fiery, pierce right through you, and you see the truth in his eyes. You see the answer he refuses to utter. “Let us get back.” He announces, turning on his heel and dismissing you, starts marching down the path. You scoff, watching with an open mouth as he almost runs down the track to escape answering your question.

This stubborn, frustrating man.

— 

After breakfast, General Choi goes out to visit an old friend. With a sour mood, you shuffle through the house, watching as everyone remains busy with their work. You try to practice some needlework but fail to get far with that. As always, your hand at embroidery is embarrassingly bad. For two hours, you try to create a flower on a handkerchief, but when it turns out looking questionable, you drop the task.

You find San sitting outside on the porch, chatting animatedly with Headservant Yang. “My Lady, are you bored?” Headservant Yang asks upon seeing you walk over. With your shoulders slumped, you nod, pouting.

“General Choi will not be back for some time. Should we play a game then? San offers.

Your eyes shine. “Sure!”

— 

Your game of baduk with San lasts even after sunset. 

You keep playing match after match, your own competitive streak matching his. He does not go easy on you just because you are married to his General, and that makes it all the more fun. 

Your husband returns right before lunch and after observing the two of you for a mere minute, he leaves, locking himself in his study for the rest of the day. His disinterest irks you, and you decide to ignore him as well, honing all your attention towards the game. During different times, Headservant Yang and Jihye stop by between their work, watching you two play with rapt fascination.

The game only ends with you winning, long after the sky has gone dark. Cheers and yells erupt in the small crowd of servants gathered to watch the game. You grin cockily, finally standing up and stretching your legs. San accepts his defeat and takes his leave, not before you make him promise to join you another day for another match.

“Would you like to have your bath first or dinner, my Lady?” Headservant Yang asks. You ponder, still reeling from the high of winning. “Did my husband have dinner?”

“Yes, my Lady.” You sigh. “Well then, I will have my dinner now and then take my bath.”

— 

After your bath, you sit in your room with the mirror in front of you while Jihye combs your hair. “Today was a fun day, no, my Lady?” She asks.

“Yes,” you hum. “It is a shame General Choi did not join us.” “Indeed.”

“Where has he been all day?” “In his room, my Lady. He was studying.”

You resist the urge to roll your eyes. Your husband truly does not know how to have fun. Instead of spending a rest day with his wife, he would rather read and strategize and sulk by himself.

As if he could hear your thoughts, the man appears with a knock at your door and steps in a second later. Jihye excuses herself, leaving the two of you alone, the room suddenly buzzing with tension.

Your husband regards you with that same unreadable face, but something in you tells you that he is grumpier than usual. Still, you try to be civil. “Hello, my Lord.”

“Lady Choi. It was hard to catch sight of you all day.” 

Yes. He is annoyed about something. The subtle bite in his voice is unmissable. You finish combing the ends of your hair before setting the comb down. “My apologies about that. I was too immersed in the game of baduk.”

“Yes, I noticed.” He peers down at you, his eyes ethereally flashing in the soft lights of your chamber. “You seemed to quite enjoy your time with San.”

“He is an excellent player. He also mentioned that you used to play with him.” You supply, trying to understand what might be the cause of his annoyance.

“I don’t know about excellent.” He murmurs, looking away from you. “I taught him, true, but he is no match for me.”

You narrow your eyes. What is he implying? “I am sure he is not, my Lord.” You force a smile. 

“Yet, you chose to spend the entire day with him.” This time, he snaps, clear and offended. Your jaw hangs low, surprised at his pettiness. You stand up frowning. “You were away, my Lord.”

“Not the entire day. I returned long ago, but you were too busy playing with him till dinner time.” He grumbles, not meeting your eyes but staring at the lamp. Stunned, you gape at him, trying to understand where he is coming from.

Your heart flutters. Is it possible that he is jealous?

“My Lord,” you step closer to take a look at his face. “Are you…jealous?”

“Ha!” He scoffs, stepping away. “Why would I be jealous of that little punk?” he half yells, waving his hand dismissively like he is swatting away a bug.

Your spirits dampen, and annoyance starts to take over. You give him a saccharine sweet smile that is evidently fake. “Well then, there is nothing to worry about. Shall we head to bed?” He refuses to let the topic go. “You finally remembered me, no? Now that it is time to sleep?”

The thread holding you together snaps. With gritted teeth, you stare at him, trying your level best to keep your tone neutral. “Well, when your husband dismisses you at every chance he gets and tries to run from you at the mere mention of intimacy, a girl would naturally be upset and spend time elsewhere. I hope you pardon her for spending some time away from him.” You bow dramatically in apology, making sure that he understands it is sarcasm. 

“Wha—” He regards you, eyes wide and mouth agape, like he cannot believe the words coming from your lips. “You—” He seems to be at a loss for words.

You step past him, but he raises a finger at you. “So you prefer San over me? Is that what you are saying?”

You roll your eyes at his words. However, today there is an urge within you to push him to his limit. So, you whip your head back and glare at him. 

“Who knows?” You singsong. Your husband’s eyes only enlarge, the look of pure shock taking over his face, his mouth hanging open wider than before. “Maybe I do. Maybe I do prefer him over you. He spends time with me, after all. Despite today being a rest day, you stayed in your room all day when you could have joined us. So what if I prefer his company?” You add the last line for good measure, trying to appear as threatening as possible.

“Take that back,” he says, his tone quiet. The look on his face starts to shift towards something serious. 

You egg him on. “I won’t! In fact, from now on, I will spend more time with him. Who knows, he might give me all the love and attention you refuse.”

The man finally snaps. In the flash of an eye, he is right in front of you, his hand behind your neck pulling you so close to him that you feel his breath. All earlier pettiness and playfulness are gone. He looks like a raging beast, barely hanging on by a thread.

“Take that back. Tell me you do not mean it or I swear to God, I will chop his head off.” He grits, his voice shaking with anger and his grip on your skin tightening. His eyes are like two molten pools of lava, angry and bright, and he has never looked hotter.

Without wasting a second, you smash your lips with his, wrapping your arms around his neck to pull him closer and closer towards you. The force of your kiss is so strong that it knocks him back a few steps. However, he is quick to recover, meeting your lips with even more passion, a side of him completely new to you. Raw and unchained, he goes all in, devouring your lips like it is his salvation.

You don’t hold back either.

You let go of your body weight entirely, pushing him on the ground below you while never letting go of his lips. Your hands—his and yours—move frantically to claw at each other through the layers of fabric. With a huff, your husband finally removes his lips from yours, a long string of saliva connecting your lips to his. “If we continue…I cannot hold back.” He pants, his eyes wild and shining.

His words make you giddy with anticipation, molten hot pools of lava swirling in your belly.

“That is what I want,” you whisper, feeling the cold air against your swollen lips. “I do not want you to hold back.” Slowly, you snake your arms around his neck and you move closer to his face. With a mere inch between your lips, you murmur, “I want you to devour me, my Lord.”

Your husband makes a sound, a low, primal grunt that comes from the deepest part of his chest. He exhales sharply, determination swirling in his eyes as he finally lets go of all the restraint he had been practicing till now.

In a flash, he flips your positions, holding you against the ground, his large body looming over yours. Your breath catches in your throat with the view on top of you, and he has not even taken off his clothes yet. Desire thrums in your veins, making you curl your toes in anticipation.

“I will ruin you tonight.” That is a promise. His voice is laced with something dark, like he will thoroughly enjoy ruining you. Little does he know, you will enjoy it too.

“Please, my Lord.” You beg, all too eager to become his.

His eyes flash at your words, and immediately, his hands get to work. They move with ease, graceful yet quick, as he strips you off your garments. All too soon, you are left only in your underskirt, your bare chest exposed for his eyes to feast on. You have the urge to cover them, and as if your husband can read your mind, he grabs your hands and links your fingers with his, pinning them on top of your head.

“Do not hide from me,” he commands, his lips hovering over yours. You nod, jittery with need and anticipation. 

Once sure your hands will not move, he slowly traces his fingers from your jawbone to your neck and then your shoulder, before reaching for your braid. You shift and let him hold your hair, his fingers gently caressing over the long braided strands. His fingers trace over your daenggi before tugging on it sharply. Undone, the strip of cloth comes off as your hair starts to loosen from the braid.

“So beautiful.” He hums, holding a few strands of hair between his fingers. He places a soft kiss on them before reaching for your hands. With your daenggi, he ties your wrists together, making sure the knot will hold before placing your hands back where they were, arms stretched straight on top of your head.

“Be a good girl.” He whispers, his voice sultry, his gaze half lidded yet dangerous. Your heart hammers loudly in your chest as the reality of what is happening actually starts to settle in your bones.

You are half-naked, tied up and vulnerable underneath your husband. The man they call the Grim Reaper, the most merciless man in the land. Yet, you are not afraid.

You watch as he shifts, making himself comfortable between your spread legs. He lifts your underskirt, exposing your core, and despite the urge to close your legs, you cannot.

“So beautiful. It will be a treat to ruin you.” He hums, his eyes focused between your legs, a faint smirk playing on his lips. Without any warning, he slaps you between your legs, right on your sensitive flesh, the sharp whack echoing through the quietness of the night.

“Ah!” You cry, mortified and surprised. It stings but also unlocks a new sensation of pleasure within you. Your face heats up as you realize how much you enjoyed it, a deep and deprived sense of pleasure.

He slaps you again. “Do you like it? I can see you are getting wet.” He says, his flashing eyes set on your face.

You make a pathetic noise of agreement. “Answer me!” He commands, slapping you once more. A long, needy moan is ripped from your throat. You pant. “Y-yes, my Lord.”

Pleased, he smirks before leaning down to press kisses on your inner thighs. He moves slowly and deliberately, playing with you, nibbling on your skin with his teeth before giving it a soothing lick and making sure it is marked. When he sits back up, his eyes trace all over your face as if he is trying to remember every small detail about you. You do the same, peering at him through your lashes with bated breath, wishing you could pull him closer for another kiss.

You could spend your entire life kissing this man.

With the ease and grace of a panther that has trapped its prey, your husband moves, enveloping you with his body, his hair falling over you like a black curtain. Lying on top of you, one of his hands holds on to the nape of your neck while the other explores your body, teasingly moving down your waist and between your legs. His warm fingers trace your core, feeling the wetness gathered between your legs. Without losing eye contact, he plays with you, dipping his fingers inside, making you shiver and whimper and continues to smirk knowingly.

He pushes his index and middle finger inside you, just up to his knuckles and the intrusion have you shuddering, your core throbbing like it has its own heartbeat. A breathy moan tears from your lips, and he uses the opportunity to lean in and bite your lip softly. 

Dear god. You whimper. “Please.”

“What?” He mouths against your lips. “T-touch me,” you reply, chasing his lips to reconnect with yours.

You hear him scoff cockily. “I am touching you, wife.” His title for you makes you only more desperate. You whine, starting to writhe, “More.”

You feel him smile against your mouth, his fingers slipping all the way in. His lips trace your jaw, his nose pressed against your skin before trailing down your neck, while his fingers start moving in and out. Involuntarily, your hips writhe, chasing his fingers while he peppers your neck with kisses and bites before fixing on a particular spot beneath your ear that makes you whimper. Then, he uses his thumb to give you a flick, his dark eyes trained on your face as your pleasure amplifies. 

“Oh my god,” you shut your eyes closed, reveling in the feeling of his fingers inside you. He starts to pick up pace, moving the fingers in tandem, circling them inside you and giving your clit an occasional flick. You wrap your legs around his lower waist, crossing them over and pulling him even closer, a desperate attempt at trying to ease the growing ache. Inside you, his fingers move rapidly, making your body tense as you start climbing your high, the coil in your belly pulling tight. 

“My L-lord…” You pant, looking at him with pleading eyes, even though you are unsure what you are trying to say. “Say my name,” he commands, dark eyes trained on you.

You feel even hotter, the coil in your belly pulled impossibly tight. “S-Seungcheol.”

“That is right. Scream my name.” He orders, eyes hazy with a film of lust and possessiveness. As if teasing you, his thumb brushes over your clit ever so slightly, drawing out a shuddering whine from your lips that makes him chuckle quietly. The sound feels like magic to your ears, a drug to your system that heightens your pleasure. His teeth dig into the soft flesh of your neck, undoubtedly leaving a mark.

“P-please Seungcheol,” you heave, eyes closed shut, fingernails digging into your palms. Humming against your neck, he uses his fingers to rub an even deeper spot inside you as his thumb rubs your clit mercilessly. 

“Please!” You hiss, throwing your head back, your toes curling as you wail. “I… I cannot…”

“You are going to cum for me. Now,” his voice is a quiet order. 

He curls his fingers inside you one last time and flicks your clit hard with his thumb, sending you over the edge. Your release is a tidal wave of mind-breaking pleasure as your body goes tense, your hips arching off the bed, your mouth hanging open as a reaction to the overwhelming pleasure; your first orgasm. 

You experience a type of bliss you had no idea existed, and for a moment, your mind goes blank, your body lying taut and tense underneath his. The onslaught of pleasure leaves your vision blurry with unshed tears and your mind numb to everything as you slowly descend from the throes of heavenly bliss and register that your husband is sitting upright between your legs.

With his relentless gaze locked with yours, he slowly licks his fingers clean, his long pink tongue darting out to caress his digits as he hums, “This is the sweetest pussy I have ever had.”

The sight is more than erotic, and for a moment, you are scared you will die from a heart attack. You want this man. You need him all at once, in every way possible. There is an ache coming from the depths of your soul that only he can satisfy.

“Please…untie me. I want to touch you.” You beg, hoping he takes mercy. It has been torture keeping your hands off of him. Hearing your plea, he takes mercy and undoes the ribbon tying your wrists. Free, you immediately sit up and wrap yourself around him, pulling him close for a kiss. Vigorously, wantonly, you kiss him and taste yourself on his tongue, moaning and gripping onto his back, your fingers itching to touch his skin underneath his nightshirt. 

“Please take this off,” you breathe against his mouth. Your husband smiles, undoubtedly enjoying teasing you. “Why?”

“Because…I want to see you.” You whisper sweetly, looking at him through your lashes. The man obliges, letting his hands off you for a moment to take off his shirt.

The sight of his naked body renews the heat between your legs, a new wave of desire overcoming your system. You let yourself gawk at the expanse of the muscles on his chest and the bulky thickness of his arms, all littered with scars, strong and dependable. As he stares at your face for a reaction, you reach for him absentmindedly, dragging your index finger over a scar on his right bicep. It is long, old, and jagged, rough and bumpy to the touch. Without thinking, you lean towards his arm and softly press a kiss on the wound before slowly dragging your lips to his chest, where another scar has bloomed. “It must have hurt,” you whisper to yourself, pressing another kiss on the scar before meeting his eyes. “I want to see all of your scars, dear husband. And I want to kiss all of them. I want to kiss away your pain.”

Something flashes by his eyes, brief but vulnerable. He immediately snakes a strong around around your waist to pull you tight against him and seal his lips over yours in a possessive kiss.

With his lips tangled with yours, he carries you to the sleeping mat, setting you down gently. You sigh in satisfaction as your back meets the soft, warm quilt. 

Your husband quickly gets to work, taking off your underskirt in a sharp yank and ripping it in the process. Surprised and embarrassed, you squeak, trying to hide yourself from his gaze. With the lamp burning right on the desk next to the mat, he has a pretty clear view of your body.

“Your pants…” You whisper, tugging them as well, and Seungcheol chuckles. “So desperate, aren't we?”

“Please,” you beg, throwing him your best pleading eyes as your hands roam around his back, feeling the ridge and bump of his muscles. 

The man quickly takes off his pants, giving you the briefest glimpse of his cock. You barely get to see him as he leans down towards you again, his eyes locked with yours. He drags his palms up, cupping your breasts and squeezing them. A breathy sigh of pleasure falls from your lips as you automatically lean closer to his face, your lips chasing his. Seungcheol captures them in a soft, teasing kiss, his lips gently biting yours as you feel his cock brush against your thigh.

You shiver, goosebumps breaking out on your skin.

You are a ball of nerves right now, the idea of getting intimate with a man for the first time plaguing your mind with worry. Yet, at the same time, you are overcome with desire, need running through your veins.

This is scary yet perfect. Absolutely perfect.

Your husband attacks your neck, kissing and biting the skin while simultaneously playing with your breasts. You mewl, letting your head fall to one side to give him better access to your neck. He hums, the sound so deep and throaty you feel it in your core. His lips do not break contact with your skin, kissing and sucking your sensitive flesh until your whole body shakes like leaves in a tree. 

“Please…” You beg, digging your nails into his shoulder, your body unconsciously starting to grind against him, desperate to ease the throbbing ache between your legs. Seungcheol, finally satisfied with the red spot blooming on your neck, lets you go, peering down at you with his hypnotizing eyes.

“I teased you a lot, did I not, wife?” He hums, caressing your heated face with his knuckles. Drunk with desire, you nod, your half-lidded gaze transfixed. “Please, take me, my Lord.”

He tsks disapprovingly. As if to prove a point, he wraps his hand around your throat but does not apply any pressure. “My name.”

“Seungcheol.” You reply immediately.

“Good girl.” Seungcheol smirks, his eyes flashing with something dark as he leans back on his heels, taking a slow, good look at your body. Then, spreading your legs wider, he spits on his fingers and using it as a lubricant over his cock before lining up with your entrance.

“This will hurt at first.” He warns. You nod, one hand covering your face as you choose to look at the ceiling out of embarrassment.

“Ready?”

“Yes.”

“Look at me.” He demands, the tip of his cock brushing against your pussy lips, making you shiver and follow his command. “Keep your eyes on me. Watch me devour this tight cunt.”

You feel like someone set your face on fire. Face flushed with his crude words, you barely get to make a sound when Seungcheol thrusts himself inside you. Your head lolls forward with the impact as your hands immediately clutch his arm around your waist for support. 

“Ah!” You cry out, eyes squeezed shut as you feel a sharp sting between your legs. “Fuck,” Seungcheol hisses, his voice throaty as he remains half buried inside you. Pausing for a moment, he lets you adjust before pulling back and then thrusting back in. This time, he goes all the way in, and you swear you feel him in your stomach. With a loud, pathetic cry, you cling onto his body, your brain unable to keep up with all the different sensations. 

He builds a pace, pushing in and out of you in strong movements.

Your brain feels like mush as you fail to utter anything, your mouth simply hanging open to let out breathy pants as you close your eyes and feel every ridge of his cock move in and out of you, the initial pain of intrusion fizzling away. It is a blissful experience, a high you never want to come out of.

“Push out your hips a little,” he orders quietly, dark eyes set on you so intensely, you feel like he can see your soul.

Immediately, you comply, extending your waist towards him while keeping your upper back pressed to the mat. His hands hold your hip bone n a strong grip as he places a pillow under your ass and slides himself back inside you with a leisurely pace, the new angle making his length curve inside you. 

You start seeing stars.

“Oh my god,” you hiss, eyes squeezed shut. The back of your thighs rests over Seungcheol’s, your legs dangling around his waist, and your hands clenched around the sleeping mat as he starts to pick up pace. With each thrust, the force increases, the tip of his cock hitting your most sensitive spot, low groans falling from his lips to match your breathy moans. 

“I… I cannot…please” your whisper mindlessly, the words scattered and almost unintelligible due to your broken moans. “You want to come?” His voice is almost taunting as he leans closer to look at your face. “Well, that’s unfortunate. You do not come until I give you permission, wife.” Your husband warns, making you whine. 

The need to find your release only intensifies. You are so close you can almost taste the blissful release.

“P-Please,” You beg, wrapping your arms around his neck and digging your fingernails into his shoulder blades. “Say it louder. Scream my name. Who is fucking this tight pussy?’’ he grunts in your ears, his warm breath tickling your skin.

“Seungcheol!” The desperate yell is quick to leave your lips.

“Who will make you come?”

“You! Seungcheol!”

“That is right, wife. It is I, your husband.” He gives you a particularly harsh thrust. “Not San. Not any other man but me.”

“Y-yes. Please…” you sob. Gripping your chin, he forces you to look at him. “Who do you belong to?” His voice is as quiet as a winter night.

“You, my husband.” You manage to utter clearly amid his brutal thrusts. “Good girl,” he praises, nibbling on your jaw. One of his hands reaches below to touch your clit as he wastes no time rubbing the sensitive bundle of nerves with the pads of his finger, all the while continuing to thrust inside you earnestly.

“Seungcheol!” You scream, your entire body jolting.

Your reaction makes him smirk as he chases his own high, seconds away from erupting inside you. He places your clit between his thumb and index finger, giving you a particularly harsh rub followed by a pinch.

You are catapulted over the edge. Your vision goes white, your entire sweat-coated body twitching from the intensity of the pleasure. It only amplifies as you feel Seungcheol spill inside you, his warm release filling you up and dripping lazily out of you. 

You feel like you are floating from the bliss.

— 

Your husband’s hand strokes your back in repeated soothing motions while you bask in the afterglow of your passionate lovemaking. With him lying behind you on the mat, your bodies pressed together, you move from reality to dreamland every now and then, the smile never leaving your face as you savour his touch and warmth. 

“Are you asleep?” he softly asks, bringing his face closer to inspect you.

You make a noise and shake your head, too lazy to move. Your husband gently turns you so that you lie face to face.

“Are you in any pain?” You ask again, carefully looking at your face, his fingers brushing away the rowdy strands of hair from your face. You open your eyes and look at him with a gaze full of love. “I am perfect, husband. Thank you.”

He smiles when you address him by that name, a warm, gummy smile that shows his unbridled joy. The possessive madman from earlier has completely disappeared, replaced by a man eager to dote on his wife.

This is your first time seeing this side of your husband. 

He pulls you against his chest, holding you tight in his arms. “No, thank you, wife. Thank you for being mine.” You smile, nuzzling his bare chest. This is the safest and most comfortable you have ever felt, and you do not want to let go. Ever.

After a moment of pause, he whispers. “I know I lack a lot. I can be clueless sometimes. So from now on, I hope you share with me whatever is on your mind. All your wishes, hopes and dreams, your desires— everything. I promise I will make them come true.”

You are too tired to form a reply, your body growing heavier each second but still, you smile. You peacefully drift off.

— 

Seungcheol did not go to work today.

The news delights you when you hear it from Jihye as she helps you get dressed. Her eyes linger on your body, especially on your neck, where little marks have formed— evidence of your lovemaking. 

She looks half worried and half scandalized, and you wink at her playfully before stepping out of your chamber.  Your husband sits on the porch, fully dressed, basking in the sun with a book in his hand.

“Good morning, my Lord.” You whisper, feeling pathetically shy when you catch sight of him. He looks up, his eyes shining when they land on you. “Good morning, wife. How are you feeling?” Shyly, you walk over to him and sit down without leaving any space between the two of you. Fiddling with your skirt, you look away when you answer, “I am alright, my Lord.”

With a gentle grasp on your chin, he turns your face and forces you to look at him. “The truth.” He says quietly.

Truthfully, you are quite sore, and an ache has taken hold all over your body. However, you cannot complain. The ache is laced with pleasure, especially between your legs, reminding you of last night.

Your heart gallops in your chest as you look into his eyes. “I am a little sore,” you reply timidly. “But it is a good kind of sore, I promise.”

His eyes travel to your neck, eyeing the red marks visible on your skin. “I was too rough with you,” he murmurs, his tone laced with regret, his eyes focused on your neck. Quickly, you snap him out of it. “Not at all, my Lord.” You sling your arms with his, pulling him closer so that you can rest your face on his shoulder. “You were just perfect. I enjoyed it. A lot.” You whisper, face flushing.

Your husband keeps gazing at you like he does not believe you. Whipping your head around, you take a quick scan around the yard before pressing a sweet kiss on his lips and giggling like a child. A soft smile blooms on his lips, even though he tries to stifle it.

“You should smile more, my Lord. You look so handsome.”

“Why are you calling me that? You called me by my name last night.” His lips form a soft pout as he complains. You pause, “Well…last night was…”

“You shall call me Seungcheol from now on.” He announces. “I would like it even more if you gave me a nickname.”

Wide eyed, you look at him.

“Do you understand me, wife?”

“Yes, husband.” 

Happy with that for now, he does not pester you anymore. You rest your head on his shoulders, your hands intertwined, and watch the morning sky in silence.

“You asked me to share all my wishes with you last night.” You speak after a while, eyes focused somewhere distant. “Can I share one with you right now?”

“Of course,” he shifts so that his body faces you. 

Tilting your head up, you admire a white, fluffy cloud. “Ever since my brother died, I have only had one wish for my life. I wanted to live by the sea in a small house. In that house, there would be my husband and I, and we would spend the rest of our days there, away from all the noise and bleakness of this town.”

“That sounds lovely.” He murmurs. You nod before looking at him. “Do you think it would ever be possible for us?”

He remains silent. 

“Given the nature of your job, I understand. However, I need you to promise me one thing. You must take care of yourself. You must not get hurt, do you hear me? You have someone to come home to now. You must think about me and you must return home to me, do you understand?” Your hands grip his in an earnest hold. 

His free hand comes to rest on top of yours, and he gives you a reassuring squeeze, warm and soft. “Rest easy, wife. I shall come back to you. Always.”

A lone drop of tear strolls down your cheek, and he wipes it away with his thumb before pressing the softest, feather-like kiss on your forehead. After a moment's pause, you speak. “Now it is your turn to share something with me.”

He regards you with confusion. 

“Anything. A wish, a secret…” You stare at him with eagerness. He sighs softly, his eyes trained on his lap as he thinks about something. 

“Well…when I told you not to expect anything from me,” he begins, looking almost shy, his gaze soft and apologetic. “I was afraid. I wanted to keep you at an arm's length from the beginning because I was scared of losing you. I have lost everyone close to me, and the thought of going through something like that again terrifies me. Since I joined the military, I have kept myself detached from everyone because the less I cared, the better.”

Your heart aches for the man. With gentle fingers, you brush away the unruly strands of hair from his face and trace the scar next to his eye. “You will not lose me, husband. I am right here.” You promise.

He wraps his arms around you as if to test your words. You wrap yourself around him, basking in his embrace, your bodies melting into one. “Do not leave me.” He whispers, his voice raw and vulnerable.

“Never.”

— 

Seungcheol left for the palace early today. After two days of relaxation, a letter came for him last night from the palace, demanding his presence first thing in the morning.

At night, Seuncheol held you tight in his arms, soothing away your worries. He finally shared what has been going on in the palace and why there are assassins after him.

Turns out they are working for the Minister of Trade, who is strictly against the new reformations currently being done by the king, like an attempt to abolish the slavery system. Seungcheol has been the King’s number one ally and a powerful piece in the game, which is why they are after him. Removing him from the equation is as good as stripping the King of his powers. Minister Kim has done exceptionally well in covering up his tracks, which is why there is no solid proof against him, complicating this entire issue. He has been playing a cat-and-mouse game with the royal army for a while now. 

Your husband left even before you woke up, leaving a note for you promising he would be home for dinner.

The day slowly passes by with you going to the palace and coming home once your shift is over, always under the watchful eye of San. The mood in the palace has been tense today, different rumours about Minister Kim floating in the air and a sinking feeling forms in your gut. No matter how hard you try, you cannot shake off the feeling that something ominous is about to take place.

Your suspicion starts taking shape when dusk falls and Seungcheol does not return. It turns into terror and restlessness as night falls, and still, there is no sign of him. The supper grows cold, and you fall asleep upright, waiting for him, your husband, who never comes.

When you open your eyes again, you find Jihye sitting next to you, a worried look on her face. “What is it?” You immediately sit up straight. “My lady, it is past midnight. Master has not returned yet. Should we send someone to the palace to ask for him?” She asks.

Your fingers fist around your skirt, anxiety coursing through your veins like poison. “We should.” You whisper.

Just as you are following Jihye out of the room, you hear commotion; the voice of a servant and Headservant Yang. Running to the porch, you see Seungcheol entering the house, dressed in his military uniform, his sword in his hand.

He marches straight towards you and drags you into your bedchamber without any words. “My Lord, where have you been!” You cry, gripping his arm. “I have been waiting for you—”

“Listen to me carefully,” he cuts you off, his hands resting on your shoulders as he leans down to be at your eye level. His usual unbothered demeanour is gone, replaced by worry that you see in his eyes as vividly as daylight. 

Something must be wrong. Your heart starts racing.

“The Minister of Trade is planning to attack us here tonight. They will be here anytime, so I need to get you out of here.”

“Wha— How did you even find that out? Are you sure?”

“The royal army captured a member of his team yesterday. We tortured the information out of him. Look at me,” he urges you, his fingers gripping your shoulder even tighter. “Minister Kim knows we are onto him. He has gone into hiding. He will stop at nothing to get to me, to you, do you understand? He plans to go down and drag me with him.” You see the fear in his eyes. The unshakable, indestructible man suddenly appears different, and this change terrifies you. 

“I am scared.” You whisper.

“You have nothing to be scared of.” He pulls you in his arms, holding you tightly against his chest. “I am going to send you to a safe place. I need you to do as I say, okay?”

You nod shakily, your fingers holding onto his sleeve in a death grip.

“Pack your essentials. We will leave within thirty minutes. Ask Jihye to help you.” He says, pressing a kiss on your forehead before marching outside.

With your heart hammering in your chest, you get to work, moving your shaky limbs to pack a bag with the help of Jihye. Soon, you are ready, and Seungcheol wastes no time wrapping everything up. He places Headservant Yang and the other servant in another neighbor's house to make sure they are safe before setting out with you.

In the darkness of the night, you get onto his horse with his help, followed by him sitting behind you, his arms around you to hold onto the reins. Jihye and another male servant get on another horse, and finally, a royal soldier follows from behind.

A little to the south of the town, there is a long, dense forest which leads to a small, quaint village. There is an ancient shrine there, inhabited by monks, and that is where Seungcheol intends to get you by dawn.

The silence grows heavier and thicker as you tread into the forest; the only sound echoing around is the soft galloping of the horses. You shiver, more from dread than from the cold night air and Seungcheol notices it. “Hold the reins.” He orders quietly so that his hands are free. He takes off the muffler wrapped around his neck and gently puts it around yours.

“I asked you to pack the essentials, wife.” His tone is playful. “I think a muffler in this weather counts as an essential.” He teases, and you understand it is his attempt to soothe you. “I am sorry, my lord. You should keep it. You will catch a cold.” You murmur.

“Hush now,” he shushes you, taking back the reins. “You should lean on me and close your eyes. It will take a while for us to reach there.”

“No, it is okay.” You reply, eyes focused ahead on the dark, narrow road cutting through the forest. 

It is such a gloomy night. You cannot spot a single star in the sky, shrouded by clouds.

Time ticks by. The night grows darker. 

Your journey continues through the hour of the ox and into the hour of the tiger. Exhaustion takes over you, and unable to resist it any longer, you close your eyes and lean your head back, resting it against your husband’s shoulder. It is not an ideal condition to get some shut-eye, but somehow you doze off.

When your eyes reopen, you hear the loud sound of a horse neighing and its heavy galloping. Seungcheol holds you tighter, and with a sharp tug of the reins and a nudge of his heels, his horse leaps into a full sprint. You look around worriedly, scanning through the dense bushes surrounding you.

“Master! Did they find us already?” Servant Min cries from behind as his horse too picks up pace.

The sounds grow louder, and just as your body tenses up, fearing the worst, you see San pop up from inside the forest, his horse taking a lunge and joining you on the road. “General, you have to keep going!” He yells. “They are right behind us.”

Seungcheol’s horse sprints parallel to his.

“How did they catch up so quickly?”

“Minister Kim had his men spread out. They were hiding in a camp a few miles behind. I took care of them, but the messenger escaped. I’m sure the minister is on his way. You need to move fast. There might be more of his men hiding in the forest.”

Upon hearing his words, you notice the specks of red on his hanbok. Swallowing the lump in your throat, you look behind to see your husband’s face. His jaw is clenched tight. “We need to come up with a plan. If they find us, we cannot hold them off. I need to get my wife to safety.” He yells back.

It is as if a cactus is lodged in your throat. “W-what do you mean?” You cry, your face aghast. 

He does not reply to you.

“It will be daybreak soon, General! We should hide somewhere.” San suggests.

Just then, you notice a sudden, strange ball of light in the sky, a little towards your right. It takes a moment for you to register that it is a signal, an arrow of fire shot from behind you.

“There are assassins ahead of us. They now know we are headed that way.” Seungcheol hisses.

“I will take care of it.” San nods, wielding his sword and screaming at the horse, “Go!” The horse runs faster, impossibly so, almost flying forward.

“I need you to stay calm and follow my orders.” Your husband says to you. “Do you hear me?” You nod shakily, “Yes.”

In five minutes, you catch up to San, who has taken care of most of the assassins that sat ahead at the curve. As you sprint near, Seungcheol hands the reins to you and readies his bow and arrow, taking perfect shots at the rest of the assassins. Then, he smoothly gets off the horse, followed by the other soldier who has been accompanying you, their swords wielded as they fight one-on-one.

A little ahead of the curb, you stop the horse and so does Jihye and servant Min, watching the fight anxiously. The three men take multiple assassins at a time, making sure they do not get to you.

You chew on your lower lip, your hands fidgeting as you watch the fight unfold. You wish Seungcheol gave you an archery set. You know the basics because you practised regularly as a child with your brother. Even though after his death, you stopped it for a while, you did not completely let go, taking occasional lessons from the older nobleman in your neighbourhood who used to be a skillful archer once upon a time.

By the time the last member of the group has been killed, shades of blue have coated the sky. Seungcheol and his team run back to the horses, their clothes specked with blood.  “Come on, we need to leave,” he says, mounting the horse.

There is a sudden sound; a sharp whoosh like a strong gust of wind just flew by, followed by a soft thud.

It is an arrow.

It whizzes towards you, missing the mark and hitting the tree trunk a couple of inches to your left. Your heart stops. A few hundred meters from the way you came, a large group of armed men show up. It is Minister Kim’s convoy.

They have caught up to you.

At the center, leading them is the minister himself, dressed in iron like he is about to go to war. His eyes, black and empty, scour the dead bodies of his assassins lying on the ground in front of him before looking at your husband.

His thin lips curl up into an evil smile. “General! No point in running now! It’s time to see how good of a fighter you are!” He yells. 

You feel Seungcheol's body growing tenser with each passing second, his hand gripping your thigh in a bruising hold. You, too, are paralyzed with fear, unsure of what to do. Then, absolutely shocking you, Seungcheol does the thing you least expected him to do. He starts getting off the horse slowly, his eyes trained on Minister Kim.

“San, take my wife and go.” He speaks quietly to the younger man who hadn’t gotten on his horse yet. “My Lord, what are you—” You do not get to finish your sentence because the younger man has instantly climbed behind you and snatched the reins from your hands.

“Get them!” You hear a shout as you are swept away with lightning speed. San’s grip around your body is iron solid, holding the reins with his eyes focused ahead on climbing the steep, hilly road at the end of the forest.

“No, please! You need to be with him!” You cry, fighting against him as you look behind to see Seungcheol fighting the Minister’s men, accompanied by the other soldier. 

He can never outfight all those people.

“Have faith in him. He knows what he is doing.” San assures, kicking his heels so the horse runs faster. You hear sounds right behind you, and you turn to see an assassin on a horse, aiming his arrow at you. San takes notice of it and swerves right immediately to avoid it.

As calculated, it misses, but a second later, your horse neighs out loud, standing on its hind legs before dropping down on the ground, taking the two of you with it. The arrow was meant for the horse. It struck his leg, injuring him, leaving the animal on the ground, softly crying in pain.

San wastes no time getting up and wielding his sword to fight off the man and the others following behind him. Jihye and servant Min, who were right behind you, yell out, calling for you to get on their horse. Jihye extends her hand towards you, but you ignore her, bunching up your skirt and making a run towards the curb.

“My Lady, what are you doing?” San yells, fighting off the assassins. “Jihye, stop her!”

“My Lady, come back!”

Ignoring their cries, you pick up the bow and set of arrows dropped by the assassin and continue sprinting down the steep road.

Then, finding a safe distance and a place behind an oak tree, you spot your husband, his movements sharp and precise as he takes down one man after the other. You watch as the minister slowly walks towards him, his sword dragging on the ground, leaving behind a threatening trail. Due to him wearing the armored plates, you know it is pointless to shoot at him, so you load your bow and aim at the assassins and start shooting.

The first one grazes past the man you aim at. Not discouraged, you continue, and the second one hits the target. 

Your husband looks in your direction immediately when the assassin drops dead, his eyes going from confusion to worry the moment he spots you. He does not have the time to do anything about it, as he has to fight the never-ending men.

And you are slightly grateful for that. Right now, he does not have the chance to come to you and force you away, giving you the chance to help him from afar. You continue loading arrows and shooting, missing some but hitting most, well aware of the fact that the Minister has spotted you.

From behind, you hear Jihye coming towards you, her exhausted pleas echoing down the path. “Jihye, I need more arrows!” You yell as you come down to your last two. “There should be some on the road back there!”

By now, most of the assassins have been taken care of, and the remainder are being fought by the soldier accompanying your husband. Minister Kim has approached Seunghceol as they engage in a heated sword fight, the minister swinging his sword like a madman, his growls echoing in the air. Your eyes scan around the place, thinking of finding a way to help Seungcheol, when San finally catches up to you, followed by Jihye, who did not get the arrows you asked for.

“My Lady, enough!” he yells. “You cannot be here! The road has been cleared—”

“We need to help him!” you yell back. “I cannot leave him here for—” You do not get to finish your sentence.

An arrow hits Seungcheol, piercing through the skin right below his right shoulder, on the top of his chest.

“No!” You scream, watching him stumble back for a moment. Your eyes fly through the scene, spotting an archer hidden inside the forest a little ahead towards your right. As you load your bow to take a shot at him, San finally comes to his senses, flying down the road to help Seungcheol.

You take the shot.

The arrow hits the hidden archer right in the chest, making him tumble backwards, disappearing out of sight. Then, you dash down the road, not scared of anything anymore, Jihye following you as your shadow.

San stands no match to Minister Kim, easily overpowered and tossed aside by his brute strength. He has the eyes of a madman, hell bent on getting to Seungcheol, discarding everything in his way like little bugs.

“I told you, you scarred lunatic!” He screams, charging at your husband. “I will slice your head off your neck and then do the same to your wife!”

He swings his sword around, charging for Seungcheol with all his might. Seungcheol blocks him with his sword, but the force of the attack forces him to fall to his knees. Minister Kim takes the opportunity to knock him off his feet with a kick. Seungcheol falls on the ground on his back, and in the split second, the minister raises his sword towards the sky before bringing it down sideways on his chest.

“Seungcheol!” You yell at the top of your lungs. “General!” San yells, coming from behind and tackling Minister Kim to the ground before he can fully swing his sword across. His helmet falls off from the force of San's attack. With your heart thundering in your ears, you point the remaining arrow at him.

It is like your body is not yours anymore. With zero hesitation, you take the shot while he is still pinned to the ground, struggling to get free, and the arrow hits the bullseye, right in the center of his forehead. 

His body slumps to the ground.

Pushing him away, San holds your husband’s lifeless body, his eyes slowly falling shut as he yells his name. Jihye and servant Min run past you, calling their master.

The bow drops from your hand.

You stand there, watching the ground go red underneath your husband’s body, your fingers gripping his muffler around your neck. 

—

Seungcheol receives his initial treatment in the shrine you were originally supposed to visit.

Once the news of the attack reached the capital, upon the king’s orders, the royal physician Yoon came to treat Seungcheol. He and his assistants crowded the room, tending to your husband’s injury with medicine and wrapping the area with gauze as he lay motionless on the mat.

You stood just outside the room, gazing at your sleeping husband, who looked nothing like his usual self—pale and frail, his body littered with little cuts. 

Why won’t he wake up? You miss his eyes. You miss his slow, unravelling gaze on you, his crimson, fiery eye that can almost cut through stone with a simple gaze. Where is that man?

Physician Yoon said he is in a deep sleep. They call it a vegetative state. The injury was quite lethal; the wound just a few centimetres away from damaging his heart. He said that the worst is over, and his pulse is stable now.

But he won’t wake up. He remains unresponsive, and it is unclear how long it will take for him to regain consciousness. 

“I see,” was all you said, standing motionless in your spot, gazing at your comatose husband.

A couple of days later, the King sent a royal convoy to move Seungcheol back to his house from the shrine. You had no complaints, wanting your husband to rest comfortably in his own house rather than a shrine. After a long journey, you reached home in the afternoon, greeted by Headservant Yang, who looked as devastated as you. After making sure your husband was okay, physician Yoon left, leaving you anticipating yet another sleepless night. 

It is nighttime now, and you sit still next to your sleeping husband. Headservant Yang peeks into the room, begging you to have some food. You ignore her, sitting quietly and observing your husband. The small lamp in the bedchamber casts warm shadows on his face, his sharp features appearing softer and weaker. 

He looks oddly at peace. You do not cry. You force a smile.

Leaning closer to him, you glide a gentle hand down his face and whisper, “You can rest. You have had a tough life, my dear. You can rest as long as you need, but you have to come back to me.”

You will pray to every god out there. You will visit every shrine, give unlimited offerings, and pray that your husband returns to you. You will do everything in your power to see him open his eyes. It is truly a shame you do not have much power in your hands.

Sometime later, your exhausted body falls into deep slumber, riddled with nightmares. Your husband lies in a pool of blood, and he does not wake up.

— 

The next morning, your father comes to see you. You do not move from your spot next to your husband to greet him as San leads him into the room before excusing himself.

He sits next to you, watching his son-in-law with small, worried eyes, muttering words of regret and concern. You hardly hear them, too busy patting Seungcheol’s face and arms with a damp cloth. Physician Yoon left a while ago after checking up on him and said that there is no progress. The king’s personal messenger came with him as well as the Head Eunuch, praying for Seungcheol and assuring to provide help in any way they can.

You couldn't care less about them. You sent them off, handing the letter you wrote for the king in the messenger’s hand before asking San to see them out.

“My daughter, you should eat something. You have to take care of yourself so that you can take care of him.” Your father urges.

You finish wiping your husband’s body in silence before setting the rag down and clasping his hand in yours. They are calloused but warm, and you silently send a prayer of gratitude to the heavens. He is alive. He is still here.

Tracing over his bruised knuckles with your fingertips, you whisper, “You know, Father, I have been lonely for a long time. After orabeoni died, I thought that was it. It could not get worse, but then Mother died. And I…I hated that I was alive. Because in that house, I was dead. I was dead while still being alive.”

You exhale a shaky breath, pulling Seungcheol’s hand closer to inspect it. You need to apply ointment on his knuckles.

“There was no colour, no joy, no celebration in that house. You were there but also not there. You never saw me. I was not enough, not after losing someone as precious as orabeoni. I felt so guilty. It should have been me, not him—that is all I could think of. I thought my entire life would be miserable like that, which is why I was so eager to marry this man.”

Another heavy sigh whooshes out of your lungs.

“Father, this man…people fear him. They say all sorts of weird things about him. But he is the kindest, warmest man I know. He kept his heart locked and hidden from the world, but he is so precious. He is gentle and kind, and he loves me. He loves me so dearly, Father, and I love him. How could I go on without him?”

And finally, the tears fall. Big droplets of water roll down your cheek as you fall on the ground, clutching onto your husband’s hand and sobbing into the floor, loud and broken.

Your father’s hand comes to rest on your shoulder rather unsurely, softly patting you as you keep crying, the tears that never came till now gushing out like a river with a broken dam. Your broken heart continues to shatter into even smaller pieces, and you cannot help but wonder what if he never wakes up again. Maybe you are doomed to be lonely.

The thought makes you cry some more. After a while, once you have managed to calm down, you sit up and wipe your tears.

“I…I did not know you felt that way.” Your father whispers, his voice ridden with guilt. “I…I never meant to hurt you. I am sorry—”

“I don’t want your apology right now, Father. I want you to pray for him.” You cut him off.

“I will. Of course I will.” He says, his eyes shining with unshed tears and guilt. “And when he is back on his feet, I will come visit you and I will accept your apology then.” You murmur, your gaze trained on your husband.

“Of course. Have faith, my dear. He will be awake soon.” Your father assures, his voice unstable. You hum absentmindedly.

If Seungcheol does not wake up, you do not know what you will do.

— 

The wind is particularly chilly this morning.

It has been a fortnight since Seungcheol fell into his comatose state, and he is just as before. Every day, Physician Yoon comes to check on him and then leaves while handing you some herbs to apply to his wound.

You have accepted this as your life now. Waking up every morning with a prayer that all the previous days were a long, gruesome nightmare, but then feeling grateful to see him still breathing, warm and alive.

After completing your daily prayer and offerings at the temple, you walk home in slow steps, the fatigue slowly creeping into your bones. The past week has been hard on you, and it looks like your body to starting to give up. You have not been eating properly, spending all your waking hours beside Seungcheol, tending to his comatose body or crying at the altar of the temple.

You cannot give up. Seungcheol is yet to awake.

Just as you come in front of your house, you find a small stray cat sitting comfortably in the sun. With a small, exhausted smile, you walk closer and crouch down, running your fingers through its shaggy fur. It looks dirty and disheveled, and you wonder where it is from.

You should probably bring it inside and give it some milk to eat. Judging by how comfortably it sits and basks in the sun, you are doubtful you will be able to get it inside your house.

“Would you like something to eat?” You whisper, gently scratching between its ears. The cat meows rather boredly, closing its eyes and resting its head on the ground after a quick swish of its tail.

Right then, a servant bursts out of the front door, looking like he saw a ghost. He looks back and forth down the road before finally spotting you on the ground. The wide-eyed, frazzled look on his face makes your blood run ice cold, and you immediately stand up.

“What is it?”

“My lady…Master is awake.”

You are free falling. You fall and fall, all the limbs of your body finally giving up after a week of war. For a long moment, you stand there, stuck in a daze. You don’t dare to breathe, afraid you would wake up and realize it was a dream.

“I will go get Physician Yoon. Please go inside, my lady.” The servant says before rushing down the street. You struggle to move. The stray cat at your feet has got up due to the commotion and is now strolling into the house.

With your heart racing in your chest, you slowly follow it, your legs shaky due to the nerves.

Seungcheol is awake. He is finally awake. 

You hear lots of voices, especially Headservant Yang’s, as she scolds and cries loudly. With a lump lodged in your throat, you keep on walking until you spot the door to his bedchamber. You catch a glimpse of your husband sitting up, and for some reason unknown to you, you immediately hide behind a nearby wall.

You are too scared to see him. Too overwhelmed, too afraid.

You thought of this. You dreamed of the day he would wake and look at you, and now that it is here, you do not know what to do. It feels unreal.

You are angry at him. You are also grateful. Angry for getting hurt. Grateful for waking up.

A sob bursts out of your throat, and you start wailing, unable to hold back the tears any longer. With your palms clasped over your mouth, you cry so hard that it becomes hard to breathe. The sobs wrack your body, knocking the air out of your lungs and leaving behind only pain.

The pain of almost losing him. The pain of seeing him lie there almost lifeless, day after day.

A hand on your shoulder startles you, and you find Jihye standing next to you. Her eyes are misty as she wraps an arm around your heaving body and rubs your arms soothingly. “It is alright, my lady. Please do not cry. He is looking for you.”

Her words make you cry some more before you manage to wipe your tears and snot. It is pretty futile because they do not stop completely. With shaky legs, you move from your hiding spot and continue towards his chamber, your heart pounding loudly in your ears.

Seungcheol spots you immediately, his posture straightening as he sees you arriving. But you do not meet his eye. 

You cannot bring yourself to. If you look at him, you will start crying once more, right in the middle of the yard, in front of all the servants. 

Headservant Yang and others start moving away as they see you approaching, giving you privacy. You cross the porch, your eyes still trained on the wooden floor of his bedchamber, your hands slightly shaking.

Finally, you step inside and shut the door behind you. Then, your eyes slowly travel to his.

He is definitely paler and thinner than before, but you see life in his eyes. You see the spark and the shine that have always been present in them, and right at that moment, you are sure he will be alright.

Thank god.

He looks up at you, his eyes brimming with longing and guilt. His usual plump red lip shaded in a pale pink colour. His face littered with little cuts that are still healing, yet he has never looked more handsome.

And you have never been happier to see him.

You want to scream. You want to yell at him and tell him how much you love him, but you cannot speak. Tears and sobs threaten to overflow once more, so you stand there like a statue and keep staring at your husband, repeating in your head that he is alive and well. 

Until your knees finally give out. 

You kneel in front of him and wrap your arms around his neck, careful to avoid his left chest and leaning your weight more on the right.  Breathing him in, you hold him as tightly as possible, wishing you could merge yourself into him, wishing you could lock him away and protect him for the rest of his life.

Your tears wet his bare shoulders, your fingers tightly gripping onto the muscles on his back, clutching him on for dear life. It feels as if you let him go— if your grip loosens ever so slightly, you will lose him forever.

It takes a long moment for you to realize how your body is shaking due to your sobs and tearful hiccups, only when your husband's warm hands wrap around you, patting your back like you are a small, wounded animal.

“It is okay, my dear. Everything is okay,” he soothes in the softest voice, and when you hear him, another violent sob slips past your throat while you cling to him and cry in the crook of his neck.

You want to stop, but the tears are endless, a mixture of pain and relief. Gingerly, Seungcheol pulls you away from him to take a look at your face, which is puffy and tear-stained. With his thumbs, he wipes your tears away, murmuring, “Hush, now. It pains me to see you cry like this.”

You want to reply, but the lump in your throat is still heavy, and you know if you try to utter something, only sobs will come out, so you remain silent, raking your eyes over his body before settling on the wound on his chest.

“I am alright, I promise.” He assures you once he sees your gaze. “I feel well-rested, in fact.”

You are glad to hear that.

Wiping the remaining tears and snot rather unceremoniously with your sleeve, you get up on your feet to leave the room, but he tugs on your wrist, pulling you back down and into his arms this time.

“Where are you going?”

“To get you some herbal tea.” You reply, your voice meek and scratchy. Your husband locks his arms around you. “Headservant Yang will do that. I need you to stay here. I have missed you.”

Your lower lip trembles, but you will yourself not to cry again. Instead, you whisper, “I have missed you as well. I have missed you so much, you have no idea, Seungcheol.”

He shifts, peering at your face with a surprised look. “You called me by my name.”

“I have been calling your name for the past week.” You murmur, staring at your lap.

He maneuvers your body with gentle, effortless hands so that he can see you fully. “You know, you look like the one who has been comatose for a week. What is this I am seeing? When was the last time you had a proper meal?” He frowns, his eyes trained on you like a hawk as he squints at your face.

You look away, murmuring, “I have been busy nursing a sick man.”

He scoffs. “Not busy enough to eat. You look like a ghost, my wife. I am genuinely worried about you.”

You do not meet his gaze. With an exasperated sigh, he gently tilts your face up by the chin. “Look at me.” He softly commands you. You do as you are told, finding his eyes set on you, those beautiful, mesmerizing eyes that you missed so deeply. 

Your husband’s face inches closer to press a soft kiss on your forehead. It is not quick; he holds his lips pressed right in the middle of your forehead, slightly above your brow, like he is trying to leave an imprint. You close your eyes and lean closer, savouring the feel of his lips against your skin.

Oh, how you longed for this.

“I love you.”

You must have heard wrong. You stop breathing, your body going tense for a moment. Seungcheol leans back, one of his hands wrapped around your neck, his thumb stroking your cheek while the other cups the back of your head, angling your face just slightly upwards and in line with his gaze.

“I love you.” He repeats—his words slow, heavy, deliberate.

You feel faint. It is hard for you to find words, and while you continue gaping at him with parted lips and shining eyes, he continues, “I was scared I would not be able to say this to you. As I lay on the ground and saw you standing there, this was all I could think of. I was angry at myself for never telling you how much I love you.”

“Oh Seungcheol…” your lips tremble. You wrap your arms around his neck, making yourself at home by placing your head under his chin, feeling his hard muscles against your body.

“I love you, dear wife. I love you more than life itself. More than I could ever express.” You hug him tighter. “I love you, too. I love you so much, Seungcheol. You are my whole world.”

“I know.” He murmurs. “I knew the moment you came back towards me. Which you should not have done, by the way. You put yourself in danger.” He loosens his hold on you to catch a glimpse of your face, his gaze admonishing. “I am still mad at you for doing that, but you look miserable enough, so I will let you off.”

You only smile.

“Also, when were you going to tell me what an amazing archer you are? How come I did not know that?”

You look away sheepishly, biting your lip. “You never asked.”

He laughs, the sound sweet and throaty. His arms wrap around you in a tight, protective hold once again, and you close your eyes, savouring the rhythm of his heartbeat next to your ear. As you bask in his warmth, you announce, “You are not going back to the military. I am not letting you go.” Detangling himself from you, your husband regards you with an amused look, like he cannot believe you. “Oh, really?”

“I am serious.” You huff with a frown. “You are not going back. You have fought enough battles for a lifetime. Now it is time for you to rest.”

“Hm. And what if His Majesty disapproves?” His tone is playful.

“I do not care. I already wrote him a letter, saying that once you woke up, you would not resume your duties.”

Amazed, your husband watches you, his eyes twinkling with pride. “I cannot believe you did that.” You ignore him. “Promise me. Promise me you will not go back to the military.”

He remains silent, watching you calmly, and you start getting anxious, expecting the worst. Just as you start thinking of different ways to force him to stay, he says, “I will not, I promise. I was not going to go any way. That was the first decision I made when I opened my eyes. I got another chance at life with you. I plan on using it very well.”

Your heart soars. You grin, a full-on smile sweeping over your face after a long time. Pressing a soft, chaste kiss on his lips, you whisper, “Can we go live by the sea now?” His eyes shine with love. “Yes, we can.”

You couldn't be happier. Your heart couldn't be fuller. It is pure delight when you think of a future with this man, away from all the noise and the troubles that have been plaguing your life until now.

He can be safe now. He can rest.

Unconsciously, your thumb traces the scar next to his eye, feeling the bumpy skin underneath your finger. The scar now looks like a tree branch that extends into even smaller branches containing little flowers.

You lean forward and press a kiss on it. 

“I am just glad you will not get hurt anymore. You have already been through so much.” You whisper, your sad gaze trailing over all the marks on his skin, old and new, before settling on his left chest. You gingerly place your hand over the gauze, remembering how long and deep the gash was.

It will scar for sure. Probably the biggest scar on his body, and it will be because he was protecting you. A shaky breath parts from your lips as you are momentarily transported back in time; him lying motionless on the ground that was turning red. As if your husband can read your thoughts, he gently tilts your chin up and forces you to meet his eyes.

“My dear, I am alright. Look at me.”

“This will scar. You will be in much pain as it heals. Because of me.”

“Don't say that.” He holds you against his chest, his fingers wrapping tightly around your limbs. “You are the only one who loves my scars. Because of you, I now love them too. I would not have changed a single thing if I had the chance. You know why? Because every one of the scars in my body led me to you. And this one?” He places a hand over yours, which is resting on his chest.

“This one tied me to you forever. I earned you. I earned your forever through this. So I think this is the most beautiful.”

A lone tear strolls down your cheek. “Oh, Seungcheol,” you choke over a sob, tilting your face up to capture his lips in a kiss.

His arms engulf you completely, his lips taking over yours, his tongue moving inside your mouth like he has been starving for this.

It is breathless, passionate, and gentle at the same time, conveying all the feelings and emotions the two of you could never put into words. 

It is beautiful, like the scars on his body, leaving behind a trace of love.

For a special epilogue, head over to my Patreon. Click here to see the preview!

© startlightxsvt 2025 | All Rights Reserved. Do not copy, translate, adapt, or repurpose any of my works.

A/N 2: First of all, I want to thank you for reading till the end. Next, I just want to say that this fic has been one of my dream projects. Is it the best? Maybe not but did I have the most fun writing it? Hell yes! It was originally supposed to be a bit longer but I cut some parts out, mainly because I was worried this app wouldn't let me post the entire thing easily. Sure enough, it said that there were too many blocks on my post, so I had to stitch together a lot of passages even though they were separate at first. So, I'm sorry if the flow gets weird in some places.

On a different note, I will also be posting this on AO3 once I have opened my account (I am still waiting for their invitation mail), so once I have made my account, I will link it here. Do support me over there! Finally, I just want to take a moment to thank you all for your support. I am really excited to hear from you guys about this fic, so please do send an ask!

That's it from me for now. For my next fic, I will be returning with something short and lighthearted. Stay happy and healthy, y'all! <33

[starlightxsvt]

Scars Leave a Beautiful Trace | c.sc

synopsis ➳ ❝an arranged marriage with the man the entire land is afraid of. the man with a crimson eye. they call him the grim reaper. cold, ruthless, unforgiving. yet you are drawn to him, curious to see the man hiding behind the cold, hard exterior. and the man behind is hauntingly beautiful but your forever with him is not promised.❞ pairing ➳ husband general!seungcheol/ x wife noblewoman!reader genre ➳ historical romance (joseon era), angst, pining, smut. wc ➳ 25.4k + 1040 (patreon) warnings ➳ blood, mentions of war, scars, minor character death, attachment issues, arranged marriage, mentions of cheating, severe injury, miscommunication. cheol is an ass in the first half, reader is lowkey a simp, jealousy, big dicc cheol, bondage, virgin sex, rough, unprotected sex, fingering, teasing, edging, dirty talking, praise kink. a/n: this is a work of fiction, so take this with a grain of salt. it will be historically inaccurate, so my apologies beforehand. (also, surprise?? posting it a day early hehe)

glossary:

Jangot – Veil-like cloak for women

Binyeo – Decorative hairpin

Yakgwa – Honey-ginger cookie

Jeonbok – Traditional sleeveless vest for men

Dasik – Pressed tea cookie

Jeogori – Upper garment or jacket

Chima – Skirt worn by women

Baduk – Strategy board game (Go)

Daenggi – Ribbon for braids

Hour of the Ox – 1:00–3:00 AM

Hour of the Tiger – 3:00–5:00 AM

Orabeoni – Respectful term for older brother

+82 some miracle

only listen to my general

“Daughter, this is General Choi Seungcheol, your betrothed. Greet him properly,” your father commands softly, his eyes trained on you.

Your breath stutters in your chest.

Whether from the loaded tension in the air, the silence of the room or your future husband’s penetrating eyes on you, you are unsure. 

His eyes…

You saw them once, a long, long time ago, and you remember them in explicit detail because they are heterochromatic. His right iris is red, a shade of fiery crimson that is scary but also hypnotizing—a stark contrast to his left iris, which is pure black. 

You wish it were only his eyes that were lethal. Unfortunately for you, it is his presence itself. It is the way he silently sits there, poised and alert, holding his sword in his right hand and softly drumming his left index finger on his knee, as if telling you to hurry up. It is the way his face remains unreadable, a porcelain white canvas containing a pair of eyes fiercer than a mountain lion's, a sharp nose that is slightly crooked on the left, and pink lips that are pressed in a thin line. The most daunting of it all, the scar on the right side of his face, just below his eye and on top of his cheekbone. It is no more than a couple of inches long, but the gash looks deep, even after it has healed and imagining the pain behind that curse rakes shivers down your spine. 

Finally, you snap out of your reverie.

With a shaky exhale, you bow down and speak as humbly as possible. “Please accept my greetings, my lord. It is a pleasure to meet you.”

— 

Choi Seungcheol is well known throughout the kingdom, highly feared and revered. In fact, many hold him in the same regard as the king, which is not unfair or surprising. He is the Minister of War and the General of the royal military, the right-hand man of the King and his most trusted subject. Since his boyhood, he demonstrated excellent swordsmanship, and paired with his keen intellect and faultless war strategies, he quickly rose through the ranks and became the King's favourite. His name spread far and wide after he brought victory to the nation in two consecutive wars. He attended the first one when he was only eighteen, and he became infamous for that.

That war with the nearby enemy nation was extremely brutal, as it took away the lives of many of the best men in the military. When Seungcheol returned to the capital with the enemy General’s head in his hands, he was a changed man who had altered the course of history. Bloodied, beaten and bruised, he sported the deep scar on his face, fresh and bleeding. 

Rumours spread from there. Though he brought the nation victory, the townspeople gossiped about everything from his scar, his crimson eye, to his temper, claiming that he was a madman or possessed by an evil spirit. 

You have heard a few things from your father, too. He has agreed that the war changed the man, rightfully so. As the state minister, your father saw firsthand how brutal and merciless the war was till the last moment. So much so that he stepped down from his position afterwards.

He lost his son in the war, after all. Your older brother, whom you vaguely remember because you were only eight at that time. 

Nothing was the same after his passing. Your father lost his spark, your mother became quiet and indifferent, and the house fell into a deathly silence that felt haunted. The silence still lingers, fourteen years later. 

It has been a long time, so long that sometimes you feel like those days never existed. Yet, you remember them vividly: the pain of your mother’s death four years after your brothers, the remaining light dissipating from your father's eyes and the house falling into a perpetuating state of darkness, a place where everyone remained silent, from the slaves to the master. A place that never truly was illuminated, even during the brightest days of summer. A place that you had to call home but wasn’t your home. It was a graveyard where you floated through, watching the world outside bathe and shine with colours when the second war was won, when the king became the father of a boy, when the economy flourished. Seasons passed and years went by, yet your house never celebrated a holiday or a special occasion. 

You saw your father survive each day, haunted by his past and unaware of the present. Every day, he would see students from morning till noon, fulfilling his duties as a scholar before retiring to his room and staying there till the next morning.

The only time you saw some life in him was three years ago, when he called you one day in his chamber to announce that you would get married to Choi Seungcheol once he returned from his three-year trip to another country. Choi Seungcheol, the General of the Royal Military. The man with heterochromatic eyes, who came to your brother’s funeral years ago.

That’s how you have remembered him. The man with two different colored eyes, who stood in the rain with a grim expression on his face as they lowered your brother into the ground.

Over the years, you have heard notorious things about him. He has gained an infamous reputation among the townspeople. Many people believe that he is insane and that he murders people for fun. Word goes around that he is a womanizer, a man without a heart, a man who did not spare his own brother and executed him for treason.

You don’t know how much of this is true.

It all might be true; he just might be the devil living in a human body, but funnily enough, you do not care.

You will do anything to get out of this house. Living here for the past fourteen years has been like being buried alive. You are breathing, yet you don’t feel alive—you don’t remember the last time you felt that way, if ever.

And if a diabolical, insane man is your ticket out of this grave, you will take it. You will accept it with open arms and a smile on your face.

— 

The marketplace is crowded.

You gently tread through the throng of people, holding your jangot over your head as you eye the stalls leisurely, nothing in particular catching your attention. 

“My lady,” Jihye whispers, walking alongside you. “You have been circling the market for the past half an hour. What are you even looking for?”

A dejected sigh flows past your lips. 

Last time you came to the market, a pretty flower binyeo caught your eye. You had not received your salary yet at that time, and so, you could not purchase the piece. You had aimed to buy that binyeo today, but now that you've received your pay, it's no longer available. You have been scouring the market ever since, looking for something similar, but there is none.

“You know what, let us buy some yakgwa and head home,” you say, looking for a snack shop. Jihye smiles, her eyes flickering excitedly at your mention of buying sweets.

A few feet ahead of you, you spot a sweet shop. Instead of focusing on the plethora of sweets laid out, your gaze travels to the right, stopping on two men standing by that shop, their backs facing you.

Something about the tall, broad man dressed in black makes you stop in your tracks. Particularly, his long ebony hair feels oddly familiar to you. 

The man shifts a little, and you catch the slightest glimpse of his side profile through the busy street. Immediately, you squeak and hide behind a nearby stall.

It is General Choi, your husband-to-be.

“My lady, what is wrong?” Jihye hovers around you worriedly. Without looking away from the man, you dig into the sleeve of your hanbok, fishing out some coins and handing them to Jihye. 

“Here. Go buy as much yakgwa as you want.” You murmur, pushing her towards the shop while you get more comfortable in your hiding spot.

You don’t even know why you are hiding. You did not do anything wrong, and you surely have no reason to spy on your future husband in the middle of a busy marketplace.

Still, you continue observing him converse with the other gentleman. His stance is poised and powerful as always, and dressed head to toe in his signature black military clothes, he looks like death itself. Haunting but hypnotizing; which would explain why you cannot look away. 

And then, suddenly, he turns around, locking his eyes with you straight, as if he knew exactly where you were hiding. 

With a gasp of mortification and terror, you immediately whip your head away and bump into a passerby. Bowing your head in an apology, you let the woman pass through before tentatively turning your head back to the street.

Choi Seungcheol stands right behind you.

“Ah!” You yelp, taken aback and stumble a few steps behind. He reaches out immediately and grabs your elbow in a flash, saving you from the fall.

Flushed and breathless, you gape at him like a fish out of water.

He has the usual grim and unamused look on his face, peering down at you almost like he is judging you. His hair is tied up in a half bun, and his bangs frame half of his face, covering his odd eye and the scar. It is a shame, you find yourself thinking as you observe the rest of his face, counting the moles on his pale skin.

It is when he lets you go that you realize he had been holding onto you all this time, and you stood there like a statue.

How unladylike!

First, he catches you spying on him, and now— 

“My apologies, my Lord.” You immediately take several steps back, putting a safe distance between the two of you. Full of shame, you keep your head low as you murmur, “I was simply startled to see you.”

“It seems that you were spying on me.” His voice is smooth and rich, calm and authoritative. “No!” You gasp. “I was just…um…looking. I thought you…ah…looked somewhat familiar…”

He cocks a thick brow in amusement, the faintest smirk creeping up on his lips. 

What are you even saying?

Cringing at your own words, you press your lips shut and scowl at the ground, cursing the heavens for your predicament.

“You are not at the palace today?” He asks. You welcome the change of topic with great relief.

"No, my Lord. I asked for a break from my duties this week as I am preparing for the wedding.”

With no mother or close female relatives, it is up to you to prepare your wedding. 

Generally, you do not like skipping work. It has been two months since you secured a job at the palace after a lot of struggle. Your father was not very happy with the idea of you working, especially in the palace, but he ultimately gave in. 

You work as a teacher to the children under the head court lady of the palace, teaching them how to read and write while they train to be future court ladies. Sometimes you also work as a bookkeeper for the royal library, but that is something you do voluntarily and out of your love for reading. The pay is not very much, but it gives you a sense of freedom and identity, something you struggled to find for the last twenty-two years.

“Head Court Lady Yeo speaks very highly of you.” General Choi states. You do not understand whether he meant it positively or negatively, given his flat tone. Confused, you chuckle awkwardly. “It is a pleasure to work under her guidance. She is very patient and—”

Suddenly, Seungcheol reaches out to you, grabbing you by the arm and harshly tugging you towards him. Completely oblivious as to what is happening, you bump into his chest as his arms snake around you, protectively holding your body next to his.

Less than half a second later, a man riding a horse whooshes by, yelling out apologies to all the people for his rowdy horse. Dear Lord, you were about to be trampled by a horse if not for him.

“Are you alright?” 

His voice makes you look up at him, wide-eyed and panting. It takes a moment for you to realize that he is holding you against his chest, his warm hand resting on your shoulder in a protective grip while your hands rest on his shoulders, gripping the fabric of his jeonbok for support.

With your heart pounding loudly in your ears, it takes you yet another moment to remember how inappropriate this is, the way you are pressed against him. In a flash, you free yourself from his hold and shuffle back, murmuring a mortified apology. At the same time, you hate how much you miss his touch on you.

How odd.

“My lady, are you alright!” Jihye comes running down the street, a packet of confectionery in her hands. 

“Y-yes, I am okay. Let us get going.” You announce, immediately turning away from General Choi, desperate to escape this mortifying situation.

“Hold on.” The deep baritone of his voice steals a breath from your lips. Your body instinctively listens to his command, and you carefully look behind to see him picking up your jangot, which you probably dropped earlier and were about to leave without.

Once more, you cringe at your clumsiness as you watch him brush off the dirt before extending the material towards you. With shaky hands, you reach for it. “Thank you, my Lord. I wish you a pleasant day.”

The next second, you rush out of the marketplace as if the grim reaper himself were chasing after you. Behind you, Jihye struggles to keep up, but you couldn't care less, hiding your face in embarrassment.

That night, under the blanket, you lie wide awake. The memory of General Choi’s hand on your body and his chest pressed against yours keeps repeating in your head in a loop. A foreign, warm sensation pools in your belly, and you find yourself shamefully fantasizing about your future husband, forsaking slumber.

—

You got married today. 

According to the elders of the town, it is one of the most important days of your life, yet it felt like every other—quick and ordinary. Probably because the groom was barely there.

During noon, he came in to fulfil the basic rituals before marching out, leaving a note for you with Jihye. The work in the palace is too demanding, so he must go. He would see you tonight at his place. That was all he said.

Hours later, night has fallen and you are now in his home.

You sit alone in a chamber prepared especially for you. His servants made sure you were comfortable, helping you bathe and prepare for the first night with your husband before leaving you alone to sit with your thoughts and hear the hum of the crickets in the nearby forest.

You declined their offer to serve you dinner. It is only appropriate to wait for your husband and share the first meal together. 

Adorned in fine silk and pretty ribbons, you sit and wait for your husband to come, watching the flame of the candle dancing and melting away the wax. 

You are nervous. It is your first night with your husband. You, who has never even looked at a man for a second too long. You are now married to one of the most feared men in the kingdom. You have heard people talk about his ruthlessness in bed. Apparently, the girls in the brothel talk about it all the time, especially when he visits. Jihye said that whoever spends the night with him needs an entire day to recover.

“Lady Choi,” Head Servant Yang suddenly calls your name before opening the door. “Master has arrived. He is taking a bath currently.”

You snap out of the thoughts of bedding your husband and give her a shy smile. “Could you please set the table then?”

“Of course.” The elderly woman bows and walks out of the room, arranging for dinner to be set in your chamber.

Ten minutes after the dinner is served, General Choi walks into the room. Fresh out of the bath, he is dressed in his nightwear and his hair is tied up in a neat bun, giving you an uninterrupted view of his face. Once again, you find yourself hypnotised by his heterochromatic eyes.

“You did not have dinner?” He asks, sitting down in front of you. His movement is as graceful as always, silent yet stealthy. His posture is upright, the muscles of his shoulders taught as he sits and regards you with careful eyes.

“I was waiting for you, my Lord.” You reply meekly.

“You should not have,” he states, his tone almost condescending. “I am sure Head Servant Yang informed you that I return from work late most days.”

“Today is a special day, is it not?” You find yourself speaking boldly. Your words are firm like the gaze in your eyes, and for a long moment, the chamber is plunged into suffocating silence.

General Choi keeps looking down at you, his gaze as intimidating as ever, and you half expect him to draw his sword from its sheath and slice your head off. Instead, his lips curl upwards, and a noise of amusement leaves his throat. 

“Lady Choi, you seem upset.” He states, his voice half challenging and half something you cannot pinpoint. Sarcasm? Threat?

Unsure how to reply to that, you bite your lip and stare at the food laid out in front of you. All your appetite is gone now.

“Let me tell you something, Lady Choi.” Your husband leans closer to you over the table. Something about the way he utters your title forces you to meet his gaze. Like always, the fierce look in his eyes steals away your breath.

The man is hauntingly beautiful.

“I am certain you have some expectations from this marriage, and I cannot hold that against you. However, let me inform you now, I will not be able to fulfil your expectations, whatever they may be. So, I suggest you completely let go of your expectations, for your own good.”

What? You are sure no woman in Joseon’s history ever had to hear these words on her wedding night.

“My Lord, I do not understand.”

He does not bother clarifying his words. Instead, the look in his eyes shifts, his gaze sharpening on you. Lazily, he pours himself a drink from the pitcher and chugs it down.

“I know what this marriage means to you.”

You hold your breath and watch him, alarmed. He smirks. “It means freedom. It is your way out of that house. So, let this marriage be just that. A way out for you and a duty obliged for me.”

Well, consummating the marriage is also a duty. So is spending time with your wife and sharing a meal with her on your wedding night. You want to yell the words out, but you press your lips shut and stare at him, still processing what is happening.

“As long as we maintain our boundaries, this will be a great union,” he announces almost like he is reassuring you. You feel anything but that.

You feel abandoned, yet again.

“You should eat now,” he says, standing up. “I will retire for the night.” Without sparing another glance at you, he leaves the room. For a long moment, you silently sit in your place, your fancy garment and jewellery suddenly becoming too heavy on your skin. Ignoring the sensation, you reach for the rice, nibbling on the grains with your chopsticks.

You do not understand why tears prick your eyes.

— 

The next morning, an unknown man waits for you as you step out of your chamber and put on your shoes, ready to leave for the palace.

Your husband had left early in the morning, and while the news hurt you slightly, it also left you with relief. After last night, you have not had enough time to process your emotions to face him.

The strange man bows as he sees you approaching. “Greetings, Lady Choi. I am San. As per General Choi’s orders, I shall accompany you from now on for your safety.” Stupefied, you blink at the man. His build and posture indicate that he is a military person, but you do not understand why your husband would have someone guard you.

“My husband put you up to this?” You raise a brow. “Why?”

“I am afraid I cannot say. It was his order.”

You narrow your eyes at him. “So, from now on, you will what? Follow me everywhere?”

“Yes. Whenever you need to go out, I shall accompany you.”

“Is someone trying to kill me?” You ask, point blank, blinking at him.

San makes a noise of surprise before an awkward laugh spills from his lips. “O-of course not, my lady.” You keep eyeing the strange man with suspicion as you start heading for the front door. “Alright then, let us leave.”

— 

You bump into your husband at the palace.

At noon, when the sun is high in the sky, you finish teaching the young girls. Then, you head to the library to cool off and see if the head librarian needs any help. With no new work for you, Librarian Kim serves you some tea and sweets, congratulating you on your marriage. On your way out, he gives you some dasik to take home and share with your husband.

The husband who seems to want to do nothing with you.

With gratitude, you take the sweets and head out of the library, done with your day's work at the palace. That is when you see him. Below the steps of the library building, he approaches, followed by two other men, all dressed in uniforms. Their movements are quick and determined, almost like they are on a military mission.

General Choi takes notice of you as he climbs the stairs. Flustered and oddly shy, your first instinct is to hide. With no place to do that, you stand your ground and bow, “My Lord—”

He walks past as if he did not see you.

You stand rooted to your spot, blinking at the ground.

What just happened?

He ignored you. He blatantly ignored you. His wife. There is no way he did not see you. He did. His eyes met yours, and he held your gaze before looking away.

Hurt and humiliated, you stand there for several long moments, the sun scorching your back. You are tempted to storm back into the library and demand why he did that, but you know better than that.

For one, there is always the danger of him chopping your head off. You heard he once cut off a man’s head just for looking at him too long.

The other issue is more personal. Walking in there would make you look desperate, especially in front of others. You are supposed to be a newlywed happy wife, not someone who chases after her husband when he ignores her in public. The thought makes you feel like pins prickling your heart.

Once more in your life, you are insignificant. You are the lesser one, the one who can be forgotten, overlooked.

With boulders forming in your heart, you head home.

— 

Your husband returned home late today as well.

You had your dinner long ago, and Jihye prepared your bed for you. However, you did not get under the covers. In the dimly lit space of your bedchamber, you have been sitting with your head on your knees, curled up in a corner and watching the candle burn.

No matter how hard you try, you fail to get past the incident earlier today. You simply cannot comprehend why your husband would ignore you like that.

Your curiosity gets the better of you. With a resolved breath, you step out of your room and walk into his bedchamber. You knock at his door. “My Lord, may I come in?”

A beat of silence. “Yes.”

Opening the doors, you find Seungcheol tying the knot of his undershirt. The material is thin and white, giving you a pretty decent glimpse of his silhouette. Flustered, you immediately lower your gaze and shake your head at yourself. 

You did not think this through. Of course, he would be in his sleepwear, like you.

Shit.

It takes you another second to realize you, too, are in your sleepwear. A thin white top over your underskirt. With the realization dawning on you, you cross your arms over your chest and look up at him, conflicted and embarrassed.

Like always, his face gives nothing away. In the calmest of tones, he questions, “Did you need something from me?”

“Uhm…well…” Once again, you get distracted by the visual of your husband. In the dimly lit room, he appears even more stunning, the light of the candle casting strange shadows on his figure, contouring his muscles underneath the thin fabric. With his long, black hair undone, some strands fall on his face, covering his eyes. Through the curtain of his hair, his odd eye shines exceptionally bright in the darkness, stealing your breath.

“I am sure the reason for your visit is not to stare at me, Lady Choi.” He states once more, and you finally snap out of your thoughts.

Closing the door behind you, you gather all your resolve and stand straight.  “My apologies. I wanted to talk to you.”

“I am all ears.” He says, not looking at you. He busies himself by placing his sword next to his mat and sitting down comfortably.

“Why did you ignore me today at the palace?” You get straight to the point. The man turns to look at you slowly, his eyes sharpening ever so slightly. Despite him sitting, you feel as if he is towering over you, and you cannot help but hold your breath, waiting for whatever is to come. Something flashes in his eyes, and once again, you do not know what it is. Rage? Annoyance? Amusement?

You have no clue.

“It seems that you are disappointed, Lady Choi.” He finally replies, his tone containing that tinge of amusement he has with you. Like you are a circus monkey whose action provides him with fleeting, insignificant pleasure. 

You wait for him to elaborate, but he does not, looking at you with a challenging stare. You hate how…diplomatic he is all the time. “Why did you do it?” You repeat, trying to appear as stern as possible, which is almost comical. In front of you is the man people call the grim reaper.

General Choi shifts his position, resting his arm on his knee before fixing his gaze back on you. His tone is quiet, serious. “Let me tell you something, Lady Choi. In public, we are not to acknowledge each other. Do you understand me?”

The ground has been snatched from beneath your feet. You fall into an endless pit, your heart crushing into tiny bits with each of his words. Why? Why would he say something like that?

“Why?” You don’t mask the hurt and desperation in your voice. He ignores you. “If that was all, you may leave now. I wish to get some rest.”

Tears brim in your eyes. Why does he treat you like this? What crime did you ever commit against him?

Your mouth hangs open, shocked and helpless at his attitude towards you. Defeated, you silently pad back to the door. Before you open it, however, you pause. Slowly, you turn back to him. “Why did you assign that man to follow me around?”

He does not look at you. “San is one of the few men I trust. He will keep you safe.”

He has this tendency to never answer your question directly. He dances around it, giving curt, memorized answers. It feels like you are talking to a wall, frustrating and pointless. The next words slip past your lips thoughtlessly and barely above a whisper. “Why do we not sleep in the same room?” That finally gets his attention. He slowly turns his head to look at you, his pupils wide with shock. Like, he cannot believe that you just said that. 

Right. Why did you say that out loud? You look away in embarrassment, cringing at your words.

“So…” he starts to get up. You step back, alarmed.

Why is he getting up? He will slice your head off for sure this time.

With the grace of a lion about to devour his prey, he inches closer to you, his eyes flashing almost unnaturally. You keep walking backwards until your back meets the door and there is no place left to go.

He stops a mere inch away from you, so close that your clothes brush, so close that you can see his chest underneath his nightshirt, so close that you can inhale the scent of soap on his skin. Your breath catches in your throat, and your eyes fall shut on their own.

“My wife wishes to sleep with me. Is that it?” His voice is heaven against your ears, deep, husky and warm, leaving your brain fumbling. You open your eyes to see him staring straight at you, and immediately, heat shoots up all through your body from your toes. 

“I…I didn’t…mean…” You stumble over your words, the sight of him so close to you, messing with your system.

He stares at you, his lips curling up in a smirk. “I am sure you have heard what they say about me.” He pauses. His hand reaches out towards your face, and you hold your breath in alarm and anticipation. With the faintest of touches, he drags his index finger against your jaw and down your neck. “I am sure you know how I am…in bed.” He whispers against your ear, and you can feel your heart physically drop as tingles shoot through your entire body.

At this point, you have forgotten how to breathe. 

“You could not handle me, Lady Choi.” He says and then, absolutely shocking you, leans closer to your neck. Tucking a stray piece of hair beneath your ears, he takes a long inhale of you and then slowly steps away from you.

You feel like you are on fire, beads of sweat gathering on your temples. Your mouth remains agape, processing what just happened as you stand pressed against the door, frozen like prey in shock.

“Good night, Lady Choi.” He says in the most nonchalant way possible, going back to bed. You manage to summon all your strength and rush out of his room, shutting the wooden panels loudly behind you. Outside, you gasp for air, clutching your chest, your heart racing like you just ran for your life. You stand outside the door for a long time, taking in deep breaths and trying to get your heart to calm down as foreign sensations flood through your veins, leaving behind an ache you have never felt before.

You want your husband, you realize. You want him to do all those filthy, animalistic things that you heard of…with you.

— 

You have accepted your new life. A married woman without a husband’s attention or acknowledgement.

In the last two weeks, a routine has fallen into place for you. You wake up, go to work, come home for lunch, spend the afternoon with Jihye lounging around before having dinner and going to bed. Throughout the day, setting eyes upon your husband is rare because he leaves with the sunrise and gets home after dinner. Most days, he has dinner in his chamber by himself, and on the rare occasions he is home early (twice), he shares it with you.

The freedom you thought an advantageous marriage would give you has not come. In fact, you feel more restricted than before. With San following you around like a hawk, you have lost interest in going outside to explore the neighbourhood. Jihye, too, has been weird lately. She vehemently opposes you going outside, especially to the market or other crowded areas and always runs your errands for you.

After a lot of thinking, you have come to a conclusion. Your husband has a mistress. Maybe, mistress is not the right word. If anything, you feel like the mistress in this relationship.

“I am sure he has someone he loves.” You hum, nodding to yourself. 

It is a Thursday afternoon in early spring, the warmth of the sun shining on you as you return home from an unusually long shift at the palace. A few steps behind you is San, ever present like a shadow, following you down a steep road to home.

With him around, you have started to voice your thoughts, no matter how crazy. There is nothing to hide from him after all. He sees it all firsthand, how his boss never spends time with you. 

You have another theory. San knows about the other woman. He has to, right? That is why General Choi employed him to guard you in the first place. He probably knows where your husband goes during his free time, and it is his job to make sure you never see him. 

General Choi seems to have bought off Jihye somehow, too. You find that absolutely bizarre, considering her long loyalty towards you. You are deeply hurt by her betrayal, and so, you have decided to shun her until she comes to you and explains what is going on.

That leaves you with San only.

“I’m right, no?” You turn around to take a glance at him. As usual, he looks helpless and awkward, almost like he is about to leave everything behind and run for the hills. You continue. “He has to have known her for a long, long time. However, I do not understand why he didn’t marry her. Is she not a nobleborn?”

You stop for a moment.

“Ah! She is someone from the brothel, probably, right?”

San continues looking at you helplessly, an awkward smile plastered on his face. You continue walking, nodding to yourself. “No wonder he told me not to expect anything from him. He also said that he fulfilled his duty by marrying me. No one will pester him now because he has the perfect cover.” You nod your head, impressed. “I have to give it to him. This is a good plan.”

The path down the cliff comes to an end, and you stop, admiring the sun slowly going lower in the western sky. The birds fly in the sky in groups, returning home as the sky changes colour, a deep tint of orange taking over the blue.

Is she pretty? You wonder to yourself. She must be. There must be something about her that keeps a man like him hooked. 

The thought pains you. More than it should.

You understand it. You really do, but what you don’t understand is why he married you. Why did he trap you into this marriage? The least he could have done was be honest with you instead of avoiding you like the plague.

The more you get to know this man, the more cowardly he seems. The thought brings an unironic smile to your face. The most feared man in the country, yet he refuses to communicate with his wife. He does not have the guts to speak the truth, which makes him nothing but a coward in your eyes.

“Let us stop by the market.” You announce, taking a different route. San rushes in front of you, alarmed. “Lady Choi, w-why?”

You stare at him, slightly annoyed. Why is he acting like this? Is General Choi supposed to be there now? With his lover? All the more reason why you must go.

You continue walking, ignoring San.

“My Lady, please. Tell me what you need and I shall get that for you after I escort you home.”

“San,” you abruptly stop and glare at him. “I shall tell you what I need right now. I need you to shut up and follow me quietly. Or, you can just leave and report to your boss that I am breaking protocol. Whatever fancies you.”

The man makes a pained sound, groaning almost like a wounded animal. However, you don’t wait for him, marching down the path with determination. Helplessly, he chases after you.

— 

The marketplace is less crowded than you expected. You heard there have been attacks by gangs in this area, so people are more reluctant to leave their houses, especially as evening approaches.

With the roads not as crowded as usual, it takes you only a couple of minutes to spot him. He stands out, as always, his broad shoulders and tall build catching your eye from far away. You observe him for a moment from afar, squinting your eyes to see what he is doing exactly.

He stands in front of a trinket shop, carefully going through the pieces laid out in front of him. 

Wow, is he shopping for something for his hidden lover? 

Bemused, you watch him, eyes scanning for a woman near him, only to find no one.

“My Lady, we should really get going. This area is not safe, and—” Ignoring San’s plea, you head straight towards where your husband stands.

“My Lord, what brings you here?” You chirp, standing right behind him. The man immediately turns around, his pupils blown wide in shock. You do not miss the way he hides something behind him. It takes a moment for him to register that it is you, and once he does, that grim look settles on his face. “What are you doing here?’’

San rushes next to you, “My Lord, I am so sorry—”

General Choi cuts him off with a raised hand and gives him a look of dismissal, which sends the young man scurrying away. Ignoring his question, you say. “It seems like you were finished with work early today.” You pointedly look at the shop behind him.

“Yes. I finished early today.” He states, expressionless. “Are you returning from the palace now?”

“Yes, the work at the library took longer than usual. Some records were accidentally destroyed, so we had to salvage them.”

“I see.” He nods. You wait, wondering if he has anything more to say. He keeps gazing at you silently, his odd eye hidden behind his hair. You have noticed that he always hides it in public. Why? To avoid detection? 

Finally, he speaks, his eyes narrow and his tone sharp. “You should not be here. I am sure you are aware of the looting and killing taking place in this area.”

You hate his tone. Frowning, you reply. “Thank you for your concern, My Lord. I was aware. I just wanted to explore—”

You are cut off.

The next sequence of events takes place exceptionally quickly. First, you see your husband’s gaze shift and focus on something behind you. The very next moment, he yanks you towards him, making a swift turn so that his body covers yours. You lose your footing from the harsh tug, gripping onto his arms with a yelp of surprise.

Something whizzes past you, sharp and quick, that makes you jerk and hold onto him tighter.

Gasps, yells and screams of people echo all around you. You blink, befuddled, staring at your husband, who holds you tightly against his body, looking behind him. Following his gaze, you find San chasing after a man who dashes away through the crowd at remarkably fast speed, shoving people and running over stalls on his way.

Your husband whips his head back to look at you, his eyes wide with alarm. “Are you okay? Look at me!” He shakes you, his grip on your arms fierce. Something wet touches your fingers. Slowly, your eyes trail to your right hand, which is grabbing General Choi’s bicep.

There is a tear on his sleeve, a couple of inches above your fingers and red liquid oozes out from the thin cut. You gasp, your breath escaping your lungs in a choked wheeze.

Finally, everything clicks.

Someone just shot an arrow at him. Who? An enemy? A gang member? An assassin?

“Oh…oh my god! My Lord!” You clutch onto his sleeve, panicking.

General Choi ignores your cry and forces you to look at him, tilting your chin upwards. “Are you hurt anywhere?”

Is he seriously worrying about you right now?

“I am fine.” You choke on a sob. “But my Lord, you are bleeding! What…what should I do?”

He rubs a gentle hand on your back, pulling you closer to him. “I am fine. It is nothing.” He assures, his eyes scanning the place carefully as if looking for someone. You panic. “My Lord, we need to go home. Come on. You are hurt!” You urge, tugging him with you, even though you cannot make him move an inch.

The man stands rooted to his spot, his eyes still scouring through the marketplace. Finally, he nods and pulls you into his arms, holding you protectively. “Let us go.”

— 

After your relentless nagging, you finally get your husband to sit still so that you can treat his wound.

“I told you, it is nothing serious.” He admonishes when you step into his bedchamber with a rag, a bowl of water, and some medicine. Ignoring him, you hurry closer to him, inspecting the wound.

You have never treated someone before, but your mother was a very good nurse. She helped a lot of people during the war with her vast knowledge of medicinal herbs. You remember watching her work for hours, and even though you never directly learned from her, you are confident you can do this right.

The memory of his blood seeping out and wetting your hands sends shivers down your spine, and you have to take a deep breath to get yourself to calm down. Your heart has been racing ever since, the adrenaline yet to wear off.

“You should take off your shirt.” You whisper, wetting the rag in the bowl of water. Your husband complies, slowly removing the garment and shrugging it off his shoulders. Your breath catches in your throat once you lay your eyes on his body.

It is not his muscular build but the plethora of scars littering his body. Small and big, they taint his chest and all the way down to his lower abdomen, and you cannot help but stare, wincing at the marks that look particularly nasty.

What has this man been through?

General Choi snatches the rag from your hands and starts treating his cut. Embarrassed, you protest, but he cuts you off. “I can do it myself.” His response, like always, is curt, but you ignore it, too distracted by his scars. The one on his left abdomen looks particularly ghastly, and you know for sure it was a deep stab wound. 

The amount of pain he must have been in…

The thought makes you shudder, and you bite your lip, holding your tears back.

“This is why I assigned someone to protect you.” His voice pulls you out of your thoughts. “I am sure he told you to return, but you insisted on going to the market.”

“Who was that man?” You cut him off, unable to prevent yourself from voicing your worries any longer. Why did they want to hurt him? 

His lips thin, and something flashes over his eyes, leaving you guessing. He pauses for a moment, looking at you impassively, almost like he knows a secret that you don’t. “They were probably from some gang. They have been causing havoc recently, as you know.”

You know it is a lie. It is blatant that he is hiding something from you, and you cannot help but sigh out loud, sagging onto the floor. You do not even have it in you to fight with him right now. You are just glad he is okay. The bleeding has stopped now, and as you watch him apply the herb on his cut, a small sigh of relief flows past your lips.

Finally, it feels like you can breathe.

Silently, you help him tie a clean rag around his bicep before wiping the residual herb from his fingers. “You should take a bath.” He keeps staring at your face as if he is trying to understand something.

“Are you sure you are okay?” he asks, his tone soft. His gaze, for the first time, appears to be almost tender, and for a moment, the concept of language evaporates from your mind.

You want to say a lot of things. You want to yell at him, scream at him to explain himself and cry in his arms. You are unable to do any of that. “I am fine,” you whisper, your voice small and shaky.

He keeps looking at you for a few more seconds before nodding and getting up. Just as he is about to exit the room, you call for him. “My Lord?” “Hm?” He turns around to look at you.

You pause, hesitating. “I know you brought something today. At the market…” you trail off, unsure why you are saying this. His body tenses, and he looks at you warily…like he has been caught. For a second, you pray that he comes clean, but he remains silent, waiting for you to continue.

You swallow a lump in your throat and look away. Your voice is wobbly when you speak. “You should wrap it. Put it in a nice box. Women love gifts that are nicely wrapped. The woman…whoever you bought it for…you should wrap it.”

You do not dare to meet his gaze, so you sit on the floor, staring at the bowl of water that is now tinted red from his blood. He does not reply but walks out the door, his footsteps padding softly over the wooden floors.

— 

That night, you lay in bed awake, replaying the event at the market over and over again in your head. And as you keep revisiting that moment, a shuddering realization dawns on you.

What if…what if…

The arrow wasn't meant for General Choi but for you?

The more you think about it, the more probable it seems. The arrow would have originally hit you if not for him moving you out of the way. The thought makes you bolt up from your bed, your heart racing as beads of sweat gather on your temples. Tossing the blanket away, you step out of your sleeping mat and start pacing around your room.

Today's events are a mystery to you. You have no enemies, and neither does your father. Hell, he has been out of politics ever since your brother died. You simply have no reason to have someone shoot an arrow at you in the middle of a marketplace.

If it were not for your husband, you would have died for sure.

Shit. Who would do that? 

Your mind starts spiraling to the point that your temples begin to throb. You press the spot with your fingers, trying to make the ache go away.

It doesn't.

Instead, paranoia starts settling in. Suddenly, the thought of being alone in your room frightens you so much that you feel a chill in your bones. Unable to tolerate the deafening silence and the darkness any longer, you step out of your chamber, taking tentative steps towards your husband's room. The hallway is dark except for one small lamp flickering at the end of the long corridor, an eerie quietness hanging heavy in the air as the whole house sleeps.

You come to stop in front of your husband's room, your hands hesitating to pull open the wooden panels. 

What are you doing here? Sneaking into your husband’s chamber in the middle of the night?

With the resolved exhale, you pull open the door. In the darkness, it takes a moment for you to spot your husband sleeping on his side, his long raven hair splayed messily over the mat.

You remain rooted in your spot outside the door, hesitating yet once again before gingerly making your way inside and quietly closing the panel behind you. The room would be pitch dark if not for the faint light of the lamp flickering outside, filtering in through the panel. You take a moment to let your eyes adjust to the visibility before placing yourself next to him. With his sword resting between the two of you, you silently lie down, gazing at the silhouette of his face in the darkness.

Your heart aches. He got hurt because of you. 

Why do you feel such a strong attraction towards this cold, stubborn man? Why does it hurt you so much to see him hurt? Most importantly, is this how he feels about his lover? Does her pain make him hurt like this as well? Is that why he refuses to be with you, unable to resist his heart's longing?

So many questions and no answer to soothe your wretched soul. 

You keep gazing at him, a strange sensation filling your heart. He is physically so close to you, right within your reach, yet it feels like he is a million miles away, tucked away in a place for which you have no key. At the same time, lying next to him like this, you feel oddly comfortable. With him next to you, the silence and the darkness of the night are bearable, no longer stealing your sleep.

With a heavy ache in your chest and tears in your eyes, you fall asleep, happy to be in the same space as your husband.

—

When you open your eyes next morning, the sun is high up in the sky and the light flooding into the room immediately tells you that you have slept way longer than you should have.

Shit. You missed work today.

All concerns of work, however, fly out the window when you register where you are. You fell asleep on the floor next to General Choi yesterday. Then why are you sleeping on his mat, his blanket tucked around you, and his pillow under your head? 

With a gasp, you sit up and look around you, double checking to make sure you are in the right place.

How did you get here? Did he tuck you in after waking up? How did you not wake up?

Your face flushes with heat, imagining him carrying you and putting you in his bed. No wonder you feel so well rested after a long time. You must have slept like a log throughout everything.

Did you snore? Did you drool? Did you say something weird in your sleep?

“Oh dear lord, help me!” You whine, putting your face in your hands, cringing at all the possible ways you might have embarrassed yourself. Once you are over the initial wave of embarrassment, you spot a trinket on top of the small wooden table by the mat.

Curious, you shuffle closer. It is a bineyo with a beautiful butterfly in pink and blue, exactly the one you had been looking for. With a gasp, you lean closer, mesmerized by the way it sparkles underneath the sunlight. Next to it sits a letter, face up.

Dear wife, 

I am sorry I did not wrap it. I was interrupted by someone before I could choose a box. I do not know how the misunderstanding came to be, but this was meant to be yours from the beginning, not any other woman’s. I hope you like it.

From, Your husband

Your hands cover your mouth in shock and absolute glee before clutching the letter and the hairpin to your chest. Tears brim your eyes, your heart melting like a caramel under the sun, warm and sweet.

It seems like you misunderstood his actions. Still, some things remain unclear.

“Jihye!” You yell. She rushes in a few moments later. “My lady, you are awake! Master said not to disturb you. He said he will let Head Court Lady Yeo know that you will not go to work today.”

Ignoring her words, you quickly motion for her to come closer to you and sit down. “You,” you narrow your eyes at her. “You have been hiding something from me.” She blinks, her gaze slowly lowering to the floor.

“What did General Choi tell you? He definitely told you something. That is why you have not been letting me out of the house by myself.”

She looks at you helplessly for a long moment before sighing. “Okay, I will tell you, my lady. But you have to promise me you will not tell Master. I gave him my word.” She winces.

What could it be? Eager, you scoot closer to her. “I will not. Now out with it.”

“On the first night of your marriage, he called me and asked about you. What you like to eat, what your favourite season is…things like that.”

Wow. Your heart races with each of her words.

“Then, he asked me what you were doing in the market that day. You know that noon a week before your wedding? When we bumped into him? I said that you were looking for a hairpin. He asked in detail about the hairpin, and I told him that you were looking for one with a butterfly. Then, he ordered me to keep you from going outside, especially to crowded areas, as much as possible. He said it is not safe for you. And he made me promise not to tell you.”

A lot of the blanks start filling up. He listened to her and got this hairpin for you. No wonder!

You keep finding yourself revisiting that moment in the market. The way he protected you. The worry in his eyes, the way his fingers gripped onto you, the way his voice was filled with worry when he asked you if you were ok. The realization that you may have misunderstood him greatly starts settling in your bones. 

Maybe there was no one else from the beginning. Maybe it was only you all along. Maybe everything he did was to protect you. But protect you from what? Did he know that someone was after you? Who? Why did he not tell you anything?

No matter, you shall set the record straight when he gets home today. You have caught a glimpse into your husband’s heart, and it turns out he is not as cruel as they say. Now, there is nothing strong enough to stop you. He has had his way until now, and now, it is your time.

“Did he say when he will return?” You ask Jihye, your heart racing.

“No, my lady.”

“No matter.” You smile. “I will wait for him.”

— 

The heavens seem to be on your side because your husband returns home right before sunset. As he takes a bath, you prepare in your room, getting dressed for the evening.

Jihye braids your hair for you before helping you put on your hanbok, a soft yellow jeogori with a pastel pink chima. 

Just as you are almost finished with your makeup, Head Servant Yang knocks at the door, letting you know that your husband has finished his bath. With a smile, you stand up and walk over to the mirror, smoothing your skirt.

“Jihye, how do I look?”

“Absolutely beautiful, my lady!” She squeals. “Master will not be able to resist you tonight!”

You throw a scandalized look at her before reaching for the hairpin your husband gave you. Gingerly placing it on your hair, you complete the look and twirl in front of the mirror. “Alright, let us go!”

You knock twice at your husband’s chamber.

“Come in.”

Exhaling a shaky breath, you open the door and find sitting on the floor, wearing a navy blue hanbok. A book sits open on his lap, which is discarded once he lays eyes upon you.

Silence.

You hold your breath, watching his eyes scan you top to bottom, before going up again and finally stopping at your hairpin. He looks awestruck and speechless—a look you have never seen on him, and you struggle to stifle a smile.

“May I come in?” You ask coquettishly. 

“Ah—yes, of course.” He blinks and sits up straight. With a smile, you walk into the room and sit in front of him, closer than you have ever been before. "How is your arm?” You ask, jutting your chin towards it. “Do you need me to apply some herbs?”

“No, it is fine. I changed the gauze after my bath.”

“Are you in any pain?”

“Thank you for your concern, Lady Choi, but I am well.” He sets the book aside. “What brings you to my chamber?”

You ignore his curt replies. “Thank you for the gift, my lord.” You smile, saccharine sweet. Titling your head, you show him the trinket nestled in your hair. “How do I look?”

“Hm?” He gapes at you, eyes wide, clearly taken aback by the question. “Uh…it suits you. You look lovely.”

You smile like a lovestruck fool. “Thank you, my Lord.”

Silence. He keeps looking at you like it is a staring competition. Realizing he will not be the first one to break the silence, you continue with a sigh, “I have some questions, my Lord. I hope you will answer them honestly.” His gaze shifts, something unreadable briefly flashing by his eyes. His hands on to rest on his knees, his back straightening as he takes a moment before subtly nodding his head.

“Is there someone trying to kill me?” Your gaze does not waver. General Choi’s lips press into a thin line, his thick brows forming a frown, a look of pure displeasure settling on his face.

You do not back down. “Yesterday, the arrow was meant for me, was it not? You knew someone was after me. That is why you assigned San to be with me. That is why you told Jihye not to let me go outside.”

Another beat of silence. “Yes.” He murmurs, his haunting gaze piercing yours.

You swallow. “Who is it? I do not understand…I do not have any enemies— “

“They are my enemies.” He cuts you off. “The arrow yesterday…yes, it was meant for you, but it was also meant for me. It was their warning to me.”

“What warning? Why are they after you?” You cry.

His gaze narrows. “That is private information. Only the King’s most trusted men are aware of it.” You look down, worriedly chewing on your lower lip. After a beat, you ask, “Is that why you ignored me in the palace that day?”

“Yes. I thought the less I interacted with you, the better.” He pauses, his gaze focusing on the lamp burning at his side. “I am sorry for putting you in danger, but rest assured, they will be dealt with.”

You are not really worried about losing your life. If anything, his being in danger scares you more. Odd, is it not?

“Why did you let me misunderstand, my Lord?” You ask softly.

“That was not my intention.”

“But it happened anyway.” You cannot hold back the bite in your voice. “From the first day of this marriage, I believed that you have someone else.”

He remains silent, looking almost guilty. It scares and infuriates you. “Tell me! Do you?”

“No,” his voice never loses its quiet composure. “I do not.”

“Then why did you lie?”

For the first time, you see his gaze soften. For once, it looks like he is not scowling but rather, he appears ashamed and helpless. The hidden frustration inside you reaches its tipping point. “You could have told me! You could have said that I was in danger instead of pushing me away like I disgust you and letting me think that you were seeing someone else!” 

You hear him exhale a breath. “How do you expect me to tell my young, newlywed wife that her life is in danger because of me, her husband?”

The guilt is raw and vivid in his voice, echoing throughout the room like a haunted cry. This new side of your husband knocks all the air out of your lungs, leaving you feeling helpless as you stare at him, tears pricking your eyes.

“My Lord—”

“I know I am not the best match for you. You got married to be free, but instead, this marriage became a trap for you. How could I tell you that? I believed it would be better to let you think all crazy things about me rather than taking away your freedom by scaring you. I apologize for my shortsightedness.” A lone tear rolls down your cheek. He is not the best match for you? What is he saying?

Unable to hold back any longer, you close the little distance between the two of you and leap into his arms, hugging him tightly. With your arms wrapped around his neck, you rest your face on his shoulder, your fingers tightly holding onto the fabric of his hanbok. “Please do not apologize, my Lord. I understand you.”

Against you, your husband’s entire body remains tense, his hands awkwardly raised into the air like he is too scared to touch you. You ignore his hesitation and hold onto him tightly, your heart breaking and healing simultaneously. The warmth and comfort of his body soothe all the anguish in your heart, making you never want to let him go.

Finally, his hands touch your back, his large palms holding the small of your back, softly patting you.

Loosening your arms around him, you take a peek at his face and find the most sincere look in his eyes, warm and kind, the complete opposite of how you have seen him until now. You truly believed he was beyond all emotions, cold and mechanical, but right now, as he holds you in his arms and gazes at you with so much reverence and softness, you can only think of him as this quiet, considerate man who is misunderstood greatly.

Something in you shifts. No longer afraid, you shift in his arms, positioning yourself better on his lap before kissing him.

You press your lips against his without thinking, pulling him closer by the lapels of his hanbok and holding your lips right there, against his, soft and warm. With your heart hammering in your chest, you stay there, testing the waters. Your husband remains frozen at first, almost like he is waiting for you to back out. Once sure that you will not, he reaches for you, gently cupping your cheek with his right hand to tilt your face. The kiss deepens just a tad bit, his lips pressing against you just hard enough. His touch on you is meticulous and guarded, like you are a wild animal he does not want to frighten. You know he is being gentle for your sake, so you take the lead, snaking an arm around his neck and kissing him the way he led you.

Slow, sweet and passionate.

It is everything you imagined and more, all your dreams coming true and giving you a taste of ecstasy. By the time your lips part from his, there is a ringing in your ears along with your heart galloping like a race horse and a strange, tingling sensation between your legs. You feel drunk on your husband’s kiss, your eyes involuntarily trailing to his lips that are now shining with saliva.

You want this man so much, body and soul.

Your husband’s fingers remain against your cheek, his thumb stroking your cheek, slow and tentative like you are the most precious porcelain. Mirroring his hand, your fingers cup his cheek, your thumb gently tracing the scar beneath his odd eye. The skin is harsh and bumpy under your touch, making your heart heavy. You want to kiss it, tell him that he is beautiful despite it, tell him that you feel his pain, but something shifts.

His gaze grows unfocused, something foreign flashing by in his eyes, like he has been woken back to reality. With a sudden noise, he clears his throat and retracts his hand from your face. The action pulls you out of your haze as well, making you suddenly hyper aware of the fact that you kissed him.

Holy shit. You kissed your husband. And he kissed you back. And it was amazing.

Clearing his throat once more, your husband looks away, carefully trying to put some distance between you and him. Flustered, you take the hint and stand up rather unceremoniously. As you take a step back, however, misfortune befalls.

The ghost of clumsiness yet again takes over your body, and you trip over your skirt. With a loud, unladylike yelp, you fall backwards, terrified but also anticipating the brutal hit to the floor.

It does not come. You do not fall on the ground because your husband saves you, reaching for your arm and tugging you back towards him just in time. Something else happens in the process. The ribbon of your jeogori comes off.

You realize that several moments later, too preoccupied with trying to calm your beating heart and processing what just happened. As you stay pressed against his body, your arms tightly holding onto his shoulders for balance, General Choi’s eyes skim over your face before fixing beneath your neck and on your exposed shoulder.

This time, something dark and carnal takes over his gaze, his eyes sharp and narrow, staring intently at your bare skin. Your heart beats so loudly you fear he can hear it, and for a moment, you are sure you will pass out from the intensity of his gaze and the swirl of emotions—desire and shame, surging within you.

Like before, he is the one who backs away, quietly clearing his throat and looking away. Embarrassed, you quickly fix your jeogori and clutch it tightly to your chest while also scrambling off his body.

“I—” you stammer, mortified to look at his face. “I will see you for d-dinner then, my Lord.” Picking up your skirt to avoid further accidents, you rush for the door, eager to be out of his sight.

His voice forces you to stop right at the door. “Why did you come to my room last night?”

You halt, processing his question. Then, with quick fingers, you tie your jeogori and carefully turn around. Your husband looks at you inquisitively. “Were…were you awake, my Lord?” You ask. He did not even sir when you came into the room.

In reply, he nods. You look around, trying to find the words. “I…was scared to be alone. I kept thinking of what happened at the market, and I do not know…” You trail off, embarrassed and worried about his reaction. He, however, keeps looking at you intently before shaking his head up and down in understanding.

“How did you know I came in? You did not even move a muscle. I thought you were asleep.”

“I smelled you.” He states, his face expressionless. You take a step back, alarmed. “Do I stink?”

He shakes his head. “No. I meant that I smelled roses. You smell like roses.”

Oh. “I see,” you mumble shyly, your fingers twiddling with the fabric of your skirt. He regards you quietly for a beat before murmuring. “You can sleep with me tonight as well, if you desire it.”

“Really?” You squeal, not hiding the excitement brimming in your voice. 

“Yes.”

“Thank you, my Lord!” You smile so big it hurts.

— 

After dinner, Headservant Yang sets the mattress for the two of you with a suggestive, happy smile on her face that makes you grin goofily. 

Once finished with your nightly routine and dressed for bed, you pad into your husband's chamber and find him already lying down, his eyes closed and his hands resting over his chest. One could think he was asleep, but you know better now. With wonder, you observe that the place of his sword has shifted and moved to his left, right next to his mat, now that yours occupies the space it took before.

“My Lord,” you ask softly, “shall I blow out the candle?”

“Yes.” He replies, not moving or opening his eyes. Carefully, you pad over to the study table and blow out the candle before finding your place on the mat. With the noise of the crickets humming outside, you lie on your mat, pulling the blanket up to your chin and staring at the ceiling. Your blood thrums in your veins, your brain too wired to fall asleep. The excitement of lying next to your husband keeps you awake.

Once your eyes adjust to the darkness, you take tentative peeks at him and find him in the same position as he originally was. Is he sleeping? You wish you could tell.

“My Lord?” You speak, quiet as a mouse.

Silence.

“Hm?” He hums.

“Why do you sleep with your sword next to you?”

“Force of habit, I suppose…from the war.”

You hum in acknowledgement, looking at him eagerly amid the darkness. After a short pause, you call for him again. “My Lord?”

“Yes.”

“Can I sleep with you from now on?”

Silence. Seconds pass by, but no answer comes, and you start to think that he has fallen asleep. Just then, he finally replies, his voice quiet and deep in the solitude of the night. “If you wish to.” You smile, happy and wide, even though he cannot see you. “Thank you, my Lord.”

Another short pause later, he murmurs. “Goodnight.” You take it as a sign that he does not wish to talk anymore, and with a nod, you shift and lie on your side, your right arm resting underneath your head.  “Goodnight, my Lord.” You whisper with a smile.

— 

You wake up just before sunrise. 

The spot next to you is empty, and with no sign of your husband, you step out of his bedchamber in search of him. It is a rest day, so you wonder where he is so early in the morning.

You find the man in the backyard, already dressed, quietly observing the flowers in the garden. “My Lord?” You call for him.

“Oh, good morning.” He acknowledges you with a small nod. “Why are you up so early?”

“I woke up and you were not there. Is everything okay?”

“Yes.” He assures. “You should sleep some more.” You pause, carefully observing him. In the soft morning light, the man looks different, more relaxed and homely, dressed in his hanbok and his long raven hair draped elegantly against his back.

How can you leave his majestic man just for a few more hours of sleep?

“My Lord?”

“Hm?”

“Let us go for a walk.”

— 

After quickly getting dressed, you and your husband go for a stroll, the early morning sun softly gleaming in the sky.

Your husband heads towards the nearby forest, which leads to a cliff offering a nice view of the town and the hilly background. He walks quietly with his hands behind him, his movements deliberately slow to accommodate your pace. With a soft smile that never leaves your lips, you walk alongside him, your heart thrumming happily.

Can this be called a date?

Without any words exchanged between the two of you, you navigate the path through the forest, your eyes skirting towards him every now and then. The silence between you is not awkward because you can see from his face that he is thinking deeply about something. So, you let him think and use the solitude to take peeks at his handsome face, memorizing the details of his visage.

By the time you reach the cliff, you are out of breath.

“Wow,” you wheeze out, panting for air as you rest with your palms on your knees. 

“Are you alright?” General Choi asks, peering down to see your face. “Yes,” you nod, trying to control your breathing. “It has been a while since I came up here. The view is magnificent.”

“It is.” He hums, looking over the cliff. “That last time I came here, I was a child.” You share, standing up and gazing at the view. It is truly still beautiful.

“Why so long ago?”

“What?” You blink, looking at your husband, who is regarding you with a curious tilt of his head.

“Uh…” you think. “My father…he was not fond of me going out much. Especially anywhere far, after my brother died. He liked to keep me within his sight.”

He keeps looking at you attentively, and you wonder what he is thinking. Is he judging you?

Needing to fill the silence, you ramble. “On top of that, I have always been clumsy. I’m sure you have figured that out by now. Once, when I was a child, I somehow broke my arm playing in the yard. My brother ran all the way to the physician’s office with me on his back. With him gone, my father thought it would be better for me to be within the house. For my safety and his mental peace.”

“It was suffocating, no? That is why you married me. For freedom.” Your husband observes. You nod, albeit shakily, thinking of your days back at your parents' home. The cold treatment of your father and the way you were never enough. Not enough to take away the pain of them losing their son.

In the silence, you take a moment to gather your thoughts before facing the man next to you and voicing a question you have always wanted to ask. “Why did you choose to marry me?”

He takes a moment to answer. 

“Because no one else wanted to. A lot of ministers tried to get me engaged to their daughters, but the girls refused when they saw me. Some even rejected just after hearing my name. They feared me.”

You find it ridiculous. “Why?” Your tone drips with bewilderment. “My reputation,” he shrugs. “My face does not help much, I suppose.”

“What do you mean?” You frown, leaning closer to him. He regards you in silence, as if the answer to that question is the most obvious thing in the world. “I am ugly.”

“What?” You gape at him, utterly befuddled. Does this man truly think that? His sharp eyes narrow on you, his brows knotting in confusion. “I do not know if you are making fun of me.”

“Why would I make fun of you?” You cry. This entire thing is ludicrous. “I simply find it absolutely enraging that you think so!”

He remains mute, watching you like you are an equation he needs to solve.

You take a tentative step closer to him, mumbling, “It is true that your reputation is scary. I also feared you for that in the beginning. I do not know if you are aware, but people say all types of crazy things about you.” You pause, inching even closer to him. With a few small inches between the two of you, you look up and meet his eyes, hoping to convey your sincerity. “But as I got to know you…I have realized there is nothing to fear. You are undoubtedly a cold man, my Lord, but you are also warm. Your heart is always in the right place. That alone is enough to make you the most beautiful man in the land.”

His face relaxes, and you can see how his gaze softens, the turbulent storms ever present in his eyes dissipating for a moment. 

In the back of your mind, one thought runs rampant. You want to kiss him. In the soft morning light, he looks as breathtaking as ever, his lips soft and kissable. Remembering the touch of his lips against yours last night, you muster the courage and lean up on your tippy toes, pressing a quick, chaste kiss on his lips. The man immediately leans back, a look of surprise on his face. Ignoring his reaction, you smile and step back, facing the view again. Your husband clears his throat before silently joining you in gazing at the view.

A while later, you voice out another thought. “My Lord, when you said not to expect anything from you, what did you mean?”

He takes a moment to answer. “I don’t know. Just do not expect anything from me. I cannot give you anything.”

Frowning, you face him. “But you have already given me so much.”

“I do not believe that.”

You sigh. The cranky man is returning. Hitching your skirt, you walk closer to him, determined. “What did you mean, my Lord? I cannot expect what?” He huffs out a frustrated breath. “Whatever a wife expects from her husband, I suppose.”

Your frown deepens. “What? Love? Attention? Devotion?”

“I will be devoted to you, but I cannot give you love.” His words are like a punch to the gut. “Why not?” You plead.

He hesitates. “I…just cannot.”

“You cannot or will not?”

His eyes, sharp and fiery, pierce right through you, and you see the truth in his eyes. You see the answer he refuses to utter. “Let us get back.” He announces, turning on his heel and dismissing you, starts marching down the path. You scoff, watching with an open mouth as he almost runs down the track to escape answering your question.

This stubborn, frustrating man.

— 

After breakfast, General Choi goes out to visit an old friend. With a sour mood, you shuffle through the house, watching as everyone remains busy with their work. You try to practice some needlework but fail to get far with that. As always, your hand at embroidery is embarrassingly bad. For two hours, you try to create a flower on a handkerchief, but when it turns out looking questionable, you drop the task.

You find San sitting outside on the porch, chatting animatedly with Headservant Yang. “My Lady, are you bored?” Headservant Yang asks upon seeing you walk over. With your shoulders slumped, you nod, pouting.

“General Choi will not be back for some time. Should we play a game then? San offers.

Your eyes shine. “Sure!”

— 

Your game of baduk with San lasts even after sunset. 

You keep playing match after match, your own competitive streak matching his. He does not go easy on you just because you are married to his General, and that makes it all the more fun. 

Your husband returns right before lunch and after observing the two of you for a mere minute, he leaves, locking himself in his study for the rest of the day. His disinterest irks you, and you decide to ignore him as well, honing all your attention towards the game. During different times, Headservant Yang and Jihye stop by between their work, watching you two play with rapt fascination.

The game only ends with you winning, long after the sky has gone dark. Cheers and yells erupt in the small crowd of servants gathered to watch the game. You grin cockily, finally standing up and stretching your legs. San accepts his defeat and takes his leave, not before you make him promise to join you another day for another match.

“Would you like to have your bath first or dinner, my Lady?” Headservant Yang asks. You ponder, still reeling from the high of winning. “Did my husband have dinner?”

“Yes, my Lady.” You sigh. “Well then, I will have my dinner now and then take my bath.”

— 

After your bath, you sit in your room with the mirror in front of you while Jihye combs your hair. “Today was a fun day, no, my Lady?” She asks.

“Yes,” you hum. “It is a shame General Choi did not join us.” “Indeed.”

“Where has he been all day?” “In his room, my Lady. He was studying.”

You resist the urge to roll your eyes. Your husband truly does not know how to have fun. Instead of spending a rest day with his wife, he would rather read and strategize and sulk by himself.

As if he could hear your thoughts, the man appears with a knock at your door and steps in a second later. Jihye excuses herself, leaving the two of you alone, the room suddenly buzzing with tension.

Your husband regards you with that same unreadable face, but something in you tells you that he is grumpier than usual. Still, you try to be civil. “Hello, my Lord.”

“Lady Choi. It was hard to catch sight of you all day.” 

Yes. He is annoyed about something. The subtle bite in his voice is unmissable. You finish combing the ends of your hair before setting the comb down. “My apologies about that. I was too immersed in the game of baduk.”

“Yes, I noticed.” He peers down at you, his eyes ethereally flashing in the soft lights of your chamber. “You seemed to quite enjoy your time with San.”

“He is an excellent player. He also mentioned that you used to play with him.” You supply, trying to understand what might be the cause of his annoyance.

“I don’t know about excellent.” He murmurs, looking away from you. “I taught him, true, but he is no match for me.”

You narrow your eyes. What is he implying? “I am sure he is not, my Lord.” You force a smile. 

“Yet, you chose to spend the entire day with him.” This time, he snaps, clear and offended. Your jaw hangs low, surprised at his pettiness. You stand up frowning. “You were away, my Lord.”

“Not the entire day. I returned long ago, but you were too busy playing with him till dinner time.” He grumbles, not meeting your eyes but staring at the lamp. Stunned, you gape at him, trying to understand where he is coming from.

Your heart flutters. Is it possible that he is jealous?

“My Lord,” you step closer to take a look at his face. “Are you…jealous?”

“Ha!” He scoffs, stepping away. “Why would I be jealous of that little punk?” he half yells, waving his hand dismissively like he is swatting away a bug.

Your spirits dampen, and annoyance starts to take over. You give him a saccharine sweet smile that is evidently fake. “Well then, there is nothing to worry about. Shall we head to bed?” He refuses to let the topic go. “You finally remembered me, no? Now that it is time to sleep?”

The thread holding you together snaps. With gritted teeth, you stare at him, trying your level best to keep your tone neutral. “Well, when your husband dismisses you at every chance he gets and tries to run from you at the mere mention of intimacy, a girl would naturally be upset and spend time elsewhere. I hope you pardon her for spending some time away from him.” You bow dramatically in apology, making sure that he understands it is sarcasm. 

“Wha—” He regards you, eyes wide and mouth agape, like he cannot believe the words coming from your lips. “You—” He seems to be at a loss for words.

You step past him, but he raises a finger at you. “So you prefer San over me? Is that what you are saying?”

You roll your eyes at his words. However, today there is an urge within you to push him to his limit. So, you whip your head back and glare at him. 

“Who knows?” You singsong. Your husband’s eyes only enlarge, the look of pure shock taking over his face, his mouth hanging open wider than before. “Maybe I do. Maybe I do prefer him over you. He spends time with me, after all. Despite today being a rest day, you stayed in your room all day when you could have joined us. So what if I prefer his company?” You add the last line for good measure, trying to appear as threatening as possible.

“Take that back,” he says, his tone quiet. The look on his face starts to shift towards something serious. 

You egg him on. “I won’t! In fact, from now on, I will spend more time with him. Who knows, he might give me all the love and attention you refuse.”

The man finally snaps. In the flash of an eye, he is right in front of you, his hand behind your neck pulling you so close to him that you feel his breath. All earlier pettiness and playfulness are gone. He looks like a raging beast, barely hanging on by a thread.

“Take that back. Tell me you do not mean it or I swear to God, I will chop his head off.” He grits, his voice shaking with anger and his grip on your skin tightening. His eyes are like two molten pools of lava, angry and bright, and he has never looked hotter.

Without wasting a second, you smash your lips with his, wrapping your arms around his neck to pull him closer and closer towards you. The force of your kiss is so strong that it knocks him back a few steps. However, he is quick to recover, meeting your lips with even more passion, a side of him completely new to you. Raw and unchained, he goes all in, devouring your lips like it is his salvation.

You don’t hold back either.

You let go of your body weight entirely, pushing him on the ground below you while never letting go of his lips. Your hands—his and yours—move frantically to claw at each other through the layers of fabric. With a huff, your husband finally removes his lips from yours, a long string of saliva connecting your lips to his. “If we continue…I cannot hold back.” He pants, his eyes wild and shining.

His words make you giddy with anticipation, molten hot pools of lava swirling in your belly.

“That is what I want,” you whisper, feeling the cold air against your swollen lips. “I do not want you to hold back.” Slowly, you snake your arms around his neck and you move closer to his face. With a mere inch between your lips, you murmur, “I want you to devour me, my Lord.”

Your husband makes a sound, a low, primal grunt that comes from the deepest part of his chest. He exhales sharply, determination swirling in his eyes as he finally lets go of all the restraint he had been practicing till now.

In a flash, he flips your positions, holding you against the ground, his large body looming over yours. Your breath catches in your throat with the view on top of you, and he has not even taken off his clothes yet. Desire thrums in your veins, making you curl your toes in anticipation.

“I will ruin you tonight.” That is a promise. His voice is laced with something dark, like he will thoroughly enjoy ruining you. Little does he know, you will enjoy it too.

“Please, my Lord.” You beg, all too eager to become his.

His eyes flash at your words, and immediately, his hands get to work. They move with ease, graceful yet quick, as he strips you off your garments. All too soon, you are left only in your underskirt, your bare chest exposed for his eyes to feast on. You have the urge to cover them, and as if your husband can read your mind, he grabs your hands and links your fingers with his, pinning them on top of your head.

“Do not hide from me,” he commands, his lips hovering over yours. You nod, jittery with need and anticipation. 

Once sure your hands will not move, he slowly traces his fingers from your jawbone to your neck and then your shoulder, before reaching for your braid. You shift and let him hold your hair, his fingers gently caressing over the long braided strands. His fingers trace over your daenggi before tugging on it sharply. Undone, the strip of cloth comes off as your hair starts to loosen from the braid.

“So beautiful.” He hums, holding a few strands of hair between his fingers. He places a soft kiss on them before reaching for your hands. With your daenggi, he ties your wrists together, making sure the knot will hold before placing your hands back where they were, arms stretched straight on top of your head.

“Be a good girl.” He whispers, his voice sultry, his gaze half lidded yet dangerous. Your heart hammers loudly in your chest as the reality of what is happening actually starts to settle in your bones.

You are half-naked, tied up and vulnerable underneath your husband. The man they call the Grim Reaper, the most merciless man in the land. Yet, you are not afraid.

You watch as he shifts, making himself comfortable between your spread legs. He lifts your underskirt, exposing your core, and despite the urge to close your legs, you cannot.

“So beautiful. It will be a treat to ruin you.” He hums, his eyes focused between your legs, a faint smirk playing on his lips. Without any warning, he slaps you between your legs, right on your sensitive flesh, the sharp whack echoing through the quietness of the night.

“Ah!” You cry, mortified and surprised. It stings but also unlocks a new sensation of pleasure within you. Your face heats up as you realize how much you enjoyed it, a deep and deprived sense of pleasure.

He slaps you again. “Do you like it? I can see you are getting wet.” He says, his flashing eyes set on your face.

You make a pathetic noise of agreement. “Answer me!” He commands, slapping you once more. A long, needy moan is ripped from your throat. You pant. “Y-yes, my Lord.”

Pleased, he smirks before leaning down to press kisses on your inner thighs. He moves slowly and deliberately, playing with you, nibbling on your skin with his teeth before giving it a soothing lick and making sure it is marked. When he sits back up, his eyes trace all over your face as if he is trying to remember every small detail about you. You do the same, peering at him through your lashes with bated breath, wishing you could pull him closer for another kiss.

You could spend your entire life kissing this man.

With the ease and grace of a panther that has trapped its prey, your husband moves, enveloping you with his body, his hair falling over you like a black curtain. Lying on top of you, one of his hands holds on to the nape of your neck while the other explores your body, teasingly moving down your waist and between your legs. His warm fingers trace your core, feeling the wetness gathered between your legs. Without losing eye contact, he plays with you, dipping his fingers inside, making you shiver and whimper and continues to smirk knowingly.

He pushes his index and middle finger inside you, just up to his knuckles and the intrusion have you shuddering, your core throbbing like it has its own heartbeat. A breathy moan tears from your lips, and he uses the opportunity to lean in and bite your lip softly. 

Dear god. You whimper. “Please.”

“What?” He mouths against your lips. “T-touch me,” you reply, chasing his lips to reconnect with yours.

You hear him scoff cockily. “I am touching you, wife.” His title for you makes you only more desperate. You whine, starting to writhe, “More.”

You feel him smile against your mouth, his fingers slipping all the way in. His lips trace your jaw, his nose pressed against your skin before trailing down your neck, while his fingers start moving in and out. Involuntarily, your hips writhe, chasing his fingers while he peppers your neck with kisses and bites before fixing on a particular spot beneath your ear that makes you whimper. Then, he uses his thumb to give you a flick, his dark eyes trained on your face as your pleasure amplifies. 

“Oh my god,” you shut your eyes closed, reveling in the feeling of his fingers inside you. He starts to pick up pace, moving the fingers in tandem, circling them inside you and giving your clit an occasional flick. You wrap your legs around his lower waist, crossing them over and pulling him even closer, a desperate attempt at trying to ease the growing ache. Inside you, his fingers move rapidly, making your body tense as you start climbing your high, the coil in your belly pulling tight. 

“My L-lord…” You pant, looking at him with pleading eyes, even though you are unsure what you are trying to say. “Say my name,” he commands, dark eyes trained on you.

You feel even hotter, the coil in your belly pulled impossibly tight. “S-Seungcheol.”

“That is right. Scream my name.” He orders, eyes hazy with a film of lust and possessiveness. As if teasing you, his thumb brushes over your clit ever so slightly, drawing out a shuddering whine from your lips that makes him chuckle quietly. The sound feels like magic to your ears, a drug to your system that heightens your pleasure. His teeth dig into the soft flesh of your neck, undoubtedly leaving a mark.

“P-please Seungcheol,” you heave, eyes closed shut, fingernails digging into your palms. Humming against your neck, he uses his fingers to rub an even deeper spot inside you as his thumb rubs your clit mercilessly. 

“Please!” You hiss, throwing your head back, your toes curling as you wail. “I… I cannot…”

“You are going to cum for me. Now,” his voice is a quiet order. 

He curls his fingers inside you one last time and flicks your clit hard with his thumb, sending you over the edge. Your release is a tidal wave of mind-breaking pleasure as your body goes tense, your hips arching off the bed, your mouth hanging open as a reaction to the overwhelming pleasure; your first orgasm. 

You experience a type of bliss you had no idea existed, and for a moment, your mind goes blank, your body lying taut and tense underneath his. The onslaught of pleasure leaves your vision blurry with unshed tears and your mind numb to everything as you slowly descend from the throes of heavenly bliss and register that your husband is sitting upright between your legs.

With his relentless gaze locked with yours, he slowly licks his fingers clean, his long pink tongue darting out to caress his digits as he hums, “This is the sweetest pussy I have ever had.”

The sight is more than erotic, and for a moment, you are scared you will die from a heart attack. You want this man. You need him all at once, in every way possible. There is an ache coming from the depths of your soul that only he can satisfy.

“Please…untie me. I want to touch you.” You beg, hoping he takes mercy. It has been torture keeping your hands off of him. Hearing your plea, he takes mercy and undoes the ribbon tying your wrists. Free, you immediately sit up and wrap yourself around him, pulling him close for a kiss. Vigorously, wantonly, you kiss him and taste yourself on his tongue, moaning and gripping onto his back, your fingers itching to touch his skin underneath his nightshirt. 

“Please take this off,” you breathe against his mouth. Your husband smiles, undoubtedly enjoying teasing you. “Why?”

“Because…I want to see you.” You whisper sweetly, looking at him through your lashes. The man obliges, letting his hands off you for a moment to take off his shirt.

The sight of his naked body renews the heat between your legs, a new wave of desire overcoming your system. You let yourself gawk at the expanse of the muscles on his chest and the bulky thickness of his arms, all littered with scars, strong and dependable. As he stares at your face for a reaction, you reach for him absentmindedly, dragging your index finger over a scar on his right bicep. It is long, old, and jagged, rough and bumpy to the touch. Without thinking, you lean towards his arm and softly press a kiss on the wound before slowly dragging your lips to his chest, where another scar has bloomed. “It must have hurt,” you whisper to yourself, pressing another kiss on the scar before meeting his eyes. “I want to see all of your scars, dear husband. And I want to kiss all of them. I want to kiss away your pain.”

Something flashes by his eyes, brief but vulnerable. He immediately snakes a strong around around your waist to pull you tight against him and seal his lips over yours in a possessive kiss.

With his lips tangled with yours, he carries you to the sleeping mat, setting you down gently. You sigh in satisfaction as your back meets the soft, warm quilt. 

Your husband quickly gets to work, taking off your underskirt in a sharp yank and ripping it in the process. Surprised and embarrassed, you squeak, trying to hide yourself from his gaze. With the lamp burning right on the desk next to the mat, he has a pretty clear view of your body.

“Your pants…” You whisper, tugging them as well, and Seungcheol chuckles. “So desperate, aren't we?”

“Please,” you beg, throwing him your best pleading eyes as your hands roam around his back, feeling the ridge and bump of his muscles. 

The man quickly takes off his pants, giving you the briefest glimpse of his cock. You barely get to see him as he leans down towards you again, his eyes locked with yours. He drags his palms up, cupping your breasts and squeezing them. A breathy sigh of pleasure falls from your lips as you automatically lean closer to his face, your lips chasing his. Seungcheol captures them in a soft, teasing kiss, his lips gently biting yours as you feel his cock brush against your thigh.

You shiver, goosebumps breaking out on your skin.

You are a ball of nerves right now, the idea of getting intimate with a man for the first time plaguing your mind with worry. Yet, at the same time, you are overcome with desire, need running through your veins.

This is scary yet perfect. Absolutely perfect.

Your husband attacks your neck, kissing and biting the skin while simultaneously playing with your breasts. You mewl, letting your head fall to one side to give him better access to your neck. He hums, the sound so deep and throaty you feel it in your core. His lips do not break contact with your skin, kissing and sucking your sensitive flesh until your whole body shakes like leaves in a tree. 

“Please…” You beg, digging your nails into his shoulder, your body unconsciously starting to grind against him, desperate to ease the throbbing ache between your legs. Seungcheol, finally satisfied with the red spot blooming on your neck, lets you go, peering down at you with his hypnotizing eyes.

“I teased you a lot, did I not, wife?” He hums, caressing your heated face with his knuckles. Drunk with desire, you nod, your half-lidded gaze transfixed. “Please, take me, my Lord.”

He tsks disapprovingly. As if to prove a point, he wraps his hand around your throat but does not apply any pressure. “My name.”

“Seungcheol.” You reply immediately.

“Good girl.” Seungcheol smirks, his eyes flashing with something dark as he leans back on his heels, taking a slow, good look at your body. Then, spreading your legs wider, he spits on his fingers and using it as a lubricant over his cock before lining up with your entrance.

“This will hurt at first.” He warns. You nod, one hand covering your face as you choose to look at the ceiling out of embarrassment.

“Ready?”

“Yes.”

“Look at me.” He demands, the tip of his cock brushing against your pussy lips, making you shiver and follow his command. “Keep your eyes on me. Watch me devour this tight cunt.”

You feel like someone set your face on fire. Face flushed with his crude words, you barely get to make a sound when Seungcheol thrusts himself inside you. Your head lolls forward with the impact as your hands immediately clutch his arm around your waist for support. 

“Ah!” You cry out, eyes squeezed shut as you feel a sharp sting between your legs. “Fuck,” Seungcheol hisses, his voice throaty as he remains half buried inside you. Pausing for a moment, he lets you adjust before pulling back and then thrusting back in. This time, he goes all the way in, and you swear you feel him in your stomach. With a loud, pathetic cry, you cling onto his body, your brain unable to keep up with all the different sensations. 

He builds a pace, pushing in and out of you in strong movements.

Your brain feels like mush as you fail to utter anything, your mouth simply hanging open to let out breathy pants as you close your eyes and feel every ridge of his cock move in and out of you, the initial pain of intrusion fizzling away. It is a blissful experience, a high you never want to come out of.

“Push out your hips a little,” he orders quietly, dark eyes set on you so intensely, you feel like he can see your soul.

Immediately, you comply, extending your waist towards him while keeping your upper back pressed to the mat. His hands hold your hip bone n a strong grip as he places a pillow under your ass and slides himself back inside you with a leisurely pace, the new angle making his length curve inside you. 

You start seeing stars.

“Oh my god,” you hiss, eyes squeezed shut. The back of your thighs rests over Seungcheol’s, your legs dangling around his waist, and your hands clenched around the sleeping mat as he starts to pick up pace. With each thrust, the force increases, the tip of his cock hitting your most sensitive spot, low groans falling from his lips to match your breathy moans. 

“I… I cannot…please” your whisper mindlessly, the words scattered and almost unintelligible due to your broken moans. “You want to come?” His voice is almost taunting as he leans closer to look at your face. “Well, that’s unfortunate. You do not come until I give you permission, wife.” Your husband warns, making you whine. 

The need to find your release only intensifies. You are so close you can almost taste the blissful release.

“P-Please,” You beg, wrapping your arms around his neck and digging your fingernails into his shoulder blades. “Say it louder. Scream my name. Who is fucking this tight pussy?’’ he grunts in your ears, his warm breath tickling your skin.

“Seungcheol!” The desperate yell is quick to leave your lips.

“Who will make you come?”

“You! Seungcheol!”

“That is right, wife. It is I, your husband.” He gives you a particularly harsh thrust. “Not San. Not any other man but me.”

“Y-yes. Please…” you sob. Gripping your chin, he forces you to look at him. “Who do you belong to?” His voice is as quiet as a winter night.

“You, my husband.” You manage to utter clearly amid his brutal thrusts. “Good girl,” he praises, nibbling on your jaw. One of his hands reaches below to touch your clit as he wastes no time rubbing the sensitive bundle of nerves with the pads of his finger, all the while continuing to thrust inside you earnestly.

“Seungcheol!” You scream, your entire body jolting.

Your reaction makes him smirk as he chases his own high, seconds away from erupting inside you. He places your clit between his thumb and index finger, giving you a particularly harsh rub followed by a pinch.

You are catapulted over the edge. Your vision goes white, your entire sweat-coated body twitching from the intensity of the pleasure. It only amplifies as you feel Seungcheol spill inside you, his warm release filling you up and dripping lazily out of you. 

You feel like you are floating from the bliss.

— 

Your husband’s hand strokes your back in repeated soothing motions while you bask in the afterglow of your passionate lovemaking. With him lying behind you on the mat, your bodies pressed together, you move from reality to dreamland every now and then, the smile never leaving your face as you savour his touch and warmth. 

“Are you asleep?” he softly asks, bringing his face closer to inspect you.

You make a noise and shake your head, too lazy to move. Your husband gently turns you so that you lie face to face.

“Are you in any pain?” You ask again, carefully looking at your face, his fingers brushing away the rowdy strands of hair from your face. You open your eyes and look at him with a gaze full of love. “I am perfect, husband. Thank you.”

He smiles when you address him by that name, a warm, gummy smile that shows his unbridled joy. The possessive madman from earlier has completely disappeared, replaced by a man eager to dote on his wife.

This is your first time seeing this side of your husband. 

He pulls you against his chest, holding you tight in his arms. “No, thank you, wife. Thank you for being mine.” You smile, nuzzling his bare chest. This is the safest and most comfortable you have ever felt, and you do not want to let go. Ever.

After a moment of pause, he whispers. “I know I lack a lot. I can be clueless sometimes. So from now on, I hope you share with me whatever is on your mind. All your wishes, hopes and dreams, your desires— everything. I promise I will make them come true.”

You are too tired to form a reply, your body growing heavier each second but still, you smile. You peacefully drift off.

— 

Seungcheol did not go to work today.

The news delights you when you hear it from Jihye as she helps you get dressed. Her eyes linger on your body, especially on your neck, where little marks have formed— evidence of your lovemaking. 

She looks half worried and half scandalized, and you wink at her playfully before stepping out of your chamber.  Your husband sits on the porch, fully dressed, basking in the sun with a book in his hand.

“Good morning, my Lord.” You whisper, feeling pathetically shy when you catch sight of him. He looks up, his eyes shining when they land on you. “Good morning, wife. How are you feeling?” Shyly, you walk over to him and sit down without leaving any space between the two of you. Fiddling with your skirt, you look away when you answer, “I am alright, my Lord.”

With a gentle grasp on your chin, he turns your face and forces you to look at him. “The truth.” He says quietly.

Truthfully, you are quite sore, and an ache has taken hold all over your body. However, you cannot complain. The ache is laced with pleasure, especially between your legs, reminding you of last night.

Your heart gallops in your chest as you look into his eyes. “I am a little sore,” you reply timidly. “But it is a good kind of sore, I promise.”

His eyes travel to your neck, eyeing the red marks visible on your skin. “I was too rough with you,” he murmurs, his tone laced with regret, his eyes focused on your neck. Quickly, you snap him out of it. “Not at all, my Lord.” You sling your arms with his, pulling him closer so that you can rest your face on his shoulder. “You were just perfect. I enjoyed it. A lot.” You whisper, face flushing.

Your husband keeps gazing at you like he does not believe you. Whipping your head around, you take a quick scan around the yard before pressing a sweet kiss on his lips and giggling like a child. A soft smile blooms on his lips, even though he tries to stifle it.

“You should smile more, my Lord. You look so handsome.”

“Why are you calling me that? You called me by my name last night.” His lips form a soft pout as he complains. You pause, “Well…last night was…”

“You shall call me Seungcheol from now on.” He announces. “I would like it even more if you gave me a nickname.”

Wide eyed, you look at him.

“Do you understand me, wife?”

“Yes, husband.” 

Happy with that for now, he does not pester you anymore. You rest your head on his shoulders, your hands intertwined, and watch the morning sky in silence.

“You asked me to share all my wishes with you last night.” You speak after a while, eyes focused somewhere distant. “Can I share one with you right now?”

“Of course,” he shifts so that his body faces you. 

Tilting your head up, you admire a white, fluffy cloud. “Ever since my brother died, I have only had one wish for my life. I wanted to live by the sea in a small house. In that house, there would be my husband and I, and we would spend the rest of our days there, away from all the noise and bleakness of this town.”

“That sounds lovely.” He murmurs. You nod before looking at him. “Do you think it would ever be possible for us?”

He remains silent. 

“Given the nature of your job, I understand. However, I need you to promise me one thing. You must take care of yourself. You must not get hurt, do you hear me? You have someone to come home to now. You must think about me and you must return home to me, do you understand?” Your hands grip his in an earnest hold. 

His free hand comes to rest on top of yours, and he gives you a reassuring squeeze, warm and soft. “Rest easy, wife. I shall come back to you. Always.”

A lone drop of tear strolls down your cheek, and he wipes it away with his thumb before pressing the softest, feather-like kiss on your forehead. After a moment's pause, you speak. “Now it is your turn to share something with me.”

He regards you with confusion. 

“Anything. A wish, a secret…” You stare at him with eagerness. He sighs softly, his eyes trained on his lap as he thinks about something. 

“Well…when I told you not to expect anything from me,” he begins, looking almost shy, his gaze soft and apologetic. “I was afraid. I wanted to keep you at an arm's length from the beginning because I was scared of losing you. I have lost everyone close to me, and the thought of going through something like that again terrifies me. Since I joined the military, I have kept myself detached from everyone because the less I cared, the better.”

Your heart aches for the man. With gentle fingers, you brush away the unruly strands of hair from his face and trace the scar next to his eye. “You will not lose me, husband. I am right here.” You promise.

He wraps his arms around you as if to test your words. You wrap yourself around him, basking in his embrace, your bodies melting into one. “Do not leave me.” He whispers, his voice raw and vulnerable.

“Never.”

— 

Seungcheol left for the palace early today. After two days of relaxation, a letter came for him last night from the palace, demanding his presence first thing in the morning.

At night, Seuncheol held you tight in his arms, soothing away your worries. He finally shared what has been going on in the palace and why there are assassins after him.

Turns out they are working for the Minister of Trade, who is strictly against the new reformations currently being done by the king, like an attempt to abolish the slavery system. Seungcheol has been the King’s number one ally and a powerful piece in the game, which is why they are after him. Removing him from the equation is as good as stripping the King of his powers. Minister Kim has done exceptionally well in covering up his tracks, which is why there is no solid proof against him, complicating this entire issue. He has been playing a cat-and-mouse game with the royal army for a while now. 

Your husband left even before you woke up, leaving a note for you promising he would be home for dinner.

The day slowly passes by with you going to the palace and coming home once your shift is over, always under the watchful eye of San. The mood in the palace has been tense today, different rumours about Minister Kim floating in the air and a sinking feeling forms in your gut. No matter how hard you try, you cannot shake off the feeling that something ominous is about to take place.

Your suspicion starts taking shape when dusk falls and Seungcheol does not return. It turns into terror and restlessness as night falls, and still, there is no sign of him. The supper grows cold, and you fall asleep upright, waiting for him, your husband, who never comes.

When you open your eyes again, you find Jihye sitting next to you, a worried look on her face. “What is it?” You immediately sit up straight. “My lady, it is past midnight. Master has not returned yet. Should we send someone to the palace to ask for him?” She asks.

Your fingers fist around your skirt, anxiety coursing through your veins like poison. “We should.” You whisper.

Just as you are following Jihye out of the room, you hear commotion; the voice of a servant and Headservant Yang. Running to the porch, you see Seungcheol entering the house, dressed in his military uniform, his sword in his hand.

He marches straight towards you and drags you into your bedchamber without any words. “My Lord, where have you been!” You cry, gripping his arm. “I have been waiting for you—”

“Listen to me carefully,” he cuts you off, his hands resting on your shoulders as he leans down to be at your eye level. His usual unbothered demeanour is gone, replaced by worry that you see in his eyes as vividly as daylight. 

Something must be wrong. Your heart starts racing.

“The Minister of Trade is planning to attack us here tonight. They will be here anytime, so I need to get you out of here.”

“Wha— How did you even find that out? Are you sure?”

“The royal army captured a member of his team yesterday. We tortured the information out of him. Look at me,” he urges you, his fingers gripping your shoulder even tighter. “Minister Kim knows we are onto him. He has gone into hiding. He will stop at nothing to get to me, to you, do you understand? He plans to go down and drag me with him.” You see the fear in his eyes. The unshakable, indestructible man suddenly appears different, and this change terrifies you. 

“I am scared.” You whisper.

“You have nothing to be scared of.” He pulls you in his arms, holding you tightly against his chest. “I am going to send you to a safe place. I need you to do as I say, okay?”

You nod shakily, your fingers holding onto his sleeve in a death grip.

“Pack your essentials. We will leave within thirty minutes. Ask Jihye to help you.” He says, pressing a kiss on your forehead before marching outside.

With your heart hammering in your chest, you get to work, moving your shaky limbs to pack a bag with the help of Jihye. Soon, you are ready, and Seungcheol wastes no time wrapping everything up. He places Headservant Yang and the other servant in another neighbor's house to make sure they are safe before setting out with you.

In the darkness of the night, you get onto his horse with his help, followed by him sitting behind you, his arms around you to hold onto the reins. Jihye and another male servant get on another horse, and finally, a royal soldier follows from behind.

A little to the south of the town, there is a long, dense forest which leads to a small, quaint village. There is an ancient shrine there, inhabited by monks, and that is where Seungcheol intends to get you by dawn.

The silence grows heavier and thicker as you tread into the forest; the only sound echoing around is the soft galloping of the horses. You shiver, more from dread than from the cold night air and Seungcheol notices it. “Hold the reins.” He orders quietly so that his hands are free. He takes off the muffler wrapped around his neck and gently puts it around yours.

“I asked you to pack the essentials, wife.” His tone is playful. “I think a muffler in this weather counts as an essential.” He teases, and you understand it is his attempt to soothe you. “I am sorry, my lord. You should keep it. You will catch a cold.” You murmur.

“Hush now,” he shushes you, taking back the reins. “You should lean on me and close your eyes. It will take a while for us to reach there.”

“No, it is okay.” You reply, eyes focused ahead on the dark, narrow road cutting through the forest. 

It is such a gloomy night. You cannot spot a single star in the sky, shrouded by clouds.

Time ticks by. The night grows darker. 

Your journey continues through the hour of the ox and into the hour of the tiger. Exhaustion takes over you, and unable to resist it any longer, you close your eyes and lean your head back, resting it against your husband’s shoulder. It is not an ideal condition to get some shut-eye, but somehow you doze off.

When your eyes reopen, you hear the loud sound of a horse neighing and its heavy galloping. Seungcheol holds you tighter, and with a sharp tug of the reins and a nudge of his heels, his horse leaps into a full sprint. You look around worriedly, scanning through the dense bushes surrounding you.

“Master! Did they find us already?” Servant Min cries from behind as his horse too picks up pace.

The sounds grow louder, and just as your body tenses up, fearing the worst, you see San pop up from inside the forest, his horse taking a lunge and joining you on the road. “General, you have to keep going!” He yells. “They are right behind us.”

Seungcheol’s horse sprints parallel to his.

“How did they catch up so quickly?”

“Minister Kim had his men spread out. They were hiding in a camp a few miles behind. I took care of them, but the messenger escaped. I’m sure the minister is on his way. You need to move fast. There might be more of his men hiding in the forest.”

Upon hearing his words, you notice the specks of red on his hanbok. Swallowing the lump in your throat, you look behind to see your husband’s face. His jaw is clenched tight. “We need to come up with a plan. If they find us, we cannot hold them off. I need to get my wife to safety.” He yells back.

It is as if a cactus is lodged in your throat. “W-what do you mean?” You cry, your face aghast. 

He does not reply to you.

“It will be daybreak soon, General! We should hide somewhere.” San suggests.

Just then, you notice a sudden, strange ball of light in the sky, a little towards your right. It takes a moment for you to register that it is a signal, an arrow of fire shot from behind you.

“There are assassins ahead of us. They now know we are headed that way.” Seungcheol hisses.

“I will take care of it.” San nods, wielding his sword and screaming at the horse, “Go!” The horse runs faster, impossibly so, almost flying forward.

“I need you to stay calm and follow my orders.” Your husband says to you. “Do you hear me?” You nod shakily, “Yes.”

In five minutes, you catch up to San, who has taken care of most of the assassins that sat ahead at the curve. As you sprint near, Seungcheol hands the reins to you and readies his bow and arrow, taking perfect shots at the rest of the assassins. Then, he smoothly gets off the horse, followed by the other soldier who has been accompanying you, their swords wielded as they fight one-on-one.

A little ahead of the curb, you stop the horse and so does Jihye and servant Min, watching the fight anxiously. The three men take multiple assassins at a time, making sure they do not get to you.

You chew on your lower lip, your hands fidgeting as you watch the fight unfold. You wish Seungcheol gave you an archery set. You know the basics because you practised regularly as a child with your brother. Even though after his death, you stopped it for a while, you did not completely let go, taking occasional lessons from the older nobleman in your neighbourhood who used to be a skillful archer once upon a time.

By the time the last member of the group has been killed, shades of blue have coated the sky. Seungcheol and his team run back to the horses, their clothes specked with blood.  “Come on, we need to leave,” he says, mounting the horse.

There is a sudden sound; a sharp whoosh like a strong gust of wind just flew by, followed by a soft thud.

It is an arrow.

It whizzes towards you, missing the mark and hitting the tree trunk a couple of inches to your left. Your heart stops. A few hundred meters from the way you came, a large group of armed men show up. It is Minister Kim’s convoy.

They have caught up to you.

At the center, leading them is the minister himself, dressed in iron like he is about to go to war. His eyes, black and empty, scour the dead bodies of his assassins lying on the ground in front of him before looking at your husband.

His thin lips curl up into an evil smile. “General! No point in running now! It’s time to see how good of a fighter you are!” He yells. 

You feel Seungcheol's body growing tenser with each passing second, his hand gripping your thigh in a bruising hold. You, too, are paralyzed with fear, unsure of what to do. Then, absolutely shocking you, Seungcheol does the thing you least expected him to do. He starts getting off the horse slowly, his eyes trained on Minister Kim.

“San, take my wife and go.” He speaks quietly to the younger man who hadn’t gotten on his horse yet. “My Lord, what are you—” You do not get to finish your sentence because the younger man has instantly climbed behind you and snatched the reins from your hands.

“Get them!” You hear a shout as you are swept away with lightning speed. San’s grip around your body is iron solid, holding the reins with his eyes focused ahead on climbing the steep, hilly road at the end of the forest.

“No, please! You need to be with him!” You cry, fighting against him as you look behind to see Seungcheol fighting the Minister’s men, accompanied by the other soldier. 

He can never outfight all those people.

“Have faith in him. He knows what he is doing.” San assures, kicking his heels so the horse runs faster. You hear sounds right behind you, and you turn to see an assassin on a horse, aiming his arrow at you. San takes notice of it and swerves right immediately to avoid it.

As calculated, it misses, but a second later, your horse neighs out loud, standing on its hind legs before dropping down on the ground, taking the two of you with it. The arrow was meant for the horse. It struck his leg, injuring him, leaving the animal on the ground, softly crying in pain.

San wastes no time getting up and wielding his sword to fight off the man and the others following behind him. Jihye and servant Min, who were right behind you, yell out, calling for you to get on their horse. Jihye extends her hand towards you, but you ignore her, bunching up your skirt and making a run towards the curb.

“My Lady, what are you doing?” San yells, fighting off the assassins. “Jihye, stop her!”

“My Lady, come back!”

Ignoring their cries, you pick up the bow and set of arrows dropped by the assassin and continue sprinting down the steep road.

Then, finding a safe distance and a place behind an oak tree, you spot your husband, his movements sharp and precise as he takes down one man after the other. You watch as the minister slowly walks towards him, his sword dragging on the ground, leaving behind a threatening trail. Due to him wearing the armored plates, you know it is pointless to shoot at him, so you load your bow and aim at the assassins and start shooting.

The first one grazes past the man you aim at. Not discouraged, you continue, and the second one hits the target. 

Your husband looks in your direction immediately when the assassin drops dead, his eyes going from confusion to worry the moment he spots you. He does not have the time to do anything about it, as he has to fight the never-ending men.

And you are slightly grateful for that. Right now, he does not have the chance to come to you and force you away, giving you the chance to help him from afar. You continue loading arrows and shooting, missing some but hitting most, well aware of the fact that the Minister has spotted you.

From behind, you hear Jihye coming towards you, her exhausted pleas echoing down the path. “Jihye, I need more arrows!” You yell as you come down to your last two. “There should be some on the road back there!”

By now, most of the assassins have been taken care of, and the remainder are being fought by the soldier accompanying your husband. Minister Kim has approached Seunghceol as they engage in a heated sword fight, the minister swinging his sword like a madman, his growls echoing in the air. Your eyes scan around the place, thinking of finding a way to help Seungcheol, when San finally catches up to you, followed by Jihye, who did not get the arrows you asked for.

“My Lady, enough!” he yells. “You cannot be here! The road has been cleared—”

“We need to help him!” you yell back. “I cannot leave him here for—” You do not get to finish your sentence.

An arrow hits Seungcheol, piercing through the skin right below his right shoulder, on the top of his chest.

“No!” You scream, watching him stumble back for a moment. Your eyes fly through the scene, spotting an archer hidden inside the forest a little ahead towards your right. As you load your bow to take a shot at him, San finally comes to his senses, flying down the road to help Seungcheol.

You take the shot.

The arrow hits the hidden archer right in the chest, making him tumble backwards, disappearing out of sight. Then, you dash down the road, not scared of anything anymore, Jihye following you as your shadow.

San stands no match to Minister Kim, easily overpowered and tossed aside by his brute strength. He has the eyes of a madman, hell bent on getting to Seungcheol, discarding everything in his way like little bugs.

“I told you, you scarred lunatic!” He screams, charging at your husband. “I will slice your head off your neck and then do the same to your wife!”

He swings his sword around, charging for Seungcheol with all his might. Seungcheol blocks him with his sword, but the force of the attack forces him to fall to his knees. Minister Kim takes the opportunity to knock him off his feet with a kick. Seungcheol falls on the ground on his back, and in the split second, the minister raises his sword towards the sky before bringing it down sideways on his chest.

“Seungcheol!” You yell at the top of your lungs. “General!” San yells, coming from behind and tackling Minister Kim to the ground before he can fully swing his sword across. His helmet falls off from the force of San's attack. With your heart thundering in your ears, you point the remaining arrow at him.

It is like your body is not yours anymore. With zero hesitation, you take the shot while he is still pinned to the ground, struggling to get free, and the arrow hits the bullseye, right in the center of his forehead. 

His body slumps to the ground.

Pushing him away, San holds your husband’s lifeless body, his eyes slowly falling shut as he yells his name. Jihye and servant Min run past you, calling their master.

The bow drops from your hand.

You stand there, watching the ground go red underneath your husband’s body, your fingers gripping his muffler around your neck. 

—

Seungcheol receives his initial treatment in the shrine you were originally supposed to visit.

Once the news of the attack reached the capital, upon the king’s orders, the royal physician Yoon came to treat Seungcheol. He and his assistants crowded the room, tending to your husband’s injury with medicine and wrapping the area with gauze as he lay motionless on the mat.

You stood just outside the room, gazing at your sleeping husband, who looked nothing like his usual self—pale and frail, his body littered with little cuts. 

Why won’t he wake up? You miss his eyes. You miss his slow, unravelling gaze on you, his crimson, fiery eye that can almost cut through stone with a simple gaze. Where is that man?

Physician Yoon said he is in a deep sleep. They call it a vegetative state. The injury was quite lethal; the wound just a few centimetres away from damaging his heart. He said that the worst is over, and his pulse is stable now.

But he won’t wake up. He remains unresponsive, and it is unclear how long it will take for him to regain consciousness. 

“I see,” was all you said, standing motionless in your spot, gazing at your comatose husband.

A couple of days later, the King sent a royal convoy to move Seungcheol back to his house from the shrine. You had no complaints, wanting your husband to rest comfortably in his own house rather than a shrine. After a long journey, you reached home in the afternoon, greeted by Headservant Yang, who looked as devastated as you. After making sure your husband was okay, physician Yoon left, leaving you anticipating yet another sleepless night. 

It is nighttime now, and you sit still next to your sleeping husband. Headservant Yang peeks into the room, begging you to have some food. You ignore her, sitting quietly and observing your husband. The small lamp in the bedchamber casts warm shadows on his face, his sharp features appearing softer and weaker. 

He looks oddly at peace. You do not cry. You force a smile.

Leaning closer to him, you glide a gentle hand down his face and whisper, “You can rest. You have had a tough life, my dear. You can rest as long as you need, but you have to come back to me.”

You will pray to every god out there. You will visit every shrine, give unlimited offerings, and pray that your husband returns to you. You will do everything in your power to see him open his eyes. It is truly a shame you do not have much power in your hands.

Sometime later, your exhausted body falls into deep slumber, riddled with nightmares. Your husband lies in a pool of blood, and he does not wake up.

— 

The next morning, your father comes to see you. You do not move from your spot next to your husband to greet him as San leads him into the room before excusing himself.

He sits next to you, watching his son-in-law with small, worried eyes, muttering words of regret and concern. You hardly hear them, too busy patting Seungcheol’s face and arms with a damp cloth. Physician Yoon left a while ago after checking up on him and said that there is no progress. The king’s personal messenger came with him as well as the Head Eunuch, praying for Seungcheol and assuring to provide help in any way they can.

You couldn't care less about them. You sent them off, handing the letter you wrote for the king in the messenger’s hand before asking San to see them out.

“My daughter, you should eat something. You have to take care of yourself so that you can take care of him.” Your father urges.

You finish wiping your husband’s body in silence before setting the rag down and clasping his hand in yours. They are calloused but warm, and you silently send a prayer of gratitude to the heavens. He is alive. He is still here.

Tracing over his bruised knuckles with your fingertips, you whisper, “You know, Father, I have been lonely for a long time. After orabeoni died, I thought that was it. It could not get worse, but then Mother died. And I…I hated that I was alive. Because in that house, I was dead. I was dead while still being alive.”

You exhale a shaky breath, pulling Seungcheol’s hand closer to inspect it. You need to apply ointment on his knuckles.

“There was no colour, no joy, no celebration in that house. You were there but also not there. You never saw me. I was not enough, not after losing someone as precious as orabeoni. I felt so guilty. It should have been me, not him—that is all I could think of. I thought my entire life would be miserable like that, which is why I was so eager to marry this man.”

Another heavy sigh whooshes out of your lungs.

“Father, this man…people fear him. They say all sorts of weird things about him. But he is the kindest, warmest man I know. He kept his heart locked and hidden from the world, but he is so precious. He is gentle and kind, and he loves me. He loves me so dearly, Father, and I love him. How could I go on without him?”

And finally, the tears fall. Big droplets of water roll down your cheek as you fall on the ground, clutching onto your husband’s hand and sobbing into the floor, loud and broken.

Your father’s hand comes to rest on your shoulder rather unsurely, softly patting you as you keep crying, the tears that never came till now gushing out like a river with a broken dam. Your broken heart continues to shatter into even smaller pieces, and you cannot help but wonder what if he never wakes up again. Maybe you are doomed to be lonely.

The thought makes you cry some more. After a while, once you have managed to calm down, you sit up and wipe your tears.

“I…I did not know you felt that way.” Your father whispers, his voice ridden with guilt. “I…I never meant to hurt you. I am sorry—”

“I don’t want your apology right now, Father. I want you to pray for him.” You cut him off.

“I will. Of course I will.” He says, his eyes shining with unshed tears and guilt. “And when he is back on his feet, I will come visit you and I will accept your apology then.” You murmur, your gaze trained on your husband.

“Of course. Have faith, my dear. He will be awake soon.” Your father assures, his voice unstable. You hum absentmindedly.

If Seungcheol does not wake up, you do not know what you will do.

— 

The wind is particularly chilly this morning.

It has been a fortnight since Seungcheol fell into his comatose state, and he is just as before. Every day, Physician Yoon comes to check on him and then leaves while handing you some herbs to apply to his wound.

You have accepted this as your life now. Waking up every morning with a prayer that all the previous days were a long, gruesome nightmare, but then feeling grateful to see him still breathing, warm and alive.

After completing your daily prayer and offerings at the temple, you walk home in slow steps, the fatigue slowly creeping into your bones. The past week has been hard on you, and it looks like your body to starting to give up. You have not been eating properly, spending all your waking hours beside Seungcheol, tending to his comatose body or crying at the altar of the temple.

You cannot give up. Seungcheol is yet to awake.

Just as you come in front of your house, you find a small stray cat sitting comfortably in the sun. With a small, exhausted smile, you walk closer and crouch down, running your fingers through its shaggy fur. It looks dirty and disheveled, and you wonder where it is from.

You should probably bring it inside and give it some milk to eat. Judging by how comfortably it sits and basks in the sun, you are doubtful you will be able to get it inside your house.

“Would you like something to eat?” You whisper, gently scratching between its ears. The cat meows rather boredly, closing its eyes and resting its head on the ground after a quick swish of its tail.

Right then, a servant bursts out of the front door, looking like he saw a ghost. He looks back and forth down the road before finally spotting you on the ground. The wide-eyed, frazzled look on his face makes your blood run ice cold, and you immediately stand up.

“What is it?”

“My lady…Master is awake.”

You are free falling. You fall and fall, all the limbs of your body finally giving up after a week of war. For a long moment, you stand there, stuck in a daze. You don’t dare to breathe, afraid you would wake up and realize it was a dream.

“I will go get Physician Yoon. Please go inside, my lady.” The servant says before rushing down the street. You struggle to move. The stray cat at your feet has got up due to the commotion and is now strolling into the house.

With your heart racing in your chest, you slowly follow it, your legs shaky due to the nerves.

Seungcheol is awake. He is finally awake. 

You hear lots of voices, especially Headservant Yang’s, as she scolds and cries loudly. With a lump lodged in your throat, you keep on walking until you spot the door to his bedchamber. You catch a glimpse of your husband sitting up, and for some reason unknown to you, you immediately hide behind a nearby wall.

You are too scared to see him. Too overwhelmed, too afraid.

You thought of this. You dreamed of the day he would wake and look at you, and now that it is here, you do not know what to do. It feels unreal.

You are angry at him. You are also grateful. Angry for getting hurt. Grateful for waking up.

A sob bursts out of your throat, and you start wailing, unable to hold back the tears any longer. With your palms clasped over your mouth, you cry so hard that it becomes hard to breathe. The sobs wrack your body, knocking the air out of your lungs and leaving behind only pain.

The pain of almost losing him. The pain of seeing him lie there almost lifeless, day after day.

A hand on your shoulder startles you, and you find Jihye standing next to you. Her eyes are misty as she wraps an arm around your heaving body and rubs your arms soothingly. “It is alright, my lady. Please do not cry. He is looking for you.”

Her words make you cry some more before you manage to wipe your tears and snot. It is pretty futile because they do not stop completely. With shaky legs, you move from your hiding spot and continue towards his chamber, your heart pounding loudly in your ears.

Seungcheol spots you immediately, his posture straightening as he sees you arriving. But you do not meet his eye. 

You cannot bring yourself to. If you look at him, you will start crying once more, right in the middle of the yard, in front of all the servants. 

Headservant Yang and others start moving away as they see you approaching, giving you privacy. You cross the porch, your eyes still trained on the wooden floor of his bedchamber, your hands slightly shaking.

Finally, you step inside and shut the door behind you. Then, your eyes slowly travel to his.

He is definitely paler and thinner than before, but you see life in his eyes. You see the spark and the shine that have always been present in them, and right at that moment, you are sure he will be alright.

Thank god.

He looks up at you, his eyes brimming with longing and guilt. His usual plump red lip shaded in a pale pink colour. His face littered with little cuts that are still healing, yet he has never looked more handsome.

And you have never been happier to see him.

You want to scream. You want to yell at him and tell him how much you love him, but you cannot speak. Tears and sobs threaten to overflow once more, so you stand there like a statue and keep staring at your husband, repeating in your head that he is alive and well. 

Until your knees finally give out. 

You kneel in front of him and wrap your arms around his neck, careful to avoid his left chest and leaning your weight more on the right.  Breathing him in, you hold him as tightly as possible, wishing you could merge yourself into him, wishing you could lock him away and protect him for the rest of his life.

Your tears wet his bare shoulders, your fingers tightly gripping onto the muscles on his back, clutching him on for dear life. It feels as if you let him go— if your grip loosens ever so slightly, you will lose him forever.

It takes a long moment for you to realize how your body is shaking due to your sobs and tearful hiccups, only when your husband's warm hands wrap around you, patting your back like you are a small, wounded animal.

“It is okay, my dear. Everything is okay,” he soothes in the softest voice, and when you hear him, another violent sob slips past your throat while you cling to him and cry in the crook of his neck.

You want to stop, but the tears are endless, a mixture of pain and relief. Gingerly, Seungcheol pulls you away from him to take a look at your face, which is puffy and tear-stained. With his thumbs, he wipes your tears away, murmuring, “Hush, now. It pains me to see you cry like this.”

You want to reply, but the lump in your throat is still heavy, and you know if you try to utter something, only sobs will come out, so you remain silent, raking your eyes over his body before settling on the wound on his chest.

“I am alright, I promise.” He assures you once he sees your gaze. “I feel well-rested, in fact.”

You are glad to hear that.

Wiping the remaining tears and snot rather unceremoniously with your sleeve, you get up on your feet to leave the room, but he tugs on your wrist, pulling you back down and into his arms this time.

“Where are you going?”

“To get you some herbal tea.” You reply, your voice meek and scratchy. Your husband locks his arms around you. “Headservant Yang will do that. I need you to stay here. I have missed you.”

Your lower lip trembles, but you will yourself not to cry again. Instead, you whisper, “I have missed you as well. I have missed you so much, you have no idea, Seungcheol.”

He shifts, peering at your face with a surprised look. “You called me by my name.”

“I have been calling your name for the past week.” You murmur, staring at your lap.

He maneuvers your body with gentle, effortless hands so that he can see you fully. “You know, you look like the one who has been comatose for a week. What is this I am seeing? When was the last time you had a proper meal?” He frowns, his eyes trained on you like a hawk as he squints at your face.

You look away, murmuring, “I have been busy nursing a sick man.”

He scoffs. “Not busy enough to eat. You look like a ghost, my wife. I am genuinely worried about you.”

You do not meet his gaze. With an exasperated sigh, he gently tilts your face up by the chin. “Look at me.” He softly commands you. You do as you are told, finding his eyes set on you, those beautiful, mesmerizing eyes that you missed so deeply. 

Your husband’s face inches closer to press a soft kiss on your forehead. It is not quick; he holds his lips pressed right in the middle of your forehead, slightly above your brow, like he is trying to leave an imprint. You close your eyes and lean closer, savouring the feel of his lips against your skin.

Oh, how you longed for this.

“I love you.”

You must have heard wrong. You stop breathing, your body going tense for a moment. Seungcheol leans back, one of his hands wrapped around your neck, his thumb stroking your cheek while the other cups the back of your head, angling your face just slightly upwards and in line with his gaze.

“I love you.” He repeats—his words slow, heavy, deliberate.

You feel faint. It is hard for you to find words, and while you continue gaping at him with parted lips and shining eyes, he continues, “I was scared I would not be able to say this to you. As I lay on the ground and saw you standing there, this was all I could think of. I was angry at myself for never telling you how much I love you.”

“Oh Seungcheol…” your lips tremble. You wrap your arms around his neck, making yourself at home by placing your head under his chin, feeling his hard muscles against your body.

“I love you, dear wife. I love you more than life itself. More than I could ever express.” You hug him tighter. “I love you, too. I love you so much, Seungcheol. You are my whole world.”

“I know.” He murmurs. “I knew the moment you came back towards me. Which you should not have done, by the way. You put yourself in danger.” He loosens his hold on you to catch a glimpse of your face, his gaze admonishing. “I am still mad at you for doing that, but you look miserable enough, so I will let you off.”

You only smile.

“Also, when were you going to tell me what an amazing archer you are? How come I did not know that?”

You look away sheepishly, biting your lip. “You never asked.”

He laughs, the sound sweet and throaty. His arms wrap around you in a tight, protective hold once again, and you close your eyes, savouring the rhythm of his heartbeat next to your ear. As you bask in his warmth, you announce, “You are not going back to the military. I am not letting you go.” Detangling himself from you, your husband regards you with an amused look, like he cannot believe you. “Oh, really?”

“I am serious.” You huff with a frown. “You are not going back. You have fought enough battles for a lifetime. Now it is time for you to rest.”

“Hm. And what if His Majesty disapproves?” His tone is playful.

“I do not care. I already wrote him a letter, saying that once you woke up, you would not resume your duties.”

Amazed, your husband watches you, his eyes twinkling with pride. “I cannot believe you did that.” You ignore him. “Promise me. Promise me you will not go back to the military.”

He remains silent, watching you calmly, and you start getting anxious, expecting the worst. Just as you start thinking of different ways to force him to stay, he says, “I will not, I promise. I was not going to go any way. That was the first decision I made when I opened my eyes. I got another chance at life with you. I plan on using it very well.”

Your heart soars. You grin, a full-on smile sweeping over your face after a long time. Pressing a soft, chaste kiss on his lips, you whisper, “Can we go live by the sea now?” His eyes shine with love. “Yes, we can.”

You couldn't be happier. Your heart couldn't be fuller. It is pure delight when you think of a future with this man, away from all the noise and the troubles that have been plaguing your life until now.

He can be safe now. He can rest.

Unconsciously, your thumb traces the scar next to his eye, feeling the bumpy skin underneath your finger. The scar now looks like a tree branch that extends into even smaller branches containing little flowers.

You lean forward and press a kiss on it. 

“I am just glad you will not get hurt anymore. You have already been through so much.” You whisper, your sad gaze trailing over all the marks on his skin, old and new, before settling on his left chest. You gingerly place your hand over the gauze, remembering how long and deep the gash was.

It will scar for sure. Probably the biggest scar on his body, and it will be because he was protecting you. A shaky breath parts from your lips as you are momentarily transported back in time; him lying motionless on the ground that was turning red. As if your husband can read your thoughts, he gently tilts your chin up and forces you to meet his eyes.

“My dear, I am alright. Look at me.”

“This will scar. You will be in much pain as it heals. Because of me.”

“Don't say that.” He holds you against his chest, his fingers wrapping tightly around your limbs. “You are the only one who loves my scars. Because of you, I now love them too. I would not have changed a single thing if I had the chance. You know why? Because every one of the scars in my body led me to you. And this one?” He places a hand over yours, which is resting on his chest.

“This one tied me to you forever. I earned you. I earned your forever through this. So I think this is the most beautiful.”

A lone tear strolls down your cheek. “Oh, Seungcheol,” you choke over a sob, tilting your face up to capture his lips in a kiss.

His arms engulf you completely, his lips taking over yours, his tongue moving inside your mouth like he has been starving for this.

It is breathless, passionate, and gentle at the same time, conveying all the feelings and emotions the two of you could never put into words. 

It is beautiful, like the scars on his body, leaving behind a trace of love.

For a special epilogue, head over to my Patreon. Click here to see the preview!

© startlightxsvt 2025 | All Rights Reserved. Do not copy, translate, adapt, or repurpose any of my works.

A/N 2: First of all, I want to thank you for reading till the end. Next, I just want to say that this fic has been one of my dream projects. Is it the best? Maybe not but did I have the most fun writing it? Hell yes! It was originally supposed to be a bit longer but I cut some parts out, mainly because I was worried this app wouldn't let me post the entire thing easily. Sure enough, it said that there were too many blocks on my post, so I had to stitch together a lot of passages even though they were separate at first. So, I'm sorry if the flow gets weird in some places.

On a different note, I will also be posting this on AO3 once I have opened my account (I am still waiting for their invitation mail), so once I have made my account, I will link it here. Do support me over there! Finally, I just want to take a moment to thank you all for your support. I am really excited to hear from you guys about this fic, so please do send an ask!

That's it from me for now. For my next fic, I will be returning with something short and lighthearted. Stay happy and healthy, y'all! <33

[starlightxsvt]

Scars Leave a Beautiful Trace | c.sc

synopsis ➳ ❝an arranged marriage with the man the entire land is afraid of. the man with a crimson eye. they call him the grim reaper. cold, ruthless, unforgiving. yet you are drawn to him, curious to see the man hiding behind the cold, hard exterior. and the man behind is hauntingly beautiful but your forever with him is not promised.❞ pairing ➳ husband general!seungcheol/ x wife noblewoman!reader genre ➳ historical romance (joseon era), angst, pining, smut. wc ➳ 25.4k + 1040 (patreon) warnings ➳ blood, mentions of war, scars, minor character death, attachment issues, arranged marriage, mentions of cheating, severe injury, miscommunication. cheol is an ass in the first half, reader is lowkey a simp, jealousy, big dicc cheol, bondage, virgin sex, rough, unprotected sex, fingering, teasing, edging, dirty talking, praise kink. a/n: this is a work of fiction, so take this with a grain of salt. it will be historically inaccurate, so my apologies beforehand. (also, surprise?? posting it a day early hehe)

glossary:

Jangot – Veil-like cloak for women

Binyeo – Decorative hairpin

Yakgwa – Honey-ginger cookie

Jeonbok – Traditional sleeveless vest for men

Dasik – Pressed tea cookie

Jeogori – Upper garment or jacket

Chima – Skirt worn by women

Baduk – Strategy board game (Go)

Daenggi – Ribbon for braids

Hour of the Ox – 1:00–3:00 AM

Hour of the Tiger – 3:00–5:00 AM

Orabeoni – Respectful term for older brother

+82 some miracle

only listen to my general

“Daughter, this is General Choi Seungcheol, your betrothed. Greet him properly,” your father commands softly, his eyes trained on you.

Your breath stutters in your chest.

Whether from the loaded tension in the air, the silence of the room or your future husband’s penetrating eyes on you, you are unsure. 

His eyes…

You saw them once, a long, long time ago, and you remember them in explicit detail because they are heterochromatic. His right iris is red, a shade of fiery crimson that is scary but also hypnotizing—a stark contrast to his left iris, which is pure black. 

You wish it were only his eyes that were lethal. Unfortunately for you, it is his presence itself. It is the way he silently sits there, poised and alert, holding his sword in his right hand and softly drumming his left index finger on his knee, as if telling you to hurry up. It is the way his face remains unreadable, a porcelain white canvas containing a pair of eyes fiercer than a mountain lion's, a sharp nose that is slightly crooked on the left, and pink lips that are pressed in a thin line. The most daunting of it all, the scar on the right side of his face, just below his eye and on top of his cheekbone. It is no more than a couple of inches long, but the gash looks deep, even after it has healed and imagining the pain behind that curse rakes shivers down your spine. 

Finally, you snap out of your reverie.

With a shaky exhale, you bow down and speak as humbly as possible. “Please accept my greetings, my lord. It is a pleasure to meet you.”

— 

Choi Seungcheol is well known throughout the kingdom, highly feared and revered. In fact, many hold him in the same regard as the king, which is not unfair or surprising. He is the Minister of War and the General of the royal military, the right-hand man of the King and his most trusted subject. Since his boyhood, he demonstrated excellent swordsmanship, and paired with his keen intellect and faultless war strategies, he quickly rose through the ranks and became the King's favourite. His name spread far and wide after he brought victory to the nation in two consecutive wars. He attended the first one when he was only eighteen, and he became infamous for that.

That war with the nearby enemy nation was extremely brutal, as it took away the lives of many of the best men in the military. When Seungcheol returned to the capital with the enemy General’s head in his hands, he was a changed man who had altered the course of history. Bloodied, beaten and bruised, he sported the deep scar on his face, fresh and bleeding. 

Rumours spread from there. Though he brought the nation victory, the townspeople gossiped about everything from his scar, his crimson eye, to his temper, claiming that he was a madman or possessed by an evil spirit. 

You have heard a few things from your father, too. He has agreed that the war changed the man, rightfully so. As the state minister, your father saw firsthand how brutal and merciless the war was till the last moment. So much so that he stepped down from his position afterwards.

He lost his son in the war, after all. Your older brother, whom you vaguely remember because you were only eight at that time. 

Nothing was the same after his passing. Your father lost his spark, your mother became quiet and indifferent, and the house fell into a deathly silence that felt haunted. The silence still lingers, fourteen years later. 

It has been a long time, so long that sometimes you feel like those days never existed. Yet, you remember them vividly: the pain of your mother’s death four years after your brothers, the remaining light dissipating from your father's eyes and the house falling into a perpetuating state of darkness, a place where everyone remained silent, from the slaves to the master. A place that never truly was illuminated, even during the brightest days of summer. A place that you had to call home but wasn’t your home. It was a graveyard where you floated through, watching the world outside bathe and shine with colours when the second war was won, when the king became the father of a boy, when the economy flourished. Seasons passed and years went by, yet your house never celebrated a holiday or a special occasion. 

You saw your father survive each day, haunted by his past and unaware of the present. Every day, he would see students from morning till noon, fulfilling his duties as a scholar before retiring to his room and staying there till the next morning.

The only time you saw some life in him was three years ago, when he called you one day in his chamber to announce that you would get married to Choi Seungcheol once he returned from his three-year trip to another country. Choi Seungcheol, the General of the Royal Military. The man with heterochromatic eyes, who came to your brother’s funeral years ago.

That’s how you have remembered him. The man with two different colored eyes, who stood in the rain with a grim expression on his face as they lowered your brother into the ground.

Over the years, you have heard notorious things about him. He has gained an infamous reputation among the townspeople. Many people believe that he is insane and that he murders people for fun. Word goes around that he is a womanizer, a man without a heart, a man who did not spare his own brother and executed him for treason.

You don’t know how much of this is true.

It all might be true; he just might be the devil living in a human body, but funnily enough, you do not care.

You will do anything to get out of this house. Living here for the past fourteen years has been like being buried alive. You are breathing, yet you don’t feel alive—you don’t remember the last time you felt that way, if ever.

And if a diabolical, insane man is your ticket out of this grave, you will take it. You will accept it with open arms and a smile on your face.

— 

The marketplace is crowded.

You gently tread through the throng of people, holding your jangot over your head as you eye the stalls leisurely, nothing in particular catching your attention. 

“My lady,” Jihye whispers, walking alongside you. “You have been circling the market for the past half an hour. What are you even looking for?”

A dejected sigh flows past your lips. 

Last time you came to the market, a pretty flower binyeo caught your eye. You had not received your salary yet at that time, and so, you could not purchase the piece. You had aimed to buy that binyeo today, but now that you've received your pay, it's no longer available. You have been scouring the market ever since, looking for something similar, but there is none.

“You know what, let us buy some yakgwa and head home,” you say, looking for a snack shop. Jihye smiles, her eyes flickering excitedly at your mention of buying sweets.

A few feet ahead of you, you spot a sweet shop. Instead of focusing on the plethora of sweets laid out, your gaze travels to the right, stopping on two men standing by that shop, their backs facing you.

Something about the tall, broad man dressed in black makes you stop in your tracks. Particularly, his long ebony hair feels oddly familiar to you. 

The man shifts a little, and you catch the slightest glimpse of his side profile through the busy street. Immediately, you squeak and hide behind a nearby stall.

It is General Choi, your husband-to-be.

“My lady, what is wrong?” Jihye hovers around you worriedly. Without looking away from the man, you dig into the sleeve of your hanbok, fishing out some coins and handing them to Jihye. 

“Here. Go buy as much yakgwa as you want.” You murmur, pushing her towards the shop while you get more comfortable in your hiding spot.

You don’t even know why you are hiding. You did not do anything wrong, and you surely have no reason to spy on your future husband in the middle of a busy marketplace.

Still, you continue observing him converse with the other gentleman. His stance is poised and powerful as always, and dressed head to toe in his signature black military clothes, he looks like death itself. Haunting but hypnotizing; which would explain why you cannot look away. 

And then, suddenly, he turns around, locking his eyes with you straight, as if he knew exactly where you were hiding. 

With a gasp of mortification and terror, you immediately whip your head away and bump into a passerby. Bowing your head in an apology, you let the woman pass through before tentatively turning your head back to the street.

Choi Seungcheol stands right behind you.

“Ah!” You yelp, taken aback and stumble a few steps behind. He reaches out immediately and grabs your elbow in a flash, saving you from the fall.

Flushed and breathless, you gape at him like a fish out of water.

He has the usual grim and unamused look on his face, peering down at you almost like he is judging you. His hair is tied up in a half bun, and his bangs frame half of his face, covering his odd eye and the scar. It is a shame, you find yourself thinking as you observe the rest of his face, counting the moles on his pale skin.

It is when he lets you go that you realize he had been holding onto you all this time, and you stood there like a statue.

How unladylike!

First, he catches you spying on him, and now— 

“My apologies, my Lord.” You immediately take several steps back, putting a safe distance between the two of you. Full of shame, you keep your head low as you murmur, “I was simply startled to see you.”

“It seems that you were spying on me.” His voice is smooth and rich, calm and authoritative. “No!” You gasp. “I was just…um…looking. I thought you…ah…looked somewhat familiar…”

He cocks a thick brow in amusement, the faintest smirk creeping up on his lips. 

What are you even saying?

Cringing at your own words, you press your lips shut and scowl at the ground, cursing the heavens for your predicament.

“You are not at the palace today?” He asks. You welcome the change of topic with great relief.

"No, my Lord. I asked for a break from my duties this week as I am preparing for the wedding.”

With no mother or close female relatives, it is up to you to prepare your wedding. 

Generally, you do not like skipping work. It has been two months since you secured a job at the palace after a lot of struggle. Your father was not very happy with the idea of you working, especially in the palace, but he ultimately gave in. 

You work as a teacher to the children under the head court lady of the palace, teaching them how to read and write while they train to be future court ladies. Sometimes you also work as a bookkeeper for the royal library, but that is something you do voluntarily and out of your love for reading. The pay is not very much, but it gives you a sense of freedom and identity, something you struggled to find for the last twenty-two years.

“Head Court Lady Yeo speaks very highly of you.” General Choi states. You do not understand whether he meant it positively or negatively, given his flat tone. Confused, you chuckle awkwardly. “It is a pleasure to work under her guidance. She is very patient and—”

Suddenly, Seungcheol reaches out to you, grabbing you by the arm and harshly tugging you towards him. Completely oblivious as to what is happening, you bump into his chest as his arms snake around you, protectively holding your body next to his.

Less than half a second later, a man riding a horse whooshes by, yelling out apologies to all the people for his rowdy horse. Dear Lord, you were about to be trampled by a horse if not for him.

“Are you alright?” 

His voice makes you look up at him, wide-eyed and panting. It takes a moment for you to realize that he is holding you against his chest, his warm hand resting on your shoulder in a protective grip while your hands rest on his shoulders, gripping the fabric of his jeonbok for support.

With your heart pounding loudly in your ears, it takes you yet another moment to remember how inappropriate this is, the way you are pressed against him. In a flash, you free yourself from his hold and shuffle back, murmuring a mortified apology. At the same time, you hate how much you miss his touch on you.

How odd.

“My lady, are you alright!” Jihye comes running down the street, a packet of confectionery in her hands. 

“Y-yes, I am okay. Let us get going.” You announce, immediately turning away from General Choi, desperate to escape this mortifying situation.

“Hold on.” The deep baritone of his voice steals a breath from your lips. Your body instinctively listens to his command, and you carefully look behind to see him picking up your jangot, which you probably dropped earlier and were about to leave without.

Once more, you cringe at your clumsiness as you watch him brush off the dirt before extending the material towards you. With shaky hands, you reach for it. “Thank you, my Lord. I wish you a pleasant day.”

The next second, you rush out of the marketplace as if the grim reaper himself were chasing after you. Behind you, Jihye struggles to keep up, but you couldn't care less, hiding your face in embarrassment.

That night, under the blanket, you lie wide awake. The memory of General Choi’s hand on your body and his chest pressed against yours keeps repeating in your head in a loop. A foreign, warm sensation pools in your belly, and you find yourself shamefully fantasizing about your future husband, forsaking slumber.

—

You got married today. 

According to the elders of the town, it is one of the most important days of your life, yet it felt like every other—quick and ordinary. Probably because the groom was barely there.

During noon, he came in to fulfil the basic rituals before marching out, leaving a note for you with Jihye. The work in the palace is too demanding, so he must go. He would see you tonight at his place. That was all he said.

Hours later, night has fallen and you are now in his home.

You sit alone in a chamber prepared especially for you. His servants made sure you were comfortable, helping you bathe and prepare for the first night with your husband before leaving you alone to sit with your thoughts and hear the hum of the crickets in the nearby forest.

You declined their offer to serve you dinner. It is only appropriate to wait for your husband and share the first meal together. 

Adorned in fine silk and pretty ribbons, you sit and wait for your husband to come, watching the flame of the candle dancing and melting away the wax. 

You are nervous. It is your first night with your husband. You, who has never even looked at a man for a second too long. You are now married to one of the most feared men in the kingdom. You have heard people talk about his ruthlessness in bed. Apparently, the girls in the brothel talk about it all the time, especially when he visits. Jihye said that whoever spends the night with him needs an entire day to recover.

“Lady Choi,” Head Servant Yang suddenly calls your name before opening the door. “Master has arrived. He is taking a bath currently.”

You snap out of the thoughts of bedding your husband and give her a shy smile. “Could you please set the table then?”

“Of course.” The elderly woman bows and walks out of the room, arranging for dinner to be set in your chamber.

Ten minutes after the dinner is served, General Choi walks into the room. Fresh out of the bath, he is dressed in his nightwear and his hair is tied up in a neat bun, giving you an uninterrupted view of his face. Once again, you find yourself hypnotised by his heterochromatic eyes.

“You did not have dinner?” He asks, sitting down in front of you. His movement is as graceful as always, silent yet stealthy. His posture is upright, the muscles of his shoulders taught as he sits and regards you with careful eyes.

“I was waiting for you, my Lord.” You reply meekly.

“You should not have,” he states, his tone almost condescending. “I am sure Head Servant Yang informed you that I return from work late most days.”

“Today is a special day, is it not?” You find yourself speaking boldly. Your words are firm like the gaze in your eyes, and for a long moment, the chamber is plunged into suffocating silence.

General Choi keeps looking down at you, his gaze as intimidating as ever, and you half expect him to draw his sword from its sheath and slice your head off. Instead, his lips curl upwards, and a noise of amusement leaves his throat. 

“Lady Choi, you seem upset.” He states, his voice half challenging and half something you cannot pinpoint. Sarcasm? Threat?

Unsure how to reply to that, you bite your lip and stare at the food laid out in front of you. All your appetite is gone now.

“Let me tell you something, Lady Choi.” Your husband leans closer to you over the table. Something about the way he utters your title forces you to meet his gaze. Like always, the fierce look in his eyes steals away your breath.

The man is hauntingly beautiful.

“I am certain you have some expectations from this marriage, and I cannot hold that against you. However, let me inform you now, I will not be able to fulfil your expectations, whatever they may be. So, I suggest you completely let go of your expectations, for your own good.”

What? You are sure no woman in Joseon’s history ever had to hear these words on her wedding night.

“My Lord, I do not understand.”

He does not bother clarifying his words. Instead, the look in his eyes shifts, his gaze sharpening on you. Lazily, he pours himself a drink from the pitcher and chugs it down.

“I know what this marriage means to you.”

You hold your breath and watch him, alarmed. He smirks. “It means freedom. It is your way out of that house. So, let this marriage be just that. A way out for you and a duty obliged for me.”

Well, consummating the marriage is also a duty. So is spending time with your wife and sharing a meal with her on your wedding night. You want to yell the words out, but you press your lips shut and stare at him, still processing what is happening.

“As long as we maintain our boundaries, this will be a great union,” he announces almost like he is reassuring you. You feel anything but that.

You feel abandoned, yet again.

“You should eat now,” he says, standing up. “I will retire for the night.” Without sparing another glance at you, he leaves the room. For a long moment, you silently sit in your place, your fancy garment and jewellery suddenly becoming too heavy on your skin. Ignoring the sensation, you reach for the rice, nibbling on the grains with your chopsticks.

You do not understand why tears prick your eyes.

— 

The next morning, an unknown man waits for you as you step out of your chamber and put on your shoes, ready to leave for the palace.

Your husband had left early in the morning, and while the news hurt you slightly, it also left you with relief. After last night, you have not had enough time to process your emotions to face him.

The strange man bows as he sees you approaching. “Greetings, Lady Choi. I am San. As per General Choi’s orders, I shall accompany you from now on for your safety.” Stupefied, you blink at the man. His build and posture indicate that he is a military person, but you do not understand why your husband would have someone guard you.

“My husband put you up to this?” You raise a brow. “Why?”

“I am afraid I cannot say. It was his order.”

You narrow your eyes at him. “So, from now on, you will what? Follow me everywhere?”

“Yes. Whenever you need to go out, I shall accompany you.”

“Is someone trying to kill me?” You ask, point blank, blinking at him.

San makes a noise of surprise before an awkward laugh spills from his lips. “O-of course not, my lady.” You keep eyeing the strange man with suspicion as you start heading for the front door. “Alright then, let us leave.”

— 

You bump into your husband at the palace.

At noon, when the sun is high in the sky, you finish teaching the young girls. Then, you head to the library to cool off and see if the head librarian needs any help. With no new work for you, Librarian Kim serves you some tea and sweets, congratulating you on your marriage. On your way out, he gives you some dasik to take home and share with your husband.

The husband who seems to want to do nothing with you.

With gratitude, you take the sweets and head out of the library, done with your day's work at the palace. That is when you see him. Below the steps of the library building, he approaches, followed by two other men, all dressed in uniforms. Their movements are quick and determined, almost like they are on a military mission.

General Choi takes notice of you as he climbs the stairs. Flustered and oddly shy, your first instinct is to hide. With no place to do that, you stand your ground and bow, “My Lord—”

He walks past as if he did not see you.

You stand rooted to your spot, blinking at the ground.

What just happened?

He ignored you. He blatantly ignored you. His wife. There is no way he did not see you. He did. His eyes met yours, and he held your gaze before looking away.

Hurt and humiliated, you stand there for several long moments, the sun scorching your back. You are tempted to storm back into the library and demand why he did that, but you know better than that.

For one, there is always the danger of him chopping your head off. You heard he once cut off a man’s head just for looking at him too long.

The other issue is more personal. Walking in there would make you look desperate, especially in front of others. You are supposed to be a newlywed happy wife, not someone who chases after her husband when he ignores her in public. The thought makes you feel like pins prickling your heart.

Once more in your life, you are insignificant. You are the lesser one, the one who can be forgotten, overlooked.

With boulders forming in your heart, you head home.

— 

Your husband returned home late today as well.

You had your dinner long ago, and Jihye prepared your bed for you. However, you did not get under the covers. In the dimly lit space of your bedchamber, you have been sitting with your head on your knees, curled up in a corner and watching the candle burn.

No matter how hard you try, you fail to get past the incident earlier today. You simply cannot comprehend why your husband would ignore you like that.

Your curiosity gets the better of you. With a resolved breath, you step out of your room and walk into his bedchamber. You knock at his door. “My Lord, may I come in?”

A beat of silence. “Yes.”

Opening the doors, you find Seungcheol tying the knot of his undershirt. The material is thin and white, giving you a pretty decent glimpse of his silhouette. Flustered, you immediately lower your gaze and shake your head at yourself. 

You did not think this through. Of course, he would be in his sleepwear, like you.

Shit.

It takes you another second to realize you, too, are in your sleepwear. A thin white top over your underskirt. With the realization dawning on you, you cross your arms over your chest and look up at him, conflicted and embarrassed.

Like always, his face gives nothing away. In the calmest of tones, he questions, “Did you need something from me?”

“Uhm…well…” Once again, you get distracted by the visual of your husband. In the dimly lit room, he appears even more stunning, the light of the candle casting strange shadows on his figure, contouring his muscles underneath the thin fabric. With his long, black hair undone, some strands fall on his face, covering his eyes. Through the curtain of his hair, his odd eye shines exceptionally bright in the darkness, stealing your breath.

“I am sure the reason for your visit is not to stare at me, Lady Choi.” He states once more, and you finally snap out of your thoughts.

Closing the door behind you, you gather all your resolve and stand straight.  “My apologies. I wanted to talk to you.”

“I am all ears.” He says, not looking at you. He busies himself by placing his sword next to his mat and sitting down comfortably.

“Why did you ignore me today at the palace?” You get straight to the point. The man turns to look at you slowly, his eyes sharpening ever so slightly. Despite him sitting, you feel as if he is towering over you, and you cannot help but hold your breath, waiting for whatever is to come. Something flashes in his eyes, and once again, you do not know what it is. Rage? Annoyance? Amusement?

You have no clue.

“It seems that you are disappointed, Lady Choi.” He finally replies, his tone containing that tinge of amusement he has with you. Like you are a circus monkey whose action provides him with fleeting, insignificant pleasure. 

You wait for him to elaborate, but he does not, looking at you with a challenging stare. You hate how…diplomatic he is all the time. “Why did you do it?” You repeat, trying to appear as stern as possible, which is almost comical. In front of you is the man people call the grim reaper.

General Choi shifts his position, resting his arm on his knee before fixing his gaze back on you. His tone is quiet, serious. “Let me tell you something, Lady Choi. In public, we are not to acknowledge each other. Do you understand me?”

The ground has been snatched from beneath your feet. You fall into an endless pit, your heart crushing into tiny bits with each of his words. Why? Why would he say something like that?

“Why?” You don’t mask the hurt and desperation in your voice. He ignores you. “If that was all, you may leave now. I wish to get some rest.”

Tears brim in your eyes. Why does he treat you like this? What crime did you ever commit against him?

Your mouth hangs open, shocked and helpless at his attitude towards you. Defeated, you silently pad back to the door. Before you open it, however, you pause. Slowly, you turn back to him. “Why did you assign that man to follow me around?”

He does not look at you. “San is one of the few men I trust. He will keep you safe.”

He has this tendency to never answer your question directly. He dances around it, giving curt, memorized answers. It feels like you are talking to a wall, frustrating and pointless. The next words slip past your lips thoughtlessly and barely above a whisper. “Why do we not sleep in the same room?” That finally gets his attention. He slowly turns his head to look at you, his pupils wide with shock. Like, he cannot believe that you just said that. 

Right. Why did you say that out loud? You look away in embarrassment, cringing at your words.

“So…” he starts to get up. You step back, alarmed.

Why is he getting up? He will slice your head off for sure this time.

With the grace of a lion about to devour his prey, he inches closer to you, his eyes flashing almost unnaturally. You keep walking backwards until your back meets the door and there is no place left to go.

He stops a mere inch away from you, so close that your clothes brush, so close that you can see his chest underneath his nightshirt, so close that you can inhale the scent of soap on his skin. Your breath catches in your throat, and your eyes fall shut on their own.

“My wife wishes to sleep with me. Is that it?” His voice is heaven against your ears, deep, husky and warm, leaving your brain fumbling. You open your eyes to see him staring straight at you, and immediately, heat shoots up all through your body from your toes. 

“I…I didn’t…mean…” You stumble over your words, the sight of him so close to you, messing with your system.

He stares at you, his lips curling up in a smirk. “I am sure you have heard what they say about me.” He pauses. His hand reaches out towards your face, and you hold your breath in alarm and anticipation. With the faintest of touches, he drags his index finger against your jaw and down your neck. “I am sure you know how I am…in bed.” He whispers against your ear, and you can feel your heart physically drop as tingles shoot through your entire body.

At this point, you have forgotten how to breathe. 

“You could not handle me, Lady Choi.” He says and then, absolutely shocking you, leans closer to your neck. Tucking a stray piece of hair beneath your ears, he takes a long inhale of you and then slowly steps away from you.

You feel like you are on fire, beads of sweat gathering on your temples. Your mouth remains agape, processing what just happened as you stand pressed against the door, frozen like prey in shock.

“Good night, Lady Choi.” He says in the most nonchalant way possible, going back to bed. You manage to summon all your strength and rush out of his room, shutting the wooden panels loudly behind you. Outside, you gasp for air, clutching your chest, your heart racing like you just ran for your life. You stand outside the door for a long time, taking in deep breaths and trying to get your heart to calm down as foreign sensations flood through your veins, leaving behind an ache you have never felt before.

You want your husband, you realize. You want him to do all those filthy, animalistic things that you heard of…with you.

— 

You have accepted your new life. A married woman without a husband’s attention or acknowledgement.

In the last two weeks, a routine has fallen into place for you. You wake up, go to work, come home for lunch, spend the afternoon with Jihye lounging around before having dinner and going to bed. Throughout the day, setting eyes upon your husband is rare because he leaves with the sunrise and gets home after dinner. Most days, he has dinner in his chamber by himself, and on the rare occasions he is home early (twice), he shares it with you.

The freedom you thought an advantageous marriage would give you has not come. In fact, you feel more restricted than before. With San following you around like a hawk, you have lost interest in going outside to explore the neighbourhood. Jihye, too, has been weird lately. She vehemently opposes you going outside, especially to the market or other crowded areas and always runs your errands for you.

After a lot of thinking, you have come to a conclusion. Your husband has a mistress. Maybe, mistress is not the right word. If anything, you feel like the mistress in this relationship.

“I am sure he has someone he loves.” You hum, nodding to yourself. 

It is a Thursday afternoon in early spring, the warmth of the sun shining on you as you return home from an unusually long shift at the palace. A few steps behind you is San, ever present like a shadow, following you down a steep road to home.

With him around, you have started to voice your thoughts, no matter how crazy. There is nothing to hide from him after all. He sees it all firsthand, how his boss never spends time with you. 

You have another theory. San knows about the other woman. He has to, right? That is why General Choi employed him to guard you in the first place. He probably knows where your husband goes during his free time, and it is his job to make sure you never see him. 

General Choi seems to have bought off Jihye somehow, too. You find that absolutely bizarre, considering her long loyalty towards you. You are deeply hurt by her betrayal, and so, you have decided to shun her until she comes to you and explains what is going on.

That leaves you with San only.

“I’m right, no?” You turn around to take a glance at him. As usual, he looks helpless and awkward, almost like he is about to leave everything behind and run for the hills. You continue. “He has to have known her for a long, long time. However, I do not understand why he didn’t marry her. Is she not a nobleborn?”

You stop for a moment.

“Ah! She is someone from the brothel, probably, right?”

San continues looking at you helplessly, an awkward smile plastered on his face. You continue walking, nodding to yourself. “No wonder he told me not to expect anything from him. He also said that he fulfilled his duty by marrying me. No one will pester him now because he has the perfect cover.” You nod your head, impressed. “I have to give it to him. This is a good plan.”

The path down the cliff comes to an end, and you stop, admiring the sun slowly going lower in the western sky. The birds fly in the sky in groups, returning home as the sky changes colour, a deep tint of orange taking over the blue.

Is she pretty? You wonder to yourself. She must be. There must be something about her that keeps a man like him hooked. 

The thought pains you. More than it should.

You understand it. You really do, but what you don’t understand is why he married you. Why did he trap you into this marriage? The least he could have done was be honest with you instead of avoiding you like the plague.

The more you get to know this man, the more cowardly he seems. The thought brings an unironic smile to your face. The most feared man in the country, yet he refuses to communicate with his wife. He does not have the guts to speak the truth, which makes him nothing but a coward in your eyes.

“Let us stop by the market.” You announce, taking a different route. San rushes in front of you, alarmed. “Lady Choi, w-why?”

You stare at him, slightly annoyed. Why is he acting like this? Is General Choi supposed to be there now? With his lover? All the more reason why you must go.

You continue walking, ignoring San.

“My Lady, please. Tell me what you need and I shall get that for you after I escort you home.”

“San,” you abruptly stop and glare at him. “I shall tell you what I need right now. I need you to shut up and follow me quietly. Or, you can just leave and report to your boss that I am breaking protocol. Whatever fancies you.”

The man makes a pained sound, groaning almost like a wounded animal. However, you don’t wait for him, marching down the path with determination. Helplessly, he chases after you.

— 

The marketplace is less crowded than you expected. You heard there have been attacks by gangs in this area, so people are more reluctant to leave their houses, especially as evening approaches.

With the roads not as crowded as usual, it takes you only a couple of minutes to spot him. He stands out, as always, his broad shoulders and tall build catching your eye from far away. You observe him for a moment from afar, squinting your eyes to see what he is doing exactly.

He stands in front of a trinket shop, carefully going through the pieces laid out in front of him. 

Wow, is he shopping for something for his hidden lover? 

Bemused, you watch him, eyes scanning for a woman near him, only to find no one.

“My Lady, we should really get going. This area is not safe, and—” Ignoring San’s plea, you head straight towards where your husband stands.

“My Lord, what brings you here?” You chirp, standing right behind him. The man immediately turns around, his pupils blown wide in shock. You do not miss the way he hides something behind him. It takes a moment for him to register that it is you, and once he does, that grim look settles on his face. “What are you doing here?’’

San rushes next to you, “My Lord, I am so sorry—”

General Choi cuts him off with a raised hand and gives him a look of dismissal, which sends the young man scurrying away. Ignoring his question, you say. “It seems like you were finished with work early today.” You pointedly look at the shop behind him.

“Yes. I finished early today.” He states, expressionless. “Are you returning from the palace now?”

“Yes, the work at the library took longer than usual. Some records were accidentally destroyed, so we had to salvage them.”

“I see.” He nods. You wait, wondering if he has anything more to say. He keeps gazing at you silently, his odd eye hidden behind his hair. You have noticed that he always hides it in public. Why? To avoid detection? 

Finally, he speaks, his eyes narrow and his tone sharp. “You should not be here. I am sure you are aware of the looting and killing taking place in this area.”

You hate his tone. Frowning, you reply. “Thank you for your concern, My Lord. I was aware. I just wanted to explore—”

You are cut off.

The next sequence of events takes place exceptionally quickly. First, you see your husband’s gaze shift and focus on something behind you. The very next moment, he yanks you towards him, making a swift turn so that his body covers yours. You lose your footing from the harsh tug, gripping onto his arms with a yelp of surprise.

Something whizzes past you, sharp and quick, that makes you jerk and hold onto him tighter.

Gasps, yells and screams of people echo all around you. You blink, befuddled, staring at your husband, who holds you tightly against his body, looking behind him. Following his gaze, you find San chasing after a man who dashes away through the crowd at remarkably fast speed, shoving people and running over stalls on his way.

Your husband whips his head back to look at you, his eyes wide with alarm. “Are you okay? Look at me!” He shakes you, his grip on your arms fierce. Something wet touches your fingers. Slowly, your eyes trail to your right hand, which is grabbing General Choi’s bicep.

There is a tear on his sleeve, a couple of inches above your fingers and red liquid oozes out from the thin cut. You gasp, your breath escaping your lungs in a choked wheeze.

Finally, everything clicks.

Someone just shot an arrow at him. Who? An enemy? A gang member? An assassin?

“Oh…oh my god! My Lord!” You clutch onto his sleeve, panicking.

General Choi ignores your cry and forces you to look at him, tilting your chin upwards. “Are you hurt anywhere?”

Is he seriously worrying about you right now?

“I am fine.” You choke on a sob. “But my Lord, you are bleeding! What…what should I do?”

He rubs a gentle hand on your back, pulling you closer to him. “I am fine. It is nothing.” He assures, his eyes scanning the place carefully as if looking for someone. You panic. “My Lord, we need to go home. Come on. You are hurt!” You urge, tugging him with you, even though you cannot make him move an inch.

The man stands rooted to his spot, his eyes still scouring through the marketplace. Finally, he nods and pulls you into his arms, holding you protectively. “Let us go.”

— 

After your relentless nagging, you finally get your husband to sit still so that you can treat his wound.

“I told you, it is nothing serious.” He admonishes when you step into his bedchamber with a rag, a bowl of water, and some medicine. Ignoring him, you hurry closer to him, inspecting the wound.

You have never treated someone before, but your mother was a very good nurse. She helped a lot of people during the war with her vast knowledge of medicinal herbs. You remember watching her work for hours, and even though you never directly learned from her, you are confident you can do this right.

The memory of his blood seeping out and wetting your hands sends shivers down your spine, and you have to take a deep breath to get yourself to calm down. Your heart has been racing ever since, the adrenaline yet to wear off.

“You should take off your shirt.” You whisper, wetting the rag in the bowl of water. Your husband complies, slowly removing the garment and shrugging it off his shoulders. Your breath catches in your throat once you lay your eyes on his body.

It is not his muscular build but the plethora of scars littering his body. Small and big, they taint his chest and all the way down to his lower abdomen, and you cannot help but stare, wincing at the marks that look particularly nasty.

What has this man been through?

General Choi snatches the rag from your hands and starts treating his cut. Embarrassed, you protest, but he cuts you off. “I can do it myself.” His response, like always, is curt, but you ignore it, too distracted by his scars. The one on his left abdomen looks particularly ghastly, and you know for sure it was a deep stab wound. 

The amount of pain he must have been in…

The thought makes you shudder, and you bite your lip, holding your tears back.

“This is why I assigned someone to protect you.” His voice pulls you out of your thoughts. “I am sure he told you to return, but you insisted on going to the market.”

“Who was that man?” You cut him off, unable to prevent yourself from voicing your worries any longer. Why did they want to hurt him? 

His lips thin, and something flashes over his eyes, leaving you guessing. He pauses for a moment, looking at you impassively, almost like he knows a secret that you don’t. “They were probably from some gang. They have been causing havoc recently, as you know.”

You know it is a lie. It is blatant that he is hiding something from you, and you cannot help but sigh out loud, sagging onto the floor. You do not even have it in you to fight with him right now. You are just glad he is okay. The bleeding has stopped now, and as you watch him apply the herb on his cut, a small sigh of relief flows past your lips.

Finally, it feels like you can breathe.

Silently, you help him tie a clean rag around his bicep before wiping the residual herb from his fingers. “You should take a bath.” He keeps staring at your face as if he is trying to understand something.

“Are you sure you are okay?” he asks, his tone soft. His gaze, for the first time, appears to be almost tender, and for a moment, the concept of language evaporates from your mind.

You want to say a lot of things. You want to yell at him, scream at him to explain himself and cry in his arms. You are unable to do any of that. “I am fine,” you whisper, your voice small and shaky.

He keeps looking at you for a few more seconds before nodding and getting up. Just as he is about to exit the room, you call for him. “My Lord?” “Hm?” He turns around to look at you.

You pause, hesitating. “I know you brought something today. At the market…” you trail off, unsure why you are saying this. His body tenses, and he looks at you warily…like he has been caught. For a second, you pray that he comes clean, but he remains silent, waiting for you to continue.

You swallow a lump in your throat and look away. Your voice is wobbly when you speak. “You should wrap it. Put it in a nice box. Women love gifts that are nicely wrapped. The woman…whoever you bought it for…you should wrap it.”

You do not dare to meet his gaze, so you sit on the floor, staring at the bowl of water that is now tinted red from his blood. He does not reply but walks out the door, his footsteps padding softly over the wooden floors.

— 

That night, you lay in bed awake, replaying the event at the market over and over again in your head. And as you keep revisiting that moment, a shuddering realization dawns on you.

What if…what if…

The arrow wasn't meant for General Choi but for you?

The more you think about it, the more probable it seems. The arrow would have originally hit you if not for him moving you out of the way. The thought makes you bolt up from your bed, your heart racing as beads of sweat gather on your temples. Tossing the blanket away, you step out of your sleeping mat and start pacing around your room.

Today's events are a mystery to you. You have no enemies, and neither does your father. Hell, he has been out of politics ever since your brother died. You simply have no reason to have someone shoot an arrow at you in the middle of a marketplace.

If it were not for your husband, you would have died for sure.

Shit. Who would do that? 

Your mind starts spiraling to the point that your temples begin to throb. You press the spot with your fingers, trying to make the ache go away.

It doesn't.

Instead, paranoia starts settling in. Suddenly, the thought of being alone in your room frightens you so much that you feel a chill in your bones. Unable to tolerate the deafening silence and the darkness any longer, you step out of your chamber, taking tentative steps towards your husband's room. The hallway is dark except for one small lamp flickering at the end of the long corridor, an eerie quietness hanging heavy in the air as the whole house sleeps.

You come to stop in front of your husband's room, your hands hesitating to pull open the wooden panels. 

What are you doing here? Sneaking into your husband’s chamber in the middle of the night?

With the resolved exhale, you pull open the door. In the darkness, it takes a moment for you to spot your husband sleeping on his side, his long raven hair splayed messily over the mat.

You remain rooted in your spot outside the door, hesitating yet once again before gingerly making your way inside and quietly closing the panel behind you. The room would be pitch dark if not for the faint light of the lamp flickering outside, filtering in through the panel. You take a moment to let your eyes adjust to the visibility before placing yourself next to him. With his sword resting between the two of you, you silently lie down, gazing at the silhouette of his face in the darkness.

Your heart aches. He got hurt because of you. 

Why do you feel such a strong attraction towards this cold, stubborn man? Why does it hurt you so much to see him hurt? Most importantly, is this how he feels about his lover? Does her pain make him hurt like this as well? Is that why he refuses to be with you, unable to resist his heart's longing?

So many questions and no answer to soothe your wretched soul. 

You keep gazing at him, a strange sensation filling your heart. He is physically so close to you, right within your reach, yet it feels like he is a million miles away, tucked away in a place for which you have no key. At the same time, lying next to him like this, you feel oddly comfortable. With him next to you, the silence and the darkness of the night are bearable, no longer stealing your sleep.

With a heavy ache in your chest and tears in your eyes, you fall asleep, happy to be in the same space as your husband.

—

When you open your eyes next morning, the sun is high up in the sky and the light flooding into the room immediately tells you that you have slept way longer than you should have.

Shit. You missed work today.

All concerns of work, however, fly out the window when you register where you are. You fell asleep on the floor next to General Choi yesterday. Then why are you sleeping on his mat, his blanket tucked around you, and his pillow under your head? 

With a gasp, you sit up and look around you, double checking to make sure you are in the right place.

How did you get here? Did he tuck you in after waking up? How did you not wake up?

Your face flushes with heat, imagining him carrying you and putting you in his bed. No wonder you feel so well rested after a long time. You must have slept like a log throughout everything.

Did you snore? Did you drool? Did you say something weird in your sleep?

“Oh dear lord, help me!” You whine, putting your face in your hands, cringing at all the possible ways you might have embarrassed yourself. Once you are over the initial wave of embarrassment, you spot a trinket on top of the small wooden table by the mat.

Curious, you shuffle closer. It is a bineyo with a beautiful butterfly in pink and blue, exactly the one you had been looking for. With a gasp, you lean closer, mesmerized by the way it sparkles underneath the sunlight. Next to it sits a letter, face up.

Dear wife, 

I am sorry I did not wrap it. I was interrupted by someone before I could choose a box. I do not know how the misunderstanding came to be, but this was meant to be yours from the beginning, not any other woman’s. I hope you like it.

From, Your husband

Your hands cover your mouth in shock and absolute glee before clutching the letter and the hairpin to your chest. Tears brim your eyes, your heart melting like a caramel under the sun, warm and sweet.

It seems like you misunderstood his actions. Still, some things remain unclear.

“Jihye!” You yell. She rushes in a few moments later. “My lady, you are awake! Master said not to disturb you. He said he will let Head Court Lady Yeo know that you will not go to work today.”

Ignoring her words, you quickly motion for her to come closer to you and sit down. “You,” you narrow your eyes at her. “You have been hiding something from me.” She blinks, her gaze slowly lowering to the floor.

“What did General Choi tell you? He definitely told you something. That is why you have not been letting me out of the house by myself.”

She looks at you helplessly for a long moment before sighing. “Okay, I will tell you, my lady. But you have to promise me you will not tell Master. I gave him my word.” She winces.

What could it be? Eager, you scoot closer to her. “I will not. Now out with it.”

“On the first night of your marriage, he called me and asked about you. What you like to eat, what your favourite season is…things like that.”

Wow. Your heart races with each of her words.

“Then, he asked me what you were doing in the market that day. You know that noon a week before your wedding? When we bumped into him? I said that you were looking for a hairpin. He asked in detail about the hairpin, and I told him that you were looking for one with a butterfly. Then, he ordered me to keep you from going outside, especially to crowded areas, as much as possible. He said it is not safe for you. And he made me promise not to tell you.”

A lot of the blanks start filling up. He listened to her and got this hairpin for you. No wonder!

You keep finding yourself revisiting that moment in the market. The way he protected you. The worry in his eyes, the way his fingers gripped onto you, the way his voice was filled with worry when he asked you if you were ok. The realization that you may have misunderstood him greatly starts settling in your bones. 

Maybe there was no one else from the beginning. Maybe it was only you all along. Maybe everything he did was to protect you. But protect you from what? Did he know that someone was after you? Who? Why did he not tell you anything?

No matter, you shall set the record straight when he gets home today. You have caught a glimpse into your husband’s heart, and it turns out he is not as cruel as they say. Now, there is nothing strong enough to stop you. He has had his way until now, and now, it is your time.

“Did he say when he will return?” You ask Jihye, your heart racing.

“No, my lady.”

“No matter.” You smile. “I will wait for him.”

— 

The heavens seem to be on your side because your husband returns home right before sunset. As he takes a bath, you prepare in your room, getting dressed for the evening.

Jihye braids your hair for you before helping you put on your hanbok, a soft yellow jeogori with a pastel pink chima. 

Just as you are almost finished with your makeup, Head Servant Yang knocks at the door, letting you know that your husband has finished his bath. With a smile, you stand up and walk over to the mirror, smoothing your skirt.

“Jihye, how do I look?”

“Absolutely beautiful, my lady!” She squeals. “Master will not be able to resist you tonight!”

You throw a scandalized look at her before reaching for the hairpin your husband gave you. Gingerly placing it on your hair, you complete the look and twirl in front of the mirror. “Alright, let us go!”

You knock twice at your husband’s chamber.

“Come in.”

Exhaling a shaky breath, you open the door and find sitting on the floor, wearing a navy blue hanbok. A book sits open on his lap, which is discarded once he lays eyes upon you.

Silence.

You hold your breath, watching his eyes scan you top to bottom, before going up again and finally stopping at your hairpin. He looks awestruck and speechless—a look you have never seen on him, and you struggle to stifle a smile.

“May I come in?” You ask coquettishly. 

“Ah—yes, of course.” He blinks and sits up straight. With a smile, you walk into the room and sit in front of him, closer than you have ever been before. "How is your arm?” You ask, jutting your chin towards it. “Do you need me to apply some herbs?”

“No, it is fine. I changed the gauze after my bath.”

“Are you in any pain?”

“Thank you for your concern, Lady Choi, but I am well.” He sets the book aside. “What brings you to my chamber?”

You ignore his curt replies. “Thank you for the gift, my lord.” You smile, saccharine sweet. Titling your head, you show him the trinket nestled in your hair. “How do I look?”

“Hm?” He gapes at you, eyes wide, clearly taken aback by the question. “Uh…it suits you. You look lovely.”

You smile like a lovestruck fool. “Thank you, my Lord.”

Silence. He keeps looking at you like it is a staring competition. Realizing he will not be the first one to break the silence, you continue with a sigh, “I have some questions, my Lord. I hope you will answer them honestly.” His gaze shifts, something unreadable briefly flashing by his eyes. His hands on to rest on his knees, his back straightening as he takes a moment before subtly nodding his head.

“Is there someone trying to kill me?” Your gaze does not waver. General Choi’s lips press into a thin line, his thick brows forming a frown, a look of pure displeasure settling on his face.

You do not back down. “Yesterday, the arrow was meant for me, was it not? You knew someone was after me. That is why you assigned San to be with me. That is why you told Jihye not to let me go outside.”

Another beat of silence. “Yes.” He murmurs, his haunting gaze piercing yours.

You swallow. “Who is it? I do not understand…I do not have any enemies— “

“They are my enemies.” He cuts you off. “The arrow yesterday…yes, it was meant for you, but it was also meant for me. It was their warning to me.”

“What warning? Why are they after you?” You cry.

His gaze narrows. “That is private information. Only the King’s most trusted men are aware of it.” You look down, worriedly chewing on your lower lip. After a beat, you ask, “Is that why you ignored me in the palace that day?”

“Yes. I thought the less I interacted with you, the better.” He pauses, his gaze focusing on the lamp burning at his side. “I am sorry for putting you in danger, but rest assured, they will be dealt with.”

You are not really worried about losing your life. If anything, his being in danger scares you more. Odd, is it not?

“Why did you let me misunderstand, my Lord?” You ask softly.

“That was not my intention.”

“But it happened anyway.” You cannot hold back the bite in your voice. “From the first day of this marriage, I believed that you have someone else.”

He remains silent, looking almost guilty. It scares and infuriates you. “Tell me! Do you?”

“No,” his voice never loses its quiet composure. “I do not.”

“Then why did you lie?”

For the first time, you see his gaze soften. For once, it looks like he is not scowling but rather, he appears ashamed and helpless. The hidden frustration inside you reaches its tipping point. “You could have told me! You could have said that I was in danger instead of pushing me away like I disgust you and letting me think that you were seeing someone else!” 

You hear him exhale a breath. “How do you expect me to tell my young, newlywed wife that her life is in danger because of me, her husband?”

The guilt is raw and vivid in his voice, echoing throughout the room like a haunted cry. This new side of your husband knocks all the air out of your lungs, leaving you feeling helpless as you stare at him, tears pricking your eyes.

“My Lord—”

“I know I am not the best match for you. You got married to be free, but instead, this marriage became a trap for you. How could I tell you that? I believed it would be better to let you think all crazy things about me rather than taking away your freedom by scaring you. I apologize for my shortsightedness.” A lone tear rolls down your cheek. He is not the best match for you? What is he saying?

Unable to hold back any longer, you close the little distance between the two of you and leap into his arms, hugging him tightly. With your arms wrapped around his neck, you rest your face on his shoulder, your fingers tightly holding onto the fabric of his hanbok. “Please do not apologize, my Lord. I understand you.”

Against you, your husband’s entire body remains tense, his hands awkwardly raised into the air like he is too scared to touch you. You ignore his hesitation and hold onto him tightly, your heart breaking and healing simultaneously. The warmth and comfort of his body soothe all the anguish in your heart, making you never want to let him go.

Finally, his hands touch your back, his large palms holding the small of your back, softly patting you.

Loosening your arms around him, you take a peek at his face and find the most sincere look in his eyes, warm and kind, the complete opposite of how you have seen him until now. You truly believed he was beyond all emotions, cold and mechanical, but right now, as he holds you in his arms and gazes at you with so much reverence and softness, you can only think of him as this quiet, considerate man who is misunderstood greatly.

Something in you shifts. No longer afraid, you shift in his arms, positioning yourself better on his lap before kissing him.

You press your lips against his without thinking, pulling him closer by the lapels of his hanbok and holding your lips right there, against his, soft and warm. With your heart hammering in your chest, you stay there, testing the waters. Your husband remains frozen at first, almost like he is waiting for you to back out. Once sure that you will not, he reaches for you, gently cupping your cheek with his right hand to tilt your face. The kiss deepens just a tad bit, his lips pressing against you just hard enough. His touch on you is meticulous and guarded, like you are a wild animal he does not want to frighten. You know he is being gentle for your sake, so you take the lead, snaking an arm around his neck and kissing him the way he led you.

Slow, sweet and passionate.

It is everything you imagined and more, all your dreams coming true and giving you a taste of ecstasy. By the time your lips part from his, there is a ringing in your ears along with your heart galloping like a race horse and a strange, tingling sensation between your legs. You feel drunk on your husband’s kiss, your eyes involuntarily trailing to his lips that are now shining with saliva.

You want this man so much, body and soul.

Your husband’s fingers remain against your cheek, his thumb stroking your cheek, slow and tentative like you are the most precious porcelain. Mirroring his hand, your fingers cup his cheek, your thumb gently tracing the scar beneath his odd eye. The skin is harsh and bumpy under your touch, making your heart heavy. You want to kiss it, tell him that he is beautiful despite it, tell him that you feel his pain, but something shifts.

His gaze grows unfocused, something foreign flashing by in his eyes, like he has been woken back to reality. With a sudden noise, he clears his throat and retracts his hand from your face. The action pulls you out of your haze as well, making you suddenly hyper aware of the fact that you kissed him.

Holy shit. You kissed your husband. And he kissed you back. And it was amazing.

Clearing his throat once more, your husband looks away, carefully trying to put some distance between you and him. Flustered, you take the hint and stand up rather unceremoniously. As you take a step back, however, misfortune befalls.

The ghost of clumsiness yet again takes over your body, and you trip over your skirt. With a loud, unladylike yelp, you fall backwards, terrified but also anticipating the brutal hit to the floor.

It does not come. You do not fall on the ground because your husband saves you, reaching for your arm and tugging you back towards him just in time. Something else happens in the process. The ribbon of your jeogori comes off.

You realize that several moments later, too preoccupied with trying to calm your beating heart and processing what just happened. As you stay pressed against his body, your arms tightly holding onto his shoulders for balance, General Choi’s eyes skim over your face before fixing beneath your neck and on your exposed shoulder.

This time, something dark and carnal takes over his gaze, his eyes sharp and narrow, staring intently at your bare skin. Your heart beats so loudly you fear he can hear it, and for a moment, you are sure you will pass out from the intensity of his gaze and the swirl of emotions—desire and shame, surging within you.

Like before, he is the one who backs away, quietly clearing his throat and looking away. Embarrassed, you quickly fix your jeogori and clutch it tightly to your chest while also scrambling off his body.

“I—” you stammer, mortified to look at his face. “I will see you for d-dinner then, my Lord.” Picking up your skirt to avoid further accidents, you rush for the door, eager to be out of his sight.

His voice forces you to stop right at the door. “Why did you come to my room last night?”

You halt, processing his question. Then, with quick fingers, you tie your jeogori and carefully turn around. Your husband looks at you inquisitively. “Were…were you awake, my Lord?” You ask. He did not even sir when you came into the room.

In reply, he nods. You look around, trying to find the words. “I…was scared to be alone. I kept thinking of what happened at the market, and I do not know…” You trail off, embarrassed and worried about his reaction. He, however, keeps looking at you intently before shaking his head up and down in understanding.

“How did you know I came in? You did not even move a muscle. I thought you were asleep.”

“I smelled you.” He states, his face expressionless. You take a step back, alarmed. “Do I stink?”

He shakes his head. “No. I meant that I smelled roses. You smell like roses.”

Oh. “I see,” you mumble shyly, your fingers twiddling with the fabric of your skirt. He regards you quietly for a beat before murmuring. “You can sleep with me tonight as well, if you desire it.”

“Really?” You squeal, not hiding the excitement brimming in your voice. 

“Yes.”

“Thank you, my Lord!” You smile so big it hurts.

— 

After dinner, Headservant Yang sets the mattress for the two of you with a suggestive, happy smile on her face that makes you grin goofily. 

Once finished with your nightly routine and dressed for bed, you pad into your husband's chamber and find him already lying down, his eyes closed and his hands resting over his chest. One could think he was asleep, but you know better now. With wonder, you observe that the place of his sword has shifted and moved to his left, right next to his mat, now that yours occupies the space it took before.

“My Lord,” you ask softly, “shall I blow out the candle?”

“Yes.” He replies, not moving or opening his eyes. Carefully, you pad over to the study table and blow out the candle before finding your place on the mat. With the noise of the crickets humming outside, you lie on your mat, pulling the blanket up to your chin and staring at the ceiling. Your blood thrums in your veins, your brain too wired to fall asleep. The excitement of lying next to your husband keeps you awake.

Once your eyes adjust to the darkness, you take tentative peeks at him and find him in the same position as he originally was. Is he sleeping? You wish you could tell.

“My Lord?” You speak, quiet as a mouse.

Silence.

“Hm?” He hums.

“Why do you sleep with your sword next to you?”

“Force of habit, I suppose…from the war.”

You hum in acknowledgement, looking at him eagerly amid the darkness. After a short pause, you call for him again. “My Lord?”

“Yes.”

“Can I sleep with you from now on?”

Silence. Seconds pass by, but no answer comes, and you start to think that he has fallen asleep. Just then, he finally replies, his voice quiet and deep in the solitude of the night. “If you wish to.” You smile, happy and wide, even though he cannot see you. “Thank you, my Lord.”

Another short pause later, he murmurs. “Goodnight.” You take it as a sign that he does not wish to talk anymore, and with a nod, you shift and lie on your side, your right arm resting underneath your head.  “Goodnight, my Lord.” You whisper with a smile.

— 

You wake up just before sunrise. 

The spot next to you is empty, and with no sign of your husband, you step out of his bedchamber in search of him. It is a rest day, so you wonder where he is so early in the morning.

You find the man in the backyard, already dressed, quietly observing the flowers in the garden. “My Lord?” You call for him.

“Oh, good morning.” He acknowledges you with a small nod. “Why are you up so early?”

“I woke up and you were not there. Is everything okay?”

“Yes.” He assures. “You should sleep some more.” You pause, carefully observing him. In the soft morning light, the man looks different, more relaxed and homely, dressed in his hanbok and his long raven hair draped elegantly against his back.

How can you leave his majestic man just for a few more hours of sleep?

“My Lord?”

“Hm?”

“Let us go for a walk.”

— 

After quickly getting dressed, you and your husband go for a stroll, the early morning sun softly gleaming in the sky.

Your husband heads towards the nearby forest, which leads to a cliff offering a nice view of the town and the hilly background. He walks quietly with his hands behind him, his movements deliberately slow to accommodate your pace. With a soft smile that never leaves your lips, you walk alongside him, your heart thrumming happily.

Can this be called a date?

Without any words exchanged between the two of you, you navigate the path through the forest, your eyes skirting towards him every now and then. The silence between you is not awkward because you can see from his face that he is thinking deeply about something. So, you let him think and use the solitude to take peeks at his handsome face, memorizing the details of his visage.

By the time you reach the cliff, you are out of breath.

“Wow,” you wheeze out, panting for air as you rest with your palms on your knees. 

“Are you alright?” General Choi asks, peering down to see your face. “Yes,” you nod, trying to control your breathing. “It has been a while since I came up here. The view is magnificent.”

“It is.” He hums, looking over the cliff. “That last time I came here, I was a child.” You share, standing up and gazing at the view. It is truly still beautiful.

“Why so long ago?”

“What?” You blink, looking at your husband, who is regarding you with a curious tilt of his head.

“Uh…” you think. “My father…he was not fond of me going out much. Especially anywhere far, after my brother died. He liked to keep me within his sight.”

He keeps looking at you attentively, and you wonder what he is thinking. Is he judging you?

Needing to fill the silence, you ramble. “On top of that, I have always been clumsy. I’m sure you have figured that out by now. Once, when I was a child, I somehow broke my arm playing in the yard. My brother ran all the way to the physician’s office with me on his back. With him gone, my father thought it would be better for me to be within the house. For my safety and his mental peace.”

“It was suffocating, no? That is why you married me. For freedom.” Your husband observes. You nod, albeit shakily, thinking of your days back at your parents' home. The cold treatment of your father and the way you were never enough. Not enough to take away the pain of them losing their son.

In the silence, you take a moment to gather your thoughts before facing the man next to you and voicing a question you have always wanted to ask. “Why did you choose to marry me?”

He takes a moment to answer. 

“Because no one else wanted to. A lot of ministers tried to get me engaged to their daughters, but the girls refused when they saw me. Some even rejected just after hearing my name. They feared me.”

You find it ridiculous. “Why?” Your tone drips with bewilderment. “My reputation,” he shrugs. “My face does not help much, I suppose.”

“What do you mean?” You frown, leaning closer to him. He regards you in silence, as if the answer to that question is the most obvious thing in the world. “I am ugly.”

“What?” You gape at him, utterly befuddled. Does this man truly think that? His sharp eyes narrow on you, his brows knotting in confusion. “I do not know if you are making fun of me.”

“Why would I make fun of you?” You cry. This entire thing is ludicrous. “I simply find it absolutely enraging that you think so!”

He remains mute, watching you like you are an equation he needs to solve.

You take a tentative step closer to him, mumbling, “It is true that your reputation is scary. I also feared you for that in the beginning. I do not know if you are aware, but people say all types of crazy things about you.” You pause, inching even closer to him. With a few small inches between the two of you, you look up and meet his eyes, hoping to convey your sincerity. “But as I got to know you…I have realized there is nothing to fear. You are undoubtedly a cold man, my Lord, but you are also warm. Your heart is always in the right place. That alone is enough to make you the most beautiful man in the land.”

His face relaxes, and you can see how his gaze softens, the turbulent storms ever present in his eyes dissipating for a moment. 

In the back of your mind, one thought runs rampant. You want to kiss him. In the soft morning light, he looks as breathtaking as ever, his lips soft and kissable. Remembering the touch of his lips against yours last night, you muster the courage and lean up on your tippy toes, pressing a quick, chaste kiss on his lips. The man immediately leans back, a look of surprise on his face. Ignoring his reaction, you smile and step back, facing the view again. Your husband clears his throat before silently joining you in gazing at the view.

A while later, you voice out another thought. “My Lord, when you said not to expect anything from you, what did you mean?”

He takes a moment to answer. “I don’t know. Just do not expect anything from me. I cannot give you anything.”

Frowning, you face him. “But you have already given me so much.”

“I do not believe that.”

You sigh. The cranky man is returning. Hitching your skirt, you walk closer to him, determined. “What did you mean, my Lord? I cannot expect what?” He huffs out a frustrated breath. “Whatever a wife expects from her husband, I suppose.”

Your frown deepens. “What? Love? Attention? Devotion?”

“I will be devoted to you, but I cannot give you love.” His words are like a punch to the gut. “Why not?” You plead.

He hesitates. “I…just cannot.”

“You cannot or will not?”

His eyes, sharp and fiery, pierce right through you, and you see the truth in his eyes. You see the answer he refuses to utter. “Let us get back.” He announces, turning on his heel and dismissing you, starts marching down the path. You scoff, watching with an open mouth as he almost runs down the track to escape answering your question.

This stubborn, frustrating man.

— 

After breakfast, General Choi goes out to visit an old friend. With a sour mood, you shuffle through the house, watching as everyone remains busy with their work. You try to practice some needlework but fail to get far with that. As always, your hand at embroidery is embarrassingly bad. For two hours, you try to create a flower on a handkerchief, but when it turns out looking questionable, you drop the task.

You find San sitting outside on the porch, chatting animatedly with Headservant Yang. “My Lady, are you bored?” Headservant Yang asks upon seeing you walk over. With your shoulders slumped, you nod, pouting.

“General Choi will not be back for some time. Should we play a game then? San offers.

Your eyes shine. “Sure!”

— 

Your game of baduk with San lasts even after sunset. 

You keep playing match after match, your own competitive streak matching his. He does not go easy on you just because you are married to his General, and that makes it all the more fun. 

Your husband returns right before lunch and after observing the two of you for a mere minute, he leaves, locking himself in his study for the rest of the day. His disinterest irks you, and you decide to ignore him as well, honing all your attention towards the game. During different times, Headservant Yang and Jihye stop by between their work, watching you two play with rapt fascination.

The game only ends with you winning, long after the sky has gone dark. Cheers and yells erupt in the small crowd of servants gathered to watch the game. You grin cockily, finally standing up and stretching your legs. San accepts his defeat and takes his leave, not before you make him promise to join you another day for another match.

“Would you like to have your bath first or dinner, my Lady?” Headservant Yang asks. You ponder, still reeling from the high of winning. “Did my husband have dinner?”

“Yes, my Lady.” You sigh. “Well then, I will have my dinner now and then take my bath.”

— 

After your bath, you sit in your room with the mirror in front of you while Jihye combs your hair. “Today was a fun day, no, my Lady?” She asks.

“Yes,” you hum. “It is a shame General Choi did not join us.” “Indeed.”

“Where has he been all day?” “In his room, my Lady. He was studying.”

You resist the urge to roll your eyes. Your husband truly does not know how to have fun. Instead of spending a rest day with his wife, he would rather read and strategize and sulk by himself.

As if he could hear your thoughts, the man appears with a knock at your door and steps in a second later. Jihye excuses herself, leaving the two of you alone, the room suddenly buzzing with tension.

Your husband regards you with that same unreadable face, but something in you tells you that he is grumpier than usual. Still, you try to be civil. “Hello, my Lord.”

“Lady Choi. It was hard to catch sight of you all day.” 

Yes. He is annoyed about something. The subtle bite in his voice is unmissable. You finish combing the ends of your hair before setting the comb down. “My apologies about that. I was too immersed in the game of baduk.”

“Yes, I noticed.” He peers down at you, his eyes ethereally flashing in the soft lights of your chamber. “You seemed to quite enjoy your time with San.”

“He is an excellent player. He also mentioned that you used to play with him.” You supply, trying to understand what might be the cause of his annoyance.

“I don’t know about excellent.” He murmurs, looking away from you. “I taught him, true, but he is no match for me.”

You narrow your eyes. What is he implying? “I am sure he is not, my Lord.” You force a smile. 

“Yet, you chose to spend the entire day with him.” This time, he snaps, clear and offended. Your jaw hangs low, surprised at his pettiness. You stand up frowning. “You were away, my Lord.”

“Not the entire day. I returned long ago, but you were too busy playing with him till dinner time.” He grumbles, not meeting your eyes but staring at the lamp. Stunned, you gape at him, trying to understand where he is coming from.

Your heart flutters. Is it possible that he is jealous?

“My Lord,” you step closer to take a look at his face. “Are you…jealous?”

“Ha!” He scoffs, stepping away. “Why would I be jealous of that little punk?” he half yells, waving his hand dismissively like he is swatting away a bug.

Your spirits dampen, and annoyance starts to take over. You give him a saccharine sweet smile that is evidently fake. “Well then, there is nothing to worry about. Shall we head to bed?” He refuses to let the topic go. “You finally remembered me, no? Now that it is time to sleep?”

The thread holding you together snaps. With gritted teeth, you stare at him, trying your level best to keep your tone neutral. “Well, when your husband dismisses you at every chance he gets and tries to run from you at the mere mention of intimacy, a girl would naturally be upset and spend time elsewhere. I hope you pardon her for spending some time away from him.” You bow dramatically in apology, making sure that he understands it is sarcasm. 

“Wha—” He regards you, eyes wide and mouth agape, like he cannot believe the words coming from your lips. “You—” He seems to be at a loss for words.

You step past him, but he raises a finger at you. “So you prefer San over me? Is that what you are saying?”

You roll your eyes at his words. However, today there is an urge within you to push him to his limit. So, you whip your head back and glare at him. 

“Who knows?” You singsong. Your husband’s eyes only enlarge, the look of pure shock taking over his face, his mouth hanging open wider than before. “Maybe I do. Maybe I do prefer him over you. He spends time with me, after all. Despite today being a rest day, you stayed in your room all day when you could have joined us. So what if I prefer his company?” You add the last line for good measure, trying to appear as threatening as possible.

“Take that back,” he says, his tone quiet. The look on his face starts to shift towards something serious. 

You egg him on. “I won’t! In fact, from now on, I will spend more time with him. Who knows, he might give me all the love and attention you refuse.”

The man finally snaps. In the flash of an eye, he is right in front of you, his hand behind your neck pulling you so close to him that you feel his breath. All earlier pettiness and playfulness are gone. He looks like a raging beast, barely hanging on by a thread.

“Take that back. Tell me you do not mean it or I swear to God, I will chop his head off.” He grits, his voice shaking with anger and his grip on your skin tightening. His eyes are like two molten pools of lava, angry and bright, and he has never looked hotter.

Without wasting a second, you smash your lips with his, wrapping your arms around his neck to pull him closer and closer towards you. The force of your kiss is so strong that it knocks him back a few steps. However, he is quick to recover, meeting your lips with even more passion, a side of him completely new to you. Raw and unchained, he goes all in, devouring your lips like it is his salvation.

You don’t hold back either.

You let go of your body weight entirely, pushing him on the ground below you while never letting go of his lips. Your hands—his and yours—move frantically to claw at each other through the layers of fabric. With a huff, your husband finally removes his lips from yours, a long string of saliva connecting your lips to his. “If we continue…I cannot hold back.” He pants, his eyes wild and shining.

His words make you giddy with anticipation, molten hot pools of lava swirling in your belly.

“That is what I want,” you whisper, feeling the cold air against your swollen lips. “I do not want you to hold back.” Slowly, you snake your arms around his neck and you move closer to his face. With a mere inch between your lips, you murmur, “I want you to devour me, my Lord.”

Your husband makes a sound, a low, primal grunt that comes from the deepest part of his chest. He exhales sharply, determination swirling in his eyes as he finally lets go of all the restraint he had been practicing till now.

In a flash, he flips your positions, holding you against the ground, his large body looming over yours. Your breath catches in your throat with the view on top of you, and he has not even taken off his clothes yet. Desire thrums in your veins, making you curl your toes in anticipation.

“I will ruin you tonight.” That is a promise. His voice is laced with something dark, like he will thoroughly enjoy ruining you. Little does he know, you will enjoy it too.

“Please, my Lord.” You beg, all too eager to become his.

His eyes flash at your words, and immediately, his hands get to work. They move with ease, graceful yet quick, as he strips you off your garments. All too soon, you are left only in your underskirt, your bare chest exposed for his eyes to feast on. You have the urge to cover them, and as if your husband can read your mind, he grabs your hands and links your fingers with his, pinning them on top of your head.

“Do not hide from me,” he commands, his lips hovering over yours. You nod, jittery with need and anticipation. 

Once sure your hands will not move, he slowly traces his fingers from your jawbone to your neck and then your shoulder, before reaching for your braid. You shift and let him hold your hair, his fingers gently caressing over the long braided strands. His fingers trace over your daenggi before tugging on it sharply. Undone, the strip of cloth comes off as your hair starts to loosen from the braid.

“So beautiful.” He hums, holding a few strands of hair between his fingers. He places a soft kiss on them before reaching for your hands. With your daenggi, he ties your wrists together, making sure the knot will hold before placing your hands back where they were, arms stretched straight on top of your head.

“Be a good girl.” He whispers, his voice sultry, his gaze half lidded yet dangerous. Your heart hammers loudly in your chest as the reality of what is happening actually starts to settle in your bones.

You are half-naked, tied up and vulnerable underneath your husband. The man they call the Grim Reaper, the most merciless man in the land. Yet, you are not afraid.

You watch as he shifts, making himself comfortable between your spread legs. He lifts your underskirt, exposing your core, and despite the urge to close your legs, you cannot.

“So beautiful. It will be a treat to ruin you.” He hums, his eyes focused between your legs, a faint smirk playing on his lips. Without any warning, he slaps you between your legs, right on your sensitive flesh, the sharp whack echoing through the quietness of the night.

“Ah!” You cry, mortified and surprised. It stings but also unlocks a new sensation of pleasure within you. Your face heats up as you realize how much you enjoyed it, a deep and deprived sense of pleasure.

He slaps you again. “Do you like it? I can see you are getting wet.” He says, his flashing eyes set on your face.

You make a pathetic noise of agreement. “Answer me!” He commands, slapping you once more. A long, needy moan is ripped from your throat. You pant. “Y-yes, my Lord.”

Pleased, he smirks before leaning down to press kisses on your inner thighs. He moves slowly and deliberately, playing with you, nibbling on your skin with his teeth before giving it a soothing lick and making sure it is marked. When he sits back up, his eyes trace all over your face as if he is trying to remember every small detail about you. You do the same, peering at him through your lashes with bated breath, wishing you could pull him closer for another kiss.

You could spend your entire life kissing this man.

With the ease and grace of a panther that has trapped its prey, your husband moves, enveloping you with his body, his hair falling over you like a black curtain. Lying on top of you, one of his hands holds on to the nape of your neck while the other explores your body, teasingly moving down your waist and between your legs. His warm fingers trace your core, feeling the wetness gathered between your legs. Without losing eye contact, he plays with you, dipping his fingers inside, making you shiver and whimper and continues to smirk knowingly.

He pushes his index and middle finger inside you, just up to his knuckles and the intrusion have you shuddering, your core throbbing like it has its own heartbeat. A breathy moan tears from your lips, and he uses the opportunity to lean in and bite your lip softly. 

Dear god. You whimper. “Please.”

“What?” He mouths against your lips. “T-touch me,” you reply, chasing his lips to reconnect with yours.

You hear him scoff cockily. “I am touching you, wife.” His title for you makes you only more desperate. You whine, starting to writhe, “More.”

You feel him smile against your mouth, his fingers slipping all the way in. His lips trace your jaw, his nose pressed against your skin before trailing down your neck, while his fingers start moving in and out. Involuntarily, your hips writhe, chasing his fingers while he peppers your neck with kisses and bites before fixing on a particular spot beneath your ear that makes you whimper. Then, he uses his thumb to give you a flick, his dark eyes trained on your face as your pleasure amplifies. 

“Oh my god,” you shut your eyes closed, reveling in the feeling of his fingers inside you. He starts to pick up pace, moving the fingers in tandem, circling them inside you and giving your clit an occasional flick. You wrap your legs around his lower waist, crossing them over and pulling him even closer, a desperate attempt at trying to ease the growing ache. Inside you, his fingers move rapidly, making your body tense as you start climbing your high, the coil in your belly pulling tight. 

“My L-lord…” You pant, looking at him with pleading eyes, even though you are unsure what you are trying to say. “Say my name,” he commands, dark eyes trained on you.

You feel even hotter, the coil in your belly pulled impossibly tight. “S-Seungcheol.”

“That is right. Scream my name.” He orders, eyes hazy with a film of lust and possessiveness. As if teasing you, his thumb brushes over your clit ever so slightly, drawing out a shuddering whine from your lips that makes him chuckle quietly. The sound feels like magic to your ears, a drug to your system that heightens your pleasure. His teeth dig into the soft flesh of your neck, undoubtedly leaving a mark.

“P-please Seungcheol,” you heave, eyes closed shut, fingernails digging into your palms. Humming against your neck, he uses his fingers to rub an even deeper spot inside you as his thumb rubs your clit mercilessly. 

“Please!” You hiss, throwing your head back, your toes curling as you wail. “I… I cannot…”

“You are going to cum for me. Now,” his voice is a quiet order. 

He curls his fingers inside you one last time and flicks your clit hard with his thumb, sending you over the edge. Your release is a tidal wave of mind-breaking pleasure as your body goes tense, your hips arching off the bed, your mouth hanging open as a reaction to the overwhelming pleasure; your first orgasm. 

You experience a type of bliss you had no idea existed, and for a moment, your mind goes blank, your body lying taut and tense underneath his. The onslaught of pleasure leaves your vision blurry with unshed tears and your mind numb to everything as you slowly descend from the throes of heavenly bliss and register that your husband is sitting upright between your legs.

With his relentless gaze locked with yours, he slowly licks his fingers clean, his long pink tongue darting out to caress his digits as he hums, “This is the sweetest pussy I have ever had.”

The sight is more than erotic, and for a moment, you are scared you will die from a heart attack. You want this man. You need him all at once, in every way possible. There is an ache coming from the depths of your soul that only he can satisfy.

“Please…untie me. I want to touch you.” You beg, hoping he takes mercy. It has been torture keeping your hands off of him. Hearing your plea, he takes mercy and undoes the ribbon tying your wrists. Free, you immediately sit up and wrap yourself around him, pulling him close for a kiss. Vigorously, wantonly, you kiss him and taste yourself on his tongue, moaning and gripping onto his back, your fingers itching to touch his skin underneath his nightshirt. 

“Please take this off,” you breathe against his mouth. Your husband smiles, undoubtedly enjoying teasing you. “Why?”

“Because…I want to see you.” You whisper sweetly, looking at him through your lashes. The man obliges, letting his hands off you for a moment to take off his shirt.

The sight of his naked body renews the heat between your legs, a new wave of desire overcoming your system. You let yourself gawk at the expanse of the muscles on his chest and the bulky thickness of his arms, all littered with scars, strong and dependable. As he stares at your face for a reaction, you reach for him absentmindedly, dragging your index finger over a scar on his right bicep. It is long, old, and jagged, rough and bumpy to the touch. Without thinking, you lean towards his arm and softly press a kiss on the wound before slowly dragging your lips to his chest, where another scar has bloomed. “It must have hurt,” you whisper to yourself, pressing another kiss on the scar before meeting his eyes. “I want to see all of your scars, dear husband. And I want to kiss all of them. I want to kiss away your pain.”

Something flashes by his eyes, brief but vulnerable. He immediately snakes a strong around around your waist to pull you tight against him and seal his lips over yours in a possessive kiss.

With his lips tangled with yours, he carries you to the sleeping mat, setting you down gently. You sigh in satisfaction as your back meets the soft, warm quilt. 

Your husband quickly gets to work, taking off your underskirt in a sharp yank and ripping it in the process. Surprised and embarrassed, you squeak, trying to hide yourself from his gaze. With the lamp burning right on the desk next to the mat, he has a pretty clear view of your body.

“Your pants…” You whisper, tugging them as well, and Seungcheol chuckles. “So desperate, aren't we?”

“Please,” you beg, throwing him your best pleading eyes as your hands roam around his back, feeling the ridge and bump of his muscles. 

The man quickly takes off his pants, giving you the briefest glimpse of his cock. You barely get to see him as he leans down towards you again, his eyes locked with yours. He drags his palms up, cupping your breasts and squeezing them. A breathy sigh of pleasure falls from your lips as you automatically lean closer to his face, your lips chasing his. Seungcheol captures them in a soft, teasing kiss, his lips gently biting yours as you feel his cock brush against your thigh.

You shiver, goosebumps breaking out on your skin.

You are a ball of nerves right now, the idea of getting intimate with a man for the first time plaguing your mind with worry. Yet, at the same time, you are overcome with desire, need running through your veins.

This is scary yet perfect. Absolutely perfect.

Your husband attacks your neck, kissing and biting the skin while simultaneously playing with your breasts. You mewl, letting your head fall to one side to give him better access to your neck. He hums, the sound so deep and throaty you feel it in your core. His lips do not break contact with your skin, kissing and sucking your sensitive flesh until your whole body shakes like leaves in a tree. 

“Please…” You beg, digging your nails into his shoulder, your body unconsciously starting to grind against him, desperate to ease the throbbing ache between your legs. Seungcheol, finally satisfied with the red spot blooming on your neck, lets you go, peering down at you with his hypnotizing eyes.

“I teased you a lot, did I not, wife?” He hums, caressing your heated face with his knuckles. Drunk with desire, you nod, your half-lidded gaze transfixed. “Please, take me, my Lord.”

He tsks disapprovingly. As if to prove a point, he wraps his hand around your throat but does not apply any pressure. “My name.”

“Seungcheol.” You reply immediately.

“Good girl.” Seungcheol smirks, his eyes flashing with something dark as he leans back on his heels, taking a slow, good look at your body. Then, spreading your legs wider, he spits on his fingers and using it as a lubricant over his cock before lining up with your entrance.

“This will hurt at first.” He warns. You nod, one hand covering your face as you choose to look at the ceiling out of embarrassment.

“Ready?”

“Yes.”

“Look at me.” He demands, the tip of his cock brushing against your pussy lips, making you shiver and follow his command. “Keep your eyes on me. Watch me devour this tight cunt.”

You feel like someone set your face on fire. Face flushed with his crude words, you barely get to make a sound when Seungcheol thrusts himself inside you. Your head lolls forward with the impact as your hands immediately clutch his arm around your waist for support. 

“Ah!” You cry out, eyes squeezed shut as you feel a sharp sting between your legs. “Fuck,” Seungcheol hisses, his voice throaty as he remains half buried inside you. Pausing for a moment, he lets you adjust before pulling back and then thrusting back in. This time, he goes all the way in, and you swear you feel him in your stomach. With a loud, pathetic cry, you cling onto his body, your brain unable to keep up with all the different sensations. 

He builds a pace, pushing in and out of you in strong movements.

Your brain feels like mush as you fail to utter anything, your mouth simply hanging open to let out breathy pants as you close your eyes and feel every ridge of his cock move in and out of you, the initial pain of intrusion fizzling away. It is a blissful experience, a high you never want to come out of.

“Push out your hips a little,” he orders quietly, dark eyes set on you so intensely, you feel like he can see your soul.

Immediately, you comply, extending your waist towards him while keeping your upper back pressed to the mat. His hands hold your hip bone n a strong grip as he places a pillow under your ass and slides himself back inside you with a leisurely pace, the new angle making his length curve inside you. 

You start seeing stars.

“Oh my god,” you hiss, eyes squeezed shut. The back of your thighs rests over Seungcheol’s, your legs dangling around his waist, and your hands clenched around the sleeping mat as he starts to pick up pace. With each thrust, the force increases, the tip of his cock hitting your most sensitive spot, low groans falling from his lips to match your breathy moans. 

“I… I cannot…please” your whisper mindlessly, the words scattered and almost unintelligible due to your broken moans. “You want to come?” His voice is almost taunting as he leans closer to look at your face. “Well, that’s unfortunate. You do not come until I give you permission, wife.” Your husband warns, making you whine. 

The need to find your release only intensifies. You are so close you can almost taste the blissful release.

“P-Please,” You beg, wrapping your arms around his neck and digging your fingernails into his shoulder blades. “Say it louder. Scream my name. Who is fucking this tight pussy?’’ he grunts in your ears, his warm breath tickling your skin.

“Seungcheol!” The desperate yell is quick to leave your lips.

“Who will make you come?”

“You! Seungcheol!”

“That is right, wife. It is I, your husband.” He gives you a particularly harsh thrust. “Not San. Not any other man but me.”

“Y-yes. Please…” you sob. Gripping your chin, he forces you to look at him. “Who do you belong to?” His voice is as quiet as a winter night.

“You, my husband.” You manage to utter clearly amid his brutal thrusts. “Good girl,” he praises, nibbling on your jaw. One of his hands reaches below to touch your clit as he wastes no time rubbing the sensitive bundle of nerves with the pads of his finger, all the while continuing to thrust inside you earnestly.

“Seungcheol!” You scream, your entire body jolting.

Your reaction makes him smirk as he chases his own high, seconds away from erupting inside you. He places your clit between his thumb and index finger, giving you a particularly harsh rub followed by a pinch.

You are catapulted over the edge. Your vision goes white, your entire sweat-coated body twitching from the intensity of the pleasure. It only amplifies as you feel Seungcheol spill inside you, his warm release filling you up and dripping lazily out of you. 

You feel like you are floating from the bliss.

— 

Your husband’s hand strokes your back in repeated soothing motions while you bask in the afterglow of your passionate lovemaking. With him lying behind you on the mat, your bodies pressed together, you move from reality to dreamland every now and then, the smile never leaving your face as you savour his touch and warmth. 

“Are you asleep?” he softly asks, bringing his face closer to inspect you.

You make a noise and shake your head, too lazy to move. Your husband gently turns you so that you lie face to face.

“Are you in any pain?” You ask again, carefully looking at your face, his fingers brushing away the rowdy strands of hair from your face. You open your eyes and look at him with a gaze full of love. “I am perfect, husband. Thank you.”

He smiles when you address him by that name, a warm, gummy smile that shows his unbridled joy. The possessive madman from earlier has completely disappeared, replaced by a man eager to dote on his wife.

This is your first time seeing this side of your husband. 

He pulls you against his chest, holding you tight in his arms. “No, thank you, wife. Thank you for being mine.” You smile, nuzzling his bare chest. This is the safest and most comfortable you have ever felt, and you do not want to let go. Ever.

After a moment of pause, he whispers. “I know I lack a lot. I can be clueless sometimes. So from now on, I hope you share with me whatever is on your mind. All your wishes, hopes and dreams, your desires— everything. I promise I will make them come true.”

You are too tired to form a reply, your body growing heavier each second but still, you smile. You peacefully drift off.

— 

Seungcheol did not go to work today.

The news delights you when you hear it from Jihye as she helps you get dressed. Her eyes linger on your body, especially on your neck, where little marks have formed— evidence of your lovemaking. 

She looks half worried and half scandalized, and you wink at her playfully before stepping out of your chamber.  Your husband sits on the porch, fully dressed, basking in the sun with a book in his hand.

“Good morning, my Lord.” You whisper, feeling pathetically shy when you catch sight of him. He looks up, his eyes shining when they land on you. “Good morning, wife. How are you feeling?” Shyly, you walk over to him and sit down without leaving any space between the two of you. Fiddling with your skirt, you look away when you answer, “I am alright, my Lord.”

With a gentle grasp on your chin, he turns your face and forces you to look at him. “The truth.” He says quietly.

Truthfully, you are quite sore, and an ache has taken hold all over your body. However, you cannot complain. The ache is laced with pleasure, especially between your legs, reminding you of last night.

Your heart gallops in your chest as you look into his eyes. “I am a little sore,” you reply timidly. “But it is a good kind of sore, I promise.”

His eyes travel to your neck, eyeing the red marks visible on your skin. “I was too rough with you,” he murmurs, his tone laced with regret, his eyes focused on your neck. Quickly, you snap him out of it. “Not at all, my Lord.” You sling your arms with his, pulling him closer so that you can rest your face on his shoulder. “You were just perfect. I enjoyed it. A lot.” You whisper, face flushing.

Your husband keeps gazing at you like he does not believe you. Whipping your head around, you take a quick scan around the yard before pressing a sweet kiss on his lips and giggling like a child. A soft smile blooms on his lips, even though he tries to stifle it.

“You should smile more, my Lord. You look so handsome.”

“Why are you calling me that? You called me by my name last night.” His lips form a soft pout as he complains. You pause, “Well…last night was…”

“You shall call me Seungcheol from now on.” He announces. “I would like it even more if you gave me a nickname.”

Wide eyed, you look at him.

“Do you understand me, wife?”

“Yes, husband.” 

Happy with that for now, he does not pester you anymore. You rest your head on his shoulders, your hands intertwined, and watch the morning sky in silence.

“You asked me to share all my wishes with you last night.” You speak after a while, eyes focused somewhere distant. “Can I share one with you right now?”

“Of course,” he shifts so that his body faces you. 

Tilting your head up, you admire a white, fluffy cloud. “Ever since my brother died, I have only had one wish for my life. I wanted to live by the sea in a small house. In that house, there would be my husband and I, and we would spend the rest of our days there, away from all the noise and bleakness of this town.”

“That sounds lovely.” He murmurs. You nod before looking at him. “Do you think it would ever be possible for us?”

He remains silent. 

“Given the nature of your job, I understand. However, I need you to promise me one thing. You must take care of yourself. You must not get hurt, do you hear me? You have someone to come home to now. You must think about me and you must return home to me, do you understand?” Your hands grip his in an earnest hold. 

His free hand comes to rest on top of yours, and he gives you a reassuring squeeze, warm and soft. “Rest easy, wife. I shall come back to you. Always.”

A lone drop of tear strolls down your cheek, and he wipes it away with his thumb before pressing the softest, feather-like kiss on your forehead. After a moment's pause, you speak. “Now it is your turn to share something with me.”

He regards you with confusion. 

“Anything. A wish, a secret…” You stare at him with eagerness. He sighs softly, his eyes trained on his lap as he thinks about something. 

“Well…when I told you not to expect anything from me,” he begins, looking almost shy, his gaze soft and apologetic. “I was afraid. I wanted to keep you at an arm's length from the beginning because I was scared of losing you. I have lost everyone close to me, and the thought of going through something like that again terrifies me. Since I joined the military, I have kept myself detached from everyone because the less I cared, the better.”

Your heart aches for the man. With gentle fingers, you brush away the unruly strands of hair from his face and trace the scar next to his eye. “You will not lose me, husband. I am right here.” You promise.

He wraps his arms around you as if to test your words. You wrap yourself around him, basking in his embrace, your bodies melting into one. “Do not leave me.” He whispers, his voice raw and vulnerable.

“Never.”

— 

Seungcheol left for the palace early today. After two days of relaxation, a letter came for him last night from the palace, demanding his presence first thing in the morning.

At night, Seuncheol held you tight in his arms, soothing away your worries. He finally shared what has been going on in the palace and why there are assassins after him.

Turns out they are working for the Minister of Trade, who is strictly against the new reformations currently being done by the king, like an attempt to abolish the slavery system. Seungcheol has been the King’s number one ally and a powerful piece in the game, which is why they are after him. Removing him from the equation is as good as stripping the King of his powers. Minister Kim has done exceptionally well in covering up his tracks, which is why there is no solid proof against him, complicating this entire issue. He has been playing a cat-and-mouse game with the royal army for a while now. 

Your husband left even before you woke up, leaving a note for you promising he would be home for dinner.

The day slowly passes by with you going to the palace and coming home once your shift is over, always under the watchful eye of San. The mood in the palace has been tense today, different rumours about Minister Kim floating in the air and a sinking feeling forms in your gut. No matter how hard you try, you cannot shake off the feeling that something ominous is about to take place.

Your suspicion starts taking shape when dusk falls and Seungcheol does not return. It turns into terror and restlessness as night falls, and still, there is no sign of him. The supper grows cold, and you fall asleep upright, waiting for him, your husband, who never comes.

When you open your eyes again, you find Jihye sitting next to you, a worried look on her face. “What is it?” You immediately sit up straight. “My lady, it is past midnight. Master has not returned yet. Should we send someone to the palace to ask for him?” She asks.

Your fingers fist around your skirt, anxiety coursing through your veins like poison. “We should.” You whisper.

Just as you are following Jihye out of the room, you hear commotion; the voice of a servant and Headservant Yang. Running to the porch, you see Seungcheol entering the house, dressed in his military uniform, his sword in his hand.

He marches straight towards you and drags you into your bedchamber without any words. “My Lord, where have you been!” You cry, gripping his arm. “I have been waiting for you—”

“Listen to me carefully,” he cuts you off, his hands resting on your shoulders as he leans down to be at your eye level. His usual unbothered demeanour is gone, replaced by worry that you see in his eyes as vividly as daylight. 

Something must be wrong. Your heart starts racing.

“The Minister of Trade is planning to attack us here tonight. They will be here anytime, so I need to get you out of here.”

“Wha— How did you even find that out? Are you sure?”

“The royal army captured a member of his team yesterday. We tortured the information out of him. Look at me,” he urges you, his fingers gripping your shoulder even tighter. “Minister Kim knows we are onto him. He has gone into hiding. He will stop at nothing to get to me, to you, do you understand? He plans to go down and drag me with him.” You see the fear in his eyes. The unshakable, indestructible man suddenly appears different, and this change terrifies you. 

“I am scared.” You whisper.

“You have nothing to be scared of.” He pulls you in his arms, holding you tightly against his chest. “I am going to send you to a safe place. I need you to do as I say, okay?”

You nod shakily, your fingers holding onto his sleeve in a death grip.

“Pack your essentials. We will leave within thirty minutes. Ask Jihye to help you.” He says, pressing a kiss on your forehead before marching outside.

With your heart hammering in your chest, you get to work, moving your shaky limbs to pack a bag with the help of Jihye. Soon, you are ready, and Seungcheol wastes no time wrapping everything up. He places Headservant Yang and the other servant in another neighbor's house to make sure they are safe before setting out with you.

In the darkness of the night, you get onto his horse with his help, followed by him sitting behind you, his arms around you to hold onto the reins. Jihye and another male servant get on another horse, and finally, a royal soldier follows from behind.

A little to the south of the town, there is a long, dense forest which leads to a small, quaint village. There is an ancient shrine there, inhabited by monks, and that is where Seungcheol intends to get you by dawn.

The silence grows heavier and thicker as you tread into the forest; the only sound echoing around is the soft galloping of the horses. You shiver, more from dread than from the cold night air and Seungcheol notices it. “Hold the reins.” He orders quietly so that his hands are free. He takes off the muffler wrapped around his neck and gently puts it around yours.

“I asked you to pack the essentials, wife.” His tone is playful. “I think a muffler in this weather counts as an essential.” He teases, and you understand it is his attempt to soothe you. “I am sorry, my lord. You should keep it. You will catch a cold.” You murmur.

“Hush now,” he shushes you, taking back the reins. “You should lean on me and close your eyes. It will take a while for us to reach there.”

“No, it is okay.” You reply, eyes focused ahead on the dark, narrow road cutting through the forest. 

It is such a gloomy night. You cannot spot a single star in the sky, shrouded by clouds.

Time ticks by. The night grows darker. 

Your journey continues through the hour of the ox and into the hour of the tiger. Exhaustion takes over you, and unable to resist it any longer, you close your eyes and lean your head back, resting it against your husband’s shoulder. It is not an ideal condition to get some shut-eye, but somehow you doze off.

When your eyes reopen, you hear the loud sound of a horse neighing and its heavy galloping. Seungcheol holds you tighter, and with a sharp tug of the reins and a nudge of his heels, his horse leaps into a full sprint. You look around worriedly, scanning through the dense bushes surrounding you.

“Master! Did they find us already?” Servant Min cries from behind as his horse too picks up pace.

The sounds grow louder, and just as your body tenses up, fearing the worst, you see San pop up from inside the forest, his horse taking a lunge and joining you on the road. “General, you have to keep going!” He yells. “They are right behind us.”

Seungcheol’s horse sprints parallel to his.

“How did they catch up so quickly?”

“Minister Kim had his men spread out. They were hiding in a camp a few miles behind. I took care of them, but the messenger escaped. I’m sure the minister is on his way. You need to move fast. There might be more of his men hiding in the forest.”

Upon hearing his words, you notice the specks of red on his hanbok. Swallowing the lump in your throat, you look behind to see your husband’s face. His jaw is clenched tight. “We need to come up with a plan. If they find us, we cannot hold them off. I need to get my wife to safety.” He yells back.

It is as if a cactus is lodged in your throat. “W-what do you mean?” You cry, your face aghast. 

He does not reply to you.

“It will be daybreak soon, General! We should hide somewhere.” San suggests.

Just then, you notice a sudden, strange ball of light in the sky, a little towards your right. It takes a moment for you to register that it is a signal, an arrow of fire shot from behind you.

“There are assassins ahead of us. They now know we are headed that way.” Seungcheol hisses.

“I will take care of it.” San nods, wielding his sword and screaming at the horse, “Go!” The horse runs faster, impossibly so, almost flying forward.

“I need you to stay calm and follow my orders.” Your husband says to you. “Do you hear me?” You nod shakily, “Yes.”

In five minutes, you catch up to San, who has taken care of most of the assassins that sat ahead at the curve. As you sprint near, Seungcheol hands the reins to you and readies his bow and arrow, taking perfect shots at the rest of the assassins. Then, he smoothly gets off the horse, followed by the other soldier who has been accompanying you, their swords wielded as they fight one-on-one.

A little ahead of the curb, you stop the horse and so does Jihye and servant Min, watching the fight anxiously. The three men take multiple assassins at a time, making sure they do not get to you.

You chew on your lower lip, your hands fidgeting as you watch the fight unfold. You wish Seungcheol gave you an archery set. You know the basics because you practised regularly as a child with your brother. Even though after his death, you stopped it for a while, you did not completely let go, taking occasional lessons from the older nobleman in your neighbourhood who used to be a skillful archer once upon a time.

By the time the last member of the group has been killed, shades of blue have coated the sky. Seungcheol and his team run back to the horses, their clothes specked with blood.  “Come on, we need to leave,” he says, mounting the horse.

There is a sudden sound; a sharp whoosh like a strong gust of wind just flew by, followed by a soft thud.

It is an arrow.

It whizzes towards you, missing the mark and hitting the tree trunk a couple of inches to your left. Your heart stops. A few hundred meters from the way you came, a large group of armed men show up. It is Minister Kim’s convoy.

They have caught up to you.

At the center, leading them is the minister himself, dressed in iron like he is about to go to war. His eyes, black and empty, scour the dead bodies of his assassins lying on the ground in front of him before looking at your husband.

His thin lips curl up into an evil smile. “General! No point in running now! It’s time to see how good of a fighter you are!” He yells. 

You feel Seungcheol's body growing tenser with each passing second, his hand gripping your thigh in a bruising hold. You, too, are paralyzed with fear, unsure of what to do. Then, absolutely shocking you, Seungcheol does the thing you least expected him to do. He starts getting off the horse slowly, his eyes trained on Minister Kim.

“San, take my wife and go.” He speaks quietly to the younger man who hadn’t gotten on his horse yet. “My Lord, what are you—” You do not get to finish your sentence because the younger man has instantly climbed behind you and snatched the reins from your hands.

“Get them!” You hear a shout as you are swept away with lightning speed. San’s grip around your body is iron solid, holding the reins with his eyes focused ahead on climbing the steep, hilly road at the end of the forest.

“No, please! You need to be with him!” You cry, fighting against him as you look behind to see Seungcheol fighting the Minister’s men, accompanied by the other soldier. 

He can never outfight all those people.

“Have faith in him. He knows what he is doing.” San assures, kicking his heels so the horse runs faster. You hear sounds right behind you, and you turn to see an assassin on a horse, aiming his arrow at you. San takes notice of it and swerves right immediately to avoid it.

As calculated, it misses, but a second later, your horse neighs out loud, standing on its hind legs before dropping down on the ground, taking the two of you with it. The arrow was meant for the horse. It struck his leg, injuring him, leaving the animal on the ground, softly crying in pain.

San wastes no time getting up and wielding his sword to fight off the man and the others following behind him. Jihye and servant Min, who were right behind you, yell out, calling for you to get on their horse. Jihye extends her hand towards you, but you ignore her, bunching up your skirt and making a run towards the curb.

“My Lady, what are you doing?” San yells, fighting off the assassins. “Jihye, stop her!”

“My Lady, come back!”

Ignoring their cries, you pick up the bow and set of arrows dropped by the assassin and continue sprinting down the steep road.

Then, finding a safe distance and a place behind an oak tree, you spot your husband, his movements sharp and precise as he takes down one man after the other. You watch as the minister slowly walks towards him, his sword dragging on the ground, leaving behind a threatening trail. Due to him wearing the armored plates, you know it is pointless to shoot at him, so you load your bow and aim at the assassins and start shooting.

The first one grazes past the man you aim at. Not discouraged, you continue, and the second one hits the target. 

Your husband looks in your direction immediately when the assassin drops dead, his eyes going from confusion to worry the moment he spots you. He does not have the time to do anything about it, as he has to fight the never-ending men.

And you are slightly grateful for that. Right now, he does not have the chance to come to you and force you away, giving you the chance to help him from afar. You continue loading arrows and shooting, missing some but hitting most, well aware of the fact that the Minister has spotted you.

From behind, you hear Jihye coming towards you, her exhausted pleas echoing down the path. “Jihye, I need more arrows!” You yell as you come down to your last two. “There should be some on the road back there!”

By now, most of the assassins have been taken care of, and the remainder are being fought by the soldier accompanying your husband. Minister Kim has approached Seunghceol as they engage in a heated sword fight, the minister swinging his sword like a madman, his growls echoing in the air. Your eyes scan around the place, thinking of finding a way to help Seungcheol, when San finally catches up to you, followed by Jihye, who did not get the arrows you asked for.

“My Lady, enough!” he yells. “You cannot be here! The road has been cleared—”

“We need to help him!” you yell back. “I cannot leave him here for—” You do not get to finish your sentence.

An arrow hits Seungcheol, piercing through the skin right below his right shoulder, on the top of his chest.

“No!” You scream, watching him stumble back for a moment. Your eyes fly through the scene, spotting an archer hidden inside the forest a little ahead towards your right. As you load your bow to take a shot at him, San finally comes to his senses, flying down the road to help Seungcheol.

You take the shot.

The arrow hits the hidden archer right in the chest, making him tumble backwards, disappearing out of sight. Then, you dash down the road, not scared of anything anymore, Jihye following you as your shadow.

San stands no match to Minister Kim, easily overpowered and tossed aside by his brute strength. He has the eyes of a madman, hell bent on getting to Seungcheol, discarding everything in his way like little bugs.

“I told you, you scarred lunatic!” He screams, charging at your husband. “I will slice your head off your neck and then do the same to your wife!”

He swings his sword around, charging for Seungcheol with all his might. Seungcheol blocks him with his sword, but the force of the attack forces him to fall to his knees. Minister Kim takes the opportunity to knock him off his feet with a kick. Seungcheol falls on the ground on his back, and in the split second, the minister raises his sword towards the sky before bringing it down sideways on his chest.

“Seungcheol!” You yell at the top of your lungs. “General!” San yells, coming from behind and tackling Minister Kim to the ground before he can fully swing his sword across. His helmet falls off from the force of San's attack. With your heart thundering in your ears, you point the remaining arrow at him.

It is like your body is not yours anymore. With zero hesitation, you take the shot while he is still pinned to the ground, struggling to get free, and the arrow hits the bullseye, right in the center of his forehead. 

His body slumps to the ground.

Pushing him away, San holds your husband’s lifeless body, his eyes slowly falling shut as he yells his name. Jihye and servant Min run past you, calling their master.

The bow drops from your hand.

You stand there, watching the ground go red underneath your husband’s body, your fingers gripping his muffler around your neck. 

—

Seungcheol receives his initial treatment in the shrine you were originally supposed to visit.

Once the news of the attack reached the capital, upon the king’s orders, the royal physician Yoon came to treat Seungcheol. He and his assistants crowded the room, tending to your husband’s injury with medicine and wrapping the area with gauze as he lay motionless on the mat.

You stood just outside the room, gazing at your sleeping husband, who looked nothing like his usual self—pale and frail, his body littered with little cuts. 

Why won’t he wake up? You miss his eyes. You miss his slow, unravelling gaze on you, his crimson, fiery eye that can almost cut through stone with a simple gaze. Where is that man?

Physician Yoon said he is in a deep sleep. They call it a vegetative state. The injury was quite lethal; the wound just a few centimetres away from damaging his heart. He said that the worst is over, and his pulse is stable now.

But he won’t wake up. He remains unresponsive, and it is unclear how long it will take for him to regain consciousness. 

“I see,” was all you said, standing motionless in your spot, gazing at your comatose husband.

A couple of days later, the King sent a royal convoy to move Seungcheol back to his house from the shrine. You had no complaints, wanting your husband to rest comfortably in his own house rather than a shrine. After a long journey, you reached home in the afternoon, greeted by Headservant Yang, who looked as devastated as you. After making sure your husband was okay, physician Yoon left, leaving you anticipating yet another sleepless night. 

It is nighttime now, and you sit still next to your sleeping husband. Headservant Yang peeks into the room, begging you to have some food. You ignore her, sitting quietly and observing your husband. The small lamp in the bedchamber casts warm shadows on his face, his sharp features appearing softer and weaker. 

He looks oddly at peace. You do not cry. You force a smile.

Leaning closer to him, you glide a gentle hand down his face and whisper, “You can rest. You have had a tough life, my dear. You can rest as long as you need, but you have to come back to me.”

You will pray to every god out there. You will visit every shrine, give unlimited offerings, and pray that your husband returns to you. You will do everything in your power to see him open his eyes. It is truly a shame you do not have much power in your hands.

Sometime later, your exhausted body falls into deep slumber, riddled with nightmares. Your husband lies in a pool of blood, and he does not wake up.

— 

The next morning, your father comes to see you. You do not move from your spot next to your husband to greet him as San leads him into the room before excusing himself.

He sits next to you, watching his son-in-law with small, worried eyes, muttering words of regret and concern. You hardly hear them, too busy patting Seungcheol’s face and arms with a damp cloth. Physician Yoon left a while ago after checking up on him and said that there is no progress. The king’s personal messenger came with him as well as the Head Eunuch, praying for Seungcheol and assuring to provide help in any way they can.

You couldn't care less about them. You sent them off, handing the letter you wrote for the king in the messenger’s hand before asking San to see them out.

“My daughter, you should eat something. You have to take care of yourself so that you can take care of him.” Your father urges.

You finish wiping your husband’s body in silence before setting the rag down and clasping his hand in yours. They are calloused but warm, and you silently send a prayer of gratitude to the heavens. He is alive. He is still here.

Tracing over his bruised knuckles with your fingertips, you whisper, “You know, Father, I have been lonely for a long time. After orabeoni died, I thought that was it. It could not get worse, but then Mother died. And I…I hated that I was alive. Because in that house, I was dead. I was dead while still being alive.”

You exhale a shaky breath, pulling Seungcheol’s hand closer to inspect it. You need to apply ointment on his knuckles.

“There was no colour, no joy, no celebration in that house. You were there but also not there. You never saw me. I was not enough, not after losing someone as precious as orabeoni. I felt so guilty. It should have been me, not him—that is all I could think of. I thought my entire life would be miserable like that, which is why I was so eager to marry this man.”

Another heavy sigh whooshes out of your lungs.

“Father, this man…people fear him. They say all sorts of weird things about him. But he is the kindest, warmest man I know. He kept his heart locked and hidden from the world, but he is so precious. He is gentle and kind, and he loves me. He loves me so dearly, Father, and I love him. How could I go on without him?”

And finally, the tears fall. Big droplets of water roll down your cheek as you fall on the ground, clutching onto your husband’s hand and sobbing into the floor, loud and broken.

Your father’s hand comes to rest on your shoulder rather unsurely, softly patting you as you keep crying, the tears that never came till now gushing out like a river with a broken dam. Your broken heart continues to shatter into even smaller pieces, and you cannot help but wonder what if he never wakes up again. Maybe you are doomed to be lonely.

The thought makes you cry some more. After a while, once you have managed to calm down, you sit up and wipe your tears.

“I…I did not know you felt that way.” Your father whispers, his voice ridden with guilt. “I…I never meant to hurt you. I am sorry—”

“I don’t want your apology right now, Father. I want you to pray for him.” You cut him off.

“I will. Of course I will.” He says, his eyes shining with unshed tears and guilt. “And when he is back on his feet, I will come visit you and I will accept your apology then.” You murmur, your gaze trained on your husband.

“Of course. Have faith, my dear. He will be awake soon.” Your father assures, his voice unstable. You hum absentmindedly.

If Seungcheol does not wake up, you do not know what you will do.

— 

The wind is particularly chilly this morning.

It has been a fortnight since Seungcheol fell into his comatose state, and he is just as before. Every day, Physician Yoon comes to check on him and then leaves while handing you some herbs to apply to his wound.

You have accepted this as your life now. Waking up every morning with a prayer that all the previous days were a long, gruesome nightmare, but then feeling grateful to see him still breathing, warm and alive.

After completing your daily prayer and offerings at the temple, you walk home in slow steps, the fatigue slowly creeping into your bones. The past week has been hard on you, and it looks like your body to starting to give up. You have not been eating properly, spending all your waking hours beside Seungcheol, tending to his comatose body or crying at the altar of the temple.

You cannot give up. Seungcheol is yet to awake.

Just as you come in front of your house, you find a small stray cat sitting comfortably in the sun. With a small, exhausted smile, you walk closer and crouch down, running your fingers through its shaggy fur. It looks dirty and disheveled, and you wonder where it is from.

You should probably bring it inside and give it some milk to eat. Judging by how comfortably it sits and basks in the sun, you are doubtful you will be able to get it inside your house.

“Would you like something to eat?” You whisper, gently scratching between its ears. The cat meows rather boredly, closing its eyes and resting its head on the ground after a quick swish of its tail.

Right then, a servant bursts out of the front door, looking like he saw a ghost. He looks back and forth down the road before finally spotting you on the ground. The wide-eyed, frazzled look on his face makes your blood run ice cold, and you immediately stand up.

“What is it?”

“My lady…Master is awake.”

You are free falling. You fall and fall, all the limbs of your body finally giving up after a week of war. For a long moment, you stand there, stuck in a daze. You don’t dare to breathe, afraid you would wake up and realize it was a dream.

“I will go get Physician Yoon. Please go inside, my lady.” The servant says before rushing down the street. You struggle to move. The stray cat at your feet has got up due to the commotion and is now strolling into the house.

With your heart racing in your chest, you slowly follow it, your legs shaky due to the nerves.

Seungcheol is awake. He is finally awake. 

You hear lots of voices, especially Headservant Yang’s, as she scolds and cries loudly. With a lump lodged in your throat, you keep on walking until you spot the door to his bedchamber. You catch a glimpse of your husband sitting up, and for some reason unknown to you, you immediately hide behind a nearby wall.

You are too scared to see him. Too overwhelmed, too afraid.

You thought of this. You dreamed of the day he would wake and look at you, and now that it is here, you do not know what to do. It feels unreal.

You are angry at him. You are also grateful. Angry for getting hurt. Grateful for waking up.

A sob bursts out of your throat, and you start wailing, unable to hold back the tears any longer. With your palms clasped over your mouth, you cry so hard that it becomes hard to breathe. The sobs wrack your body, knocking the air out of your lungs and leaving behind only pain.

The pain of almost losing him. The pain of seeing him lie there almost lifeless, day after day.

A hand on your shoulder startles you, and you find Jihye standing next to you. Her eyes are misty as she wraps an arm around your heaving body and rubs your arms soothingly. “It is alright, my lady. Please do not cry. He is looking for you.”

Her words make you cry some more before you manage to wipe your tears and snot. It is pretty futile because they do not stop completely. With shaky legs, you move from your hiding spot and continue towards his chamber, your heart pounding loudly in your ears.

Seungcheol spots you immediately, his posture straightening as he sees you arriving. But you do not meet his eye. 

You cannot bring yourself to. If you look at him, you will start crying once more, right in the middle of the yard, in front of all the servants. 

Headservant Yang and others start moving away as they see you approaching, giving you privacy. You cross the porch, your eyes still trained on the wooden floor of his bedchamber, your hands slightly shaking.

Finally, you step inside and shut the door behind you. Then, your eyes slowly travel to his.

He is definitely paler and thinner than before, but you see life in his eyes. You see the spark and the shine that have always been present in them, and right at that moment, you are sure he will be alright.

Thank god.

He looks up at you, his eyes brimming with longing and guilt. His usual plump red lip shaded in a pale pink colour. His face littered with little cuts that are still healing, yet he has never looked more handsome.

And you have never been happier to see him.

You want to scream. You want to yell at him and tell him how much you love him, but you cannot speak. Tears and sobs threaten to overflow once more, so you stand there like a statue and keep staring at your husband, repeating in your head that he is alive and well. 

Until your knees finally give out. 

You kneel in front of him and wrap your arms around his neck, careful to avoid his left chest and leaning your weight more on the right.  Breathing him in, you hold him as tightly as possible, wishing you could merge yourself into him, wishing you could lock him away and protect him for the rest of his life.

Your tears wet his bare shoulders, your fingers tightly gripping onto the muscles on his back, clutching him on for dear life. It feels as if you let him go— if your grip loosens ever so slightly, you will lose him forever.

It takes a long moment for you to realize how your body is shaking due to your sobs and tearful hiccups, only when your husband's warm hands wrap around you, patting your back like you are a small, wounded animal.

“It is okay, my dear. Everything is okay,” he soothes in the softest voice, and when you hear him, another violent sob slips past your throat while you cling to him and cry in the crook of his neck.

You want to stop, but the tears are endless, a mixture of pain and relief. Gingerly, Seungcheol pulls you away from him to take a look at your face, which is puffy and tear-stained. With his thumbs, he wipes your tears away, murmuring, “Hush, now. It pains me to see you cry like this.”

You want to reply, but the lump in your throat is still heavy, and you know if you try to utter something, only sobs will come out, so you remain silent, raking your eyes over his body before settling on the wound on his chest.

“I am alright, I promise.” He assures you once he sees your gaze. “I feel well-rested, in fact.”

You are glad to hear that.

Wiping the remaining tears and snot rather unceremoniously with your sleeve, you get up on your feet to leave the room, but he tugs on your wrist, pulling you back down and into his arms this time.

“Where are you going?”

“To get you some herbal tea.” You reply, your voice meek and scratchy. Your husband locks his arms around you. “Headservant Yang will do that. I need you to stay here. I have missed you.”

Your lower lip trembles, but you will yourself not to cry again. Instead, you whisper, “I have missed you as well. I have missed you so much, you have no idea, Seungcheol.”

He shifts, peering at your face with a surprised look. “You called me by my name.”

“I have been calling your name for the past week.” You murmur, staring at your lap.

He maneuvers your body with gentle, effortless hands so that he can see you fully. “You know, you look like the one who has been comatose for a week. What is this I am seeing? When was the last time you had a proper meal?” He frowns, his eyes trained on you like a hawk as he squints at your face.

You look away, murmuring, “I have been busy nursing a sick man.”

He scoffs. “Not busy enough to eat. You look like a ghost, my wife. I am genuinely worried about you.”

You do not meet his gaze. With an exasperated sigh, he gently tilts your face up by the chin. “Look at me.” He softly commands you. You do as you are told, finding his eyes set on you, those beautiful, mesmerizing eyes that you missed so deeply. 

Your husband’s face inches closer to press a soft kiss on your forehead. It is not quick; he holds his lips pressed right in the middle of your forehead, slightly above your brow, like he is trying to leave an imprint. You close your eyes and lean closer, savouring the feel of his lips against your skin.

Oh, how you longed for this.

“I love you.”

You must have heard wrong. You stop breathing, your body going tense for a moment. Seungcheol leans back, one of his hands wrapped around your neck, his thumb stroking your cheek while the other cups the back of your head, angling your face just slightly upwards and in line with his gaze.

“I love you.” He repeats—his words slow, heavy, deliberate.

You feel faint. It is hard for you to find words, and while you continue gaping at him with parted lips and shining eyes, he continues, “I was scared I would not be able to say this to you. As I lay on the ground and saw you standing there, this was all I could think of. I was angry at myself for never telling you how much I love you.”

“Oh Seungcheol…” your lips tremble. You wrap your arms around his neck, making yourself at home by placing your head under his chin, feeling his hard muscles against your body.

“I love you, dear wife. I love you more than life itself. More than I could ever express.” You hug him tighter. “I love you, too. I love you so much, Seungcheol. You are my whole world.”

“I know.” He murmurs. “I knew the moment you came back towards me. Which you should not have done, by the way. You put yourself in danger.” He loosens his hold on you to catch a glimpse of your face, his gaze admonishing. “I am still mad at you for doing that, but you look miserable enough, so I will let you off.”

You only smile.

“Also, when were you going to tell me what an amazing archer you are? How come I did not know that?”

You look away sheepishly, biting your lip. “You never asked.”

He laughs, the sound sweet and throaty. His arms wrap around you in a tight, protective hold once again, and you close your eyes, savouring the rhythm of his heartbeat next to your ear. As you bask in his warmth, you announce, “You are not going back to the military. I am not letting you go.” Detangling himself from you, your husband regards you with an amused look, like he cannot believe you. “Oh, really?”

“I am serious.” You huff with a frown. “You are not going back. You have fought enough battles for a lifetime. Now it is time for you to rest.”

“Hm. And what if His Majesty disapproves?” His tone is playful.

“I do not care. I already wrote him a letter, saying that once you woke up, you would not resume your duties.”

Amazed, your husband watches you, his eyes twinkling with pride. “I cannot believe you did that.” You ignore him. “Promise me. Promise me you will not go back to the military.”

He remains silent, watching you calmly, and you start getting anxious, expecting the worst. Just as you start thinking of different ways to force him to stay, he says, “I will not, I promise. I was not going to go any way. That was the first decision I made when I opened my eyes. I got another chance at life with you. I plan on using it very well.”

Your heart soars. You grin, a full-on smile sweeping over your face after a long time. Pressing a soft, chaste kiss on his lips, you whisper, “Can we go live by the sea now?” His eyes shine with love. “Yes, we can.”

You couldn't be happier. Your heart couldn't be fuller. It is pure delight when you think of a future with this man, away from all the noise and the troubles that have been plaguing your life until now.

He can be safe now. He can rest.

Unconsciously, your thumb traces the scar next to his eye, feeling the bumpy skin underneath your finger. The scar now looks like a tree branch that extends into even smaller branches containing little flowers.

You lean forward and press a kiss on it. 

“I am just glad you will not get hurt anymore. You have already been through so much.” You whisper, your sad gaze trailing over all the marks on his skin, old and new, before settling on his left chest. You gingerly place your hand over the gauze, remembering how long and deep the gash was.

It will scar for sure. Probably the biggest scar on his body, and it will be because he was protecting you. A shaky breath parts from your lips as you are momentarily transported back in time; him lying motionless on the ground that was turning red. As if your husband can read your thoughts, he gently tilts your chin up and forces you to meet his eyes.

“My dear, I am alright. Look at me.”

“This will scar. You will be in much pain as it heals. Because of me.”

“Don't say that.” He holds you against his chest, his fingers wrapping tightly around your limbs. “You are the only one who loves my scars. Because of you, I now love them too. I would not have changed a single thing if I had the chance. You know why? Because every one of the scars in my body led me to you. And this one?” He places a hand over yours, which is resting on his chest.

“This one tied me to you forever. I earned you. I earned your forever through this. So I think this is the most beautiful.”

A lone tear strolls down your cheek. “Oh, Seungcheol,” you choke over a sob, tilting your face up to capture his lips in a kiss.

His arms engulf you completely, his lips taking over yours, his tongue moving inside your mouth like he has been starving for this.

It is breathless, passionate, and gentle at the same time, conveying all the feelings and emotions the two of you could never put into words. 

It is beautiful, like the scars on his body, leaving behind a trace of love.

For a special epilogue, head over to my Patreon. Click here to see the preview!

© startlightxsvt 2025 | All Rights Reserved. Do not copy, translate, adapt, or repurpose any of my works.

A/N 2: First of all, I want to thank you for reading till the end. Next, I just want to say that this fic has been one of my dream projects. Is it the best? Maybe not but did I have the most fun writing it? Hell yes! It was originally supposed to be a bit longer but I cut some parts out, mainly because I was worried this app wouldn't let me post the entire thing easily. Sure enough, it said that there were too many blocks on my post, so I had to stitch together a lot of passages even though they were separate at first. So, I'm sorry if the flow gets weird in some places.

On a different note, I will also be posting this on AO3 once I have opened my account (I am still waiting for their invitation mail), so once I have made my account, I will link it here. Do support me over there! Finally, I just want to take a moment to thank you all for your support. I am really excited to hear from you guys about this fic, so please do send an ask!

That's it from me for now. For my next fic, I will be returning with something short and lighthearted. Stay happy and healthy, y'all! <33

[starlightxsvt]

Scars Leave a Beautiful Trace | c.sc

synopsis ➳ ❝an arranged marriage with the man the entire land is afraid of. the man with a crimson eye. they call him the grim reaper. cold, ruthless, unforgiving. yet you are drawn to him, curious to see the man hiding behind the cold, hard exterior. and the man behind is hauntingly beautiful but your forever with him is not promised.❞ pairing ➳ husband general!seungcheol/ x wife noblewoman!reader genre ➳ historical romance (joseon era), angst, pining, smut. wc ➳ 25.4k + 1040 (patreon) warnings ➳ blood, mentions of war, scars, minor character death, attachment issues, arranged marriage, mentions of cheating, severe injury, miscommunication. cheol is an ass in the first half, reader is lowkey a simp, jealousy, big dicc cheol, bondage, virgin sex, rough, unprotected sex, fingering, teasing, edging, dirty talking, praise kink. a/n: this is a work of fiction, so take this with a grain of salt. it will be historically inaccurate, so my apologies beforehand. (also, surprise?? posting it a day early hehe)

glossary:

Jangot – Veil-like cloak for women

Binyeo – Decorative hairpin

Yakgwa – Honey-ginger cookie

Jeonbok – Traditional sleeveless vest for men

Dasik – Pressed tea cookie

Jeogori – Upper garment or jacket

Chima – Skirt worn by women

Baduk – Strategy board game (Go)

Daenggi – Ribbon for braids

Hour of the Ox – 1:00–3:00 AM

Hour of the Tiger – 3:00–5:00 AM

Orabeoni – Respectful term for older brother

+82 some miracle

only listen to my general

“Daughter, this is General Choi Seungcheol, your betrothed. Greet him properly,” your father commands softly, his eyes trained on you.

Your breath stutters in your chest.

Whether from the loaded tension in the air, the silence of the room or your future husband’s penetrating eyes on you, you are unsure. 

His eyes…

You saw them once, a long, long time ago, and you remember them in explicit detail because they are heterochromatic. His right iris is red, a shade of fiery crimson that is scary but also hypnotizing—a stark contrast to his left iris, which is pure black. 

You wish it were only his eyes that were lethal. Unfortunately for you, it is his presence itself. It is the way he silently sits there, poised and alert, holding his sword in his right hand and softly drumming his left index finger on his knee, as if telling you to hurry up. It is the way his face remains unreadable, a porcelain white canvas containing a pair of eyes fiercer than a mountain lion's, a sharp nose that is slightly crooked on the left, and pink lips that are pressed in a thin line. The most daunting of it all, the scar on the right side of his face, just below his eye and on top of his cheekbone. It is no more than a couple of inches long, but the gash looks deep, even after it has healed and imagining the pain behind that curse rakes shivers down your spine. 

Finally, you snap out of your reverie.

With a shaky exhale, you bow down and speak as humbly as possible. “Please accept my greetings, my lord. It is a pleasure to meet you.”

— 

Choi Seungcheol is well known throughout the kingdom, highly feared and revered. In fact, many hold him in the same regard as the king, which is not unfair or surprising. He is the Minister of War and the General of the royal military, the right-hand man of the King and his most trusted subject. Since his boyhood, he demonstrated excellent swordsmanship, and paired with his keen intellect and faultless war strategies, he quickly rose through the ranks and became the King's favourite. His name spread far and wide after he brought victory to the nation in two consecutive wars. He attended the first one when he was only eighteen, and he became infamous for that.

That war with the nearby enemy nation was extremely brutal, as it took away the lives of many of the best men in the military. When Seungcheol returned to the capital with the enemy General’s head in his hands, he was a changed man who had altered the course of history. Bloodied, beaten and bruised, he sported the deep scar on his face, fresh and bleeding. 

Rumours spread from there. Though he brought the nation victory, the townspeople gossiped about everything from his scar, his crimson eye, to his temper, claiming that he was a madman or possessed by an evil spirit. 

You have heard a few things from your father, too. He has agreed that the war changed the man, rightfully so. As the state minister, your father saw firsthand how brutal and merciless the war was till the last moment. So much so that he stepped down from his position afterwards.

He lost his son in the war, after all. Your older brother, whom you vaguely remember because you were only eight at that time. 

Nothing was the same after his passing. Your father lost his spark, your mother became quiet and indifferent, and the house fell into a deathly silence that felt haunted. The silence still lingers, fourteen years later. 

It has been a long time, so long that sometimes you feel like those days never existed. Yet, you remember them vividly: the pain of your mother’s death four years after your brothers, the remaining light dissipating from your father's eyes and the house falling into a perpetuating state of darkness, a place where everyone remained silent, from the slaves to the master. A place that never truly was illuminated, even during the brightest days of summer. A place that you had to call home but wasn’t your home. It was a graveyard where you floated through, watching the world outside bathe and shine with colours when the second war was won, when the king became the father of a boy, when the economy flourished. Seasons passed and years went by, yet your house never celebrated a holiday or a special occasion. 

You saw your father survive each day, haunted by his past and unaware of the present. Every day, he would see students from morning till noon, fulfilling his duties as a scholar before retiring to his room and staying there till the next morning.

The only time you saw some life in him was three years ago, when he called you one day in his chamber to announce that you would get married to Choi Seungcheol once he returned from his three-year trip to another country. Choi Seungcheol, the General of the Royal Military. The man with heterochromatic eyes, who came to your brother’s funeral years ago.

That’s how you have remembered him. The man with two different colored eyes, who stood in the rain with a grim expression on his face as they lowered your brother into the ground.

Over the years, you have heard notorious things about him. He has gained an infamous reputation among the townspeople. Many people believe that he is insane and that he murders people for fun. Word goes around that he is a womanizer, a man without a heart, a man who did not spare his own brother and executed him for treason.

You don’t know how much of this is true.

It all might be true; he just might be the devil living in a human body, but funnily enough, you do not care.

You will do anything to get out of this house. Living here for the past fourteen years has been like being buried alive. You are breathing, yet you don’t feel alive—you don’t remember the last time you felt that way, if ever.

And if a diabolical, insane man is your ticket out of this grave, you will take it. You will accept it with open arms and a smile on your face.

— 

The marketplace is crowded.

You gently tread through the throng of people, holding your jangot over your head as you eye the stalls leisurely, nothing in particular catching your attention. 

“My lady,” Jihye whispers, walking alongside you. “You have been circling the market for the past half an hour. What are you even looking for?”

A dejected sigh flows past your lips. 

Last time you came to the market, a pretty flower binyeo caught your eye. You had not received your salary yet at that time, and so, you could not purchase the piece. You had aimed to buy that binyeo today, but now that you've received your pay, it's no longer available. You have been scouring the market ever since, looking for something similar, but there is none.

“You know what, let us buy some yakgwa and head home,” you say, looking for a snack shop. Jihye smiles, her eyes flickering excitedly at your mention of buying sweets.

A few feet ahead of you, you spot a sweet shop. Instead of focusing on the plethora of sweets laid out, your gaze travels to the right, stopping on two men standing by that shop, their backs facing you.

Something about the tall, broad man dressed in black makes you stop in your tracks. Particularly, his long ebony hair feels oddly familiar to you. 

The man shifts a little, and you catch the slightest glimpse of his side profile through the busy street. Immediately, you squeak and hide behind a nearby stall.

It is General Choi, your husband-to-be.

“My lady, what is wrong?” Jihye hovers around you worriedly. Without looking away from the man, you dig into the sleeve of your hanbok, fishing out some coins and handing them to Jihye. 

“Here. Go buy as much yakgwa as you want.” You murmur, pushing her towards the shop while you get more comfortable in your hiding spot.

You don’t even know why you are hiding. You did not do anything wrong, and you surely have no reason to spy on your future husband in the middle of a busy marketplace.

Still, you continue observing him converse with the other gentleman. His stance is poised and powerful as always, and dressed head to toe in his signature black military clothes, he looks like death itself. Haunting but hypnotizing; which would explain why you cannot look away. 

And then, suddenly, he turns around, locking his eyes with you straight, as if he knew exactly where you were hiding. 

With a gasp of mortification and terror, you immediately whip your head away and bump into a passerby. Bowing your head in an apology, you let the woman pass through before tentatively turning your head back to the street.

Choi Seungcheol stands right behind you.

“Ah!” You yelp, taken aback and stumble a few steps behind. He reaches out immediately and grabs your elbow in a flash, saving you from the fall.

Flushed and breathless, you gape at him like a fish out of water.

He has the usual grim and unamused look on his face, peering down at you almost like he is judging you. His hair is tied up in a half bun, and his bangs frame half of his face, covering his odd eye and the scar. It is a shame, you find yourself thinking as you observe the rest of his face, counting the moles on his pale skin.

It is when he lets you go that you realize he had been holding onto you all this time, and you stood there like a statue.

How unladylike!

First, he catches you spying on him, and now— 

“My apologies, my Lord.” You immediately take several steps back, putting a safe distance between the two of you. Full of shame, you keep your head low as you murmur, “I was simply startled to see you.”

“It seems that you were spying on me.” His voice is smooth and rich, calm and authoritative. “No!” You gasp. “I was just…um…looking. I thought you…ah…looked somewhat familiar…”

He cocks a thick brow in amusement, the faintest smirk creeping up on his lips. 

What are you even saying?

Cringing at your own words, you press your lips shut and scowl at the ground, cursing the heavens for your predicament.

“You are not at the palace today?” He asks. You welcome the change of topic with great relief.

"No, my Lord. I asked for a break from my duties this week as I am preparing for the wedding.”

With no mother or close female relatives, it is up to you to prepare your wedding. 

Generally, you do not like skipping work. It has been two months since you secured a job at the palace after a lot of struggle. Your father was not very happy with the idea of you working, especially in the palace, but he ultimately gave in. 

You work as a teacher to the children under the head court lady of the palace, teaching them how to read and write while they train to be future court ladies. Sometimes you also work as a bookkeeper for the royal library, but that is something you do voluntarily and out of your love for reading. The pay is not very much, but it gives you a sense of freedom and identity, something you struggled to find for the last twenty-two years.

“Head Court Lady Yeo speaks very highly of you.” General Choi states. You do not understand whether he meant it positively or negatively, given his flat tone. Confused, you chuckle awkwardly. “It is a pleasure to work under her guidance. She is very patient and—”

Suddenly, Seungcheol reaches out to you, grabbing you by the arm and harshly tugging you towards him. Completely oblivious as to what is happening, you bump into his chest as his arms snake around you, protectively holding your body next to his.

Less than half a second later, a man riding a horse whooshes by, yelling out apologies to all the people for his rowdy horse. Dear Lord, you were about to be trampled by a horse if not for him.

“Are you alright?” 

His voice makes you look up at him, wide-eyed and panting. It takes a moment for you to realize that he is holding you against his chest, his warm hand resting on your shoulder in a protective grip while your hands rest on his shoulders, gripping the fabric of his jeonbok for support.

With your heart pounding loudly in your ears, it takes you yet another moment to remember how inappropriate this is, the way you are pressed against him. In a flash, you free yourself from his hold and shuffle back, murmuring a mortified apology. At the same time, you hate how much you miss his touch on you.

How odd.

“My lady, are you alright!” Jihye comes running down the street, a packet of confectionery in her hands. 

“Y-yes, I am okay. Let us get going.” You announce, immediately turning away from General Choi, desperate to escape this mortifying situation.

“Hold on.” The deep baritone of his voice steals a breath from your lips. Your body instinctively listens to his command, and you carefully look behind to see him picking up your jangot, which you probably dropped earlier and were about to leave without.

Once more, you cringe at your clumsiness as you watch him brush off the dirt before extending the material towards you. With shaky hands, you reach for it. “Thank you, my Lord. I wish you a pleasant day.”

The next second, you rush out of the marketplace as if the grim reaper himself were chasing after you. Behind you, Jihye struggles to keep up, but you couldn't care less, hiding your face in embarrassment.

That night, under the blanket, you lie wide awake. The memory of General Choi’s hand on your body and his chest pressed against yours keeps repeating in your head in a loop. A foreign, warm sensation pools in your belly, and you find yourself shamefully fantasizing about your future husband, forsaking slumber.

—

You got married today. 

According to the elders of the town, it is one of the most important days of your life, yet it felt like every other—quick and ordinary. Probably because the groom was barely there.

During noon, he came in to fulfil the basic rituals before marching out, leaving a note for you with Jihye. The work in the palace is too demanding, so he must go. He would see you tonight at his place. That was all he said.

Hours later, night has fallen and you are now in his home.

You sit alone in a chamber prepared especially for you. His servants made sure you were comfortable, helping you bathe and prepare for the first night with your husband before leaving you alone to sit with your thoughts and hear the hum of the crickets in the nearby forest.

You declined their offer to serve you dinner. It is only appropriate to wait for your husband and share the first meal together. 

Adorned in fine silk and pretty ribbons, you sit and wait for your husband to come, watching the flame of the candle dancing and melting away the wax. 

You are nervous. It is your first night with your husband. You, who has never even looked at a man for a second too long. You are now married to one of the most feared men in the kingdom. You have heard people talk about his ruthlessness in bed. Apparently, the girls in the brothel talk about it all the time, especially when he visits. Jihye said that whoever spends the night with him needs an entire day to recover.

“Lady Choi,” Head Servant Yang suddenly calls your name before opening the door. “Master has arrived. He is taking a bath currently.”

You snap out of the thoughts of bedding your husband and give her a shy smile. “Could you please set the table then?”

“Of course.” The elderly woman bows and walks out of the room, arranging for dinner to be set in your chamber.

Ten minutes after the dinner is served, General Choi walks into the room. Fresh out of the bath, he is dressed in his nightwear and his hair is tied up in a neat bun, giving you an uninterrupted view of his face. Once again, you find yourself hypnotised by his heterochromatic eyes.

“You did not have dinner?” He asks, sitting down in front of you. His movement is as graceful as always, silent yet stealthy. His posture is upright, the muscles of his shoulders taught as he sits and regards you with careful eyes.

“I was waiting for you, my Lord.” You reply meekly.

“You should not have,” he states, his tone almost condescending. “I am sure Head Servant Yang informed you that I return from work late most days.”

“Today is a special day, is it not?” You find yourself speaking boldly. Your words are firm like the gaze in your eyes, and for a long moment, the chamber is plunged into suffocating silence.

General Choi keeps looking down at you, his gaze as intimidating as ever, and you half expect him to draw his sword from its sheath and slice your head off. Instead, his lips curl upwards, and a noise of amusement leaves his throat. 

“Lady Choi, you seem upset.” He states, his voice half challenging and half something you cannot pinpoint. Sarcasm? Threat?

Unsure how to reply to that, you bite your lip and stare at the food laid out in front of you. All your appetite is gone now.

“Let me tell you something, Lady Choi.” Your husband leans closer to you over the table. Something about the way he utters your title forces you to meet his gaze. Like always, the fierce look in his eyes steals away your breath.

The man is hauntingly beautiful.

“I am certain you have some expectations from this marriage, and I cannot hold that against you. However, let me inform you now, I will not be able to fulfil your expectations, whatever they may be. So, I suggest you completely let go of your expectations, for your own good.”

What? You are sure no woman in Joseon’s history ever had to hear these words on her wedding night.

“My Lord, I do not understand.”

He does not bother clarifying his words. Instead, the look in his eyes shifts, his gaze sharpening on you. Lazily, he pours himself a drink from the pitcher and chugs it down.

“I know what this marriage means to you.”

You hold your breath and watch him, alarmed. He smirks. “It means freedom. It is your way out of that house. So, let this marriage be just that. A way out for you and a duty obliged for me.”

Well, consummating the marriage is also a duty. So is spending time with your wife and sharing a meal with her on your wedding night. You want to yell the words out, but you press your lips shut and stare at him, still processing what is happening.

“As long as we maintain our boundaries, this will be a great union,” he announces almost like he is reassuring you. You feel anything but that.

You feel abandoned, yet again.

“You should eat now,” he says, standing up. “I will retire for the night.” Without sparing another glance at you, he leaves the room. For a long moment, you silently sit in your place, your fancy garment and jewellery suddenly becoming too heavy on your skin. Ignoring the sensation, you reach for the rice, nibbling on the grains with your chopsticks.

You do not understand why tears prick your eyes.

— 

The next morning, an unknown man waits for you as you step out of your chamber and put on your shoes, ready to leave for the palace.

Your husband had left early in the morning, and while the news hurt you slightly, it also left you with relief. After last night, you have not had enough time to process your emotions to face him.

The strange man bows as he sees you approaching. “Greetings, Lady Choi. I am San. As per General Choi’s orders, I shall accompany you from now on for your safety.” Stupefied, you blink at the man. His build and posture indicate that he is a military person, but you do not understand why your husband would have someone guard you.

“My husband put you up to this?” You raise a brow. “Why?”

“I am afraid I cannot say. It was his order.”

You narrow your eyes at him. “So, from now on, you will what? Follow me everywhere?”

“Yes. Whenever you need to go out, I shall accompany you.”

“Is someone trying to kill me?” You ask, point blank, blinking at him.

San makes a noise of surprise before an awkward laugh spills from his lips. “O-of course not, my lady.” You keep eyeing the strange man with suspicion as you start heading for the front door. “Alright then, let us leave.”

— 

You bump into your husband at the palace.

At noon, when the sun is high in the sky, you finish teaching the young girls. Then, you head to the library to cool off and see if the head librarian needs any help. With no new work for you, Librarian Kim serves you some tea and sweets, congratulating you on your marriage. On your way out, he gives you some dasik to take home and share with your husband.

The husband who seems to want to do nothing with you.

With gratitude, you take the sweets and head out of the library, done with your day's work at the palace. That is when you see him. Below the steps of the library building, he approaches, followed by two other men, all dressed in uniforms. Their movements are quick and determined, almost like they are on a military mission.

General Choi takes notice of you as he climbs the stairs. Flustered and oddly shy, your first instinct is to hide. With no place to do that, you stand your ground and bow, “My Lord—”

He walks past as if he did not see you.

You stand rooted to your spot, blinking at the ground.

What just happened?

He ignored you. He blatantly ignored you. His wife. There is no way he did not see you. He did. His eyes met yours, and he held your gaze before looking away.

Hurt and humiliated, you stand there for several long moments, the sun scorching your back. You are tempted to storm back into the library and demand why he did that, but you know better than that.

For one, there is always the danger of him chopping your head off. You heard he once cut off a man’s head just for looking at him too long.

The other issue is more personal. Walking in there would make you look desperate, especially in front of others. You are supposed to be a newlywed happy wife, not someone who chases after her husband when he ignores her in public. The thought makes you feel like pins prickling your heart.

Once more in your life, you are insignificant. You are the lesser one, the one who can be forgotten, overlooked.

With boulders forming in your heart, you head home.

— 

Your husband returned home late today as well.

You had your dinner long ago, and Jihye prepared your bed for you. However, you did not get under the covers. In the dimly lit space of your bedchamber, you have been sitting with your head on your knees, curled up in a corner and watching the candle burn.

No matter how hard you try, you fail to get past the incident earlier today. You simply cannot comprehend why your husband would ignore you like that.

Your curiosity gets the better of you. With a resolved breath, you step out of your room and walk into his bedchamber. You knock at his door. “My Lord, may I come in?”

A beat of silence. “Yes.”

Opening the doors, you find Seungcheol tying the knot of his undershirt. The material is thin and white, giving you a pretty decent glimpse of his silhouette. Flustered, you immediately lower your gaze and shake your head at yourself. 

You did not think this through. Of course, he would be in his sleepwear, like you.

Shit.

It takes you another second to realize you, too, are in your sleepwear. A thin white top over your underskirt. With the realization dawning on you, you cross your arms over your chest and look up at him, conflicted and embarrassed.

Like always, his face gives nothing away. In the calmest of tones, he questions, “Did you need something from me?”

“Uhm…well…” Once again, you get distracted by the visual of your husband. In the dimly lit room, he appears even more stunning, the light of the candle casting strange shadows on his figure, contouring his muscles underneath the thin fabric. With his long, black hair undone, some strands fall on his face, covering his eyes. Through the curtain of his hair, his odd eye shines exceptionally bright in the darkness, stealing your breath.

“I am sure the reason for your visit is not to stare at me, Lady Choi.” He states once more, and you finally snap out of your thoughts.

Closing the door behind you, you gather all your resolve and stand straight.  “My apologies. I wanted to talk to you.”

“I am all ears.” He says, not looking at you. He busies himself by placing his sword next to his mat and sitting down comfortably.

“Why did you ignore me today at the palace?” You get straight to the point. The man turns to look at you slowly, his eyes sharpening ever so slightly. Despite him sitting, you feel as if he is towering over you, and you cannot help but hold your breath, waiting for whatever is to come. Something flashes in his eyes, and once again, you do not know what it is. Rage? Annoyance? Amusement?

You have no clue.

“It seems that you are disappointed, Lady Choi.” He finally replies, his tone containing that tinge of amusement he has with you. Like you are a circus monkey whose action provides him with fleeting, insignificant pleasure. 

You wait for him to elaborate, but he does not, looking at you with a challenging stare. You hate how…diplomatic he is all the time. “Why did you do it?” You repeat, trying to appear as stern as possible, which is almost comical. In front of you is the man people call the grim reaper.

General Choi shifts his position, resting his arm on his knee before fixing his gaze back on you. His tone is quiet, serious. “Let me tell you something, Lady Choi. In public, we are not to acknowledge each other. Do you understand me?”

The ground has been snatched from beneath your feet. You fall into an endless pit, your heart crushing into tiny bits with each of his words. Why? Why would he say something like that?

“Why?” You don’t mask the hurt and desperation in your voice. He ignores you. “If that was all, you may leave now. I wish to get some rest.”

Tears brim in your eyes. Why does he treat you like this? What crime did you ever commit against him?

Your mouth hangs open, shocked and helpless at his attitude towards you. Defeated, you silently pad back to the door. Before you open it, however, you pause. Slowly, you turn back to him. “Why did you assign that man to follow me around?”

He does not look at you. “San is one of the few men I trust. He will keep you safe.”

He has this tendency to never answer your question directly. He dances around it, giving curt, memorized answers. It feels like you are talking to a wall, frustrating and pointless. The next words slip past your lips thoughtlessly and barely above a whisper. “Why do we not sleep in the same room?” That finally gets his attention. He slowly turns his head to look at you, his pupils wide with shock. Like, he cannot believe that you just said that. 

Right. Why did you say that out loud? You look away in embarrassment, cringing at your words.

“So…” he starts to get up. You step back, alarmed.

Why is he getting up? He will slice your head off for sure this time.

With the grace of a lion about to devour his prey, he inches closer to you, his eyes flashing almost unnaturally. You keep walking backwards until your back meets the door and there is no place left to go.

He stops a mere inch away from you, so close that your clothes brush, so close that you can see his chest underneath his nightshirt, so close that you can inhale the scent of soap on his skin. Your breath catches in your throat, and your eyes fall shut on their own.

“My wife wishes to sleep with me. Is that it?” His voice is heaven against your ears, deep, husky and warm, leaving your brain fumbling. You open your eyes to see him staring straight at you, and immediately, heat shoots up all through your body from your toes. 

“I…I didn’t…mean…” You stumble over your words, the sight of him so close to you, messing with your system.

He stares at you, his lips curling up in a smirk. “I am sure you have heard what they say about me.” He pauses. His hand reaches out towards your face, and you hold your breath in alarm and anticipation. With the faintest of touches, he drags his index finger against your jaw and down your neck. “I am sure you know how I am…in bed.” He whispers against your ear, and you can feel your heart physically drop as tingles shoot through your entire body.

At this point, you have forgotten how to breathe. 

“You could not handle me, Lady Choi.” He says and then, absolutely shocking you, leans closer to your neck. Tucking a stray piece of hair beneath your ears, he takes a long inhale of you and then slowly steps away from you.

You feel like you are on fire, beads of sweat gathering on your temples. Your mouth remains agape, processing what just happened as you stand pressed against the door, frozen like prey in shock.

“Good night, Lady Choi.” He says in the most nonchalant way possible, going back to bed. You manage to summon all your strength and rush out of his room, shutting the wooden panels loudly behind you. Outside, you gasp for air, clutching your chest, your heart racing like you just ran for your life. You stand outside the door for a long time, taking in deep breaths and trying to get your heart to calm down as foreign sensations flood through your veins, leaving behind an ache you have never felt before.

You want your husband, you realize. You want him to do all those filthy, animalistic things that you heard of…with you.

— 

You have accepted your new life. A married woman without a husband’s attention or acknowledgement.

In the last two weeks, a routine has fallen into place for you. You wake up, go to work, come home for lunch, spend the afternoon with Jihye lounging around before having dinner and going to bed. Throughout the day, setting eyes upon your husband is rare because he leaves with the sunrise and gets home after dinner. Most days, he has dinner in his chamber by himself, and on the rare occasions he is home early (twice), he shares it with you.

The freedom you thought an advantageous marriage would give you has not come. In fact, you feel more restricted than before. With San following you around like a hawk, you have lost interest in going outside to explore the neighbourhood. Jihye, too, has been weird lately. She vehemently opposes you going outside, especially to the market or other crowded areas and always runs your errands for you.

After a lot of thinking, you have come to a conclusion. Your husband has a mistress. Maybe, mistress is not the right word. If anything, you feel like the mistress in this relationship.

“I am sure he has someone he loves.” You hum, nodding to yourself. 

It is a Thursday afternoon in early spring, the warmth of the sun shining on you as you return home from an unusually long shift at the palace. A few steps behind you is San, ever present like a shadow, following you down a steep road to home.

With him around, you have started to voice your thoughts, no matter how crazy. There is nothing to hide from him after all. He sees it all firsthand, how his boss never spends time with you. 

You have another theory. San knows about the other woman. He has to, right? That is why General Choi employed him to guard you in the first place. He probably knows where your husband goes during his free time, and it is his job to make sure you never see him. 

General Choi seems to have bought off Jihye somehow, too. You find that absolutely bizarre, considering her long loyalty towards you. You are deeply hurt by her betrayal, and so, you have decided to shun her until she comes to you and explains what is going on.

That leaves you with San only.

“I’m right, no?” You turn around to take a glance at him. As usual, he looks helpless and awkward, almost like he is about to leave everything behind and run for the hills. You continue. “He has to have known her for a long, long time. However, I do not understand why he didn’t marry her. Is she not a nobleborn?”

You stop for a moment.

“Ah! She is someone from the brothel, probably, right?”

San continues looking at you helplessly, an awkward smile plastered on his face. You continue walking, nodding to yourself. “No wonder he told me not to expect anything from him. He also said that he fulfilled his duty by marrying me. No one will pester him now because he has the perfect cover.” You nod your head, impressed. “I have to give it to him. This is a good plan.”

The path down the cliff comes to an end, and you stop, admiring the sun slowly going lower in the western sky. The birds fly in the sky in groups, returning home as the sky changes colour, a deep tint of orange taking over the blue.

Is she pretty? You wonder to yourself. She must be. There must be something about her that keeps a man like him hooked. 

The thought pains you. More than it should.

You understand it. You really do, but what you don’t understand is why he married you. Why did he trap you into this marriage? The least he could have done was be honest with you instead of avoiding you like the plague.

The more you get to know this man, the more cowardly he seems. The thought brings an unironic smile to your face. The most feared man in the country, yet he refuses to communicate with his wife. He does not have the guts to speak the truth, which makes him nothing but a coward in your eyes.

“Let us stop by the market.” You announce, taking a different route. San rushes in front of you, alarmed. “Lady Choi, w-why?”

You stare at him, slightly annoyed. Why is he acting like this? Is General Choi supposed to be there now? With his lover? All the more reason why you must go.

You continue walking, ignoring San.

“My Lady, please. Tell me what you need and I shall get that for you after I escort you home.”

“San,” you abruptly stop and glare at him. “I shall tell you what I need right now. I need you to shut up and follow me quietly. Or, you can just leave and report to your boss that I am breaking protocol. Whatever fancies you.”

The man makes a pained sound, groaning almost like a wounded animal. However, you don’t wait for him, marching down the path with determination. Helplessly, he chases after you.

— 

The marketplace is less crowded than you expected. You heard there have been attacks by gangs in this area, so people are more reluctant to leave their houses, especially as evening approaches.

With the roads not as crowded as usual, it takes you only a couple of minutes to spot him. He stands out, as always, his broad shoulders and tall build catching your eye from far away. You observe him for a moment from afar, squinting your eyes to see what he is doing exactly.

He stands in front of a trinket shop, carefully going through the pieces laid out in front of him. 

Wow, is he shopping for something for his hidden lover? 

Bemused, you watch him, eyes scanning for a woman near him, only to find no one.

“My Lady, we should really get going. This area is not safe, and—” Ignoring San’s plea, you head straight towards where your husband stands.

“My Lord, what brings you here?” You chirp, standing right behind him. The man immediately turns around, his pupils blown wide in shock. You do not miss the way he hides something behind him. It takes a moment for him to register that it is you, and once he does, that grim look settles on his face. “What are you doing here?’’

San rushes next to you, “My Lord, I am so sorry—”

General Choi cuts him off with a raised hand and gives him a look of dismissal, which sends the young man scurrying away. Ignoring his question, you say. “It seems like you were finished with work early today.” You pointedly look at the shop behind him.

“Yes. I finished early today.” He states, expressionless. “Are you returning from the palace now?”

“Yes, the work at the library took longer than usual. Some records were accidentally destroyed, so we had to salvage them.”

“I see.” He nods. You wait, wondering if he has anything more to say. He keeps gazing at you silently, his odd eye hidden behind his hair. You have noticed that he always hides it in public. Why? To avoid detection? 

Finally, he speaks, his eyes narrow and his tone sharp. “You should not be here. I am sure you are aware of the looting and killing taking place in this area.”

You hate his tone. Frowning, you reply. “Thank you for your concern, My Lord. I was aware. I just wanted to explore—”

You are cut off.

The next sequence of events takes place exceptionally quickly. First, you see your husband’s gaze shift and focus on something behind you. The very next moment, he yanks you towards him, making a swift turn so that his body covers yours. You lose your footing from the harsh tug, gripping onto his arms with a yelp of surprise.

Something whizzes past you, sharp and quick, that makes you jerk and hold onto him tighter.

Gasps, yells and screams of people echo all around you. You blink, befuddled, staring at your husband, who holds you tightly against his body, looking behind him. Following his gaze, you find San chasing after a man who dashes away through the crowd at remarkably fast speed, shoving people and running over stalls on his way.

Your husband whips his head back to look at you, his eyes wide with alarm. “Are you okay? Look at me!” He shakes you, his grip on your arms fierce. Something wet touches your fingers. Slowly, your eyes trail to your right hand, which is grabbing General Choi’s bicep.

There is a tear on his sleeve, a couple of inches above your fingers and red liquid oozes out from the thin cut. You gasp, your breath escaping your lungs in a choked wheeze.

Finally, everything clicks.

Someone just shot an arrow at him. Who? An enemy? A gang member? An assassin?

“Oh…oh my god! My Lord!” You clutch onto his sleeve, panicking.

General Choi ignores your cry and forces you to look at him, tilting your chin upwards. “Are you hurt anywhere?”

Is he seriously worrying about you right now?

“I am fine.” You choke on a sob. “But my Lord, you are bleeding! What…what should I do?”

He rubs a gentle hand on your back, pulling you closer to him. “I am fine. It is nothing.” He assures, his eyes scanning the place carefully as if looking for someone. You panic. “My Lord, we need to go home. Come on. You are hurt!” You urge, tugging him with you, even though you cannot make him move an inch.

The man stands rooted to his spot, his eyes still scouring through the marketplace. Finally, he nods and pulls you into his arms, holding you protectively. “Let us go.”

— 

After your relentless nagging, you finally get your husband to sit still so that you can treat his wound.

“I told you, it is nothing serious.” He admonishes when you step into his bedchamber with a rag, a bowl of water, and some medicine. Ignoring him, you hurry closer to him, inspecting the wound.

You have never treated someone before, but your mother was a very good nurse. She helped a lot of people during the war with her vast knowledge of medicinal herbs. You remember watching her work for hours, and even though you never directly learned from her, you are confident you can do this right.

The memory of his blood seeping out and wetting your hands sends shivers down your spine, and you have to take a deep breath to get yourself to calm down. Your heart has been racing ever since, the adrenaline yet to wear off.

“You should take off your shirt.” You whisper, wetting the rag in the bowl of water. Your husband complies, slowly removing the garment and shrugging it off his shoulders. Your breath catches in your throat once you lay your eyes on his body.

It is not his muscular build but the plethora of scars littering his body. Small and big, they taint his chest and all the way down to his lower abdomen, and you cannot help but stare, wincing at the marks that look particularly nasty.

What has this man been through?

General Choi snatches the rag from your hands and starts treating his cut. Embarrassed, you protest, but he cuts you off. “I can do it myself.” His response, like always, is curt, but you ignore it, too distracted by his scars. The one on his left abdomen looks particularly ghastly, and you know for sure it was a deep stab wound. 

The amount of pain he must have been in…

The thought makes you shudder, and you bite your lip, holding your tears back.

“This is why I assigned someone to protect you.” His voice pulls you out of your thoughts. “I am sure he told you to return, but you insisted on going to the market.”

“Who was that man?” You cut him off, unable to prevent yourself from voicing your worries any longer. Why did they want to hurt him? 

His lips thin, and something flashes over his eyes, leaving you guessing. He pauses for a moment, looking at you impassively, almost like he knows a secret that you don’t. “They were probably from some gang. They have been causing havoc recently, as you know.”

You know it is a lie. It is blatant that he is hiding something from you, and you cannot help but sigh out loud, sagging onto the floor. You do not even have it in you to fight with him right now. You are just glad he is okay. The bleeding has stopped now, and as you watch him apply the herb on his cut, a small sigh of relief flows past your lips.

Finally, it feels like you can breathe.

Silently, you help him tie a clean rag around his bicep before wiping the residual herb from his fingers. “You should take a bath.” He keeps staring at your face as if he is trying to understand something.

“Are you sure you are okay?” he asks, his tone soft. His gaze, for the first time, appears to be almost tender, and for a moment, the concept of language evaporates from your mind.

You want to say a lot of things. You want to yell at him, scream at him to explain himself and cry in his arms. You are unable to do any of that. “I am fine,” you whisper, your voice small and shaky.

He keeps looking at you for a few more seconds before nodding and getting up. Just as he is about to exit the room, you call for him. “My Lord?” “Hm?” He turns around to look at you.

You pause, hesitating. “I know you brought something today. At the market…” you trail off, unsure why you are saying this. His body tenses, and he looks at you warily…like he has been caught. For a second, you pray that he comes clean, but he remains silent, waiting for you to continue.

You swallow a lump in your throat and look away. Your voice is wobbly when you speak. “You should wrap it. Put it in a nice box. Women love gifts that are nicely wrapped. The woman…whoever you bought it for…you should wrap it.”

You do not dare to meet his gaze, so you sit on the floor, staring at the bowl of water that is now tinted red from his blood. He does not reply but walks out the door, his footsteps padding softly over the wooden floors.

— 

That night, you lay in bed awake, replaying the event at the market over and over again in your head. And as you keep revisiting that moment, a shuddering realization dawns on you.

What if…what if…

The arrow wasn't meant for General Choi but for you?

The more you think about it, the more probable it seems. The arrow would have originally hit you if not for him moving you out of the way. The thought makes you bolt up from your bed, your heart racing as beads of sweat gather on your temples. Tossing the blanket away, you step out of your sleeping mat and start pacing around your room.

Today's events are a mystery to you. You have no enemies, and neither does your father. Hell, he has been out of politics ever since your brother died. You simply have no reason to have someone shoot an arrow at you in the middle of a marketplace.

If it were not for your husband, you would have died for sure.

Shit. Who would do that? 

Your mind starts spiraling to the point that your temples begin to throb. You press the spot with your fingers, trying to make the ache go away.

It doesn't.

Instead, paranoia starts settling in. Suddenly, the thought of being alone in your room frightens you so much that you feel a chill in your bones. Unable to tolerate the deafening silence and the darkness any longer, you step out of your chamber, taking tentative steps towards your husband's room. The hallway is dark except for one small lamp flickering at the end of the long corridor, an eerie quietness hanging heavy in the air as the whole house sleeps.

You come to stop in front of your husband's room, your hands hesitating to pull open the wooden panels. 

What are you doing here? Sneaking into your husband’s chamber in the middle of the night?

With the resolved exhale, you pull open the door. In the darkness, it takes a moment for you to spot your husband sleeping on his side, his long raven hair splayed messily over the mat.

You remain rooted in your spot outside the door, hesitating yet once again before gingerly making your way inside and quietly closing the panel behind you. The room would be pitch dark if not for the faint light of the lamp flickering outside, filtering in through the panel. You take a moment to let your eyes adjust to the visibility before placing yourself next to him. With his sword resting between the two of you, you silently lie down, gazing at the silhouette of his face in the darkness.

Your heart aches. He got hurt because of you. 

Why do you feel such a strong attraction towards this cold, stubborn man? Why does it hurt you so much to see him hurt? Most importantly, is this how he feels about his lover? Does her pain make him hurt like this as well? Is that why he refuses to be with you, unable to resist his heart's longing?

So many questions and no answer to soothe your wretched soul. 

You keep gazing at him, a strange sensation filling your heart. He is physically so close to you, right within your reach, yet it feels like he is a million miles away, tucked away in a place for which you have no key. At the same time, lying next to him like this, you feel oddly comfortable. With him next to you, the silence and the darkness of the night are bearable, no longer stealing your sleep.

With a heavy ache in your chest and tears in your eyes, you fall asleep, happy to be in the same space as your husband.

—

When you open your eyes next morning, the sun is high up in the sky and the light flooding into the room immediately tells you that you have slept way longer than you should have.

Shit. You missed work today.

All concerns of work, however, fly out the window when you register where you are. You fell asleep on the floor next to General Choi yesterday. Then why are you sleeping on his mat, his blanket tucked around you, and his pillow under your head? 

With a gasp, you sit up and look around you, double checking to make sure you are in the right place.

How did you get here? Did he tuck you in after waking up? How did you not wake up?

Your face flushes with heat, imagining him carrying you and putting you in his bed. No wonder you feel so well rested after a long time. You must have slept like a log throughout everything.

Did you snore? Did you drool? Did you say something weird in your sleep?

“Oh dear lord, help me!” You whine, putting your face in your hands, cringing at all the possible ways you might have embarrassed yourself. Once you are over the initial wave of embarrassment, you spot a trinket on top of the small wooden table by the mat.

Curious, you shuffle closer. It is a bineyo with a beautiful butterfly in pink and blue, exactly the one you had been looking for. With a gasp, you lean closer, mesmerized by the way it sparkles underneath the sunlight. Next to it sits a letter, face up.

Dear wife, 

I am sorry I did not wrap it. I was interrupted by someone before I could choose a box. I do not know how the misunderstanding came to be, but this was meant to be yours from the beginning, not any other woman’s. I hope you like it.

From, Your husband

Your hands cover your mouth in shock and absolute glee before clutching the letter and the hairpin to your chest. Tears brim your eyes, your heart melting like a caramel under the sun, warm and sweet.

It seems like you misunderstood his actions. Still, some things remain unclear.

“Jihye!” You yell. She rushes in a few moments later. “My lady, you are awake! Master said not to disturb you. He said he will let Head Court Lady Yeo know that you will not go to work today.”

Ignoring her words, you quickly motion for her to come closer to you and sit down. “You,” you narrow your eyes at her. “You have been hiding something from me.” She blinks, her gaze slowly lowering to the floor.

“What did General Choi tell you? He definitely told you something. That is why you have not been letting me out of the house by myself.”

She looks at you helplessly for a long moment before sighing. “Okay, I will tell you, my lady. But you have to promise me you will not tell Master. I gave him my word.” She winces.

What could it be? Eager, you scoot closer to her. “I will not. Now out with it.”

“On the first night of your marriage, he called me and asked about you. What you like to eat, what your favourite season is…things like that.”

Wow. Your heart races with each of her words.

“Then, he asked me what you were doing in the market that day. You know that noon a week before your wedding? When we bumped into him? I said that you were looking for a hairpin. He asked in detail about the hairpin, and I told him that you were looking for one with a butterfly. Then, he ordered me to keep you from going outside, especially to crowded areas, as much as possible. He said it is not safe for you. And he made me promise not to tell you.”

A lot of the blanks start filling up. He listened to her and got this hairpin for you. No wonder!

You keep finding yourself revisiting that moment in the market. The way he protected you. The worry in his eyes, the way his fingers gripped onto you, the way his voice was filled with worry when he asked you if you were ok. The realization that you may have misunderstood him greatly starts settling in your bones. 

Maybe there was no one else from the beginning. Maybe it was only you all along. Maybe everything he did was to protect you. But protect you from what? Did he know that someone was after you? Who? Why did he not tell you anything?

No matter, you shall set the record straight when he gets home today. You have caught a glimpse into your husband’s heart, and it turns out he is not as cruel as they say. Now, there is nothing strong enough to stop you. He has had his way until now, and now, it is your time.

“Did he say when he will return?” You ask Jihye, your heart racing.

“No, my lady.”

“No matter.” You smile. “I will wait for him.”

— 

The heavens seem to be on your side because your husband returns home right before sunset. As he takes a bath, you prepare in your room, getting dressed for the evening.

Jihye braids your hair for you before helping you put on your hanbok, a soft yellow jeogori with a pastel pink chima. 

Just as you are almost finished with your makeup, Head Servant Yang knocks at the door, letting you know that your husband has finished his bath. With a smile, you stand up and walk over to the mirror, smoothing your skirt.

“Jihye, how do I look?”

“Absolutely beautiful, my lady!” She squeals. “Master will not be able to resist you tonight!”

You throw a scandalized look at her before reaching for the hairpin your husband gave you. Gingerly placing it on your hair, you complete the look and twirl in front of the mirror. “Alright, let us go!”

You knock twice at your husband’s chamber.

“Come in.”

Exhaling a shaky breath, you open the door and find sitting on the floor, wearing a navy blue hanbok. A book sits open on his lap, which is discarded once he lays eyes upon you.

Silence.

You hold your breath, watching his eyes scan you top to bottom, before going up again and finally stopping at your hairpin. He looks awestruck and speechless—a look you have never seen on him, and you struggle to stifle a smile.

“May I come in?” You ask coquettishly. 

“Ah—yes, of course.” He blinks and sits up straight. With a smile, you walk into the room and sit in front of him, closer than you have ever been before. "How is your arm?” You ask, jutting your chin towards it. “Do you need me to apply some herbs?”

“No, it is fine. I changed the gauze after my bath.”

“Are you in any pain?”

“Thank you for your concern, Lady Choi, but I am well.” He sets the book aside. “What brings you to my chamber?”

You ignore his curt replies. “Thank you for the gift, my lord.” You smile, saccharine sweet. Titling your head, you show him the trinket nestled in your hair. “How do I look?”

“Hm?” He gapes at you, eyes wide, clearly taken aback by the question. “Uh…it suits you. You look lovely.”

You smile like a lovestruck fool. “Thank you, my Lord.”

Silence. He keeps looking at you like it is a staring competition. Realizing he will not be the first one to break the silence, you continue with a sigh, “I have some questions, my Lord. I hope you will answer them honestly.” His gaze shifts, something unreadable briefly flashing by his eyes. His hands on to rest on his knees, his back straightening as he takes a moment before subtly nodding his head.

“Is there someone trying to kill me?” Your gaze does not waver. General Choi’s lips press into a thin line, his thick brows forming a frown, a look of pure displeasure settling on his face.

You do not back down. “Yesterday, the arrow was meant for me, was it not? You knew someone was after me. That is why you assigned San to be with me. That is why you told Jihye not to let me go outside.”

Another beat of silence. “Yes.” He murmurs, his haunting gaze piercing yours.

You swallow. “Who is it? I do not understand…I do not have any enemies— “

“They are my enemies.” He cuts you off. “The arrow yesterday…yes, it was meant for you, but it was also meant for me. It was their warning to me.”

“What warning? Why are they after you?” You cry.

His gaze narrows. “That is private information. Only the King’s most trusted men are aware of it.” You look down, worriedly chewing on your lower lip. After a beat, you ask, “Is that why you ignored me in the palace that day?”

“Yes. I thought the less I interacted with you, the better.” He pauses, his gaze focusing on the lamp burning at his side. “I am sorry for putting you in danger, but rest assured, they will be dealt with.”

You are not really worried about losing your life. If anything, his being in danger scares you more. Odd, is it not?

“Why did you let me misunderstand, my Lord?” You ask softly.

“That was not my intention.”

“But it happened anyway.” You cannot hold back the bite in your voice. “From the first day of this marriage, I believed that you have someone else.”

He remains silent, looking almost guilty. It scares and infuriates you. “Tell me! Do you?”

“No,” his voice never loses its quiet composure. “I do not.”

“Then why did you lie?”

For the first time, you see his gaze soften. For once, it looks like he is not scowling but rather, he appears ashamed and helpless. The hidden frustration inside you reaches its tipping point. “You could have told me! You could have said that I was in danger instead of pushing me away like I disgust you and letting me think that you were seeing someone else!” 

You hear him exhale a breath. “How do you expect me to tell my young, newlywed wife that her life is in danger because of me, her husband?”

The guilt is raw and vivid in his voice, echoing throughout the room like a haunted cry. This new side of your husband knocks all the air out of your lungs, leaving you feeling helpless as you stare at him, tears pricking your eyes.

“My Lord—”

“I know I am not the best match for you. You got married to be free, but instead, this marriage became a trap for you. How could I tell you that? I believed it would be better to let you think all crazy things about me rather than taking away your freedom by scaring you. I apologize for my shortsightedness.” A lone tear rolls down your cheek. He is not the best match for you? What is he saying?

Unable to hold back any longer, you close the little distance between the two of you and leap into his arms, hugging him tightly. With your arms wrapped around his neck, you rest your face on his shoulder, your fingers tightly holding onto the fabric of his hanbok. “Please do not apologize, my Lord. I understand you.”

Against you, your husband’s entire body remains tense, his hands awkwardly raised into the air like he is too scared to touch you. You ignore his hesitation and hold onto him tightly, your heart breaking and healing simultaneously. The warmth and comfort of his body soothe all the anguish in your heart, making you never want to let him go.

Finally, his hands touch your back, his large palms holding the small of your back, softly patting you.

Loosening your arms around him, you take a peek at his face and find the most sincere look in his eyes, warm and kind, the complete opposite of how you have seen him until now. You truly believed he was beyond all emotions, cold and mechanical, but right now, as he holds you in his arms and gazes at you with so much reverence and softness, you can only think of him as this quiet, considerate man who is misunderstood greatly.

Something in you shifts. No longer afraid, you shift in his arms, positioning yourself better on his lap before kissing him.

You press your lips against his without thinking, pulling him closer by the lapels of his hanbok and holding your lips right there, against his, soft and warm. With your heart hammering in your chest, you stay there, testing the waters. Your husband remains frozen at first, almost like he is waiting for you to back out. Once sure that you will not, he reaches for you, gently cupping your cheek with his right hand to tilt your face. The kiss deepens just a tad bit, his lips pressing against you just hard enough. His touch on you is meticulous and guarded, like you are a wild animal he does not want to frighten. You know he is being gentle for your sake, so you take the lead, snaking an arm around his neck and kissing him the way he led you.

Slow, sweet and passionate.

It is everything you imagined and more, all your dreams coming true and giving you a taste of ecstasy. By the time your lips part from his, there is a ringing in your ears along with your heart galloping like a race horse and a strange, tingling sensation between your legs. You feel drunk on your husband’s kiss, your eyes involuntarily trailing to his lips that are now shining with saliva.

You want this man so much, body and soul.

Your husband’s fingers remain against your cheek, his thumb stroking your cheek, slow and tentative like you are the most precious porcelain. Mirroring his hand, your fingers cup his cheek, your thumb gently tracing the scar beneath his odd eye. The skin is harsh and bumpy under your touch, making your heart heavy. You want to kiss it, tell him that he is beautiful despite it, tell him that you feel his pain, but something shifts.

His gaze grows unfocused, something foreign flashing by in his eyes, like he has been woken back to reality. With a sudden noise, he clears his throat and retracts his hand from your face. The action pulls you out of your haze as well, making you suddenly hyper aware of the fact that you kissed him.

Holy shit. You kissed your husband. And he kissed you back. And it was amazing.

Clearing his throat once more, your husband looks away, carefully trying to put some distance between you and him. Flustered, you take the hint and stand up rather unceremoniously. As you take a step back, however, misfortune befalls.

The ghost of clumsiness yet again takes over your body, and you trip over your skirt. With a loud, unladylike yelp, you fall backwards, terrified but also anticipating the brutal hit to the floor.

It does not come. You do not fall on the ground because your husband saves you, reaching for your arm and tugging you back towards him just in time. Something else happens in the process. The ribbon of your jeogori comes off.

You realize that several moments later, too preoccupied with trying to calm your beating heart and processing what just happened. As you stay pressed against his body, your arms tightly holding onto his shoulders for balance, General Choi’s eyes skim over your face before fixing beneath your neck and on your exposed shoulder.

This time, something dark and carnal takes over his gaze, his eyes sharp and narrow, staring intently at your bare skin. Your heart beats so loudly you fear he can hear it, and for a moment, you are sure you will pass out from the intensity of his gaze and the swirl of emotions—desire and shame, surging within you.

Like before, he is the one who backs away, quietly clearing his throat and looking away. Embarrassed, you quickly fix your jeogori and clutch it tightly to your chest while also scrambling off his body.

“I—” you stammer, mortified to look at his face. “I will see you for d-dinner then, my Lord.” Picking up your skirt to avoid further accidents, you rush for the door, eager to be out of his sight.

His voice forces you to stop right at the door. “Why did you come to my room last night?”

You halt, processing his question. Then, with quick fingers, you tie your jeogori and carefully turn around. Your husband looks at you inquisitively. “Were…were you awake, my Lord?” You ask. He did not even sir when you came into the room.

In reply, he nods. You look around, trying to find the words. “I…was scared to be alone. I kept thinking of what happened at the market, and I do not know…” You trail off, embarrassed and worried about his reaction. He, however, keeps looking at you intently before shaking his head up and down in understanding.

“How did you know I came in? You did not even move a muscle. I thought you were asleep.”

“I smelled you.” He states, his face expressionless. You take a step back, alarmed. “Do I stink?”

He shakes his head. “No. I meant that I smelled roses. You smell like roses.”

Oh. “I see,” you mumble shyly, your fingers twiddling with the fabric of your skirt. He regards you quietly for a beat before murmuring. “You can sleep with me tonight as well, if you desire it.”

“Really?” You squeal, not hiding the excitement brimming in your voice. 

“Yes.”

“Thank you, my Lord!” You smile so big it hurts.

— 

After dinner, Headservant Yang sets the mattress for the two of you with a suggestive, happy smile on her face that makes you grin goofily. 

Once finished with your nightly routine and dressed for bed, you pad into your husband's chamber and find him already lying down, his eyes closed and his hands resting over his chest. One could think he was asleep, but you know better now. With wonder, you observe that the place of his sword has shifted and moved to his left, right next to his mat, now that yours occupies the space it took before.

“My Lord,” you ask softly, “shall I blow out the candle?”

“Yes.” He replies, not moving or opening his eyes. Carefully, you pad over to the study table and blow out the candle before finding your place on the mat. With the noise of the crickets humming outside, you lie on your mat, pulling the blanket up to your chin and staring at the ceiling. Your blood thrums in your veins, your brain too wired to fall asleep. The excitement of lying next to your husband keeps you awake.

Once your eyes adjust to the darkness, you take tentative peeks at him and find him in the same position as he originally was. Is he sleeping? You wish you could tell.

“My Lord?” You speak, quiet as a mouse.

Silence.

“Hm?” He hums.

“Why do you sleep with your sword next to you?”

“Force of habit, I suppose…from the war.”

You hum in acknowledgement, looking at him eagerly amid the darkness. After a short pause, you call for him again. “My Lord?”

“Yes.”

“Can I sleep with you from now on?”

Silence. Seconds pass by, but no answer comes, and you start to think that he has fallen asleep. Just then, he finally replies, his voice quiet and deep in the solitude of the night. “If you wish to.” You smile, happy and wide, even though he cannot see you. “Thank you, my Lord.”

Another short pause later, he murmurs. “Goodnight.” You take it as a sign that he does not wish to talk anymore, and with a nod, you shift and lie on your side, your right arm resting underneath your head.  “Goodnight, my Lord.” You whisper with a smile.

— 

You wake up just before sunrise. 

The spot next to you is empty, and with no sign of your husband, you step out of his bedchamber in search of him. It is a rest day, so you wonder where he is so early in the morning.

You find the man in the backyard, already dressed, quietly observing the flowers in the garden. “My Lord?” You call for him.

“Oh, good morning.” He acknowledges you with a small nod. “Why are you up so early?”

“I woke up and you were not there. Is everything okay?”

“Yes.” He assures. “You should sleep some more.” You pause, carefully observing him. In the soft morning light, the man looks different, more relaxed and homely, dressed in his hanbok and his long raven hair draped elegantly against his back.

How can you leave his majestic man just for a few more hours of sleep?

“My Lord?”

“Hm?”

“Let us go for a walk.”

— 

After quickly getting dressed, you and your husband go for a stroll, the early morning sun softly gleaming in the sky.

Your husband heads towards the nearby forest, which leads to a cliff offering a nice view of the town and the hilly background. He walks quietly with his hands behind him, his movements deliberately slow to accommodate your pace. With a soft smile that never leaves your lips, you walk alongside him, your heart thrumming happily.

Can this be called a date?

Without any words exchanged between the two of you, you navigate the path through the forest, your eyes skirting towards him every now and then. The silence between you is not awkward because you can see from his face that he is thinking deeply about something. So, you let him think and use the solitude to take peeks at his handsome face, memorizing the details of his visage.

By the time you reach the cliff, you are out of breath.

“Wow,” you wheeze out, panting for air as you rest with your palms on your knees. 

“Are you alright?” General Choi asks, peering down to see your face. “Yes,” you nod, trying to control your breathing. “It has been a while since I came up here. The view is magnificent.”

“It is.” He hums, looking over the cliff. “That last time I came here, I was a child.” You share, standing up and gazing at the view. It is truly still beautiful.

“Why so long ago?”

“What?” You blink, looking at your husband, who is regarding you with a curious tilt of his head.

“Uh…” you think. “My father…he was not fond of me going out much. Especially anywhere far, after my brother died. He liked to keep me within his sight.”

He keeps looking at you attentively, and you wonder what he is thinking. Is he judging you?

Needing to fill the silence, you ramble. “On top of that, I have always been clumsy. I’m sure you have figured that out by now. Once, when I was a child, I somehow broke my arm playing in the yard. My brother ran all the way to the physician’s office with me on his back. With him gone, my father thought it would be better for me to be within the house. For my safety and his mental peace.”

“It was suffocating, no? That is why you married me. For freedom.” Your husband observes. You nod, albeit shakily, thinking of your days back at your parents' home. The cold treatment of your father and the way you were never enough. Not enough to take away the pain of them losing their son.

In the silence, you take a moment to gather your thoughts before facing the man next to you and voicing a question you have always wanted to ask. “Why did you choose to marry me?”

He takes a moment to answer. 

“Because no one else wanted to. A lot of ministers tried to get me engaged to their daughters, but the girls refused when they saw me. Some even rejected just after hearing my name. They feared me.”

You find it ridiculous. “Why?” Your tone drips with bewilderment. “My reputation,” he shrugs. “My face does not help much, I suppose.”

“What do you mean?” You frown, leaning closer to him. He regards you in silence, as if the answer to that question is the most obvious thing in the world. “I am ugly.”

“What?” You gape at him, utterly befuddled. Does this man truly think that? His sharp eyes narrow on you, his brows knotting in confusion. “I do not know if you are making fun of me.”

“Why would I make fun of you?” You cry. This entire thing is ludicrous. “I simply find it absolutely enraging that you think so!”

He remains mute, watching you like you are an equation he needs to solve.

You take a tentative step closer to him, mumbling, “It is true that your reputation is scary. I also feared you for that in the beginning. I do not know if you are aware, but people say all types of crazy things about you.” You pause, inching even closer to him. With a few small inches between the two of you, you look up and meet his eyes, hoping to convey your sincerity. “But as I got to know you…I have realized there is nothing to fear. You are undoubtedly a cold man, my Lord, but you are also warm. Your heart is always in the right place. That alone is enough to make you the most beautiful man in the land.”

His face relaxes, and you can see how his gaze softens, the turbulent storms ever present in his eyes dissipating for a moment. 

In the back of your mind, one thought runs rampant. You want to kiss him. In the soft morning light, he looks as breathtaking as ever, his lips soft and kissable. Remembering the touch of his lips against yours last night, you muster the courage and lean up on your tippy toes, pressing a quick, chaste kiss on his lips. The man immediately leans back, a look of surprise on his face. Ignoring his reaction, you smile and step back, facing the view again. Your husband clears his throat before silently joining you in gazing at the view.

A while later, you voice out another thought. “My Lord, when you said not to expect anything from you, what did you mean?”

He takes a moment to answer. “I don’t know. Just do not expect anything from me. I cannot give you anything.”

Frowning, you face him. “But you have already given me so much.”

“I do not believe that.”

You sigh. The cranky man is returning. Hitching your skirt, you walk closer to him, determined. “What did you mean, my Lord? I cannot expect what?” He huffs out a frustrated breath. “Whatever a wife expects from her husband, I suppose.”

Your frown deepens. “What? Love? Attention? Devotion?”

“I will be devoted to you, but I cannot give you love.” His words are like a punch to the gut. “Why not?” You plead.

He hesitates. “I…just cannot.”

“You cannot or will not?”

His eyes, sharp and fiery, pierce right through you, and you see the truth in his eyes. You see the answer he refuses to utter. “Let us get back.” He announces, turning on his heel and dismissing you, starts marching down the path. You scoff, watching with an open mouth as he almost runs down the track to escape answering your question.

This stubborn, frustrating man.

— 

After breakfast, General Choi goes out to visit an old friend. With a sour mood, you shuffle through the house, watching as everyone remains busy with their work. You try to practice some needlework but fail to get far with that. As always, your hand at embroidery is embarrassingly bad. For two hours, you try to create a flower on a handkerchief, but when it turns out looking questionable, you drop the task.

You find San sitting outside on the porch, chatting animatedly with Headservant Yang. “My Lady, are you bored?” Headservant Yang asks upon seeing you walk over. With your shoulders slumped, you nod, pouting.

“General Choi will not be back for some time. Should we play a game then? San offers.

Your eyes shine. “Sure!”

— 

Your game of baduk with San lasts even after sunset. 

You keep playing match after match, your own competitive streak matching his. He does not go easy on you just because you are married to his General, and that makes it all the more fun. 

Your husband returns right before lunch and after observing the two of you for a mere minute, he leaves, locking himself in his study for the rest of the day. His disinterest irks you, and you decide to ignore him as well, honing all your attention towards the game. During different times, Headservant Yang and Jihye stop by between their work, watching you two play with rapt fascination.

The game only ends with you winning, long after the sky has gone dark. Cheers and yells erupt in the small crowd of servants gathered to watch the game. You grin cockily, finally standing up and stretching your legs. San accepts his defeat and takes his leave, not before you make him promise to join you another day for another match.

“Would you like to have your bath first or dinner, my Lady?” Headservant Yang asks. You ponder, still reeling from the high of winning. “Did my husband have dinner?”

“Yes, my Lady.” You sigh. “Well then, I will have my dinner now and then take my bath.”

— 

After your bath, you sit in your room with the mirror in front of you while Jihye combs your hair. “Today was a fun day, no, my Lady?” She asks.

“Yes,” you hum. “It is a shame General Choi did not join us.” “Indeed.”

“Where has he been all day?” “In his room, my Lady. He was studying.”

You resist the urge to roll your eyes. Your husband truly does not know how to have fun. Instead of spending a rest day with his wife, he would rather read and strategize and sulk by himself.

As if he could hear your thoughts, the man appears with a knock at your door and steps in a second later. Jihye excuses herself, leaving the two of you alone, the room suddenly buzzing with tension.

Your husband regards you with that same unreadable face, but something in you tells you that he is grumpier than usual. Still, you try to be civil. “Hello, my Lord.”

“Lady Choi. It was hard to catch sight of you all day.” 

Yes. He is annoyed about something. The subtle bite in his voice is unmissable. You finish combing the ends of your hair before setting the comb down. “My apologies about that. I was too immersed in the game of baduk.”

“Yes, I noticed.” He peers down at you, his eyes ethereally flashing in the soft lights of your chamber. “You seemed to quite enjoy your time with San.”

“He is an excellent player. He also mentioned that you used to play with him.” You supply, trying to understand what might be the cause of his annoyance.

“I don’t know about excellent.” He murmurs, looking away from you. “I taught him, true, but he is no match for me.”

You narrow your eyes. What is he implying? “I am sure he is not, my Lord.” You force a smile. 

“Yet, you chose to spend the entire day with him.” This time, he snaps, clear and offended. Your jaw hangs low, surprised at his pettiness. You stand up frowning. “You were away, my Lord.”

“Not the entire day. I returned long ago, but you were too busy playing with him till dinner time.” He grumbles, not meeting your eyes but staring at the lamp. Stunned, you gape at him, trying to understand where he is coming from.

Your heart flutters. Is it possible that he is jealous?

“My Lord,” you step closer to take a look at his face. “Are you…jealous?”

“Ha!” He scoffs, stepping away. “Why would I be jealous of that little punk?” he half yells, waving his hand dismissively like he is swatting away a bug.

Your spirits dampen, and annoyance starts to take over. You give him a saccharine sweet smile that is evidently fake. “Well then, there is nothing to worry about. Shall we head to bed?” He refuses to let the topic go. “You finally remembered me, no? Now that it is time to sleep?”

The thread holding you together snaps. With gritted teeth, you stare at him, trying your level best to keep your tone neutral. “Well, when your husband dismisses you at every chance he gets and tries to run from you at the mere mention of intimacy, a girl would naturally be upset and spend time elsewhere. I hope you pardon her for spending some time away from him.” You bow dramatically in apology, making sure that he understands it is sarcasm. 

“Wha—” He regards you, eyes wide and mouth agape, like he cannot believe the words coming from your lips. “You—” He seems to be at a loss for words.

You step past him, but he raises a finger at you. “So you prefer San over me? Is that what you are saying?”

You roll your eyes at his words. However, today there is an urge within you to push him to his limit. So, you whip your head back and glare at him. 

“Who knows?” You singsong. Your husband’s eyes only enlarge, the look of pure shock taking over his face, his mouth hanging open wider than before. “Maybe I do. Maybe I do prefer him over you. He spends time with me, after all. Despite today being a rest day, you stayed in your room all day when you could have joined us. So what if I prefer his company?” You add the last line for good measure, trying to appear as threatening as possible.

“Take that back,” he says, his tone quiet. The look on his face starts to shift towards something serious. 

You egg him on. “I won’t! In fact, from now on, I will spend more time with him. Who knows, he might give me all the love and attention you refuse.”

The man finally snaps. In the flash of an eye, he is right in front of you, his hand behind your neck pulling you so close to him that you feel his breath. All earlier pettiness and playfulness are gone. He looks like a raging beast, barely hanging on by a thread.

“Take that back. Tell me you do not mean it or I swear to God, I will chop his head off.” He grits, his voice shaking with anger and his grip on your skin tightening. His eyes are like two molten pools of lava, angry and bright, and he has never looked hotter.

Without wasting a second, you smash your lips with his, wrapping your arms around his neck to pull him closer and closer towards you. The force of your kiss is so strong that it knocks him back a few steps. However, he is quick to recover, meeting your lips with even more passion, a side of him completely new to you. Raw and unchained, he goes all in, devouring your lips like it is his salvation.

You don’t hold back either.

You let go of your body weight entirely, pushing him on the ground below you while never letting go of his lips. Your hands—his and yours—move frantically to claw at each other through the layers of fabric. With a huff, your husband finally removes his lips from yours, a long string of saliva connecting your lips to his. “If we continue…I cannot hold back.” He pants, his eyes wild and shining.

His words make you giddy with anticipation, molten hot pools of lava swirling in your belly.

“That is what I want,” you whisper, feeling the cold air against your swollen lips. “I do not want you to hold back.” Slowly, you snake your arms around his neck and you move closer to his face. With a mere inch between your lips, you murmur, “I want you to devour me, my Lord.”

Your husband makes a sound, a low, primal grunt that comes from the deepest part of his chest. He exhales sharply, determination swirling in his eyes as he finally lets go of all the restraint he had been practicing till now.

In a flash, he flips your positions, holding you against the ground, his large body looming over yours. Your breath catches in your throat with the view on top of you, and he has not even taken off his clothes yet. Desire thrums in your veins, making you curl your toes in anticipation.

“I will ruin you tonight.” That is a promise. His voice is laced with something dark, like he will thoroughly enjoy ruining you. Little does he know, you will enjoy it too.

“Please, my Lord.” You beg, all too eager to become his.

His eyes flash at your words, and immediately, his hands get to work. They move with ease, graceful yet quick, as he strips you off your garments. All too soon, you are left only in your underskirt, your bare chest exposed for his eyes to feast on. You have the urge to cover them, and as if your husband can read your mind, he grabs your hands and links your fingers with his, pinning them on top of your head.

“Do not hide from me,” he commands, his lips hovering over yours. You nod, jittery with need and anticipation. 

Once sure your hands will not move, he slowly traces his fingers from your jawbone to your neck and then your shoulder, before reaching for your braid. You shift and let him hold your hair, his fingers gently caressing over the long braided strands. His fingers trace over your daenggi before tugging on it sharply. Undone, the strip of cloth comes off as your hair starts to loosen from the braid.

“So beautiful.” He hums, holding a few strands of hair between his fingers. He places a soft kiss on them before reaching for your hands. With your daenggi, he ties your wrists together, making sure the knot will hold before placing your hands back where they were, arms stretched straight on top of your head.

“Be a good girl.” He whispers, his voice sultry, his gaze half lidded yet dangerous. Your heart hammers loudly in your chest as the reality of what is happening actually starts to settle in your bones.

You are half-naked, tied up and vulnerable underneath your husband. The man they call the Grim Reaper, the most merciless man in the land. Yet, you are not afraid.

You watch as he shifts, making himself comfortable between your spread legs. He lifts your underskirt, exposing your core, and despite the urge to close your legs, you cannot.

“So beautiful. It will be a treat to ruin you.” He hums, his eyes focused between your legs, a faint smirk playing on his lips. Without any warning, he slaps you between your legs, right on your sensitive flesh, the sharp whack echoing through the quietness of the night.

“Ah!” You cry, mortified and surprised. It stings but also unlocks a new sensation of pleasure within you. Your face heats up as you realize how much you enjoyed it, a deep and deprived sense of pleasure.

He slaps you again. “Do you like it? I can see you are getting wet.” He says, his flashing eyes set on your face.

You make a pathetic noise of agreement. “Answer me!” He commands, slapping you once more. A long, needy moan is ripped from your throat. You pant. “Y-yes, my Lord.”

Pleased, he smirks before leaning down to press kisses on your inner thighs. He moves slowly and deliberately, playing with you, nibbling on your skin with his teeth before giving it a soothing lick and making sure it is marked. When he sits back up, his eyes trace all over your face as if he is trying to remember every small detail about you. You do the same, peering at him through your lashes with bated breath, wishing you could pull him closer for another kiss.

You could spend your entire life kissing this man.

With the ease and grace of a panther that has trapped its prey, your husband moves, enveloping you with his body, his hair falling over you like a black curtain. Lying on top of you, one of his hands holds on to the nape of your neck while the other explores your body, teasingly moving down your waist and between your legs. His warm fingers trace your core, feeling the wetness gathered between your legs. Without losing eye contact, he plays with you, dipping his fingers inside, making you shiver and whimper and continues to smirk knowingly.

He pushes his index and middle finger inside you, just up to his knuckles and the intrusion have you shuddering, your core throbbing like it has its own heartbeat. A breathy moan tears from your lips, and he uses the opportunity to lean in and bite your lip softly. 

Dear god. You whimper. “Please.”

“What?” He mouths against your lips. “T-touch me,” you reply, chasing his lips to reconnect with yours.

You hear him scoff cockily. “I am touching you, wife.” His title for you makes you only more desperate. You whine, starting to writhe, “More.”

You feel him smile against your mouth, his fingers slipping all the way in. His lips trace your jaw, his nose pressed against your skin before trailing down your neck, while his fingers start moving in and out. Involuntarily, your hips writhe, chasing his fingers while he peppers your neck with kisses and bites before fixing on a particular spot beneath your ear that makes you whimper. Then, he uses his thumb to give you a flick, his dark eyes trained on your face as your pleasure amplifies. 

“Oh my god,” you shut your eyes closed, reveling in the feeling of his fingers inside you. He starts to pick up pace, moving the fingers in tandem, circling them inside you and giving your clit an occasional flick. You wrap your legs around his lower waist, crossing them over and pulling him even closer, a desperate attempt at trying to ease the growing ache. Inside you, his fingers move rapidly, making your body tense as you start climbing your high, the coil in your belly pulling tight. 

“My L-lord…” You pant, looking at him with pleading eyes, even though you are unsure what you are trying to say. “Say my name,” he commands, dark eyes trained on you.

You feel even hotter, the coil in your belly pulled impossibly tight. “S-Seungcheol.”

“That is right. Scream my name.” He orders, eyes hazy with a film of lust and possessiveness. As if teasing you, his thumb brushes over your clit ever so slightly, drawing out a shuddering whine from your lips that makes him chuckle quietly. The sound feels like magic to your ears, a drug to your system that heightens your pleasure. His teeth dig into the soft flesh of your neck, undoubtedly leaving a mark.

“P-please Seungcheol,” you heave, eyes closed shut, fingernails digging into your palms. Humming against your neck, he uses his fingers to rub an even deeper spot inside you as his thumb rubs your clit mercilessly. 

“Please!” You hiss, throwing your head back, your toes curling as you wail. “I… I cannot…”

“You are going to cum for me. Now,” his voice is a quiet order. 

He curls his fingers inside you one last time and flicks your clit hard with his thumb, sending you over the edge. Your release is a tidal wave of mind-breaking pleasure as your body goes tense, your hips arching off the bed, your mouth hanging open as a reaction to the overwhelming pleasure; your first orgasm. 

You experience a type of bliss you had no idea existed, and for a moment, your mind goes blank, your body lying taut and tense underneath his. The onslaught of pleasure leaves your vision blurry with unshed tears and your mind numb to everything as you slowly descend from the throes of heavenly bliss and register that your husband is sitting upright between your legs.

With his relentless gaze locked with yours, he slowly licks his fingers clean, his long pink tongue darting out to caress his digits as he hums, “This is the sweetest pussy I have ever had.”

The sight is more than erotic, and for a moment, you are scared you will die from a heart attack. You want this man. You need him all at once, in every way possible. There is an ache coming from the depths of your soul that only he can satisfy.

“Please…untie me. I want to touch you.” You beg, hoping he takes mercy. It has been torture keeping your hands off of him. Hearing your plea, he takes mercy and undoes the ribbon tying your wrists. Free, you immediately sit up and wrap yourself around him, pulling him close for a kiss. Vigorously, wantonly, you kiss him and taste yourself on his tongue, moaning and gripping onto his back, your fingers itching to touch his skin underneath his nightshirt. 

“Please take this off,” you breathe against his mouth. Your husband smiles, undoubtedly enjoying teasing you. “Why?”

“Because…I want to see you.” You whisper sweetly, looking at him through your lashes. The man obliges, letting his hands off you for a moment to take off his shirt.

The sight of his naked body renews the heat between your legs, a new wave of desire overcoming your system. You let yourself gawk at the expanse of the muscles on his chest and the bulky thickness of his arms, all littered with scars, strong and dependable. As he stares at your face for a reaction, you reach for him absentmindedly, dragging your index finger over a scar on his right bicep. It is long, old, and jagged, rough and bumpy to the touch. Without thinking, you lean towards his arm and softly press a kiss on the wound before slowly dragging your lips to his chest, where another scar has bloomed. “It must have hurt,” you whisper to yourself, pressing another kiss on the scar before meeting his eyes. “I want to see all of your scars, dear husband. And I want to kiss all of them. I want to kiss away your pain.”

Something flashes by his eyes, brief but vulnerable. He immediately snakes a strong around around your waist to pull you tight against him and seal his lips over yours in a possessive kiss.

With his lips tangled with yours, he carries you to the sleeping mat, setting you down gently. You sigh in satisfaction as your back meets the soft, warm quilt. 

Your husband quickly gets to work, taking off your underskirt in a sharp yank and ripping it in the process. Surprised and embarrassed, you squeak, trying to hide yourself from his gaze. With the lamp burning right on the desk next to the mat, he has a pretty clear view of your body.

“Your pants…” You whisper, tugging them as well, and Seungcheol chuckles. “So desperate, aren't we?”

“Please,” you beg, throwing him your best pleading eyes as your hands roam around his back, feeling the ridge and bump of his muscles. 

The man quickly takes off his pants, giving you the briefest glimpse of his cock. You barely get to see him as he leans down towards you again, his eyes locked with yours. He drags his palms up, cupping your breasts and squeezing them. A breathy sigh of pleasure falls from your lips as you automatically lean closer to his face, your lips chasing his. Seungcheol captures them in a soft, teasing kiss, his lips gently biting yours as you feel his cock brush against your thigh.

You shiver, goosebumps breaking out on your skin.

You are a ball of nerves right now, the idea of getting intimate with a man for the first time plaguing your mind with worry. Yet, at the same time, you are overcome with desire, need running through your veins.

This is scary yet perfect. Absolutely perfect.

Your husband attacks your neck, kissing and biting the skin while simultaneously playing with your breasts. You mewl, letting your head fall to one side to give him better access to your neck. He hums, the sound so deep and throaty you feel it in your core. His lips do not break contact with your skin, kissing and sucking your sensitive flesh until your whole body shakes like leaves in a tree. 

“Please…” You beg, digging your nails into his shoulder, your body unconsciously starting to grind against him, desperate to ease the throbbing ache between your legs. Seungcheol, finally satisfied with the red spot blooming on your neck, lets you go, peering down at you with his hypnotizing eyes.

“I teased you a lot, did I not, wife?” He hums, caressing your heated face with his knuckles. Drunk with desire, you nod, your half-lidded gaze transfixed. “Please, take me, my Lord.”

He tsks disapprovingly. As if to prove a point, he wraps his hand around your throat but does not apply any pressure. “My name.”

“Seungcheol.” You reply immediately.

“Good girl.” Seungcheol smirks, his eyes flashing with something dark as he leans back on his heels, taking a slow, good look at your body. Then, spreading your legs wider, he spits on his fingers and using it as a lubricant over his cock before lining up with your entrance.

“This will hurt at first.” He warns. You nod, one hand covering your face as you choose to look at the ceiling out of embarrassment.

“Ready?”

“Yes.”

“Look at me.” He demands, the tip of his cock brushing against your pussy lips, making you shiver and follow his command. “Keep your eyes on me. Watch me devour this tight cunt.”

You feel like someone set your face on fire. Face flushed with his crude words, you barely get to make a sound when Seungcheol thrusts himself inside you. Your head lolls forward with the impact as your hands immediately clutch his arm around your waist for support. 

“Ah!” You cry out, eyes squeezed shut as you feel a sharp sting between your legs. “Fuck,” Seungcheol hisses, his voice throaty as he remains half buried inside you. Pausing for a moment, he lets you adjust before pulling back and then thrusting back in. This time, he goes all the way in, and you swear you feel him in your stomach. With a loud, pathetic cry, you cling onto his body, your brain unable to keep up with all the different sensations. 

He builds a pace, pushing in and out of you in strong movements.

Your brain feels like mush as you fail to utter anything, your mouth simply hanging open to let out breathy pants as you close your eyes and feel every ridge of his cock move in and out of you, the initial pain of intrusion fizzling away. It is a blissful experience, a high you never want to come out of.

“Push out your hips a little,” he orders quietly, dark eyes set on you so intensely, you feel like he can see your soul.

Immediately, you comply, extending your waist towards him while keeping your upper back pressed to the mat. His hands hold your hip bone n a strong grip as he places a pillow under your ass and slides himself back inside you with a leisurely pace, the new angle making his length curve inside you. 

You start seeing stars.

“Oh my god,” you hiss, eyes squeezed shut. The back of your thighs rests over Seungcheol’s, your legs dangling around his waist, and your hands clenched around the sleeping mat as he starts to pick up pace. With each thrust, the force increases, the tip of his cock hitting your most sensitive spot, low groans falling from his lips to match your breathy moans. 

“I… I cannot…please” your whisper mindlessly, the words scattered and almost unintelligible due to your broken moans. “You want to come?” His voice is almost taunting as he leans closer to look at your face. “Well, that’s unfortunate. You do not come until I give you permission, wife.” Your husband warns, making you whine. 

The need to find your release only intensifies. You are so close you can almost taste the blissful release.

“P-Please,” You beg, wrapping your arms around his neck and digging your fingernails into his shoulder blades. “Say it louder. Scream my name. Who is fucking this tight pussy?’’ he grunts in your ears, his warm breath tickling your skin.

“Seungcheol!” The desperate yell is quick to leave your lips.

“Who will make you come?”

“You! Seungcheol!”

“That is right, wife. It is I, your husband.” He gives you a particularly harsh thrust. “Not San. Not any other man but me.”

“Y-yes. Please…” you sob. Gripping your chin, he forces you to look at him. “Who do you belong to?” His voice is as quiet as a winter night.

“You, my husband.” You manage to utter clearly amid his brutal thrusts. “Good girl,” he praises, nibbling on your jaw. One of his hands reaches below to touch your clit as he wastes no time rubbing the sensitive bundle of nerves with the pads of his finger, all the while continuing to thrust inside you earnestly.

“Seungcheol!” You scream, your entire body jolting.

Your reaction makes him smirk as he chases his own high, seconds away from erupting inside you. He places your clit between his thumb and index finger, giving you a particularly harsh rub followed by a pinch.

You are catapulted over the edge. Your vision goes white, your entire sweat-coated body twitching from the intensity of the pleasure. It only amplifies as you feel Seungcheol spill inside you, his warm release filling you up and dripping lazily out of you. 

You feel like you are floating from the bliss.

— 

Your husband’s hand strokes your back in repeated soothing motions while you bask in the afterglow of your passionate lovemaking. With him lying behind you on the mat, your bodies pressed together, you move from reality to dreamland every now and then, the smile never leaving your face as you savour his touch and warmth. 

“Are you asleep?” he softly asks, bringing his face closer to inspect you.

You make a noise and shake your head, too lazy to move. Your husband gently turns you so that you lie face to face.

“Are you in any pain?” You ask again, carefully looking at your face, his fingers brushing away the rowdy strands of hair from your face. You open your eyes and look at him with a gaze full of love. “I am perfect, husband. Thank you.”

He smiles when you address him by that name, a warm, gummy smile that shows his unbridled joy. The possessive madman from earlier has completely disappeared, replaced by a man eager to dote on his wife.

This is your first time seeing this side of your husband. 

He pulls you against his chest, holding you tight in his arms. “No, thank you, wife. Thank you for being mine.” You smile, nuzzling his bare chest. This is the safest and most comfortable you have ever felt, and you do not want to let go. Ever.

After a moment of pause, he whispers. “I know I lack a lot. I can be clueless sometimes. So from now on, I hope you share with me whatever is on your mind. All your wishes, hopes and dreams, your desires— everything. I promise I will make them come true.”

You are too tired to form a reply, your body growing heavier each second but still, you smile. You peacefully drift off.

— 

Seungcheol did not go to work today.

The news delights you when you hear it from Jihye as she helps you get dressed. Her eyes linger on your body, especially on your neck, where little marks have formed— evidence of your lovemaking. 

She looks half worried and half scandalized, and you wink at her playfully before stepping out of your chamber.  Your husband sits on the porch, fully dressed, basking in the sun with a book in his hand.

“Good morning, my Lord.” You whisper, feeling pathetically shy when you catch sight of him. He looks up, his eyes shining when they land on you. “Good morning, wife. How are you feeling?” Shyly, you walk over to him and sit down without leaving any space between the two of you. Fiddling with your skirt, you look away when you answer, “I am alright, my Lord.”

With a gentle grasp on your chin, he turns your face and forces you to look at him. “The truth.” He says quietly.

Truthfully, you are quite sore, and an ache has taken hold all over your body. However, you cannot complain. The ache is laced with pleasure, especially between your legs, reminding you of last night.

Your heart gallops in your chest as you look into his eyes. “I am a little sore,” you reply timidly. “But it is a good kind of sore, I promise.”

His eyes travel to your neck, eyeing the red marks visible on your skin. “I was too rough with you,” he murmurs, his tone laced with regret, his eyes focused on your neck. Quickly, you snap him out of it. “Not at all, my Lord.” You sling your arms with his, pulling him closer so that you can rest your face on his shoulder. “You were just perfect. I enjoyed it. A lot.” You whisper, face flushing.

Your husband keeps gazing at you like he does not believe you. Whipping your head around, you take a quick scan around the yard before pressing a sweet kiss on his lips and giggling like a child. A soft smile blooms on his lips, even though he tries to stifle it.

“You should smile more, my Lord. You look so handsome.”

“Why are you calling me that? You called me by my name last night.” His lips form a soft pout as he complains. You pause, “Well…last night was…”

“You shall call me Seungcheol from now on.” He announces. “I would like it even more if you gave me a nickname.”

Wide eyed, you look at him.

“Do you understand me, wife?”

“Yes, husband.” 

Happy with that for now, he does not pester you anymore. You rest your head on his shoulders, your hands intertwined, and watch the morning sky in silence.

“You asked me to share all my wishes with you last night.” You speak after a while, eyes focused somewhere distant. “Can I share one with you right now?”

“Of course,” he shifts so that his body faces you. 

Tilting your head up, you admire a white, fluffy cloud. “Ever since my brother died, I have only had one wish for my life. I wanted to live by the sea in a small house. In that house, there would be my husband and I, and we would spend the rest of our days there, away from all the noise and bleakness of this town.”

“That sounds lovely.” He murmurs. You nod before looking at him. “Do you think it would ever be possible for us?”

He remains silent. 

“Given the nature of your job, I understand. However, I need you to promise me one thing. You must take care of yourself. You must not get hurt, do you hear me? You have someone to come home to now. You must think about me and you must return home to me, do you understand?” Your hands grip his in an earnest hold. 

His free hand comes to rest on top of yours, and he gives you a reassuring squeeze, warm and soft. “Rest easy, wife. I shall come back to you. Always.”

A lone drop of tear strolls down your cheek, and he wipes it away with his thumb before pressing the softest, feather-like kiss on your forehead. After a moment's pause, you speak. “Now it is your turn to share something with me.”

He regards you with confusion. 

“Anything. A wish, a secret…” You stare at him with eagerness. He sighs softly, his eyes trained on his lap as he thinks about something. 

“Well…when I told you not to expect anything from me,” he begins, looking almost shy, his gaze soft and apologetic. “I was afraid. I wanted to keep you at an arm's length from the beginning because I was scared of losing you. I have lost everyone close to me, and the thought of going through something like that again terrifies me. Since I joined the military, I have kept myself detached from everyone because the less I cared, the better.”

Your heart aches for the man. With gentle fingers, you brush away the unruly strands of hair from his face and trace the scar next to his eye. “You will not lose me, husband. I am right here.” You promise.

He wraps his arms around you as if to test your words. You wrap yourself around him, basking in his embrace, your bodies melting into one. “Do not leave me.” He whispers, his voice raw and vulnerable.

“Never.”

— 

Seungcheol left for the palace early today. After two days of relaxation, a letter came for him last night from the palace, demanding his presence first thing in the morning.

At night, Seuncheol held you tight in his arms, soothing away your worries. He finally shared what has been going on in the palace and why there are assassins after him.

Turns out they are working for the Minister of Trade, who is strictly against the new reformations currently being done by the king, like an attempt to abolish the slavery system. Seungcheol has been the King’s number one ally and a powerful piece in the game, which is why they are after him. Removing him from the equation is as good as stripping the King of his powers. Minister Kim has done exceptionally well in covering up his tracks, which is why there is no solid proof against him, complicating this entire issue. He has been playing a cat-and-mouse game with the royal army for a while now. 

Your husband left even before you woke up, leaving a note for you promising he would be home for dinner.

The day slowly passes by with you going to the palace and coming home once your shift is over, always under the watchful eye of San. The mood in the palace has been tense today, different rumours about Minister Kim floating in the air and a sinking feeling forms in your gut. No matter how hard you try, you cannot shake off the feeling that something ominous is about to take place.

Your suspicion starts taking shape when dusk falls and Seungcheol does not return. It turns into terror and restlessness as night falls, and still, there is no sign of him. The supper grows cold, and you fall asleep upright, waiting for him, your husband, who never comes.

When you open your eyes again, you find Jihye sitting next to you, a worried look on her face. “What is it?” You immediately sit up straight. “My lady, it is past midnight. Master has not returned yet. Should we send someone to the palace to ask for him?” She asks.

Your fingers fist around your skirt, anxiety coursing through your veins like poison. “We should.” You whisper.

Just as you are following Jihye out of the room, you hear commotion; the voice of a servant and Headservant Yang. Running to the porch, you see Seungcheol entering the house, dressed in his military uniform, his sword in his hand.

He marches straight towards you and drags you into your bedchamber without any words. “My Lord, where have you been!” You cry, gripping his arm. “I have been waiting for you—”

“Listen to me carefully,” he cuts you off, his hands resting on your shoulders as he leans down to be at your eye level. His usual unbothered demeanour is gone, replaced by worry that you see in his eyes as vividly as daylight. 

Something must be wrong. Your heart starts racing.

“The Minister of Trade is planning to attack us here tonight. They will be here anytime, so I need to get you out of here.”

“Wha— How did you even find that out? Are you sure?”

“The royal army captured a member of his team yesterday. We tortured the information out of him. Look at me,” he urges you, his fingers gripping your shoulder even tighter. “Minister Kim knows we are onto him. He has gone into hiding. He will stop at nothing to get to me, to you, do you understand? He plans to go down and drag me with him.” You see the fear in his eyes. The unshakable, indestructible man suddenly appears different, and this change terrifies you. 

“I am scared.” You whisper.

“You have nothing to be scared of.” He pulls you in his arms, holding you tightly against his chest. “I am going to send you to a safe place. I need you to do as I say, okay?”

You nod shakily, your fingers holding onto his sleeve in a death grip.

“Pack your essentials. We will leave within thirty minutes. Ask Jihye to help you.” He says, pressing a kiss on your forehead before marching outside.

With your heart hammering in your chest, you get to work, moving your shaky limbs to pack a bag with the help of Jihye. Soon, you are ready, and Seungcheol wastes no time wrapping everything up. He places Headservant Yang and the other servant in another neighbor's house to make sure they are safe before setting out with you.

In the darkness of the night, you get onto his horse with his help, followed by him sitting behind you, his arms around you to hold onto the reins. Jihye and another male servant get on another horse, and finally, a royal soldier follows from behind.

A little to the south of the town, there is a long, dense forest which leads to a small, quaint village. There is an ancient shrine there, inhabited by monks, and that is where Seungcheol intends to get you by dawn.

The silence grows heavier and thicker as you tread into the forest; the only sound echoing around is the soft galloping of the horses. You shiver, more from dread than from the cold night air and Seungcheol notices it. “Hold the reins.” He orders quietly so that his hands are free. He takes off the muffler wrapped around his neck and gently puts it around yours.

“I asked you to pack the essentials, wife.” His tone is playful. “I think a muffler in this weather counts as an essential.” He teases, and you understand it is his attempt to soothe you. “I am sorry, my lord. You should keep it. You will catch a cold.” You murmur.

“Hush now,” he shushes you, taking back the reins. “You should lean on me and close your eyes. It will take a while for us to reach there.”

“No, it is okay.” You reply, eyes focused ahead on the dark, narrow road cutting through the forest. 

It is such a gloomy night. You cannot spot a single star in the sky, shrouded by clouds.

Time ticks by. The night grows darker. 

Your journey continues through the hour of the ox and into the hour of the tiger. Exhaustion takes over you, and unable to resist it any longer, you close your eyes and lean your head back, resting it against your husband’s shoulder. It is not an ideal condition to get some shut-eye, but somehow you doze off.

When your eyes reopen, you hear the loud sound of a horse neighing and its heavy galloping. Seungcheol holds you tighter, and with a sharp tug of the reins and a nudge of his heels, his horse leaps into a full sprint. You look around worriedly, scanning through the dense bushes surrounding you.

“Master! Did they find us already?” Servant Min cries from behind as his horse too picks up pace.

The sounds grow louder, and just as your body tenses up, fearing the worst, you see San pop up from inside the forest, his horse taking a lunge and joining you on the road. “General, you have to keep going!” He yells. “They are right behind us.”

Seungcheol’s horse sprints parallel to his.

“How did they catch up so quickly?”

“Minister Kim had his men spread out. They were hiding in a camp a few miles behind. I took care of them, but the messenger escaped. I’m sure the minister is on his way. You need to move fast. There might be more of his men hiding in the forest.”

Upon hearing his words, you notice the specks of red on his hanbok. Swallowing the lump in your throat, you look behind to see your husband’s face. His jaw is clenched tight. “We need to come up with a plan. If they find us, we cannot hold them off. I need to get my wife to safety.” He yells back.

It is as if a cactus is lodged in your throat. “W-what do you mean?” You cry, your face aghast. 

He does not reply to you.

“It will be daybreak soon, General! We should hide somewhere.” San suggests.

Just then, you notice a sudden, strange ball of light in the sky, a little towards your right. It takes a moment for you to register that it is a signal, an arrow of fire shot from behind you.

“There are assassins ahead of us. They now know we are headed that way.” Seungcheol hisses.

“I will take care of it.” San nods, wielding his sword and screaming at the horse, “Go!” The horse runs faster, impossibly so, almost flying forward.

“I need you to stay calm and follow my orders.” Your husband says to you. “Do you hear me?” You nod shakily, “Yes.”

In five minutes, you catch up to San, who has taken care of most of the assassins that sat ahead at the curve. As you sprint near, Seungcheol hands the reins to you and readies his bow and arrow, taking perfect shots at the rest of the assassins. Then, he smoothly gets off the horse, followed by the other soldier who has been accompanying you, their swords wielded as they fight one-on-one.

A little ahead of the curb, you stop the horse and so does Jihye and servant Min, watching the fight anxiously. The three men take multiple assassins at a time, making sure they do not get to you.

You chew on your lower lip, your hands fidgeting as you watch the fight unfold. You wish Seungcheol gave you an archery set. You know the basics because you practised regularly as a child with your brother. Even though after his death, you stopped it for a while, you did not completely let go, taking occasional lessons from the older nobleman in your neighbourhood who used to be a skillful archer once upon a time.

By the time the last member of the group has been killed, shades of blue have coated the sky. Seungcheol and his team run back to the horses, their clothes specked with blood.  “Come on, we need to leave,” he says, mounting the horse.

There is a sudden sound; a sharp whoosh like a strong gust of wind just flew by, followed by a soft thud.

It is an arrow.

It whizzes towards you, missing the mark and hitting the tree trunk a couple of inches to your left. Your heart stops. A few hundred meters from the way you came, a large group of armed men show up. It is Minister Kim’s convoy.

They have caught up to you.

At the center, leading them is the minister himself, dressed in iron like he is about to go to war. His eyes, black and empty, scour the dead bodies of his assassins lying on the ground in front of him before looking at your husband.

His thin lips curl up into an evil smile. “General! No point in running now! It’s time to see how good of a fighter you are!” He yells. 

You feel Seungcheol's body growing tenser with each passing second, his hand gripping your thigh in a bruising hold. You, too, are paralyzed with fear, unsure of what to do. Then, absolutely shocking you, Seungcheol does the thing you least expected him to do. He starts getting off the horse slowly, his eyes trained on Minister Kim.

“San, take my wife and go.” He speaks quietly to the younger man who hadn’t gotten on his horse yet. “My Lord, what are you—” You do not get to finish your sentence because the younger man has instantly climbed behind you and snatched the reins from your hands.

“Get them!” You hear a shout as you are swept away with lightning speed. San’s grip around your body is iron solid, holding the reins with his eyes focused ahead on climbing the steep, hilly road at the end of the forest.

“No, please! You need to be with him!” You cry, fighting against him as you look behind to see Seungcheol fighting the Minister’s men, accompanied by the other soldier. 

He can never outfight all those people.

“Have faith in him. He knows what he is doing.” San assures, kicking his heels so the horse runs faster. You hear sounds right behind you, and you turn to see an assassin on a horse, aiming his arrow at you. San takes notice of it and swerves right immediately to avoid it.

As calculated, it misses, but a second later, your horse neighs out loud, standing on its hind legs before dropping down on the ground, taking the two of you with it. The arrow was meant for the horse. It struck his leg, injuring him, leaving the animal on the ground, softly crying in pain.

San wastes no time getting up and wielding his sword to fight off the man and the others following behind him. Jihye and servant Min, who were right behind you, yell out, calling for you to get on their horse. Jihye extends her hand towards you, but you ignore her, bunching up your skirt and making a run towards the curb.

“My Lady, what are you doing?” San yells, fighting off the assassins. “Jihye, stop her!”

“My Lady, come back!”

Ignoring their cries, you pick up the bow and set of arrows dropped by the assassin and continue sprinting down the steep road.

Then, finding a safe distance and a place behind an oak tree, you spot your husband, his movements sharp and precise as he takes down one man after the other. You watch as the minister slowly walks towards him, his sword dragging on the ground, leaving behind a threatening trail. Due to him wearing the armored plates, you know it is pointless to shoot at him, so you load your bow and aim at the assassins and start shooting.

The first one grazes past the man you aim at. Not discouraged, you continue, and the second one hits the target. 

Your husband looks in your direction immediately when the assassin drops dead, his eyes going from confusion to worry the moment he spots you. He does not have the time to do anything about it, as he has to fight the never-ending men.

And you are slightly grateful for that. Right now, he does not have the chance to come to you and force you away, giving you the chance to help him from afar. You continue loading arrows and shooting, missing some but hitting most, well aware of the fact that the Minister has spotted you.

From behind, you hear Jihye coming towards you, her exhausted pleas echoing down the path. “Jihye, I need more arrows!” You yell as you come down to your last two. “There should be some on the road back there!”

By now, most of the assassins have been taken care of, and the remainder are being fought by the soldier accompanying your husband. Minister Kim has approached Seunghceol as they engage in a heated sword fight, the minister swinging his sword like a madman, his growls echoing in the air. Your eyes scan around the place, thinking of finding a way to help Seungcheol, when San finally catches up to you, followed by Jihye, who did not get the arrows you asked for.

“My Lady, enough!” he yells. “You cannot be here! The road has been cleared—”

“We need to help him!” you yell back. “I cannot leave him here for—” You do not get to finish your sentence.

An arrow hits Seungcheol, piercing through the skin right below his right shoulder, on the top of his chest.

“No!” You scream, watching him stumble back for a moment. Your eyes fly through the scene, spotting an archer hidden inside the forest a little ahead towards your right. As you load your bow to take a shot at him, San finally comes to his senses, flying down the road to help Seungcheol.

You take the shot.

The arrow hits the hidden archer right in the chest, making him tumble backwards, disappearing out of sight. Then, you dash down the road, not scared of anything anymore, Jihye following you as your shadow.

San stands no match to Minister Kim, easily overpowered and tossed aside by his brute strength. He has the eyes of a madman, hell bent on getting to Seungcheol, discarding everything in his way like little bugs.

“I told you, you scarred lunatic!” He screams, charging at your husband. “I will slice your head off your neck and then do the same to your wife!”

He swings his sword around, charging for Seungcheol with all his might. Seungcheol blocks him with his sword, but the force of the attack forces him to fall to his knees. Minister Kim takes the opportunity to knock him off his feet with a kick. Seungcheol falls on the ground on his back, and in the split second, the minister raises his sword towards the sky before bringing it down sideways on his chest.

“Seungcheol!” You yell at the top of your lungs. “General!” San yells, coming from behind and tackling Minister Kim to the ground before he can fully swing his sword across. His helmet falls off from the force of San's attack. With your heart thundering in your ears, you point the remaining arrow at him.

It is like your body is not yours anymore. With zero hesitation, you take the shot while he is still pinned to the ground, struggling to get free, and the arrow hits the bullseye, right in the center of his forehead. 

His body slumps to the ground.

Pushing him away, San holds your husband’s lifeless body, his eyes slowly falling shut as he yells his name. Jihye and servant Min run past you, calling their master.

The bow drops from your hand.

You stand there, watching the ground go red underneath your husband’s body, your fingers gripping his muffler around your neck. 

—

Seungcheol receives his initial treatment in the shrine you were originally supposed to visit.

Once the news of the attack reached the capital, upon the king’s orders, the royal physician Yoon came to treat Seungcheol. He and his assistants crowded the room, tending to your husband’s injury with medicine and wrapping the area with gauze as he lay motionless on the mat.

You stood just outside the room, gazing at your sleeping husband, who looked nothing like his usual self—pale and frail, his body littered with little cuts. 

Why won’t he wake up? You miss his eyes. You miss his slow, unravelling gaze on you, his crimson, fiery eye that can almost cut through stone with a simple gaze. Where is that man?

Physician Yoon said he is in a deep sleep. They call it a vegetative state. The injury was quite lethal; the wound just a few centimetres away from damaging his heart. He said that the worst is over, and his pulse is stable now.

But he won’t wake up. He remains unresponsive, and it is unclear how long it will take for him to regain consciousness. 

“I see,” was all you said, standing motionless in your spot, gazing at your comatose husband.

A couple of days later, the King sent a royal convoy to move Seungcheol back to his house from the shrine. You had no complaints, wanting your husband to rest comfortably in his own house rather than a shrine. After a long journey, you reached home in the afternoon, greeted by Headservant Yang, who looked as devastated as you. After making sure your husband was okay, physician Yoon left, leaving you anticipating yet another sleepless night. 

It is nighttime now, and you sit still next to your sleeping husband. Headservant Yang peeks into the room, begging you to have some food. You ignore her, sitting quietly and observing your husband. The small lamp in the bedchamber casts warm shadows on his face, his sharp features appearing softer and weaker. 

He looks oddly at peace. You do not cry. You force a smile.

Leaning closer to him, you glide a gentle hand down his face and whisper, “You can rest. You have had a tough life, my dear. You can rest as long as you need, but you have to come back to me.”

You will pray to every god out there. You will visit every shrine, give unlimited offerings, and pray that your husband returns to you. You will do everything in your power to see him open his eyes. It is truly a shame you do not have much power in your hands.

Sometime later, your exhausted body falls into deep slumber, riddled with nightmares. Your husband lies in a pool of blood, and he does not wake up.

— 

The next morning, your father comes to see you. You do not move from your spot next to your husband to greet him as San leads him into the room before excusing himself.

He sits next to you, watching his son-in-law with small, worried eyes, muttering words of regret and concern. You hardly hear them, too busy patting Seungcheol’s face and arms with a damp cloth. Physician Yoon left a while ago after checking up on him and said that there is no progress. The king’s personal messenger came with him as well as the Head Eunuch, praying for Seungcheol and assuring to provide help in any way they can.

You couldn't care less about them. You sent them off, handing the letter you wrote for the king in the messenger’s hand before asking San to see them out.

“My daughter, you should eat something. You have to take care of yourself so that you can take care of him.” Your father urges.

You finish wiping your husband’s body in silence before setting the rag down and clasping his hand in yours. They are calloused but warm, and you silently send a prayer of gratitude to the heavens. He is alive. He is still here.

Tracing over his bruised knuckles with your fingertips, you whisper, “You know, Father, I have been lonely for a long time. After orabeoni died, I thought that was it. It could not get worse, but then Mother died. And I…I hated that I was alive. Because in that house, I was dead. I was dead while still being alive.”

You exhale a shaky breath, pulling Seungcheol’s hand closer to inspect it. You need to apply ointment on his knuckles.

“There was no colour, no joy, no celebration in that house. You were there but also not there. You never saw me. I was not enough, not after losing someone as precious as orabeoni. I felt so guilty. It should have been me, not him—that is all I could think of. I thought my entire life would be miserable like that, which is why I was so eager to marry this man.”

Another heavy sigh whooshes out of your lungs.

“Father, this man…people fear him. They say all sorts of weird things about him. But he is the kindest, warmest man I know. He kept his heart locked and hidden from the world, but he is so precious. He is gentle and kind, and he loves me. He loves me so dearly, Father, and I love him. How could I go on without him?”

And finally, the tears fall. Big droplets of water roll down your cheek as you fall on the ground, clutching onto your husband’s hand and sobbing into the floor, loud and broken.

Your father’s hand comes to rest on your shoulder rather unsurely, softly patting you as you keep crying, the tears that never came till now gushing out like a river with a broken dam. Your broken heart continues to shatter into even smaller pieces, and you cannot help but wonder what if he never wakes up again. Maybe you are doomed to be lonely.

The thought makes you cry some more. After a while, once you have managed to calm down, you sit up and wipe your tears.

“I…I did not know you felt that way.” Your father whispers, his voice ridden with guilt. “I…I never meant to hurt you. I am sorry—”

“I don’t want your apology right now, Father. I want you to pray for him.” You cut him off.

“I will. Of course I will.” He says, his eyes shining with unshed tears and guilt. “And when he is back on his feet, I will come visit you and I will accept your apology then.” You murmur, your gaze trained on your husband.

“Of course. Have faith, my dear. He will be awake soon.” Your father assures, his voice unstable. You hum absentmindedly.

If Seungcheol does not wake up, you do not know what you will do.

— 

The wind is particularly chilly this morning.

It has been a fortnight since Seungcheol fell into his comatose state, and he is just as before. Every day, Physician Yoon comes to check on him and then leaves while handing you some herbs to apply to his wound.

You have accepted this as your life now. Waking up every morning with a prayer that all the previous days were a long, gruesome nightmare, but then feeling grateful to see him still breathing, warm and alive.

After completing your daily prayer and offerings at the temple, you walk home in slow steps, the fatigue slowly creeping into your bones. The past week has been hard on you, and it looks like your body to starting to give up. You have not been eating properly, spending all your waking hours beside Seungcheol, tending to his comatose body or crying at the altar of the temple.

You cannot give up. Seungcheol is yet to awake.

Just as you come in front of your house, you find a small stray cat sitting comfortably in the sun. With a small, exhausted smile, you walk closer and crouch down, running your fingers through its shaggy fur. It looks dirty and disheveled, and you wonder where it is from.

You should probably bring it inside and give it some milk to eat. Judging by how comfortably it sits and basks in the sun, you are doubtful you will be able to get it inside your house.

“Would you like something to eat?” You whisper, gently scratching between its ears. The cat meows rather boredly, closing its eyes and resting its head on the ground after a quick swish of its tail.

Right then, a servant bursts out of the front door, looking like he saw a ghost. He looks back and forth down the road before finally spotting you on the ground. The wide-eyed, frazzled look on his face makes your blood run ice cold, and you immediately stand up.

“What is it?”

“My lady…Master is awake.”

You are free falling. You fall and fall, all the limbs of your body finally giving up after a week of war. For a long moment, you stand there, stuck in a daze. You don’t dare to breathe, afraid you would wake up and realize it was a dream.

“I will go get Physician Yoon. Please go inside, my lady.” The servant says before rushing down the street. You struggle to move. The stray cat at your feet has got up due to the commotion and is now strolling into the house.

With your heart racing in your chest, you slowly follow it, your legs shaky due to the nerves.

Seungcheol is awake. He is finally awake. 

You hear lots of voices, especially Headservant Yang’s, as she scolds and cries loudly. With a lump lodged in your throat, you keep on walking until you spot the door to his bedchamber. You catch a glimpse of your husband sitting up, and for some reason unknown to you, you immediately hide behind a nearby wall.

You are too scared to see him. Too overwhelmed, too afraid.

You thought of this. You dreamed of the day he would wake and look at you, and now that it is here, you do not know what to do. It feels unreal.

You are angry at him. You are also grateful. Angry for getting hurt. Grateful for waking up.

A sob bursts out of your throat, and you start wailing, unable to hold back the tears any longer. With your palms clasped over your mouth, you cry so hard that it becomes hard to breathe. The sobs wrack your body, knocking the air out of your lungs and leaving behind only pain.

The pain of almost losing him. The pain of seeing him lie there almost lifeless, day after day.

A hand on your shoulder startles you, and you find Jihye standing next to you. Her eyes are misty as she wraps an arm around your heaving body and rubs your arms soothingly. “It is alright, my lady. Please do not cry. He is looking for you.”

Her words make you cry some more before you manage to wipe your tears and snot. It is pretty futile because they do not stop completely. With shaky legs, you move from your hiding spot and continue towards his chamber, your heart pounding loudly in your ears.

Seungcheol spots you immediately, his posture straightening as he sees you arriving. But you do not meet his eye. 

You cannot bring yourself to. If you look at him, you will start crying once more, right in the middle of the yard, in front of all the servants. 

Headservant Yang and others start moving away as they see you approaching, giving you privacy. You cross the porch, your eyes still trained on the wooden floor of his bedchamber, your hands slightly shaking.

Finally, you step inside and shut the door behind you. Then, your eyes slowly travel to his.

He is definitely paler and thinner than before, but you see life in his eyes. You see the spark and the shine that have always been present in them, and right at that moment, you are sure he will be alright.

Thank god.

He looks up at you, his eyes brimming with longing and guilt. His usual plump red lip shaded in a pale pink colour. His face littered with little cuts that are still healing, yet he has never looked more handsome.

And you have never been happier to see him.

You want to scream. You want to yell at him and tell him how much you love him, but you cannot speak. Tears and sobs threaten to overflow once more, so you stand there like a statue and keep staring at your husband, repeating in your head that he is alive and well. 

Until your knees finally give out. 

You kneel in front of him and wrap your arms around his neck, careful to avoid his left chest and leaning your weight more on the right.  Breathing him in, you hold him as tightly as possible, wishing you could merge yourself into him, wishing you could lock him away and protect him for the rest of his life.

Your tears wet his bare shoulders, your fingers tightly gripping onto the muscles on his back, clutching him on for dear life. It feels as if you let him go— if your grip loosens ever so slightly, you will lose him forever.

It takes a long moment for you to realize how your body is shaking due to your sobs and tearful hiccups, only when your husband's warm hands wrap around you, patting your back like you are a small, wounded animal.

“It is okay, my dear. Everything is okay,” he soothes in the softest voice, and when you hear him, another violent sob slips past your throat while you cling to him and cry in the crook of his neck.

You want to stop, but the tears are endless, a mixture of pain and relief. Gingerly, Seungcheol pulls you away from him to take a look at your face, which is puffy and tear-stained. With his thumbs, he wipes your tears away, murmuring, “Hush, now. It pains me to see you cry like this.”

You want to reply, but the lump in your throat is still heavy, and you know if you try to utter something, only sobs will come out, so you remain silent, raking your eyes over his body before settling on the wound on his chest.

“I am alright, I promise.” He assures you once he sees your gaze. “I feel well-rested, in fact.”

You are glad to hear that.

Wiping the remaining tears and snot rather unceremoniously with your sleeve, you get up on your feet to leave the room, but he tugs on your wrist, pulling you back down and into his arms this time.

“Where are you going?”

“To get you some herbal tea.” You reply, your voice meek and scratchy. Your husband locks his arms around you. “Headservant Yang will do that. I need you to stay here. I have missed you.”

Your lower lip trembles, but you will yourself not to cry again. Instead, you whisper, “I have missed you as well. I have missed you so much, you have no idea, Seungcheol.”

He shifts, peering at your face with a surprised look. “You called me by my name.”

“I have been calling your name for the past week.” You murmur, staring at your lap.

He maneuvers your body with gentle, effortless hands so that he can see you fully. “You know, you look like the one who has been comatose for a week. What is this I am seeing? When was the last time you had a proper meal?” He frowns, his eyes trained on you like a hawk as he squints at your face.

You look away, murmuring, “I have been busy nursing a sick man.”

He scoffs. “Not busy enough to eat. You look like a ghost, my wife. I am genuinely worried about you.”

You do not meet his gaze. With an exasperated sigh, he gently tilts your face up by the chin. “Look at me.” He softly commands you. You do as you are told, finding his eyes set on you, those beautiful, mesmerizing eyes that you missed so deeply. 

Your husband’s face inches closer to press a soft kiss on your forehead. It is not quick; he holds his lips pressed right in the middle of your forehead, slightly above your brow, like he is trying to leave an imprint. You close your eyes and lean closer, savouring the feel of his lips against your skin.

Oh, how you longed for this.

“I love you.”

You must have heard wrong. You stop breathing, your body going tense for a moment. Seungcheol leans back, one of his hands wrapped around your neck, his thumb stroking your cheek while the other cups the back of your head, angling your face just slightly upwards and in line with his gaze.

“I love you.” He repeats—his words slow, heavy, deliberate.

You feel faint. It is hard for you to find words, and while you continue gaping at him with parted lips and shining eyes, he continues, “I was scared I would not be able to say this to you. As I lay on the ground and saw you standing there, this was all I could think of. I was angry at myself for never telling you how much I love you.”

“Oh Seungcheol…” your lips tremble. You wrap your arms around his neck, making yourself at home by placing your head under his chin, feeling his hard muscles against your body.

“I love you, dear wife. I love you more than life itself. More than I could ever express.” You hug him tighter. “I love you, too. I love you so much, Seungcheol. You are my whole world.”

“I know.” He murmurs. “I knew the moment you came back towards me. Which you should not have done, by the way. You put yourself in danger.” He loosens his hold on you to catch a glimpse of your face, his gaze admonishing. “I am still mad at you for doing that, but you look miserable enough, so I will let you off.”

You only smile.

“Also, when were you going to tell me what an amazing archer you are? How come I did not know that?”

You look away sheepishly, biting your lip. “You never asked.”

He laughs, the sound sweet and throaty. His arms wrap around you in a tight, protective hold once again, and you close your eyes, savouring the rhythm of his heartbeat next to your ear. As you bask in his warmth, you announce, “You are not going back to the military. I am not letting you go.” Detangling himself from you, your husband regards you with an amused look, like he cannot believe you. “Oh, really?”

“I am serious.” You huff with a frown. “You are not going back. You have fought enough battles for a lifetime. Now it is time for you to rest.”

“Hm. And what if His Majesty disapproves?” His tone is playful.

“I do not care. I already wrote him a letter, saying that once you woke up, you would not resume your duties.”

Amazed, your husband watches you, his eyes twinkling with pride. “I cannot believe you did that.” You ignore him. “Promise me. Promise me you will not go back to the military.”

He remains silent, watching you calmly, and you start getting anxious, expecting the worst. Just as you start thinking of different ways to force him to stay, he says, “I will not, I promise. I was not going to go any way. That was the first decision I made when I opened my eyes. I got another chance at life with you. I plan on using it very well.”

Your heart soars. You grin, a full-on smile sweeping over your face after a long time. Pressing a soft, chaste kiss on his lips, you whisper, “Can we go live by the sea now?” His eyes shine with love. “Yes, we can.”

You couldn't be happier. Your heart couldn't be fuller. It is pure delight when you think of a future with this man, away from all the noise and the troubles that have been plaguing your life until now.

He can be safe now. He can rest.

Unconsciously, your thumb traces the scar next to his eye, feeling the bumpy skin underneath your finger. The scar now looks like a tree branch that extends into even smaller branches containing little flowers.

You lean forward and press a kiss on it. 

“I am just glad you will not get hurt anymore. You have already been through so much.” You whisper, your sad gaze trailing over all the marks on his skin, old and new, before settling on his left chest. You gingerly place your hand over the gauze, remembering how long and deep the gash was.

It will scar for sure. Probably the biggest scar on his body, and it will be because he was protecting you. A shaky breath parts from your lips as you are momentarily transported back in time; him lying motionless on the ground that was turning red. As if your husband can read your thoughts, he gently tilts your chin up and forces you to meet his eyes.

“My dear, I am alright. Look at me.”

“This will scar. You will be in much pain as it heals. Because of me.”

“Don't say that.” He holds you against his chest, his fingers wrapping tightly around your limbs. “You are the only one who loves my scars. Because of you, I now love them too. I would not have changed a single thing if I had the chance. You know why? Because every one of the scars in my body led me to you. And this one?” He places a hand over yours, which is resting on his chest.

“This one tied me to you forever. I earned you. I earned your forever through this. So I think this is the most beautiful.”

A lone tear strolls down your cheek. “Oh, Seungcheol,” you choke over a sob, tilting your face up to capture his lips in a kiss.

His arms engulf you completely, his lips taking over yours, his tongue moving inside your mouth like he has been starving for this.

It is breathless, passionate, and gentle at the same time, conveying all the feelings and emotions the two of you could never put into words. 

It is beautiful, like the scars on his body, leaving behind a trace of love.

For a special epilogue, head over to my Patreon. Click here to see the preview!

© startlightxsvt 2025 | All Rights Reserved. Do not copy, translate, adapt, or repurpose any of my works.

A/N 2: First of all, I want to thank you for reading till the end. Next, I just want to say that this fic has been one of my dream projects. Is it the best? Maybe not but did I have the most fun writing it? Hell yes! It was originally supposed to be a bit longer but I cut some parts out, mainly because I was worried this app wouldn't let me post the entire thing easily. Sure enough, it said that there were too many blocks on my post, so I had to stitch together a lot of passages even though they were separate at first. So, I'm sorry if the flow gets weird in some places.

On a different note, I will also be posting this on AO3 once I have opened my account (I am still waiting for their invitation mail), so once I have made my account, I will link it here. Do support me over there! Finally, I just want to take a moment to thank you all for your support. I am really excited to hear from you guys about this fic, so please do send an ask!

That's it from me for now. For my next fic, I will be returning with something short and lighthearted. Stay happy and healthy, y'all! <33

[starlightxsvt]

I loved scars leave a beautiful trace so much. I have no words to describe how it made me feel. I had to sit up halfway through cause it's as getting real. I feel so fulfilled. Truly. Thank you for sharing❤️.

Aw, that's the sweetest! I'm so happy you enjoyed it and I really appreciate you dropping by!

Have a lovely day!

[starlightxsvt]

Scars Leave a Beautiful Trace | c.sc

synopsis ➳ ❝an arranged marriage with the man the entire land is afraid of. the man with a crimson eye. they call him the grim reaper. cold, ruthless, unforgiving. yet you are drawn to him, curious to see the man hiding behind the cold, hard exterior. and the man behind is hauntingly beautiful but your forever with him is not promised.❞ pairing ➳ husband general!seungcheol/ x wife noblewoman!reader genre ➳ historical romance (joseon era), angst, pining, smut. wc ➳ 25.4k + 1040 (patreon) warnings ➳ blood, mentions of war, scars, minor character death, attachment issues, arranged marriage, mentions of cheating, severe injury, miscommunication. cheol is an ass in the first half, reader is lowkey a simp, jealousy, big dicc cheol, bondage, virgin sex, rough, unprotected sex, fingering, teasing, edging, dirty talking, praise kink. a/n: this is a work of fiction, so take this with a grain of salt. it will be historically inaccurate, so my apologies beforehand. (also, surprise?? posting it a day early hehe)

glossary:

Jangot – Veil-like cloak for women

Binyeo – Decorative hairpin

Yakgwa – Honey-ginger cookie

Jeonbok – Traditional sleeveless vest for men

Dasik – Pressed tea cookie

Jeogori – Upper garment or jacket

Chima – Skirt worn by women

Baduk – Strategy board game (Go)

Daenggi – Ribbon for braids

Hour of the Ox – 1:00–3:00 AM

Hour of the Tiger – 3:00–5:00 AM

Orabeoni – Respectful term for older brother

+82 some miracle

only listen to my general

“Daughter, this is General Choi Seungcheol, your betrothed. Greet him properly,” your father commands softly, his eyes trained on you.

Your breath stutters in your chest.

Whether from the loaded tension in the air, the silence of the room or your future husband’s penetrating eyes on you, you are unsure. 

His eyes…

You saw them once, a long, long time ago, and you remember them in explicit detail because they are heterochromatic. His right iris is red, a shade of fiery crimson that is scary but also hypnotizing—a stark contrast to his left iris, which is pure black. 

You wish it were only his eyes that were lethal. Unfortunately for you, it is his presence itself. It is the way he silently sits there, poised and alert, holding his sword in his right hand and softly drumming his left index finger on his knee, as if telling you to hurry up. It is the way his face remains unreadable, a porcelain white canvas containing a pair of eyes fiercer than a mountain lion's, a sharp nose that is slightly crooked on the left, and pink lips that are pressed in a thin line. The most daunting of it all, the scar on the right side of his face, just below his eye and on top of his cheekbone. It is no more than a couple of inches long, but the gash looks deep, even after it has healed and imagining the pain behind that curse rakes shivers down your spine. 

Finally, you snap out of your reverie.

With a shaky exhale, you bow down and speak as humbly as possible. “Please accept my greetings, my lord. It is a pleasure to meet you.”

— 

Choi Seungcheol is well known throughout the kingdom, highly feared and revered. In fact, many hold him in the same regard as the king, which is not unfair or surprising. He is the Minister of War and the General of the royal military, the right-hand man of the King and his most trusted subject. Since his boyhood, he demonstrated excellent swordsmanship, and paired with his keen intellect and faultless war strategies, he quickly rose through the ranks and became the King's favourite. His name spread far and wide after he brought victory to the nation in two consecutive wars. He attended the first one when he was only eighteen, and he became infamous for that.

That war with the nearby enemy nation was extremely brutal, as it took away the lives of many of the best men in the military. When Seungcheol returned to the capital with the enemy General’s head in his hands, he was a changed man who had altered the course of history. Bloodied, beaten and bruised, he sported the deep scar on his face, fresh and bleeding. 

Rumours spread from there. Though he brought the nation victory, the townspeople gossiped about everything from his scar, his crimson eye, to his temper, claiming that he was a madman or possessed by an evil spirit. 

You have heard a few things from your father, too. He has agreed that the war changed the man, rightfully so. As the state minister, your father saw firsthand how brutal and merciless the war was till the last moment. So much so that he stepped down from his position afterwards.

He lost his son in the war, after all. Your older brother, whom you vaguely remember because you were only eight at that time. 

Nothing was the same after his passing. Your father lost his spark, your mother became quiet and indifferent, and the house fell into a deathly silence that felt haunted. The silence still lingers, fourteen years later. 

It has been a long time, so long that sometimes you feel like those days never existed. Yet, you remember them vividly: the pain of your mother’s death four years after your brothers, the remaining light dissipating from your father's eyes and the house falling into a perpetuating state of darkness, a place where everyone remained silent, from the slaves to the master. A place that never truly was illuminated, even during the brightest days of summer. A place that you had to call home but wasn’t your home. It was a graveyard where you floated through, watching the world outside bathe and shine with colours when the second war was won, when the king became the father of a boy, when the economy flourished. Seasons passed and years went by, yet your house never celebrated a holiday or a special occasion. 

You saw your father survive each day, haunted by his past and unaware of the present. Every day, he would see students from morning till noon, fulfilling his duties as a scholar before retiring to his room and staying there till the next morning.

The only time you saw some life in him was three years ago, when he called you one day in his chamber to announce that you would get married to Choi Seungcheol once he returned from his three-year trip to another country. Choi Seungcheol, the General of the Royal Military. The man with heterochromatic eyes, who came to your brother’s funeral years ago.

That’s how you have remembered him. The man with two different colored eyes, who stood in the rain with a grim expression on his face as they lowered your brother into the ground.

Over the years, you have heard notorious things about him. He has gained an infamous reputation among the townspeople. Many people believe that he is insane and that he murders people for fun. Word goes around that he is a womanizer, a man without a heart, a man who did not spare his own brother and executed him for treason.

You don’t know how much of this is true.

It all might be true; he just might be the devil living in a human body, but funnily enough, you do not care.

You will do anything to get out of this house. Living here for the past fourteen years has been like being buried alive. You are breathing, yet you don’t feel alive—you don’t remember the last time you felt that way, if ever.

And if a diabolical, insane man is your ticket out of this grave, you will take it. You will accept it with open arms and a smile on your face.

— 

The marketplace is crowded.

You gently tread through the throng of people, holding your jangot over your head as you eye the stalls leisurely, nothing in particular catching your attention. 

“My lady,” Jihye whispers, walking alongside you. “You have been circling the market for the past half an hour. What are you even looking for?”

A dejected sigh flows past your lips. 

Last time you came to the market, a pretty flower binyeo caught your eye. You had not received your salary yet at that time, and so, you could not purchase the piece. You had aimed to buy that binyeo today, but now that you've received your pay, it's no longer available. You have been scouring the market ever since, looking for something similar, but there is none.

“You know what, let us buy some yakgwa and head home,” you say, looking for a snack shop. Jihye smiles, her eyes flickering excitedly at your mention of buying sweets.

A few feet ahead of you, you spot a sweet shop. Instead of focusing on the plethora of sweets laid out, your gaze travels to the right, stopping on two men standing by that shop, their backs facing you.

Something about the tall, broad man dressed in black makes you stop in your tracks. Particularly, his long ebony hair feels oddly familiar to you. 

The man shifts a little, and you catch the slightest glimpse of his side profile through the busy street. Immediately, you squeak and hide behind a nearby stall.

It is General Choi, your husband-to-be.

“My lady, what is wrong?” Jihye hovers around you worriedly. Without looking away from the man, you dig into the sleeve of your hanbok, fishing out some coins and handing them to Jihye. 

“Here. Go buy as much yakgwa as you want.” You murmur, pushing her towards the shop while you get more comfortable in your hiding spot.

You don’t even know why you are hiding. You did not do anything wrong, and you surely have no reason to spy on your future husband in the middle of a busy marketplace.

Still, you continue observing him converse with the other gentleman. His stance is poised and powerful as always, and dressed head to toe in his signature black military clothes, he looks like death itself. Haunting but hypnotizing; which would explain why you cannot look away. 

And then, suddenly, he turns around, locking his eyes with you straight, as if he knew exactly where you were hiding. 

With a gasp of mortification and terror, you immediately whip your head away and bump into a passerby. Bowing your head in an apology, you let the woman pass through before tentatively turning your head back to the street.

Choi Seungcheol stands right behind you.

“Ah!” You yelp, taken aback and stumble a few steps behind. He reaches out immediately and grabs your elbow in a flash, saving you from the fall.

Flushed and breathless, you gape at him like a fish out of water.

He has the usual grim and unamused look on his face, peering down at you almost like he is judging you. His hair is tied up in a half bun, and his bangs frame half of his face, covering his odd eye and the scar. It is a shame, you find yourself thinking as you observe the rest of his face, counting the moles on his pale skin.

It is when he lets you go that you realize he had been holding onto you all this time, and you stood there like a statue.

How unladylike!

First, he catches you spying on him, and now— 

“My apologies, my Lord.” You immediately take several steps back, putting a safe distance between the two of you. Full of shame, you keep your head low as you murmur, “I was simply startled to see you.”

“It seems that you were spying on me.” His voice is smooth and rich, calm and authoritative. “No!” You gasp. “I was just…um…looking. I thought you…ah…looked somewhat familiar…”

He cocks a thick brow in amusement, the faintest smirk creeping up on his lips. 

What are you even saying?

Cringing at your own words, you press your lips shut and scowl at the ground, cursing the heavens for your predicament.

“You are not at the palace today?” He asks. You welcome the change of topic with great relief.

"No, my Lord. I asked for a break from my duties this week as I am preparing for the wedding.”

With no mother or close female relatives, it is up to you to prepare your wedding. 

Generally, you do not like skipping work. It has been two months since you secured a job at the palace after a lot of struggle. Your father was not very happy with the idea of you working, especially in the palace, but he ultimately gave in. 

You work as a teacher to the children under the head court lady of the palace, teaching them how to read and write while they train to be future court ladies. Sometimes you also work as a bookkeeper for the royal library, but that is something you do voluntarily and out of your love for reading. The pay is not very much, but it gives you a sense of freedom and identity, something you struggled to find for the last twenty-two years.

“Head Court Lady Yeo speaks very highly of you.” General Choi states. You do not understand whether he meant it positively or negatively, given his flat tone. Confused, you chuckle awkwardly. “It is a pleasure to work under her guidance. She is very patient and—”

Suddenly, Seungcheol reaches out to you, grabbing you by the arm and harshly tugging you towards him. Completely oblivious as to what is happening, you bump into his chest as his arms snake around you, protectively holding your body next to his.

Less than half a second later, a man riding a horse whooshes by, yelling out apologies to all the people for his rowdy horse. Dear Lord, you were about to be trampled by a horse if not for him.

“Are you alright?” 

His voice makes you look up at him, wide-eyed and panting. It takes a moment for you to realize that he is holding you against his chest, his warm hand resting on your shoulder in a protective grip while your hands rest on his shoulders, gripping the fabric of his jeonbok for support.

With your heart pounding loudly in your ears, it takes you yet another moment to remember how inappropriate this is, the way you are pressed against him. In a flash, you free yourself from his hold and shuffle back, murmuring a mortified apology. At the same time, you hate how much you miss his touch on you.

How odd.

“My lady, are you alright!” Jihye comes running down the street, a packet of confectionery in her hands. 

“Y-yes, I am okay. Let us get going.” You announce, immediately turning away from General Choi, desperate to escape this mortifying situation.

“Hold on.” The deep baritone of his voice steals a breath from your lips. Your body instinctively listens to his command, and you carefully look behind to see him picking up your jangot, which you probably dropped earlier and were about to leave without.

Once more, you cringe at your clumsiness as you watch him brush off the dirt before extending the material towards you. With shaky hands, you reach for it. “Thank you, my Lord. I wish you a pleasant day.”

The next second, you rush out of the marketplace as if the grim reaper himself were chasing after you. Behind you, Jihye struggles to keep up, but you couldn't care less, hiding your face in embarrassment.

That night, under the blanket, you lie wide awake. The memory of General Choi’s hand on your body and his chest pressed against yours keeps repeating in your head in a loop. A foreign, warm sensation pools in your belly, and you find yourself shamefully fantasizing about your future husband, forsaking slumber.

—

You got married today. 

According to the elders of the town, it is one of the most important days of your life, yet it felt like every other—quick and ordinary. Probably because the groom was barely there.

During noon, he came in to fulfil the basic rituals before marching out, leaving a note for you with Jihye. The work in the palace is too demanding, so he must go. He would see you tonight at his place. That was all he said.

Hours later, night has fallen and you are now in his home.

You sit alone in a chamber prepared especially for you. His servants made sure you were comfortable, helping you bathe and prepare for the first night with your husband before leaving you alone to sit with your thoughts and hear the hum of the crickets in the nearby forest.

You declined their offer to serve you dinner. It is only appropriate to wait for your husband and share the first meal together. 

Adorned in fine silk and pretty ribbons, you sit and wait for your husband to come, watching the flame of the candle dancing and melting away the wax. 

You are nervous. It is your first night with your husband. You, who has never even looked at a man for a second too long. You are now married to one of the most feared men in the kingdom. You have heard people talk about his ruthlessness in bed. Apparently, the girls in the brothel talk about it all the time, especially when he visits. Jihye said that whoever spends the night with him needs an entire day to recover.

“Lady Choi,” Head Servant Yang suddenly calls your name before opening the door. “Master has arrived. He is taking a bath currently.”

You snap out of the thoughts of bedding your husband and give her a shy smile. “Could you please set the table then?”

“Of course.” The elderly woman bows and walks out of the room, arranging for dinner to be set in your chamber.

Ten minutes after the dinner is served, General Choi walks into the room. Fresh out of the bath, he is dressed in his nightwear and his hair is tied up in a neat bun, giving you an uninterrupted view of his face. Once again, you find yourself hypnotised by his heterochromatic eyes.

“You did not have dinner?” He asks, sitting down in front of you. His movement is as graceful as always, silent yet stealthy. His posture is upright, the muscles of his shoulders taught as he sits and regards you with careful eyes.

“I was waiting for you, my Lord.” You reply meekly.

“You should not have,” he states, his tone almost condescending. “I am sure Head Servant Yang informed you that I return from work late most days.”

“Today is a special day, is it not?” You find yourself speaking boldly. Your words are firm like the gaze in your eyes, and for a long moment, the chamber is plunged into suffocating silence.

General Choi keeps looking down at you, his gaze as intimidating as ever, and you half expect him to draw his sword from its sheath and slice your head off. Instead, his lips curl upwards, and a noise of amusement leaves his throat. 

“Lady Choi, you seem upset.” He states, his voice half challenging and half something you cannot pinpoint. Sarcasm? Threat?

Unsure how to reply to that, you bite your lip and stare at the food laid out in front of you. All your appetite is gone now.

“Let me tell you something, Lady Choi.” Your husband leans closer to you over the table. Something about the way he utters your title forces you to meet his gaze. Like always, the fierce look in his eyes steals away your breath.

The man is hauntingly beautiful.

“I am certain you have some expectations from this marriage, and I cannot hold that against you. However, let me inform you now, I will not be able to fulfil your expectations, whatever they may be. So, I suggest you completely let go of your expectations, for your own good.”

What? You are sure no woman in Joseon’s history ever had to hear these words on her wedding night.

“My Lord, I do not understand.”

He does not bother clarifying his words. Instead, the look in his eyes shifts, his gaze sharpening on you. Lazily, he pours himself a drink from the pitcher and chugs it down.

“I know what this marriage means to you.”

You hold your breath and watch him, alarmed. He smirks. “It means freedom. It is your way out of that house. So, let this marriage be just that. A way out for you and a duty obliged for me.”

Well, consummating the marriage is also a duty. So is spending time with your wife and sharing a meal with her on your wedding night. You want to yell the words out, but you press your lips shut and stare at him, still processing what is happening.

“As long as we maintain our boundaries, this will be a great union,” he announces almost like he is reassuring you. You feel anything but that.

You feel abandoned, yet again.

“You should eat now,” he says, standing up. “I will retire for the night.” Without sparing another glance at you, he leaves the room. For a long moment, you silently sit in your place, your fancy garment and jewellery suddenly becoming too heavy on your skin. Ignoring the sensation, you reach for the rice, nibbling on the grains with your chopsticks.

You do not understand why tears prick your eyes.

— 

The next morning, an unknown man waits for you as you step out of your chamber and put on your shoes, ready to leave for the palace.

Your husband had left early in the morning, and while the news hurt you slightly, it also left you with relief. After last night, you have not had enough time to process your emotions to face him.

The strange man bows as he sees you approaching. “Greetings, Lady Choi. I am San. As per General Choi’s orders, I shall accompany you from now on for your safety.” Stupefied, you blink at the man. His build and posture indicate that he is a military person, but you do not understand why your husband would have someone guard you.

“My husband put you up to this?” You raise a brow. “Why?”

“I am afraid I cannot say. It was his order.”

You narrow your eyes at him. “So, from now on, you will what? Follow me everywhere?”

“Yes. Whenever you need to go out, I shall accompany you.”

“Is someone trying to kill me?” You ask, point blank, blinking at him.

San makes a noise of surprise before an awkward laugh spills from his lips. “O-of course not, my lady.” You keep eyeing the strange man with suspicion as you start heading for the front door. “Alright then, let us leave.”

— 

You bump into your husband at the palace.

At noon, when the sun is high in the sky, you finish teaching the young girls. Then, you head to the library to cool off and see if the head librarian needs any help. With no new work for you, Librarian Kim serves you some tea and sweets, congratulating you on your marriage. On your way out, he gives you some dasik to take home and share with your husband.

The husband who seems to want to do nothing with you.

With gratitude, you take the sweets and head out of the library, done with your day's work at the palace. That is when you see him. Below the steps of the library building, he approaches, followed by two other men, all dressed in uniforms. Their movements are quick and determined, almost like they are on a military mission.

General Choi takes notice of you as he climbs the stairs. Flustered and oddly shy, your first instinct is to hide. With no place to do that, you stand your ground and bow, “My Lord—”

He walks past as if he did not see you.

You stand rooted to your spot, blinking at the ground.

What just happened?

He ignored you. He blatantly ignored you. His wife. There is no way he did not see you. He did. His eyes met yours, and he held your gaze before looking away.

Hurt and humiliated, you stand there for several long moments, the sun scorching your back. You are tempted to storm back into the library and demand why he did that, but you know better than that.

For one, there is always the danger of him chopping your head off. You heard he once cut off a man’s head just for looking at him too long.

The other issue is more personal. Walking in there would make you look desperate, especially in front of others. You are supposed to be a newlywed happy wife, not someone who chases after her husband when he ignores her in public. The thought makes you feel like pins prickling your heart.

Once more in your life, you are insignificant. You are the lesser one, the one who can be forgotten, overlooked.

With boulders forming in your heart, you head home.

— 

Your husband returned home late today as well.

You had your dinner long ago, and Jihye prepared your bed for you. However, you did not get under the covers. In the dimly lit space of your bedchamber, you have been sitting with your head on your knees, curled up in a corner and watching the candle burn.

No matter how hard you try, you fail to get past the incident earlier today. You simply cannot comprehend why your husband would ignore you like that.

Your curiosity gets the better of you. With a resolved breath, you step out of your room and walk into his bedchamber. You knock at his door. “My Lord, may I come in?”

A beat of silence. “Yes.”

Opening the doors, you find Seungcheol tying the knot of his undershirt. The material is thin and white, giving you a pretty decent glimpse of his silhouette. Flustered, you immediately lower your gaze and shake your head at yourself. 

You did not think this through. Of course, he would be in his sleepwear, like you.

Shit.

It takes you another second to realize you, too, are in your sleepwear. A thin white top over your underskirt. With the realization dawning on you, you cross your arms over your chest and look up at him, conflicted and embarrassed.

Like always, his face gives nothing away. In the calmest of tones, he questions, “Did you need something from me?”

“Uhm…well…” Once again, you get distracted by the visual of your husband. In the dimly lit room, he appears even more stunning, the light of the candle casting strange shadows on his figure, contouring his muscles underneath the thin fabric. With his long, black hair undone, some strands fall on his face, covering his eyes. Through the curtain of his hair, his odd eye shines exceptionally bright in the darkness, stealing your breath.

“I am sure the reason for your visit is not to stare at me, Lady Choi.” He states once more, and you finally snap out of your thoughts.

Closing the door behind you, you gather all your resolve and stand straight.  “My apologies. I wanted to talk to you.”

“I am all ears.” He says, not looking at you. He busies himself by placing his sword next to his mat and sitting down comfortably.

“Why did you ignore me today at the palace?” You get straight to the point. The man turns to look at you slowly, his eyes sharpening ever so slightly. Despite him sitting, you feel as if he is towering over you, and you cannot help but hold your breath, waiting for whatever is to come. Something flashes in his eyes, and once again, you do not know what it is. Rage? Annoyance? Amusement?

You have no clue.

“It seems that you are disappointed, Lady Choi.” He finally replies, his tone containing that tinge of amusement he has with you. Like you are a circus monkey whose action provides him with fleeting, insignificant pleasure. 

You wait for him to elaborate, but he does not, looking at you with a challenging stare. You hate how…diplomatic he is all the time. “Why did you do it?” You repeat, trying to appear as stern as possible, which is almost comical. In front of you is the man people call the grim reaper.

General Choi shifts his position, resting his arm on his knee before fixing his gaze back on you. His tone is quiet, serious. “Let me tell you something, Lady Choi. In public, we are not to acknowledge each other. Do you understand me?”

The ground has been snatched from beneath your feet. You fall into an endless pit, your heart crushing into tiny bits with each of his words. Why? Why would he say something like that?

“Why?” You don’t mask the hurt and desperation in your voice. He ignores you. “If that was all, you may leave now. I wish to get some rest.”

Tears brim in your eyes. Why does he treat you like this? What crime did you ever commit against him?

Your mouth hangs open, shocked and helpless at his attitude towards you. Defeated, you silently pad back to the door. Before you open it, however, you pause. Slowly, you turn back to him. “Why did you assign that man to follow me around?”

He does not look at you. “San is one of the few men I trust. He will keep you safe.”

He has this tendency to never answer your question directly. He dances around it, giving curt, memorized answers. It feels like you are talking to a wall, frustrating and pointless. The next words slip past your lips thoughtlessly and barely above a whisper. “Why do we not sleep in the same room?” That finally gets his attention. He slowly turns his head to look at you, his pupils wide with shock. Like, he cannot believe that you just said that. 

Right. Why did you say that out loud? You look away in embarrassment, cringing at your words.

“So…” he starts to get up. You step back, alarmed.

Why is he getting up? He will slice your head off for sure this time.

With the grace of a lion about to devour his prey, he inches closer to you, his eyes flashing almost unnaturally. You keep walking backwards until your back meets the door and there is no place left to go.

He stops a mere inch away from you, so close that your clothes brush, so close that you can see his chest underneath his nightshirt, so close that you can inhale the scent of soap on his skin. Your breath catches in your throat, and your eyes fall shut on their own.

“My wife wishes to sleep with me. Is that it?” His voice is heaven against your ears, deep, husky and warm, leaving your brain fumbling. You open your eyes to see him staring straight at you, and immediately, heat shoots up all through your body from your toes. 

“I…I didn’t…mean…” You stumble over your words, the sight of him so close to you, messing with your system.

He stares at you, his lips curling up in a smirk. “I am sure you have heard what they say about me.” He pauses. His hand reaches out towards your face, and you hold your breath in alarm and anticipation. With the faintest of touches, he drags his index finger against your jaw and down your neck. “I am sure you know how I am…in bed.” He whispers against your ear, and you can feel your heart physically drop as tingles shoot through your entire body.

At this point, you have forgotten how to breathe. 

“You could not handle me, Lady Choi.” He says and then, absolutely shocking you, leans closer to your neck. Tucking a stray piece of hair beneath your ears, he takes a long inhale of you and then slowly steps away from you.

You feel like you are on fire, beads of sweat gathering on your temples. Your mouth remains agape, processing what just happened as you stand pressed against the door, frozen like prey in shock.

“Good night, Lady Choi.” He says in the most nonchalant way possible, going back to bed. You manage to summon all your strength and rush out of his room, shutting the wooden panels loudly behind you. Outside, you gasp for air, clutching your chest, your heart racing like you just ran for your life. You stand outside the door for a long time, taking in deep breaths and trying to get your heart to calm down as foreign sensations flood through your veins, leaving behind an ache you have never felt before.

You want your husband, you realize. You want him to do all those filthy, animalistic things that you heard of…with you.

— 

You have accepted your new life. A married woman without a husband’s attention or acknowledgement.

In the last two weeks, a routine has fallen into place for you. You wake up, go to work, come home for lunch, spend the afternoon with Jihye lounging around before having dinner and going to bed. Throughout the day, setting eyes upon your husband is rare because he leaves with the sunrise and gets home after dinner. Most days, he has dinner in his chamber by himself, and on the rare occasions he is home early (twice), he shares it with you.

The freedom you thought an advantageous marriage would give you has not come. In fact, you feel more restricted than before. With San following you around like a hawk, you have lost interest in going outside to explore the neighbourhood. Jihye, too, has been weird lately. She vehemently opposes you going outside, especially to the market or other crowded areas and always runs your errands for you.

After a lot of thinking, you have come to a conclusion. Your husband has a mistress. Maybe, mistress is not the right word. If anything, you feel like the mistress in this relationship.

“I am sure he has someone he loves.” You hum, nodding to yourself. 

It is a Thursday afternoon in early spring, the warmth of the sun shining on you as you return home from an unusually long shift at the palace. A few steps behind you is San, ever present like a shadow, following you down a steep road to home.

With him around, you have started to voice your thoughts, no matter how crazy. There is nothing to hide from him after all. He sees it all firsthand, how his boss never spends time with you. 

You have another theory. San knows about the other woman. He has to, right? That is why General Choi employed him to guard you in the first place. He probably knows where your husband goes during his free time, and it is his job to make sure you never see him. 

General Choi seems to have bought off Jihye somehow, too. You find that absolutely bizarre, considering her long loyalty towards you. You are deeply hurt by her betrayal, and so, you have decided to shun her until she comes to you and explains what is going on.

That leaves you with San only.

“I’m right, no?” You turn around to take a glance at him. As usual, he looks helpless and awkward, almost like he is about to leave everything behind and run for the hills. You continue. “He has to have known her for a long, long time. However, I do not understand why he didn’t marry her. Is she not a nobleborn?”

You stop for a moment.

“Ah! She is someone from the brothel, probably, right?”

San continues looking at you helplessly, an awkward smile plastered on his face. You continue walking, nodding to yourself. “No wonder he told me not to expect anything from him. He also said that he fulfilled his duty by marrying me. No one will pester him now because he has the perfect cover.” You nod your head, impressed. “I have to give it to him. This is a good plan.”

The path down the cliff comes to an end, and you stop, admiring the sun slowly going lower in the western sky. The birds fly in the sky in groups, returning home as the sky changes colour, a deep tint of orange taking over the blue.

Is she pretty? You wonder to yourself. She must be. There must be something about her that keeps a man like him hooked. 

The thought pains you. More than it should.

You understand it. You really do, but what you don’t understand is why he married you. Why did he trap you into this marriage? The least he could have done was be honest with you instead of avoiding you like the plague.

The more you get to know this man, the more cowardly he seems. The thought brings an unironic smile to your face. The most feared man in the country, yet he refuses to communicate with his wife. He does not have the guts to speak the truth, which makes him nothing but a coward in your eyes.

“Let us stop by the market.” You announce, taking a different route. San rushes in front of you, alarmed. “Lady Choi, w-why?”

You stare at him, slightly annoyed. Why is he acting like this? Is General Choi supposed to be there now? With his lover? All the more reason why you must go.

You continue walking, ignoring San.

“My Lady, please. Tell me what you need and I shall get that for you after I escort you home.”

“San,” you abruptly stop and glare at him. “I shall tell you what I need right now. I need you to shut up and follow me quietly. Or, you can just leave and report to your boss that I am breaking protocol. Whatever fancies you.”

The man makes a pained sound, groaning almost like a wounded animal. However, you don’t wait for him, marching down the path with determination. Helplessly, he chases after you.

— 

The marketplace is less crowded than you expected. You heard there have been attacks by gangs in this area, so people are more reluctant to leave their houses, especially as evening approaches.

With the roads not as crowded as usual, it takes you only a couple of minutes to spot him. He stands out, as always, his broad shoulders and tall build catching your eye from far away. You observe him for a moment from afar, squinting your eyes to see what he is doing exactly.

He stands in front of a trinket shop, carefully going through the pieces laid out in front of him. 

Wow, is he shopping for something for his hidden lover? 

Bemused, you watch him, eyes scanning for a woman near him, only to find no one.

“My Lady, we should really get going. This area is not safe, and—” Ignoring San’s plea, you head straight towards where your husband stands.

“My Lord, what brings you here?” You chirp, standing right behind him. The man immediately turns around, his pupils blown wide in shock. You do not miss the way he hides something behind him. It takes a moment for him to register that it is you, and once he does, that grim look settles on his face. “What are you doing here?’’

San rushes next to you, “My Lord, I am so sorry—”

General Choi cuts him off with a raised hand and gives him a look of dismissal, which sends the young man scurrying away. Ignoring his question, you say. “It seems like you were finished with work early today.” You pointedly look at the shop behind him.

“Yes. I finished early today.” He states, expressionless. “Are you returning from the palace now?”

“Yes, the work at the library took longer than usual. Some records were accidentally destroyed, so we had to salvage them.”

“I see.” He nods. You wait, wondering if he has anything more to say. He keeps gazing at you silently, his odd eye hidden behind his hair. You have noticed that he always hides it in public. Why? To avoid detection? 

Finally, he speaks, his eyes narrow and his tone sharp. “You should not be here. I am sure you are aware of the looting and killing taking place in this area.”

You hate his tone. Frowning, you reply. “Thank you for your concern, My Lord. I was aware. I just wanted to explore—”

You are cut off.

The next sequence of events takes place exceptionally quickly. First, you see your husband’s gaze shift and focus on something behind you. The very next moment, he yanks you towards him, making a swift turn so that his body covers yours. You lose your footing from the harsh tug, gripping onto his arms with a yelp of surprise.

Something whizzes past you, sharp and quick, that makes you jerk and hold onto him tighter.

Gasps, yells and screams of people echo all around you. You blink, befuddled, staring at your husband, who holds you tightly against his body, looking behind him. Following his gaze, you find San chasing after a man who dashes away through the crowd at remarkably fast speed, shoving people and running over stalls on his way.

Your husband whips his head back to look at you, his eyes wide with alarm. “Are you okay? Look at me!” He shakes you, his grip on your arms fierce. Something wet touches your fingers. Slowly, your eyes trail to your right hand, which is grabbing General Choi’s bicep.

There is a tear on his sleeve, a couple of inches above your fingers and red liquid oozes out from the thin cut. You gasp, your breath escaping your lungs in a choked wheeze.

Finally, everything clicks.

Someone just shot an arrow at him. Who? An enemy? A gang member? An assassin?

“Oh…oh my god! My Lord!” You clutch onto his sleeve, panicking.

General Choi ignores your cry and forces you to look at him, tilting your chin upwards. “Are you hurt anywhere?”

Is he seriously worrying about you right now?

“I am fine.” You choke on a sob. “But my Lord, you are bleeding! What…what should I do?”

He rubs a gentle hand on your back, pulling you closer to him. “I am fine. It is nothing.” He assures, his eyes scanning the place carefully as if looking for someone. You panic. “My Lord, we need to go home. Come on. You are hurt!” You urge, tugging him with you, even though you cannot make him move an inch.

The man stands rooted to his spot, his eyes still scouring through the marketplace. Finally, he nods and pulls you into his arms, holding you protectively. “Let us go.”

— 

After your relentless nagging, you finally get your husband to sit still so that you can treat his wound.

“I told you, it is nothing serious.” He admonishes when you step into his bedchamber with a rag, a bowl of water, and some medicine. Ignoring him, you hurry closer to him, inspecting the wound.

You have never treated someone before, but your mother was a very good nurse. She helped a lot of people during the war with her vast knowledge of medicinal herbs. You remember watching her work for hours, and even though you never directly learned from her, you are confident you can do this right.

The memory of his blood seeping out and wetting your hands sends shivers down your spine, and you have to take a deep breath to get yourself to calm down. Your heart has been racing ever since, the adrenaline yet to wear off.

“You should take off your shirt.” You whisper, wetting the rag in the bowl of water. Your husband complies, slowly removing the garment and shrugging it off his shoulders. Your breath catches in your throat once you lay your eyes on his body.

It is not his muscular build but the plethora of scars littering his body. Small and big, they taint his chest and all the way down to his lower abdomen, and you cannot help but stare, wincing at the marks that look particularly nasty.

What has this man been through?

General Choi snatches the rag from your hands and starts treating his cut. Embarrassed, you protest, but he cuts you off. “I can do it myself.” His response, like always, is curt, but you ignore it, too distracted by his scars. The one on his left abdomen looks particularly ghastly, and you know for sure it was a deep stab wound. 

The amount of pain he must have been in…

The thought makes you shudder, and you bite your lip, holding your tears back.

“This is why I assigned someone to protect you.” His voice pulls you out of your thoughts. “I am sure he told you to return, but you insisted on going to the market.”

“Who was that man?” You cut him off, unable to prevent yourself from voicing your worries any longer. Why did they want to hurt him? 

His lips thin, and something flashes over his eyes, leaving you guessing. He pauses for a moment, looking at you impassively, almost like he knows a secret that you don’t. “They were probably from some gang. They have been causing havoc recently, as you know.”

You know it is a lie. It is blatant that he is hiding something from you, and you cannot help but sigh out loud, sagging onto the floor. You do not even have it in you to fight with him right now. You are just glad he is okay. The bleeding has stopped now, and as you watch him apply the herb on his cut, a small sigh of relief flows past your lips.

Finally, it feels like you can breathe.

Silently, you help him tie a clean rag around his bicep before wiping the residual herb from his fingers. “You should take a bath.” He keeps staring at your face as if he is trying to understand something.

“Are you sure you are okay?” he asks, his tone soft. His gaze, for the first time, appears to be almost tender, and for a moment, the concept of language evaporates from your mind.

You want to say a lot of things. You want to yell at him, scream at him to explain himself and cry in his arms. You are unable to do any of that. “I am fine,” you whisper, your voice small and shaky.

He keeps looking at you for a few more seconds before nodding and getting up. Just as he is about to exit the room, you call for him. “My Lord?” “Hm?” He turns around to look at you.

You pause, hesitating. “I know you brought something today. At the market…” you trail off, unsure why you are saying this. His body tenses, and he looks at you warily…like he has been caught. For a second, you pray that he comes clean, but he remains silent, waiting for you to continue.

You swallow a lump in your throat and look away. Your voice is wobbly when you speak. “You should wrap it. Put it in a nice box. Women love gifts that are nicely wrapped. The woman…whoever you bought it for…you should wrap it.”

You do not dare to meet his gaze, so you sit on the floor, staring at the bowl of water that is now tinted red from his blood. He does not reply but walks out the door, his footsteps padding softly over the wooden floors.

— 

That night, you lay in bed awake, replaying the event at the market over and over again in your head. And as you keep revisiting that moment, a shuddering realization dawns on you.

What if…what if…

The arrow wasn't meant for General Choi but for you?

The more you think about it, the more probable it seems. The arrow would have originally hit you if not for him moving you out of the way. The thought makes you bolt up from your bed, your heart racing as beads of sweat gather on your temples. Tossing the blanket away, you step out of your sleeping mat and start pacing around your room.

Today's events are a mystery to you. You have no enemies, and neither does your father. Hell, he has been out of politics ever since your brother died. You simply have no reason to have someone shoot an arrow at you in the middle of a marketplace.

If it were not for your husband, you would have died for sure.

Shit. Who would do that? 

Your mind starts spiraling to the point that your temples begin to throb. You press the spot with your fingers, trying to make the ache go away.

It doesn't.

Instead, paranoia starts settling in. Suddenly, the thought of being alone in your room frightens you so much that you feel a chill in your bones. Unable to tolerate the deafening silence and the darkness any longer, you step out of your chamber, taking tentative steps towards your husband's room. The hallway is dark except for one small lamp flickering at the end of the long corridor, an eerie quietness hanging heavy in the air as the whole house sleeps.

You come to stop in front of your husband's room, your hands hesitating to pull open the wooden panels. 

What are you doing here? Sneaking into your husband’s chamber in the middle of the night?

With the resolved exhale, you pull open the door. In the darkness, it takes a moment for you to spot your husband sleeping on his side, his long raven hair splayed messily over the mat.

You remain rooted in your spot outside the door, hesitating yet once again before gingerly making your way inside and quietly closing the panel behind you. The room would be pitch dark if not for the faint light of the lamp flickering outside, filtering in through the panel. You take a moment to let your eyes adjust to the visibility before placing yourself next to him. With his sword resting between the two of you, you silently lie down, gazing at the silhouette of his face in the darkness.

Your heart aches. He got hurt because of you. 

Why do you feel such a strong attraction towards this cold, stubborn man? Why does it hurt you so much to see him hurt? Most importantly, is this how he feels about his lover? Does her pain make him hurt like this as well? Is that why he refuses to be with you, unable to resist his heart's longing?

So many questions and no answer to soothe your wretched soul. 

You keep gazing at him, a strange sensation filling your heart. He is physically so close to you, right within your reach, yet it feels like he is a million miles away, tucked away in a place for which you have no key. At the same time, lying next to him like this, you feel oddly comfortable. With him next to you, the silence and the darkness of the night are bearable, no longer stealing your sleep.

With a heavy ache in your chest and tears in your eyes, you fall asleep, happy to be in the same space as your husband.

—

When you open your eyes next morning, the sun is high up in the sky and the light flooding into the room immediately tells you that you have slept way longer than you should have.

Shit. You missed work today.

All concerns of work, however, fly out the window when you register where you are. You fell asleep on the floor next to General Choi yesterday. Then why are you sleeping on his mat, his blanket tucked around you, and his pillow under your head? 

With a gasp, you sit up and look around you, double checking to make sure you are in the right place.

How did you get here? Did he tuck you in after waking up? How did you not wake up?

Your face flushes with heat, imagining him carrying you and putting you in his bed. No wonder you feel so well rested after a long time. You must have slept like a log throughout everything.

Did you snore? Did you drool? Did you say something weird in your sleep?

“Oh dear lord, help me!” You whine, putting your face in your hands, cringing at all the possible ways you might have embarrassed yourself. Once you are over the initial wave of embarrassment, you spot a trinket on top of the small wooden table by the mat.

Curious, you shuffle closer. It is a bineyo with a beautiful butterfly in pink and blue, exactly the one you had been looking for. With a gasp, you lean closer, mesmerized by the way it sparkles underneath the sunlight. Next to it sits a letter, face up.

Dear wife, 

I am sorry I did not wrap it. I was interrupted by someone before I could choose a box. I do not know how the misunderstanding came to be, but this was meant to be yours from the beginning, not any other woman’s. I hope you like it.

From, Your husband

Your hands cover your mouth in shock and absolute glee before clutching the letter and the hairpin to your chest. Tears brim your eyes, your heart melting like a caramel under the sun, warm and sweet.

It seems like you misunderstood his actions. Still, some things remain unclear.

“Jihye!” You yell. She rushes in a few moments later. “My lady, you are awake! Master said not to disturb you. He said he will let Head Court Lady Yeo know that you will not go to work today.”

Ignoring her words, you quickly motion for her to come closer to you and sit down. “You,” you narrow your eyes at her. “You have been hiding something from me.” She blinks, her gaze slowly lowering to the floor.

“What did General Choi tell you? He definitely told you something. That is why you have not been letting me out of the house by myself.”

She looks at you helplessly for a long moment before sighing. “Okay, I will tell you, my lady. But you have to promise me you will not tell Master. I gave him my word.” She winces.

What could it be? Eager, you scoot closer to her. “I will not. Now out with it.”

“On the first night of your marriage, he called me and asked about you. What you like to eat, what your favourite season is…things like that.”

Wow. Your heart races with each of her words.

“Then, he asked me what you were doing in the market that day. You know that noon a week before your wedding? When we bumped into him? I said that you were looking for a hairpin. He asked in detail about the hairpin, and I told him that you were looking for one with a butterfly. Then, he ordered me to keep you from going outside, especially to crowded areas, as much as possible. He said it is not safe for you. And he made me promise not to tell you.”

A lot of the blanks start filling up. He listened to her and got this hairpin for you. No wonder!

You keep finding yourself revisiting that moment in the market. The way he protected you. The worry in his eyes, the way his fingers gripped onto you, the way his voice was filled with worry when he asked you if you were ok. The realization that you may have misunderstood him greatly starts settling in your bones. 

Maybe there was no one else from the beginning. Maybe it was only you all along. Maybe everything he did was to protect you. But protect you from what? Did he know that someone was after you? Who? Why did he not tell you anything?

No matter, you shall set the record straight when he gets home today. You have caught a glimpse into your husband’s heart, and it turns out he is not as cruel as they say. Now, there is nothing strong enough to stop you. He has had his way until now, and now, it is your time.

“Did he say when he will return?” You ask Jihye, your heart racing.

“No, my lady.”

“No matter.” You smile. “I will wait for him.”

— 

The heavens seem to be on your side because your husband returns home right before sunset. As he takes a bath, you prepare in your room, getting dressed for the evening.

Jihye braids your hair for you before helping you put on your hanbok, a soft yellow jeogori with a pastel pink chima. 

Just as you are almost finished with your makeup, Head Servant Yang knocks at the door, letting you know that your husband has finished his bath. With a smile, you stand up and walk over to the mirror, smoothing your skirt.

“Jihye, how do I look?”

“Absolutely beautiful, my lady!” She squeals. “Master will not be able to resist you tonight!”

You throw a scandalized look at her before reaching for the hairpin your husband gave you. Gingerly placing it on your hair, you complete the look and twirl in front of the mirror. “Alright, let us go!”

You knock twice at your husband’s chamber.

“Come in.”

Exhaling a shaky breath, you open the door and find sitting on the floor, wearing a navy blue hanbok. A book sits open on his lap, which is discarded once he lays eyes upon you.

Silence.

You hold your breath, watching his eyes scan you top to bottom, before going up again and finally stopping at your hairpin. He looks awestruck and speechless—a look you have never seen on him, and you struggle to stifle a smile.

“May I come in?” You ask coquettishly. 

“Ah—yes, of course.” He blinks and sits up straight. With a smile, you walk into the room and sit in front of him, closer than you have ever been before. "How is your arm?” You ask, jutting your chin towards it. “Do you need me to apply some herbs?”

“No, it is fine. I changed the gauze after my bath.”

“Are you in any pain?”

“Thank you for your concern, Lady Choi, but I am well.” He sets the book aside. “What brings you to my chamber?”

You ignore his curt replies. “Thank you for the gift, my lord.” You smile, saccharine sweet. Titling your head, you show him the trinket nestled in your hair. “How do I look?”

“Hm?” He gapes at you, eyes wide, clearly taken aback by the question. “Uh…it suits you. You look lovely.”

You smile like a lovestruck fool. “Thank you, my Lord.”

Silence. He keeps looking at you like it is a staring competition. Realizing he will not be the first one to break the silence, you continue with a sigh, “I have some questions, my Lord. I hope you will answer them honestly.” His gaze shifts, something unreadable briefly flashing by his eyes. His hands on to rest on his knees, his back straightening as he takes a moment before subtly nodding his head.

“Is there someone trying to kill me?” Your gaze does not waver. General Choi’s lips press into a thin line, his thick brows forming a frown, a look of pure displeasure settling on his face.

You do not back down. “Yesterday, the arrow was meant for me, was it not? You knew someone was after me. That is why you assigned San to be with me. That is why you told Jihye not to let me go outside.”

Another beat of silence. “Yes.” He murmurs, his haunting gaze piercing yours.

You swallow. “Who is it? I do not understand…I do not have any enemies— “

“They are my enemies.” He cuts you off. “The arrow yesterday…yes, it was meant for you, but it was also meant for me. It was their warning to me.”

“What warning? Why are they after you?” You cry.

His gaze narrows. “That is private information. Only the King’s most trusted men are aware of it.” You look down, worriedly chewing on your lower lip. After a beat, you ask, “Is that why you ignored me in the palace that day?”

“Yes. I thought the less I interacted with you, the better.” He pauses, his gaze focusing on the lamp burning at his side. “I am sorry for putting you in danger, but rest assured, they will be dealt with.”

You are not really worried about losing your life. If anything, his being in danger scares you more. Odd, is it not?

“Why did you let me misunderstand, my Lord?” You ask softly.

“That was not my intention.”

“But it happened anyway.” You cannot hold back the bite in your voice. “From the first day of this marriage, I believed that you have someone else.”

He remains silent, looking almost guilty. It scares and infuriates you. “Tell me! Do you?”

“No,” his voice never loses its quiet composure. “I do not.”

“Then why did you lie?”

For the first time, you see his gaze soften. For once, it looks like he is not scowling but rather, he appears ashamed and helpless. The hidden frustration inside you reaches its tipping point. “You could have told me! You could have said that I was in danger instead of pushing me away like I disgust you and letting me think that you were seeing someone else!” 

You hear him exhale a breath. “How do you expect me to tell my young, newlywed wife that her life is in danger because of me, her husband?”

The guilt is raw and vivid in his voice, echoing throughout the room like a haunted cry. This new side of your husband knocks all the air out of your lungs, leaving you feeling helpless as you stare at him, tears pricking your eyes.

“My Lord—”

“I know I am not the best match for you. You got married to be free, but instead, this marriage became a trap for you. How could I tell you that? I believed it would be better to let you think all crazy things about me rather than taking away your freedom by scaring you. I apologize for my shortsightedness.” A lone tear rolls down your cheek. He is not the best match for you? What is he saying?

Unable to hold back any longer, you close the little distance between the two of you and leap into his arms, hugging him tightly. With your arms wrapped around his neck, you rest your face on his shoulder, your fingers tightly holding onto the fabric of his hanbok. “Please do not apologize, my Lord. I understand you.”

Against you, your husband’s entire body remains tense, his hands awkwardly raised into the air like he is too scared to touch you. You ignore his hesitation and hold onto him tightly, your heart breaking and healing simultaneously. The warmth and comfort of his body soothe all the anguish in your heart, making you never want to let him go.

Finally, his hands touch your back, his large palms holding the small of your back, softly patting you.

Loosening your arms around him, you take a peek at his face and find the most sincere look in his eyes, warm and kind, the complete opposite of how you have seen him until now. You truly believed he was beyond all emotions, cold and mechanical, but right now, as he holds you in his arms and gazes at you with so much reverence and softness, you can only think of him as this quiet, considerate man who is misunderstood greatly.

Something in you shifts. No longer afraid, you shift in his arms, positioning yourself better on his lap before kissing him.

You press your lips against his without thinking, pulling him closer by the lapels of his hanbok and holding your lips right there, against his, soft and warm. With your heart hammering in your chest, you stay there, testing the waters. Your husband remains frozen at first, almost like he is waiting for you to back out. Once sure that you will not, he reaches for you, gently cupping your cheek with his right hand to tilt your face. The kiss deepens just a tad bit, his lips pressing against you just hard enough. His touch on you is meticulous and guarded, like you are a wild animal he does not want to frighten. You know he is being gentle for your sake, so you take the lead, snaking an arm around his neck and kissing him the way he led you.

Slow, sweet and passionate.

It is everything you imagined and more, all your dreams coming true and giving you a taste of ecstasy. By the time your lips part from his, there is a ringing in your ears along with your heart galloping like a race horse and a strange, tingling sensation between your legs. You feel drunk on your husband’s kiss, your eyes involuntarily trailing to his lips that are now shining with saliva.

You want this man so much, body and soul.

Your husband’s fingers remain against your cheek, his thumb stroking your cheek, slow and tentative like you are the most precious porcelain. Mirroring his hand, your fingers cup his cheek, your thumb gently tracing the scar beneath his odd eye. The skin is harsh and bumpy under your touch, making your heart heavy. You want to kiss it, tell him that he is beautiful despite it, tell him that you feel his pain, but something shifts.

His gaze grows unfocused, something foreign flashing by in his eyes, like he has been woken back to reality. With a sudden noise, he clears his throat and retracts his hand from your face. The action pulls you out of your haze as well, making you suddenly hyper aware of the fact that you kissed him.

Holy shit. You kissed your husband. And he kissed you back. And it was amazing.

Clearing his throat once more, your husband looks away, carefully trying to put some distance between you and him. Flustered, you take the hint and stand up rather unceremoniously. As you take a step back, however, misfortune befalls.

The ghost of clumsiness yet again takes over your body, and you trip over your skirt. With a loud, unladylike yelp, you fall backwards, terrified but also anticipating the brutal hit to the floor.

It does not come. You do not fall on the ground because your husband saves you, reaching for your arm and tugging you back towards him just in time. Something else happens in the process. The ribbon of your jeogori comes off.

You realize that several moments later, too preoccupied with trying to calm your beating heart and processing what just happened. As you stay pressed against his body, your arms tightly holding onto his shoulders for balance, General Choi’s eyes skim over your face before fixing beneath your neck and on your exposed shoulder.

This time, something dark and carnal takes over his gaze, his eyes sharp and narrow, staring intently at your bare skin. Your heart beats so loudly you fear he can hear it, and for a moment, you are sure you will pass out from the intensity of his gaze and the swirl of emotions—desire and shame, surging within you.

Like before, he is the one who backs away, quietly clearing his throat and looking away. Embarrassed, you quickly fix your jeogori and clutch it tightly to your chest while also scrambling off his body.

“I—” you stammer, mortified to look at his face. “I will see you for d-dinner then, my Lord.” Picking up your skirt to avoid further accidents, you rush for the door, eager to be out of his sight.

His voice forces you to stop right at the door. “Why did you come to my room last night?”

You halt, processing his question. Then, with quick fingers, you tie your jeogori and carefully turn around. Your husband looks at you inquisitively. “Were…were you awake, my Lord?” You ask. He did not even sir when you came into the room.

In reply, he nods. You look around, trying to find the words. “I…was scared to be alone. I kept thinking of what happened at the market, and I do not know…” You trail off, embarrassed and worried about his reaction. He, however, keeps looking at you intently before shaking his head up and down in understanding.

“How did you know I came in? You did not even move a muscle. I thought you were asleep.”

“I smelled you.” He states, his face expressionless. You take a step back, alarmed. “Do I stink?”

He shakes his head. “No. I meant that I smelled roses. You smell like roses.”

Oh. “I see,” you mumble shyly, your fingers twiddling with the fabric of your skirt. He regards you quietly for a beat before murmuring. “You can sleep with me tonight as well, if you desire it.”

“Really?” You squeal, not hiding the excitement brimming in your voice. 

“Yes.”

“Thank you, my Lord!” You smile so big it hurts.

— 

After dinner, Headservant Yang sets the mattress for the two of you with a suggestive, happy smile on her face that makes you grin goofily. 

Once finished with your nightly routine and dressed for bed, you pad into your husband's chamber and find him already lying down, his eyes closed and his hands resting over his chest. One could think he was asleep, but you know better now. With wonder, you observe that the place of his sword has shifted and moved to his left, right next to his mat, now that yours occupies the space it took before.

“My Lord,” you ask softly, “shall I blow out the candle?”

“Yes.” He replies, not moving or opening his eyes. Carefully, you pad over to the study table and blow out the candle before finding your place on the mat. With the noise of the crickets humming outside, you lie on your mat, pulling the blanket up to your chin and staring at the ceiling. Your blood thrums in your veins, your brain too wired to fall asleep. The excitement of lying next to your husband keeps you awake.

Once your eyes adjust to the darkness, you take tentative peeks at him and find him in the same position as he originally was. Is he sleeping? You wish you could tell.

“My Lord?” You speak, quiet as a mouse.

Silence.

“Hm?” He hums.

“Why do you sleep with your sword next to you?”

“Force of habit, I suppose…from the war.”

You hum in acknowledgement, looking at him eagerly amid the darkness. After a short pause, you call for him again. “My Lord?”

“Yes.”

“Can I sleep with you from now on?”

Silence. Seconds pass by, but no answer comes, and you start to think that he has fallen asleep. Just then, he finally replies, his voice quiet and deep in the solitude of the night. “If you wish to.” You smile, happy and wide, even though he cannot see you. “Thank you, my Lord.”

Another short pause later, he murmurs. “Goodnight.” You take it as a sign that he does not wish to talk anymore, and with a nod, you shift and lie on your side, your right arm resting underneath your head.  “Goodnight, my Lord.” You whisper with a smile.

— 

You wake up just before sunrise. 

The spot next to you is empty, and with no sign of your husband, you step out of his bedchamber in search of him. It is a rest day, so you wonder where he is so early in the morning.

You find the man in the backyard, already dressed, quietly observing the flowers in the garden. “My Lord?” You call for him.

“Oh, good morning.” He acknowledges you with a small nod. “Why are you up so early?”

“I woke up and you were not there. Is everything okay?”

“Yes.” He assures. “You should sleep some more.” You pause, carefully observing him. In the soft morning light, the man looks different, more relaxed and homely, dressed in his hanbok and his long raven hair draped elegantly against his back.

How can you leave his majestic man just for a few more hours of sleep?

“My Lord?”

“Hm?”

“Let us go for a walk.”

— 

After quickly getting dressed, you and your husband go for a stroll, the early morning sun softly gleaming in the sky.

Your husband heads towards the nearby forest, which leads to a cliff offering a nice view of the town and the hilly background. He walks quietly with his hands behind him, his movements deliberately slow to accommodate your pace. With a soft smile that never leaves your lips, you walk alongside him, your heart thrumming happily.

Can this be called a date?

Without any words exchanged between the two of you, you navigate the path through the forest, your eyes skirting towards him every now and then. The silence between you is not awkward because you can see from his face that he is thinking deeply about something. So, you let him think and use the solitude to take peeks at his handsome face, memorizing the details of his visage.

By the time you reach the cliff, you are out of breath.

“Wow,” you wheeze out, panting for air as you rest with your palms on your knees. 

“Are you alright?” General Choi asks, peering down to see your face. “Yes,” you nod, trying to control your breathing. “It has been a while since I came up here. The view is magnificent.”

“It is.” He hums, looking over the cliff. “That last time I came here, I was a child.” You share, standing up and gazing at the view. It is truly still beautiful.

“Why so long ago?”

“What?” You blink, looking at your husband, who is regarding you with a curious tilt of his head.

“Uh…” you think. “My father…he was not fond of me going out much. Especially anywhere far, after my brother died. He liked to keep me within his sight.”

He keeps looking at you attentively, and you wonder what he is thinking. Is he judging you?

Needing to fill the silence, you ramble. “On top of that, I have always been clumsy. I’m sure you have figured that out by now. Once, when I was a child, I somehow broke my arm playing in the yard. My brother ran all the way to the physician’s office with me on his back. With him gone, my father thought it would be better for me to be within the house. For my safety and his mental peace.”

“It was suffocating, no? That is why you married me. For freedom.” Your husband observes. You nod, albeit shakily, thinking of your days back at your parents' home. The cold treatment of your father and the way you were never enough. Not enough to take away the pain of them losing their son.

In the silence, you take a moment to gather your thoughts before facing the man next to you and voicing a question you have always wanted to ask. “Why did you choose to marry me?”

He takes a moment to answer. 

“Because no one else wanted to. A lot of ministers tried to get me engaged to their daughters, but the girls refused when they saw me. Some even rejected just after hearing my name. They feared me.”

You find it ridiculous. “Why?” Your tone drips with bewilderment. “My reputation,” he shrugs. “My face does not help much, I suppose.”

“What do you mean?” You frown, leaning closer to him. He regards you in silence, as if the answer to that question is the most obvious thing in the world. “I am ugly.”

“What?” You gape at him, utterly befuddled. Does this man truly think that? His sharp eyes narrow on you, his brows knotting in confusion. “I do not know if you are making fun of me.”

“Why would I make fun of you?” You cry. This entire thing is ludicrous. “I simply find it absolutely enraging that you think so!”

He remains mute, watching you like you are an equation he needs to solve.

You take a tentative step closer to him, mumbling, “It is true that your reputation is scary. I also feared you for that in the beginning. I do not know if you are aware, but people say all types of crazy things about you.” You pause, inching even closer to him. With a few small inches between the two of you, you look up and meet his eyes, hoping to convey your sincerity. “But as I got to know you…I have realized there is nothing to fear. You are undoubtedly a cold man, my Lord, but you are also warm. Your heart is always in the right place. That alone is enough to make you the most beautiful man in the land.”

His face relaxes, and you can see how his gaze softens, the turbulent storms ever present in his eyes dissipating for a moment. 

In the back of your mind, one thought runs rampant. You want to kiss him. In the soft morning light, he looks as breathtaking as ever, his lips soft and kissable. Remembering the touch of his lips against yours last night, you muster the courage and lean up on your tippy toes, pressing a quick, chaste kiss on his lips. The man immediately leans back, a look of surprise on his face. Ignoring his reaction, you smile and step back, facing the view again. Your husband clears his throat before silently joining you in gazing at the view.

A while later, you voice out another thought. “My Lord, when you said not to expect anything from you, what did you mean?”

He takes a moment to answer. “I don’t know. Just do not expect anything from me. I cannot give you anything.”

Frowning, you face him. “But you have already given me so much.”

“I do not believe that.”

You sigh. The cranky man is returning. Hitching your skirt, you walk closer to him, determined. “What did you mean, my Lord? I cannot expect what?” He huffs out a frustrated breath. “Whatever a wife expects from her husband, I suppose.”

Your frown deepens. “What? Love? Attention? Devotion?”

“I will be devoted to you, but I cannot give you love.” His words are like a punch to the gut. “Why not?” You plead.

He hesitates. “I…just cannot.”

“You cannot or will not?”

His eyes, sharp and fiery, pierce right through you, and you see the truth in his eyes. You see the answer he refuses to utter. “Let us get back.” He announces, turning on his heel and dismissing you, starts marching down the path. You scoff, watching with an open mouth as he almost runs down the track to escape answering your question.

This stubborn, frustrating man.

— 

After breakfast, General Choi goes out to visit an old friend. With a sour mood, you shuffle through the house, watching as everyone remains busy with their work. You try to practice some needlework but fail to get far with that. As always, your hand at embroidery is embarrassingly bad. For two hours, you try to create a flower on a handkerchief, but when it turns out looking questionable, you drop the task.

You find San sitting outside on the porch, chatting animatedly with Headservant Yang. “My Lady, are you bored?” Headservant Yang asks upon seeing you walk over. With your shoulders slumped, you nod, pouting.

“General Choi will not be back for some time. Should we play a game then? San offers.

Your eyes shine. “Sure!”

— 

Your game of baduk with San lasts even after sunset. 

You keep playing match after match, your own competitive streak matching his. He does not go easy on you just because you are married to his General, and that makes it all the more fun. 

Your husband returns right before lunch and after observing the two of you for a mere minute, he leaves, locking himself in his study for the rest of the day. His disinterest irks you, and you decide to ignore him as well, honing all your attention towards the game. During different times, Headservant Yang and Jihye stop by between their work, watching you two play with rapt fascination.

The game only ends with you winning, long after the sky has gone dark. Cheers and yells erupt in the small crowd of servants gathered to watch the game. You grin cockily, finally standing up and stretching your legs. San accepts his defeat and takes his leave, not before you make him promise to join you another day for another match.

“Would you like to have your bath first or dinner, my Lady?” Headservant Yang asks. You ponder, still reeling from the high of winning. “Did my husband have dinner?”

“Yes, my Lady.” You sigh. “Well then, I will have my dinner now and then take my bath.”

— 

After your bath, you sit in your room with the mirror in front of you while Jihye combs your hair. “Today was a fun day, no, my Lady?” She asks.

“Yes,” you hum. “It is a shame General Choi did not join us.” “Indeed.”

“Where has he been all day?” “In his room, my Lady. He was studying.”

You resist the urge to roll your eyes. Your husband truly does not know how to have fun. Instead of spending a rest day with his wife, he would rather read and strategize and sulk by himself.

As if he could hear your thoughts, the man appears with a knock at your door and steps in a second later. Jihye excuses herself, leaving the two of you alone, the room suddenly buzzing with tension.

Your husband regards you with that same unreadable face, but something in you tells you that he is grumpier than usual. Still, you try to be civil. “Hello, my Lord.”

“Lady Choi. It was hard to catch sight of you all day.” 

Yes. He is annoyed about something. The subtle bite in his voice is unmissable. You finish combing the ends of your hair before setting the comb down. “My apologies about that. I was too immersed in the game of baduk.”

“Yes, I noticed.” He peers down at you, his eyes ethereally flashing in the soft lights of your chamber. “You seemed to quite enjoy your time with San.”

“He is an excellent player. He also mentioned that you used to play with him.” You supply, trying to understand what might be the cause of his annoyance.

“I don’t know about excellent.” He murmurs, looking away from you. “I taught him, true, but he is no match for me.”

You narrow your eyes. What is he implying? “I am sure he is not, my Lord.” You force a smile. 

“Yet, you chose to spend the entire day with him.” This time, he snaps, clear and offended. Your jaw hangs low, surprised at his pettiness. You stand up frowning. “You were away, my Lord.”

“Not the entire day. I returned long ago, but you were too busy playing with him till dinner time.” He grumbles, not meeting your eyes but staring at the lamp. Stunned, you gape at him, trying to understand where he is coming from.

Your heart flutters. Is it possible that he is jealous?

“My Lord,” you step closer to take a look at his face. “Are you…jealous?”

“Ha!” He scoffs, stepping away. “Why would I be jealous of that little punk?” he half yells, waving his hand dismissively like he is swatting away a bug.

Your spirits dampen, and annoyance starts to take over. You give him a saccharine sweet smile that is evidently fake. “Well then, there is nothing to worry about. Shall we head to bed?” He refuses to let the topic go. “You finally remembered me, no? Now that it is time to sleep?”

The thread holding you together snaps. With gritted teeth, you stare at him, trying your level best to keep your tone neutral. “Well, when your husband dismisses you at every chance he gets and tries to run from you at the mere mention of intimacy, a girl would naturally be upset and spend time elsewhere. I hope you pardon her for spending some time away from him.” You bow dramatically in apology, making sure that he understands it is sarcasm. 

“Wha—” He regards you, eyes wide and mouth agape, like he cannot believe the words coming from your lips. “You—” He seems to be at a loss for words.

You step past him, but he raises a finger at you. “So you prefer San over me? Is that what you are saying?”

You roll your eyes at his words. However, today there is an urge within you to push him to his limit. So, you whip your head back and glare at him. 

“Who knows?” You singsong. Your husband’s eyes only enlarge, the look of pure shock taking over his face, his mouth hanging open wider than before. “Maybe I do. Maybe I do prefer him over you. He spends time with me, after all. Despite today being a rest day, you stayed in your room all day when you could have joined us. So what if I prefer his company?” You add the last line for good measure, trying to appear as threatening as possible.

“Take that back,” he says, his tone quiet. The look on his face starts to shift towards something serious. 

You egg him on. “I won’t! In fact, from now on, I will spend more time with him. Who knows, he might give me all the love and attention you refuse.”

The man finally snaps. In the flash of an eye, he is right in front of you, his hand behind your neck pulling you so close to him that you feel his breath. All earlier pettiness and playfulness are gone. He looks like a raging beast, barely hanging on by a thread.

“Take that back. Tell me you do not mean it or I swear to God, I will chop his head off.” He grits, his voice shaking with anger and his grip on your skin tightening. His eyes are like two molten pools of lava, angry and bright, and he has never looked hotter.

Without wasting a second, you smash your lips with his, wrapping your arms around his neck to pull him closer and closer towards you. The force of your kiss is so strong that it knocks him back a few steps. However, he is quick to recover, meeting your lips with even more passion, a side of him completely new to you. Raw and unchained, he goes all in, devouring your lips like it is his salvation.

You don’t hold back either.

You let go of your body weight entirely, pushing him on the ground below you while never letting go of his lips. Your hands—his and yours—move frantically to claw at each other through the layers of fabric. With a huff, your husband finally removes his lips from yours, a long string of saliva connecting your lips to his. “If we continue…I cannot hold back.” He pants, his eyes wild and shining.

His words make you giddy with anticipation, molten hot pools of lava swirling in your belly.

“That is what I want,” you whisper, feeling the cold air against your swollen lips. “I do not want you to hold back.” Slowly, you snake your arms around his neck and you move closer to his face. With a mere inch between your lips, you murmur, “I want you to devour me, my Lord.”

Your husband makes a sound, a low, primal grunt that comes from the deepest part of his chest. He exhales sharply, determination swirling in his eyes as he finally lets go of all the restraint he had been practicing till now.

In a flash, he flips your positions, holding you against the ground, his large body looming over yours. Your breath catches in your throat with the view on top of you, and he has not even taken off his clothes yet. Desire thrums in your veins, making you curl your toes in anticipation.

“I will ruin you tonight.” That is a promise. His voice is laced with something dark, like he will thoroughly enjoy ruining you. Little does he know, you will enjoy it too.

“Please, my Lord.” You beg, all too eager to become his.

His eyes flash at your words, and immediately, his hands get to work. They move with ease, graceful yet quick, as he strips you off your garments. All too soon, you are left only in your underskirt, your bare chest exposed for his eyes to feast on. You have the urge to cover them, and as if your husband can read your mind, he grabs your hands and links your fingers with his, pinning them on top of your head.

“Do not hide from me,” he commands, his lips hovering over yours. You nod, jittery with need and anticipation. 

Once sure your hands will not move, he slowly traces his fingers from your jawbone to your neck and then your shoulder, before reaching for your braid. You shift and let him hold your hair, his fingers gently caressing over the long braided strands. His fingers trace over your daenggi before tugging on it sharply. Undone, the strip of cloth comes off as your hair starts to loosen from the braid.

“So beautiful.” He hums, holding a few strands of hair between his fingers. He places a soft kiss on them before reaching for your hands. With your daenggi, he ties your wrists together, making sure the knot will hold before placing your hands back where they were, arms stretched straight on top of your head.

“Be a good girl.” He whispers, his voice sultry, his gaze half lidded yet dangerous. Your heart hammers loudly in your chest as the reality of what is happening actually starts to settle in your bones.

You are half-naked, tied up and vulnerable underneath your husband. The man they call the Grim Reaper, the most merciless man in the land. Yet, you are not afraid.

You watch as he shifts, making himself comfortable between your spread legs. He lifts your underskirt, exposing your core, and despite the urge to close your legs, you cannot.

“So beautiful. It will be a treat to ruin you.” He hums, his eyes focused between your legs, a faint smirk playing on his lips. Without any warning, he slaps you between your legs, right on your sensitive flesh, the sharp whack echoing through the quietness of the night.

“Ah!” You cry, mortified and surprised. It stings but also unlocks a new sensation of pleasure within you. Your face heats up as you realize how much you enjoyed it, a deep and deprived sense of pleasure.

He slaps you again. “Do you like it? I can see you are getting wet.” He says, his flashing eyes set on your face.

You make a pathetic noise of agreement. “Answer me!” He commands, slapping you once more. A long, needy moan is ripped from your throat. You pant. “Y-yes, my Lord.”

Pleased, he smirks before leaning down to press kisses on your inner thighs. He moves slowly and deliberately, playing with you, nibbling on your skin with his teeth before giving it a soothing lick and making sure it is marked. When he sits back up, his eyes trace all over your face as if he is trying to remember every small detail about you. You do the same, peering at him through your lashes with bated breath, wishing you could pull him closer for another kiss.

You could spend your entire life kissing this man.

With the ease and grace of a panther that has trapped its prey, your husband moves, enveloping you with his body, his hair falling over you like a black curtain. Lying on top of you, one of his hands holds on to the nape of your neck while the other explores your body, teasingly moving down your waist and between your legs. His warm fingers trace your core, feeling the wetness gathered between your legs. Without losing eye contact, he plays with you, dipping his fingers inside, making you shiver and whimper and continues to smirk knowingly.

He pushes his index and middle finger inside you, just up to his knuckles and the intrusion have you shuddering, your core throbbing like it has its own heartbeat. A breathy moan tears from your lips, and he uses the opportunity to lean in and bite your lip softly. 

Dear god. You whimper. “Please.”

“What?” He mouths against your lips. “T-touch me,” you reply, chasing his lips to reconnect with yours.

You hear him scoff cockily. “I am touching you, wife.” His title for you makes you only more desperate. You whine, starting to writhe, “More.”

You feel him smile against your mouth, his fingers slipping all the way in. His lips trace your jaw, his nose pressed against your skin before trailing down your neck, while his fingers start moving in and out. Involuntarily, your hips writhe, chasing his fingers while he peppers your neck with kisses and bites before fixing on a particular spot beneath your ear that makes you whimper. Then, he uses his thumb to give you a flick, his dark eyes trained on your face as your pleasure amplifies. 

“Oh my god,” you shut your eyes closed, reveling in the feeling of his fingers inside you. He starts to pick up pace, moving the fingers in tandem, circling them inside you and giving your clit an occasional flick. You wrap your legs around his lower waist, crossing them over and pulling him even closer, a desperate attempt at trying to ease the growing ache. Inside you, his fingers move rapidly, making your body tense as you start climbing your high, the coil in your belly pulling tight. 

“My L-lord…” You pant, looking at him with pleading eyes, even though you are unsure what you are trying to say. “Say my name,” he commands, dark eyes trained on you.

You feel even hotter, the coil in your belly pulled impossibly tight. “S-Seungcheol.”

“That is right. Scream my name.” He orders, eyes hazy with a film of lust and possessiveness. As if teasing you, his thumb brushes over your clit ever so slightly, drawing out a shuddering whine from your lips that makes him chuckle quietly. The sound feels like magic to your ears, a drug to your system that heightens your pleasure. His teeth dig into the soft flesh of your neck, undoubtedly leaving a mark.

“P-please Seungcheol,” you heave, eyes closed shut, fingernails digging into your palms. Humming against your neck, he uses his fingers to rub an even deeper spot inside you as his thumb rubs your clit mercilessly. 

“Please!” You hiss, throwing your head back, your toes curling as you wail. “I… I cannot…”

“You are going to cum for me. Now,” his voice is a quiet order. 

He curls his fingers inside you one last time and flicks your clit hard with his thumb, sending you over the edge. Your release is a tidal wave of mind-breaking pleasure as your body goes tense, your hips arching off the bed, your mouth hanging open as a reaction to the overwhelming pleasure; your first orgasm. 

You experience a type of bliss you had no idea existed, and for a moment, your mind goes blank, your body lying taut and tense underneath his. The onslaught of pleasure leaves your vision blurry with unshed tears and your mind numb to everything as you slowly descend from the throes of heavenly bliss and register that your husband is sitting upright between your legs.

With his relentless gaze locked with yours, he slowly licks his fingers clean, his long pink tongue darting out to caress his digits as he hums, “This is the sweetest pussy I have ever had.”

The sight is more than erotic, and for a moment, you are scared you will die from a heart attack. You want this man. You need him all at once, in every way possible. There is an ache coming from the depths of your soul that only he can satisfy.

“Please…untie me. I want to touch you.” You beg, hoping he takes mercy. It has been torture keeping your hands off of him. Hearing your plea, he takes mercy and undoes the ribbon tying your wrists. Free, you immediately sit up and wrap yourself around him, pulling him close for a kiss. Vigorously, wantonly, you kiss him and taste yourself on his tongue, moaning and gripping onto his back, your fingers itching to touch his skin underneath his nightshirt. 

“Please take this off,” you breathe against his mouth. Your husband smiles, undoubtedly enjoying teasing you. “Why?”

“Because…I want to see you.” You whisper sweetly, looking at him through your lashes. The man obliges, letting his hands off you for a moment to take off his shirt.

The sight of his naked body renews the heat between your legs, a new wave of desire overcoming your system. You let yourself gawk at the expanse of the muscles on his chest and the bulky thickness of his arms, all littered with scars, strong and dependable. As he stares at your face for a reaction, you reach for him absentmindedly, dragging your index finger over a scar on his right bicep. It is long, old, and jagged, rough and bumpy to the touch. Without thinking, you lean towards his arm and softly press a kiss on the wound before slowly dragging your lips to his chest, where another scar has bloomed. “It must have hurt,” you whisper to yourself, pressing another kiss on the scar before meeting his eyes. “I want to see all of your scars, dear husband. And I want to kiss all of them. I want to kiss away your pain.”

Something flashes by his eyes, brief but vulnerable. He immediately snakes a strong around around your waist to pull you tight against him and seal his lips over yours in a possessive kiss.

With his lips tangled with yours, he carries you to the sleeping mat, setting you down gently. You sigh in satisfaction as your back meets the soft, warm quilt. 

Your husband quickly gets to work, taking off your underskirt in a sharp yank and ripping it in the process. Surprised and embarrassed, you squeak, trying to hide yourself from his gaze. With the lamp burning right on the desk next to the mat, he has a pretty clear view of your body.

“Your pants…” You whisper, tugging them as well, and Seungcheol chuckles. “So desperate, aren't we?”

“Please,” you beg, throwing him your best pleading eyes as your hands roam around his back, feeling the ridge and bump of his muscles. 

The man quickly takes off his pants, giving you the briefest glimpse of his cock. You barely get to see him as he leans down towards you again, his eyes locked with yours. He drags his palms up, cupping your breasts and squeezing them. A breathy sigh of pleasure falls from your lips as you automatically lean closer to his face, your lips chasing his. Seungcheol captures them in a soft, teasing kiss, his lips gently biting yours as you feel his cock brush against your thigh.

You shiver, goosebumps breaking out on your skin.

You are a ball of nerves right now, the idea of getting intimate with a man for the first time plaguing your mind with worry. Yet, at the same time, you are overcome with desire, need running through your veins.

This is scary yet perfect. Absolutely perfect.

Your husband attacks your neck, kissing and biting the skin while simultaneously playing with your breasts. You mewl, letting your head fall to one side to give him better access to your neck. He hums, the sound so deep and throaty you feel it in your core. His lips do not break contact with your skin, kissing and sucking your sensitive flesh until your whole body shakes like leaves in a tree. 

“Please…” You beg, digging your nails into his shoulder, your body unconsciously starting to grind against him, desperate to ease the throbbing ache between your legs. Seungcheol, finally satisfied with the red spot blooming on your neck, lets you go, peering down at you with his hypnotizing eyes.

“I teased you a lot, did I not, wife?” He hums, caressing your heated face with his knuckles. Drunk with desire, you nod, your half-lidded gaze transfixed. “Please, take me, my Lord.”

He tsks disapprovingly. As if to prove a point, he wraps his hand around your throat but does not apply any pressure. “My name.”

“Seungcheol.” You reply immediately.

“Good girl.” Seungcheol smirks, his eyes flashing with something dark as he leans back on his heels, taking a slow, good look at your body. Then, spreading your legs wider, he spits on his fingers and using it as a lubricant over his cock before lining up with your entrance.

“This will hurt at first.” He warns. You nod, one hand covering your face as you choose to look at the ceiling out of embarrassment.

“Ready?”

“Yes.”

“Look at me.” He demands, the tip of his cock brushing against your pussy lips, making you shiver and follow his command. “Keep your eyes on me. Watch me devour this tight cunt.”

You feel like someone set your face on fire. Face flushed with his crude words, you barely get to make a sound when Seungcheol thrusts himself inside you. Your head lolls forward with the impact as your hands immediately clutch his arm around your waist for support. 

“Ah!” You cry out, eyes squeezed shut as you feel a sharp sting between your legs. “Fuck,” Seungcheol hisses, his voice throaty as he remains half buried inside you. Pausing for a moment, he lets you adjust before pulling back and then thrusting back in. This time, he goes all the way in, and you swear you feel him in your stomach. With a loud, pathetic cry, you cling onto his body, your brain unable to keep up with all the different sensations. 

He builds a pace, pushing in and out of you in strong movements.

Your brain feels like mush as you fail to utter anything, your mouth simply hanging open to let out breathy pants as you close your eyes and feel every ridge of his cock move in and out of you, the initial pain of intrusion fizzling away. It is a blissful experience, a high you never want to come out of.

“Push out your hips a little,” he orders quietly, dark eyes set on you so intensely, you feel like he can see your soul.

Immediately, you comply, extending your waist towards him while keeping your upper back pressed to the mat. His hands hold your hip bone n a strong grip as he places a pillow under your ass and slides himself back inside you with a leisurely pace, the new angle making his length curve inside you. 

You start seeing stars.

“Oh my god,” you hiss, eyes squeezed shut. The back of your thighs rests over Seungcheol’s, your legs dangling around his waist, and your hands clenched around the sleeping mat as he starts to pick up pace. With each thrust, the force increases, the tip of his cock hitting your most sensitive spot, low groans falling from his lips to match your breathy moans. 

“I… I cannot…please” your whisper mindlessly, the words scattered and almost unintelligible due to your broken moans. “You want to come?” His voice is almost taunting as he leans closer to look at your face. “Well, that’s unfortunate. You do not come until I give you permission, wife.” Your husband warns, making you whine. 

The need to find your release only intensifies. You are so close you can almost taste the blissful release.

“P-Please,” You beg, wrapping your arms around his neck and digging your fingernails into his shoulder blades. “Say it louder. Scream my name. Who is fucking this tight pussy?’’ he grunts in your ears, his warm breath tickling your skin.

“Seungcheol!” The desperate yell is quick to leave your lips.

“Who will make you come?”

“You! Seungcheol!”

“That is right, wife. It is I, your husband.” He gives you a particularly harsh thrust. “Not San. Not any other man but me.”

“Y-yes. Please…” you sob. Gripping your chin, he forces you to look at him. “Who do you belong to?” His voice is as quiet as a winter night.

“You, my husband.” You manage to utter clearly amid his brutal thrusts. “Good girl,” he praises, nibbling on your jaw. One of his hands reaches below to touch your clit as he wastes no time rubbing the sensitive bundle of nerves with the pads of his finger, all the while continuing to thrust inside you earnestly.

“Seungcheol!” You scream, your entire body jolting.

Your reaction makes him smirk as he chases his own high, seconds away from erupting inside you. He places your clit between his thumb and index finger, giving you a particularly harsh rub followed by a pinch.

You are catapulted over the edge. Your vision goes white, your entire sweat-coated body twitching from the intensity of the pleasure. It only amplifies as you feel Seungcheol spill inside you, his warm release filling you up and dripping lazily out of you. 

You feel like you are floating from the bliss.

— 

Your husband’s hand strokes your back in repeated soothing motions while you bask in the afterglow of your passionate lovemaking. With him lying behind you on the mat, your bodies pressed together, you move from reality to dreamland every now and then, the smile never leaving your face as you savour his touch and warmth. 

“Are you asleep?” he softly asks, bringing his face closer to inspect you.

You make a noise and shake your head, too lazy to move. Your husband gently turns you so that you lie face to face.

“Are you in any pain?” You ask again, carefully looking at your face, his fingers brushing away the rowdy strands of hair from your face. You open your eyes and look at him with a gaze full of love. “I am perfect, husband. Thank you.”

He smiles when you address him by that name, a warm, gummy smile that shows his unbridled joy. The possessive madman from earlier has completely disappeared, replaced by a man eager to dote on his wife.

This is your first time seeing this side of your husband. 

He pulls you against his chest, holding you tight in his arms. “No, thank you, wife. Thank you for being mine.” You smile, nuzzling his bare chest. This is the safest and most comfortable you have ever felt, and you do not want to let go. Ever.

After a moment of pause, he whispers. “I know I lack a lot. I can be clueless sometimes. So from now on, I hope you share with me whatever is on your mind. All your wishes, hopes and dreams, your desires— everything. I promise I will make them come true.”

You are too tired to form a reply, your body growing heavier each second but still, you smile. You peacefully drift off.

— 

Seungcheol did not go to work today.

The news delights you when you hear it from Jihye as she helps you get dressed. Her eyes linger on your body, especially on your neck, where little marks have formed— evidence of your lovemaking. 

She looks half worried and half scandalized, and you wink at her playfully before stepping out of your chamber.  Your husband sits on the porch, fully dressed, basking in the sun with a book in his hand.

“Good morning, my Lord.” You whisper, feeling pathetically shy when you catch sight of him. He looks up, his eyes shining when they land on you. “Good morning, wife. How are you feeling?” Shyly, you walk over to him and sit down without leaving any space between the two of you. Fiddling with your skirt, you look away when you answer, “I am alright, my Lord.”

With a gentle grasp on your chin, he turns your face and forces you to look at him. “The truth.” He says quietly.

Truthfully, you are quite sore, and an ache has taken hold all over your body. However, you cannot complain. The ache is laced with pleasure, especially between your legs, reminding you of last night.

Your heart gallops in your chest as you look into his eyes. “I am a little sore,” you reply timidly. “But it is a good kind of sore, I promise.”

His eyes travel to your neck, eyeing the red marks visible on your skin. “I was too rough with you,” he murmurs, his tone laced with regret, his eyes focused on your neck. Quickly, you snap him out of it. “Not at all, my Lord.” You sling your arms with his, pulling him closer so that you can rest your face on his shoulder. “You were just perfect. I enjoyed it. A lot.” You whisper, face flushing.

Your husband keeps gazing at you like he does not believe you. Whipping your head around, you take a quick scan around the yard before pressing a sweet kiss on his lips and giggling like a child. A soft smile blooms on his lips, even though he tries to stifle it.

“You should smile more, my Lord. You look so handsome.”

“Why are you calling me that? You called me by my name last night.” His lips form a soft pout as he complains. You pause, “Well…last night was…”

“You shall call me Seungcheol from now on.” He announces. “I would like it even more if you gave me a nickname.”

Wide eyed, you look at him.

“Do you understand me, wife?”

“Yes, husband.” 

Happy with that for now, he does not pester you anymore. You rest your head on his shoulders, your hands intertwined, and watch the morning sky in silence.

“You asked me to share all my wishes with you last night.” You speak after a while, eyes focused somewhere distant. “Can I share one with you right now?”

“Of course,” he shifts so that his body faces you. 

Tilting your head up, you admire a white, fluffy cloud. “Ever since my brother died, I have only had one wish for my life. I wanted to live by the sea in a small house. In that house, there would be my husband and I, and we would spend the rest of our days there, away from all the noise and bleakness of this town.”

“That sounds lovely.” He murmurs. You nod before looking at him. “Do you think it would ever be possible for us?”

He remains silent. 

“Given the nature of your job, I understand. However, I need you to promise me one thing. You must take care of yourself. You must not get hurt, do you hear me? You have someone to come home to now. You must think about me and you must return home to me, do you understand?” Your hands grip his in an earnest hold. 

His free hand comes to rest on top of yours, and he gives you a reassuring squeeze, warm and soft. “Rest easy, wife. I shall come back to you. Always.”

A lone drop of tear strolls down your cheek, and he wipes it away with his thumb before pressing the softest, feather-like kiss on your forehead. After a moment's pause, you speak. “Now it is your turn to share something with me.”

He regards you with confusion. 

“Anything. A wish, a secret…” You stare at him with eagerness. He sighs softly, his eyes trained on his lap as he thinks about something. 

“Well…when I told you not to expect anything from me,” he begins, looking almost shy, his gaze soft and apologetic. “I was afraid. I wanted to keep you at an arm's length from the beginning because I was scared of losing you. I have lost everyone close to me, and the thought of going through something like that again terrifies me. Since I joined the military, I have kept myself detached from everyone because the less I cared, the better.”

Your heart aches for the man. With gentle fingers, you brush away the unruly strands of hair from his face and trace the scar next to his eye. “You will not lose me, husband. I am right here.” You promise.

He wraps his arms around you as if to test your words. You wrap yourself around him, basking in his embrace, your bodies melting into one. “Do not leave me.” He whispers, his voice raw and vulnerable.

“Never.”

— 

Seungcheol left for the palace early today. After two days of relaxation, a letter came for him last night from the palace, demanding his presence first thing in the morning.

At night, Seuncheol held you tight in his arms, soothing away your worries. He finally shared what has been going on in the palace and why there are assassins after him.

Turns out they are working for the Minister of Trade, who is strictly against the new reformations currently being done by the king, like an attempt to abolish the slavery system. Seungcheol has been the King’s number one ally and a powerful piece in the game, which is why they are after him. Removing him from the equation is as good as stripping the King of his powers. Minister Kim has done exceptionally well in covering up his tracks, which is why there is no solid proof against him, complicating this entire issue. He has been playing a cat-and-mouse game with the royal army for a while now. 

Your husband left even before you woke up, leaving a note for you promising he would be home for dinner.

The day slowly passes by with you going to the palace and coming home once your shift is over, always under the watchful eye of San. The mood in the palace has been tense today, different rumours about Minister Kim floating in the air and a sinking feeling forms in your gut. No matter how hard you try, you cannot shake off the feeling that something ominous is about to take place.

Your suspicion starts taking shape when dusk falls and Seungcheol does not return. It turns into terror and restlessness as night falls, and still, there is no sign of him. The supper grows cold, and you fall asleep upright, waiting for him, your husband, who never comes.

When you open your eyes again, you find Jihye sitting next to you, a worried look on her face. “What is it?” You immediately sit up straight. “My lady, it is past midnight. Master has not returned yet. Should we send someone to the palace to ask for him?” She asks.

Your fingers fist around your skirt, anxiety coursing through your veins like poison. “We should.” You whisper.

Just as you are following Jihye out of the room, you hear commotion; the voice of a servant and Headservant Yang. Running to the porch, you see Seungcheol entering the house, dressed in his military uniform, his sword in his hand.

He marches straight towards you and drags you into your bedchamber without any words. “My Lord, where have you been!” You cry, gripping his arm. “I have been waiting for you—”

“Listen to me carefully,” he cuts you off, his hands resting on your shoulders as he leans down to be at your eye level. His usual unbothered demeanour is gone, replaced by worry that you see in his eyes as vividly as daylight. 

Something must be wrong. Your heart starts racing.

“The Minister of Trade is planning to attack us here tonight. They will be here anytime, so I need to get you out of here.”

“Wha— How did you even find that out? Are you sure?”

“The royal army captured a member of his team yesterday. We tortured the information out of him. Look at me,” he urges you, his fingers gripping your shoulder even tighter. “Minister Kim knows we are onto him. He has gone into hiding. He will stop at nothing to get to me, to you, do you understand? He plans to go down and drag me with him.” You see the fear in his eyes. The unshakable, indestructible man suddenly appears different, and this change terrifies you. 

“I am scared.” You whisper.

“You have nothing to be scared of.” He pulls you in his arms, holding you tightly against his chest. “I am going to send you to a safe place. I need you to do as I say, okay?”

You nod shakily, your fingers holding onto his sleeve in a death grip.

“Pack your essentials. We will leave within thirty minutes. Ask Jihye to help you.” He says, pressing a kiss on your forehead before marching outside.

With your heart hammering in your chest, you get to work, moving your shaky limbs to pack a bag with the help of Jihye. Soon, you are ready, and Seungcheol wastes no time wrapping everything up. He places Headservant Yang and the other servant in another neighbor's house to make sure they are safe before setting out with you.

In the darkness of the night, you get onto his horse with his help, followed by him sitting behind you, his arms around you to hold onto the reins. Jihye and another male servant get on another horse, and finally, a royal soldier follows from behind.

A little to the south of the town, there is a long, dense forest which leads to a small, quaint village. There is an ancient shrine there, inhabited by monks, and that is where Seungcheol intends to get you by dawn.

The silence grows heavier and thicker as you tread into the forest; the only sound echoing around is the soft galloping of the horses. You shiver, more from dread than from the cold night air and Seungcheol notices it. “Hold the reins.” He orders quietly so that his hands are free. He takes off the muffler wrapped around his neck and gently puts it around yours.

“I asked you to pack the essentials, wife.” His tone is playful. “I think a muffler in this weather counts as an essential.” He teases, and you understand it is his attempt to soothe you. “I am sorry, my lord. You should keep it. You will catch a cold.” You murmur.

“Hush now,” he shushes you, taking back the reins. “You should lean on me and close your eyes. It will take a while for us to reach there.”

“No, it is okay.” You reply, eyes focused ahead on the dark, narrow road cutting through the forest. 

It is such a gloomy night. You cannot spot a single star in the sky, shrouded by clouds.

Time ticks by. The night grows darker. 

Your journey continues through the hour of the ox and into the hour of the tiger. Exhaustion takes over you, and unable to resist it any longer, you close your eyes and lean your head back, resting it against your husband’s shoulder. It is not an ideal condition to get some shut-eye, but somehow you doze off.

When your eyes reopen, you hear the loud sound of a horse neighing and its heavy galloping. Seungcheol holds you tighter, and with a sharp tug of the reins and a nudge of his heels, his horse leaps into a full sprint. You look around worriedly, scanning through the dense bushes surrounding you.

“Master! Did they find us already?” Servant Min cries from behind as his horse too picks up pace.

The sounds grow louder, and just as your body tenses up, fearing the worst, you see San pop up from inside the forest, his horse taking a lunge and joining you on the road. “General, you have to keep going!” He yells. “They are right behind us.”

Seungcheol’s horse sprints parallel to his.

“How did they catch up so quickly?”

“Minister Kim had his men spread out. They were hiding in a camp a few miles behind. I took care of them, but the messenger escaped. I’m sure the minister is on his way. You need to move fast. There might be more of his men hiding in the forest.”

Upon hearing his words, you notice the specks of red on his hanbok. Swallowing the lump in your throat, you look behind to see your husband’s face. His jaw is clenched tight. “We need to come up with a plan. If they find us, we cannot hold them off. I need to get my wife to safety.” He yells back.

It is as if a cactus is lodged in your throat. “W-what do you mean?” You cry, your face aghast. 

He does not reply to you.

“It will be daybreak soon, General! We should hide somewhere.” San suggests.

Just then, you notice a sudden, strange ball of light in the sky, a little towards your right. It takes a moment for you to register that it is a signal, an arrow of fire shot from behind you.

“There are assassins ahead of us. They now know we are headed that way.” Seungcheol hisses.

“I will take care of it.” San nods, wielding his sword and screaming at the horse, “Go!” The horse runs faster, impossibly so, almost flying forward.

“I need you to stay calm and follow my orders.” Your husband says to you. “Do you hear me?” You nod shakily, “Yes.”

In five minutes, you catch up to San, who has taken care of most of the assassins that sat ahead at the curve. As you sprint near, Seungcheol hands the reins to you and readies his bow and arrow, taking perfect shots at the rest of the assassins. Then, he smoothly gets off the horse, followed by the other soldier who has been accompanying you, their swords wielded as they fight one-on-one.

A little ahead of the curb, you stop the horse and so does Jihye and servant Min, watching the fight anxiously. The three men take multiple assassins at a time, making sure they do not get to you.

You chew on your lower lip, your hands fidgeting as you watch the fight unfold. You wish Seungcheol gave you an archery set. You know the basics because you practised regularly as a child with your brother. Even though after his death, you stopped it for a while, you did not completely let go, taking occasional lessons from the older nobleman in your neighbourhood who used to be a skillful archer once upon a time.

By the time the last member of the group has been killed, shades of blue have coated the sky. Seungcheol and his team run back to the horses, their clothes specked with blood.  “Come on, we need to leave,” he says, mounting the horse.

There is a sudden sound; a sharp whoosh like a strong gust of wind just flew by, followed by a soft thud.

It is an arrow.

It whizzes towards you, missing the mark and hitting the tree trunk a couple of inches to your left. Your heart stops. A few hundred meters from the way you came, a large group of armed men show up. It is Minister Kim’s convoy.

They have caught up to you.

At the center, leading them is the minister himself, dressed in iron like he is about to go to war. His eyes, black and empty, scour the dead bodies of his assassins lying on the ground in front of him before looking at your husband.

His thin lips curl up into an evil smile. “General! No point in running now! It’s time to see how good of a fighter you are!” He yells. 

You feel Seungcheol's body growing tenser with each passing second, his hand gripping your thigh in a bruising hold. You, too, are paralyzed with fear, unsure of what to do. Then, absolutely shocking you, Seungcheol does the thing you least expected him to do. He starts getting off the horse slowly, his eyes trained on Minister Kim.

“San, take my wife and go.” He speaks quietly to the younger man who hadn’t gotten on his horse yet. “My Lord, what are you—” You do not get to finish your sentence because the younger man has instantly climbed behind you and snatched the reins from your hands.

“Get them!” You hear a shout as you are swept away with lightning speed. San’s grip around your body is iron solid, holding the reins with his eyes focused ahead on climbing the steep, hilly road at the end of the forest.

“No, please! You need to be with him!” You cry, fighting against him as you look behind to see Seungcheol fighting the Minister’s men, accompanied by the other soldier. 

He can never outfight all those people.

“Have faith in him. He knows what he is doing.” San assures, kicking his heels so the horse runs faster. You hear sounds right behind you, and you turn to see an assassin on a horse, aiming his arrow at you. San takes notice of it and swerves right immediately to avoid it.

As calculated, it misses, but a second later, your horse neighs out loud, standing on its hind legs before dropping down on the ground, taking the two of you with it. The arrow was meant for the horse. It struck his leg, injuring him, leaving the animal on the ground, softly crying in pain.

San wastes no time getting up and wielding his sword to fight off the man and the others following behind him. Jihye and servant Min, who were right behind you, yell out, calling for you to get on their horse. Jihye extends her hand towards you, but you ignore her, bunching up your skirt and making a run towards the curb.

“My Lady, what are you doing?” San yells, fighting off the assassins. “Jihye, stop her!”

“My Lady, come back!”

Ignoring their cries, you pick up the bow and set of arrows dropped by the assassin and continue sprinting down the steep road.

Then, finding a safe distance and a place behind an oak tree, you spot your husband, his movements sharp and precise as he takes down one man after the other. You watch as the minister slowly walks towards him, his sword dragging on the ground, leaving behind a threatening trail. Due to him wearing the armored plates, you know it is pointless to shoot at him, so you load your bow and aim at the assassins and start shooting.

The first one grazes past the man you aim at. Not discouraged, you continue, and the second one hits the target. 

Your husband looks in your direction immediately when the assassin drops dead, his eyes going from confusion to worry the moment he spots you. He does not have the time to do anything about it, as he has to fight the never-ending men.

And you are slightly grateful for that. Right now, he does not have the chance to come to you and force you away, giving you the chance to help him from afar. You continue loading arrows and shooting, missing some but hitting most, well aware of the fact that the Minister has spotted you.

From behind, you hear Jihye coming towards you, her exhausted pleas echoing down the path. “Jihye, I need more arrows!” You yell as you come down to your last two. “There should be some on the road back there!”

By now, most of the assassins have been taken care of, and the remainder are being fought by the soldier accompanying your husband. Minister Kim has approached Seunghceol as they engage in a heated sword fight, the minister swinging his sword like a madman, his growls echoing in the air. Your eyes scan around the place, thinking of finding a way to help Seungcheol, when San finally catches up to you, followed by Jihye, who did not get the arrows you asked for.

“My Lady, enough!” he yells. “You cannot be here! The road has been cleared—”

“We need to help him!” you yell back. “I cannot leave him here for—” You do not get to finish your sentence.

An arrow hits Seungcheol, piercing through the skin right below his right shoulder, on the top of his chest.

“No!” You scream, watching him stumble back for a moment. Your eyes fly through the scene, spotting an archer hidden inside the forest a little ahead towards your right. As you load your bow to take a shot at him, San finally comes to his senses, flying down the road to help Seungcheol.

You take the shot.

The arrow hits the hidden archer right in the chest, making him tumble backwards, disappearing out of sight. Then, you dash down the road, not scared of anything anymore, Jihye following you as your shadow.

San stands no match to Minister Kim, easily overpowered and tossed aside by his brute strength. He has the eyes of a madman, hell bent on getting to Seungcheol, discarding everything in his way like little bugs.

“I told you, you scarred lunatic!” He screams, charging at your husband. “I will slice your head off your neck and then do the same to your wife!”

He swings his sword around, charging for Seungcheol with all his might. Seungcheol blocks him with his sword, but the force of the attack forces him to fall to his knees. Minister Kim takes the opportunity to knock him off his feet with a kick. Seungcheol falls on the ground on his back, and in the split second, the minister raises his sword towards the sky before bringing it down sideways on his chest.

“Seungcheol!” You yell at the top of your lungs. “General!” San yells, coming from behind and tackling Minister Kim to the ground before he can fully swing his sword across. His helmet falls off from the force of San's attack. With your heart thundering in your ears, you point the remaining arrow at him.

It is like your body is not yours anymore. With zero hesitation, you take the shot while he is still pinned to the ground, struggling to get free, and the arrow hits the bullseye, right in the center of his forehead. 

His body slumps to the ground.

Pushing him away, San holds your husband’s lifeless body, his eyes slowly falling shut as he yells his name. Jihye and servant Min run past you, calling their master.

The bow drops from your hand.

You stand there, watching the ground go red underneath your husband’s body, your fingers gripping his muffler around your neck. 

—

Seungcheol receives his initial treatment in the shrine you were originally supposed to visit.

Once the news of the attack reached the capital, upon the king’s orders, the royal physician Yoon came to treat Seungcheol. He and his assistants crowded the room, tending to your husband’s injury with medicine and wrapping the area with gauze as he lay motionless on the mat.

You stood just outside the room, gazing at your sleeping husband, who looked nothing like his usual self—pale and frail, his body littered with little cuts. 

Why won’t he wake up? You miss his eyes. You miss his slow, unravelling gaze on you, his crimson, fiery eye that can almost cut through stone with a simple gaze. Where is that man?

Physician Yoon said he is in a deep sleep. They call it a vegetative state. The injury was quite lethal; the wound just a few centimetres away from damaging his heart. He said that the worst is over, and his pulse is stable now.

But he won’t wake up. He remains unresponsive, and it is unclear how long it will take for him to regain consciousness. 

“I see,” was all you said, standing motionless in your spot, gazing at your comatose husband.

A couple of days later, the King sent a royal convoy to move Seungcheol back to his house from the shrine. You had no complaints, wanting your husband to rest comfortably in his own house rather than a shrine. After a long journey, you reached home in the afternoon, greeted by Headservant Yang, who looked as devastated as you. After making sure your husband was okay, physician Yoon left, leaving you anticipating yet another sleepless night. 

It is nighttime now, and you sit still next to your sleeping husband. Headservant Yang peeks into the room, begging you to have some food. You ignore her, sitting quietly and observing your husband. The small lamp in the bedchamber casts warm shadows on his face, his sharp features appearing softer and weaker. 

He looks oddly at peace. You do not cry. You force a smile.

Leaning closer to him, you glide a gentle hand down his face and whisper, “You can rest. You have had a tough life, my dear. You can rest as long as you need, but you have to come back to me.”

You will pray to every god out there. You will visit every shrine, give unlimited offerings, and pray that your husband returns to you. You will do everything in your power to see him open his eyes. It is truly a shame you do not have much power in your hands.

Sometime later, your exhausted body falls into deep slumber, riddled with nightmares. Your husband lies in a pool of blood, and he does not wake up.

— 

The next morning, your father comes to see you. You do not move from your spot next to your husband to greet him as San leads him into the room before excusing himself.

He sits next to you, watching his son-in-law with small, worried eyes, muttering words of regret and concern. You hardly hear them, too busy patting Seungcheol’s face and arms with a damp cloth. Physician Yoon left a while ago after checking up on him and said that there is no progress. The king’s personal messenger came with him as well as the Head Eunuch, praying for Seungcheol and assuring to provide help in any way they can.

You couldn't care less about them. You sent them off, handing the letter you wrote for the king in the messenger’s hand before asking San to see them out.

“My daughter, you should eat something. You have to take care of yourself so that you can take care of him.” Your father urges.

You finish wiping your husband’s body in silence before setting the rag down and clasping his hand in yours. They are calloused but warm, and you silently send a prayer of gratitude to the heavens. He is alive. He is still here.

Tracing over his bruised knuckles with your fingertips, you whisper, “You know, Father, I have been lonely for a long time. After orabeoni died, I thought that was it. It could not get worse, but then Mother died. And I…I hated that I was alive. Because in that house, I was dead. I was dead while still being alive.”

You exhale a shaky breath, pulling Seungcheol’s hand closer to inspect it. You need to apply ointment on his knuckles.

“There was no colour, no joy, no celebration in that house. You were there but also not there. You never saw me. I was not enough, not after losing someone as precious as orabeoni. I felt so guilty. It should have been me, not him—that is all I could think of. I thought my entire life would be miserable like that, which is why I was so eager to marry this man.”

Another heavy sigh whooshes out of your lungs.

“Father, this man…people fear him. They say all sorts of weird things about him. But he is the kindest, warmest man I know. He kept his heart locked and hidden from the world, but he is so precious. He is gentle and kind, and he loves me. He loves me so dearly, Father, and I love him. How could I go on without him?”

And finally, the tears fall. Big droplets of water roll down your cheek as you fall on the ground, clutching onto your husband’s hand and sobbing into the floor, loud and broken.

Your father’s hand comes to rest on your shoulder rather unsurely, softly patting you as you keep crying, the tears that never came till now gushing out like a river with a broken dam. Your broken heart continues to shatter into even smaller pieces, and you cannot help but wonder what if he never wakes up again. Maybe you are doomed to be lonely.

The thought makes you cry some more. After a while, once you have managed to calm down, you sit up and wipe your tears.

“I…I did not know you felt that way.” Your father whispers, his voice ridden with guilt. “I…I never meant to hurt you. I am sorry—”

“I don’t want your apology right now, Father. I want you to pray for him.” You cut him off.

“I will. Of course I will.” He says, his eyes shining with unshed tears and guilt. “And when he is back on his feet, I will come visit you and I will accept your apology then.” You murmur, your gaze trained on your husband.

“Of course. Have faith, my dear. He will be awake soon.” Your father assures, his voice unstable. You hum absentmindedly.

If Seungcheol does not wake up, you do not know what you will do.

— 

The wind is particularly chilly this morning.

It has been a fortnight since Seungcheol fell into his comatose state, and he is just as before. Every day, Physician Yoon comes to check on him and then leaves while handing you some herbs to apply to his wound.

You have accepted this as your life now. Waking up every morning with a prayer that all the previous days were a long, gruesome nightmare, but then feeling grateful to see him still breathing, warm and alive.

After completing your daily prayer and offerings at the temple, you walk home in slow steps, the fatigue slowly creeping into your bones. The past week has been hard on you, and it looks like your body to starting to give up. You have not been eating properly, spending all your waking hours beside Seungcheol, tending to his comatose body or crying at the altar of the temple.

You cannot give up. Seungcheol is yet to awake.

Just as you come in front of your house, you find a small stray cat sitting comfortably in the sun. With a small, exhausted smile, you walk closer and crouch down, running your fingers through its shaggy fur. It looks dirty and disheveled, and you wonder where it is from.

You should probably bring it inside and give it some milk to eat. Judging by how comfortably it sits and basks in the sun, you are doubtful you will be able to get it inside your house.

“Would you like something to eat?” You whisper, gently scratching between its ears. The cat meows rather boredly, closing its eyes and resting its head on the ground after a quick swish of its tail.

Right then, a servant bursts out of the front door, looking like he saw a ghost. He looks back and forth down the road before finally spotting you on the ground. The wide-eyed, frazzled look on his face makes your blood run ice cold, and you immediately stand up.

“What is it?”

“My lady…Master is awake.”

You are free falling. You fall and fall, all the limbs of your body finally giving up after a week of war. For a long moment, you stand there, stuck in a daze. You don’t dare to breathe, afraid you would wake up and realize it was a dream.

“I will go get Physician Yoon. Please go inside, my lady.” The servant says before rushing down the street. You struggle to move. The stray cat at your feet has got up due to the commotion and is now strolling into the house.

With your heart racing in your chest, you slowly follow it, your legs shaky due to the nerves.

Seungcheol is awake. He is finally awake. 

You hear lots of voices, especially Headservant Yang’s, as she scolds and cries loudly. With a lump lodged in your throat, you keep on walking until you spot the door to his bedchamber. You catch a glimpse of your husband sitting up, and for some reason unknown to you, you immediately hide behind a nearby wall.

You are too scared to see him. Too overwhelmed, too afraid.

You thought of this. You dreamed of the day he would wake and look at you, and now that it is here, you do not know what to do. It feels unreal.

You are angry at him. You are also grateful. Angry for getting hurt. Grateful for waking up.

A sob bursts out of your throat, and you start wailing, unable to hold back the tears any longer. With your palms clasped over your mouth, you cry so hard that it becomes hard to breathe. The sobs wrack your body, knocking the air out of your lungs and leaving behind only pain.

The pain of almost losing him. The pain of seeing him lie there almost lifeless, day after day.

A hand on your shoulder startles you, and you find Jihye standing next to you. Her eyes are misty as she wraps an arm around your heaving body and rubs your arms soothingly. “It is alright, my lady. Please do not cry. He is looking for you.”

Her words make you cry some more before you manage to wipe your tears and snot. It is pretty futile because they do not stop completely. With shaky legs, you move from your hiding spot and continue towards his chamber, your heart pounding loudly in your ears.

Seungcheol spots you immediately, his posture straightening as he sees you arriving. But you do not meet his eye. 

You cannot bring yourself to. If you look at him, you will start crying once more, right in the middle of the yard, in front of all the servants. 

Headservant Yang and others start moving away as they see you approaching, giving you privacy. You cross the porch, your eyes still trained on the wooden floor of his bedchamber, your hands slightly shaking.

Finally, you step inside and shut the door behind you. Then, your eyes slowly travel to his.

He is definitely paler and thinner than before, but you see life in his eyes. You see the spark and the shine that have always been present in them, and right at that moment, you are sure he will be alright.

Thank god.

He looks up at you, his eyes brimming with longing and guilt. His usual plump red lip shaded in a pale pink colour. His face littered with little cuts that are still healing, yet he has never looked more handsome.

And you have never been happier to see him.

You want to scream. You want to yell at him and tell him how much you love him, but you cannot speak. Tears and sobs threaten to overflow once more, so you stand there like a statue and keep staring at your husband, repeating in your head that he is alive and well. 

Until your knees finally give out. 

You kneel in front of him and wrap your arms around his neck, careful to avoid his left chest and leaning your weight more on the right.  Breathing him in, you hold him as tightly as possible, wishing you could merge yourself into him, wishing you could lock him away and protect him for the rest of his life.

Your tears wet his bare shoulders, your fingers tightly gripping onto the muscles on his back, clutching him on for dear life. It feels as if you let him go— if your grip loosens ever so slightly, you will lose him forever.

It takes a long moment for you to realize how your body is shaking due to your sobs and tearful hiccups, only when your husband's warm hands wrap around you, patting your back like you are a small, wounded animal.

“It is okay, my dear. Everything is okay,” he soothes in the softest voice, and when you hear him, another violent sob slips past your throat while you cling to him and cry in the crook of his neck.

You want to stop, but the tears are endless, a mixture of pain and relief. Gingerly, Seungcheol pulls you away from him to take a look at your face, which is puffy and tear-stained. With his thumbs, he wipes your tears away, murmuring, “Hush, now. It pains me to see you cry like this.”

You want to reply, but the lump in your throat is still heavy, and you know if you try to utter something, only sobs will come out, so you remain silent, raking your eyes over his body before settling on the wound on his chest.

“I am alright, I promise.” He assures you once he sees your gaze. “I feel well-rested, in fact.”

You are glad to hear that.

Wiping the remaining tears and snot rather unceremoniously with your sleeve, you get up on your feet to leave the room, but he tugs on your wrist, pulling you back down and into his arms this time.

“Where are you going?”

“To get you some herbal tea.” You reply, your voice meek and scratchy. Your husband locks his arms around you. “Headservant Yang will do that. I need you to stay here. I have missed you.”

Your lower lip trembles, but you will yourself not to cry again. Instead, you whisper, “I have missed you as well. I have missed you so much, you have no idea, Seungcheol.”

He shifts, peering at your face with a surprised look. “You called me by my name.”

“I have been calling your name for the past week.” You murmur, staring at your lap.

He maneuvers your body with gentle, effortless hands so that he can see you fully. “You know, you look like the one who has been comatose for a week. What is this I am seeing? When was the last time you had a proper meal?” He frowns, his eyes trained on you like a hawk as he squints at your face.

You look away, murmuring, “I have been busy nursing a sick man.”

He scoffs. “Not busy enough to eat. You look like a ghost, my wife. I am genuinely worried about you.”

You do not meet his gaze. With an exasperated sigh, he gently tilts your face up by the chin. “Look at me.” He softly commands you. You do as you are told, finding his eyes set on you, those beautiful, mesmerizing eyes that you missed so deeply. 

Your husband’s face inches closer to press a soft kiss on your forehead. It is not quick; he holds his lips pressed right in the middle of your forehead, slightly above your brow, like he is trying to leave an imprint. You close your eyes and lean closer, savouring the feel of his lips against your skin.

Oh, how you longed for this.

“I love you.”

You must have heard wrong. You stop breathing, your body going tense for a moment. Seungcheol leans back, one of his hands wrapped around your neck, his thumb stroking your cheek while the other cups the back of your head, angling your face just slightly upwards and in line with his gaze.

“I love you.” He repeats—his words slow, heavy, deliberate.

You feel faint. It is hard for you to find words, and while you continue gaping at him with parted lips and shining eyes, he continues, “I was scared I would not be able to say this to you. As I lay on the ground and saw you standing there, this was all I could think of. I was angry at myself for never telling you how much I love you.”

“Oh Seungcheol…” your lips tremble. You wrap your arms around his neck, making yourself at home by placing your head under his chin, feeling his hard muscles against your body.

“I love you, dear wife. I love you more than life itself. More than I could ever express.” You hug him tighter. “I love you, too. I love you so much, Seungcheol. You are my whole world.”

“I know.” He murmurs. “I knew the moment you came back towards me. Which you should not have done, by the way. You put yourself in danger.” He loosens his hold on you to catch a glimpse of your face, his gaze admonishing. “I am still mad at you for doing that, but you look miserable enough, so I will let you off.”

You only smile.

“Also, when were you going to tell me what an amazing archer you are? How come I did not know that?”

You look away sheepishly, biting your lip. “You never asked.”

He laughs, the sound sweet and throaty. His arms wrap around you in a tight, protective hold once again, and you close your eyes, savouring the rhythm of his heartbeat next to your ear. As you bask in his warmth, you announce, “You are not going back to the military. I am not letting you go.” Detangling himself from you, your husband regards you with an amused look, like he cannot believe you. “Oh, really?”

“I am serious.” You huff with a frown. “You are not going back. You have fought enough battles for a lifetime. Now it is time for you to rest.”

“Hm. And what if His Majesty disapproves?” His tone is playful.

“I do not care. I already wrote him a letter, saying that once you woke up, you would not resume your duties.”

Amazed, your husband watches you, his eyes twinkling with pride. “I cannot believe you did that.” You ignore him. “Promise me. Promise me you will not go back to the military.”

He remains silent, watching you calmly, and you start getting anxious, expecting the worst. Just as you start thinking of different ways to force him to stay, he says, “I will not, I promise. I was not going to go any way. That was the first decision I made when I opened my eyes. I got another chance at life with you. I plan on using it very well.”

Your heart soars. You grin, a full-on smile sweeping over your face after a long time. Pressing a soft, chaste kiss on his lips, you whisper, “Can we go live by the sea now?” His eyes shine with love. “Yes, we can.”

You couldn't be happier. Your heart couldn't be fuller. It is pure delight when you think of a future with this man, away from all the noise and the troubles that have been plaguing your life until now.

He can be safe now. He can rest.

Unconsciously, your thumb traces the scar next to his eye, feeling the bumpy skin underneath your finger. The scar now looks like a tree branch that extends into even smaller branches containing little flowers.

You lean forward and press a kiss on it. 

“I am just glad you will not get hurt anymore. You have already been through so much.” You whisper, your sad gaze trailing over all the marks on his skin, old and new, before settling on his left chest. You gingerly place your hand over the gauze, remembering how long and deep the gash was.

It will scar for sure. Probably the biggest scar on his body, and it will be because he was protecting you. A shaky breath parts from your lips as you are momentarily transported back in time; him lying motionless on the ground that was turning red. As if your husband can read your thoughts, he gently tilts your chin up and forces you to meet his eyes.

“My dear, I am alright. Look at me.”

“This will scar. You will be in much pain as it heals. Because of me.”

“Don't say that.” He holds you against his chest, his fingers wrapping tightly around your limbs. “You are the only one who loves my scars. Because of you, I now love them too. I would not have changed a single thing if I had the chance. You know why? Because every one of the scars in my body led me to you. And this one?” He places a hand over yours, which is resting on his chest.

“This one tied me to you forever. I earned you. I earned your forever through this. So I think this is the most beautiful.”

A lone tear strolls down your cheek. “Oh, Seungcheol,” you choke over a sob, tilting your face up to capture his lips in a kiss.

His arms engulf you completely, his lips taking over yours, his tongue moving inside your mouth like he has been starving for this.

It is breathless, passionate, and gentle at the same time, conveying all the feelings and emotions the two of you could never put into words. 

It is beautiful, like the scars on his body, leaving behind a trace of love.

For a special epilogue, head over to my Patreon. Click here to see the preview!

© startlightxsvt 2025 | All Rights Reserved. Do not copy, translate, adapt, or repurpose any of my works.

A/N 2: First of all, I want to thank you for reading till the end. Next, I just want to say that this fic has been one of my dream projects. Is it the best? Maybe not but did I have the most fun writing it? Hell yes! It was originally supposed to be a bit longer but I cut some parts out, mainly because I was worried this app wouldn't let me post the entire thing easily. Sure enough, it said that there were too many blocks on my post, so I had to stitch together a lot of passages even though they were separate at first. So, I'm sorry if the flow gets weird in some places.

On a different note, I will also be posting this on AO3 once I have opened my account (I am still waiting for their invitation mail), so once I have made my account, I will link it here. Do support me over there! Finally, I just want to take a moment to thank you all for your support. I am really excited to hear from you guys about this fic, so please do send an ask!

That's it from me for now. For my next fic, I will be returning with something short and lighthearted. Stay happy and healthy, y'all! <33

[starlightxsvt]

seeing the photos of cheol at the dogers game makes me wanna write a rich dilf cheol fic so badddd

[starlightxsvt]

Scars Leave a Beautiful Trace | c.sc

synopsis ➳ ❝an arranged marriage with the man the entire land is afraid of. the man with a crimson eye. they call him the grim reaper. cold, ruthless, unforgiving. yet you are drawn to him, curious to see the man hiding behind the cold, hard exterior. and the man behind is hauntingly beautiful but your forever with him is not promised.❞ pairing ➳ husband general!seungcheol/ x wife noblewoman!reader genre ➳ historical romance (joseon era), angst, pining, smut. wc ➳ 25.4k + 1040 (patreon) warnings ➳ blood, mentions of war, scars, minor character death, attachment issues, arranged marriage, mentions of cheating, severe injury, miscommunication. cheol is an ass in the first half, reader is lowkey a simp, jealousy, big dicc cheol, bondage, virgin sex, rough, unprotected sex, fingering, teasing, edging, dirty talking, praise kink. a/n: this is a work of fiction, so take this with a grain of salt. it will be historically inaccurate, so my apologies beforehand. (also, surprise?? posting it a day early hehe)

glossary:

Jangot – Veil-like cloak for women

Binyeo – Decorative hairpin

Yakgwa – Honey-ginger cookie

Jeonbok – Traditional sleeveless vest for men

Dasik – Pressed tea cookie

Jeogori – Upper garment or jacket

Chima – Skirt worn by women

Baduk – Strategy board game (Go)

Daenggi – Ribbon for braids

Hour of the Ox – 1:00–3:00 AM

Hour of the Tiger – 3:00–5:00 AM

Orabeoni – Respectful term for older brother

+82 some miracle

only listen to my general

“Daughter, this is General Choi Seungcheol, your betrothed. Greet him properly,” your father commands softly, his eyes trained on you.

Your breath stutters in your chest.

Whether from the loaded tension in the air, the silence of the room or your future husband’s penetrating eyes on you, you are unsure. 

His eyes…

You saw them once, a long, long time ago, and you remember them in explicit detail because they are heterochromatic. His right iris is red, a shade of fiery crimson that is scary but also hypnotizing—a stark contrast to his left iris, which is pure black. 

You wish it were only his eyes that were lethal. Unfortunately for you, it is his presence itself. It is the way he silently sits there, poised and alert, holding his sword in his right hand and softly drumming his left index finger on his knee, as if telling you to hurry up. It is the way his face remains unreadable, a porcelain white canvas containing a pair of eyes fiercer than a mountain lion's, a sharp nose that is slightly crooked on the left, and pink lips that are pressed in a thin line. The most daunting of it all, the scar on the right side of his face, just below his eye and on top of his cheekbone. It is no more than a couple of inches long, but the gash looks deep, even after it has healed and imagining the pain behind that curse rakes shivers down your spine. 

Finally, you snap out of your reverie.

With a shaky exhale, you bow down and speak as humbly as possible. “Please accept my greetings, my lord. It is a pleasure to meet you.”

— 

Choi Seungcheol is well known throughout the kingdom, highly feared and revered. In fact, many hold him in the same regard as the king, which is not unfair or surprising. He is the Minister of War and the General of the royal military, the right-hand man of the King and his most trusted subject. Since his boyhood, he demonstrated excellent swordsmanship, and paired with his keen intellect and faultless war strategies, he quickly rose through the ranks and became the King's favourite. His name spread far and wide after he brought victory to the nation in two consecutive wars. He attended the first one when he was only eighteen, and he became infamous for that.

That war with the nearby enemy nation was extremely brutal, as it took away the lives of many of the best men in the military. When Seungcheol returned to the capital with the enemy General’s head in his hands, he was a changed man who had altered the course of history. Bloodied, beaten and bruised, he sported the deep scar on his face, fresh and bleeding. 

Rumours spread from there. Though he brought the nation victory, the townspeople gossiped about everything from his scar, his crimson eye, to his temper, claiming that he was a madman or possessed by an evil spirit. 

You have heard a few things from your father, too. He has agreed that the war changed the man, rightfully so. As the state minister, your father saw firsthand how brutal and merciless the war was till the last moment. So much so that he stepped down from his position afterwards.

He lost his son in the war, after all. Your older brother, whom you vaguely remember because you were only eight at that time. 

Nothing was the same after his passing. Your father lost his spark, your mother became quiet and indifferent, and the house fell into a deathly silence that felt haunted. The silence still lingers, fourteen years later. 

It has been a long time, so long that sometimes you feel like those days never existed. Yet, you remember them vividly: the pain of your mother’s death four years after your brothers, the remaining light dissipating from your father's eyes and the house falling into a perpetuating state of darkness, a place where everyone remained silent, from the slaves to the master. A place that never truly was illuminated, even during the brightest days of summer. A place that you had to call home but wasn’t your home. It was a graveyard where you floated through, watching the world outside bathe and shine with colours when the second war was won, when the king became the father of a boy, when the economy flourished. Seasons passed and years went by, yet your house never celebrated a holiday or a special occasion. 

You saw your father survive each day, haunted by his past and unaware of the present. Every day, he would see students from morning till noon, fulfilling his duties as a scholar before retiring to his room and staying there till the next morning.

The only time you saw some life in him was three years ago, when he called you one day in his chamber to announce that you would get married to Choi Seungcheol once he returned from his three-year trip to another country. Choi Seungcheol, the General of the Royal Military. The man with heterochromatic eyes, who came to your brother’s funeral years ago.

That’s how you have remembered him. The man with two different colored eyes, who stood in the rain with a grim expression on his face as they lowered your brother into the ground.

Over the years, you have heard notorious things about him. He has gained an infamous reputation among the townspeople. Many people believe that he is insane and that he murders people for fun. Word goes around that he is a womanizer, a man without a heart, a man who did not spare his own brother and executed him for treason.

You don’t know how much of this is true.

It all might be true; he just might be the devil living in a human body, but funnily enough, you do not care.

You will do anything to get out of this house. Living here for the past fourteen years has been like being buried alive. You are breathing, yet you don’t feel alive—you don’t remember the last time you felt that way, if ever.

And if a diabolical, insane man is your ticket out of this grave, you will take it. You will accept it with open arms and a smile on your face.

— 

The marketplace is crowded.

You gently tread through the throng of people, holding your jangot over your head as you eye the stalls leisurely, nothing in particular catching your attention. 

“My lady,” Jihye whispers, walking alongside you. “You have been circling the market for the past half an hour. What are you even looking for?”

A dejected sigh flows past your lips. 

Last time you came to the market, a pretty flower binyeo caught your eye. You had not received your salary yet at that time, and so, you could not purchase the piece. You had aimed to buy that binyeo today, but now that you've received your pay, it's no longer available. You have been scouring the market ever since, looking for something similar, but there is none.

“You know what, let us buy some yakgwa and head home,” you say, looking for a snack shop. Jihye smiles, her eyes flickering excitedly at your mention of buying sweets.

A few feet ahead of you, you spot a sweet shop. Instead of focusing on the plethora of sweets laid out, your gaze travels to the right, stopping on two men standing by that shop, their backs facing you.

Something about the tall, broad man dressed in black makes you stop in your tracks. Particularly, his long ebony hair feels oddly familiar to you. 

The man shifts a little, and you catch the slightest glimpse of his side profile through the busy street. Immediately, you squeak and hide behind a nearby stall.

It is General Choi, your husband-to-be.

“My lady, what is wrong?” Jihye hovers around you worriedly. Without looking away from the man, you dig into the sleeve of your hanbok, fishing out some coins and handing them to Jihye. 

“Here. Go buy as much yakgwa as you want.” You murmur, pushing her towards the shop while you get more comfortable in your hiding spot.

You don’t even know why you are hiding. You did not do anything wrong, and you surely have no reason to spy on your future husband in the middle of a busy marketplace.

Still, you continue observing him converse with the other gentleman. His stance is poised and powerful as always, and dressed head to toe in his signature black military clothes, he looks like death itself. Haunting but hypnotizing; which would explain why you cannot look away. 

And then, suddenly, he turns around, locking his eyes with you straight, as if he knew exactly where you were hiding. 

With a gasp of mortification and terror, you immediately whip your head away and bump into a passerby. Bowing your head in an apology, you let the woman pass through before tentatively turning your head back to the street.

Choi Seungcheol stands right behind you.

“Ah!” You yelp, taken aback and stumble a few steps behind. He reaches out immediately and grabs your elbow in a flash, saving you from the fall.

Flushed and breathless, you gape at him like a fish out of water.

He has the usual grim and unamused look on his face, peering down at you almost like he is judging you. His hair is tied up in a half bun, and his bangs frame half of his face, covering his odd eye and the scar. It is a shame, you find yourself thinking as you observe the rest of his face, counting the moles on his pale skin.

It is when he lets you go that you realize he had been holding onto you all this time, and you stood there like a statue.

How unladylike!

First, he catches you spying on him, and now— 

“My apologies, my Lord.” You immediately take several steps back, putting a safe distance between the two of you. Full of shame, you keep your head low as you murmur, “I was simply startled to see you.”

“It seems that you were spying on me.” His voice is smooth and rich, calm and authoritative. “No!” You gasp. “I was just…um…looking. I thought you…ah…looked somewhat familiar…”

He cocks a thick brow in amusement, the faintest smirk creeping up on his lips. 

What are you even saying?

Cringing at your own words, you press your lips shut and scowl at the ground, cursing the heavens for your predicament.

“You are not at the palace today?” He asks. You welcome the change of topic with great relief.

"No, my Lord. I asked for a break from my duties this week as I am preparing for the wedding.”

With no mother or close female relatives, it is up to you to prepare your wedding. 

Generally, you do not like skipping work. It has been two months since you secured a job at the palace after a lot of struggle. Your father was not very happy with the idea of you working, especially in the palace, but he ultimately gave in. 

You work as a teacher to the children under the head court lady of the palace, teaching them how to read and write while they train to be future court ladies. Sometimes you also work as a bookkeeper for the royal library, but that is something you do voluntarily and out of your love for reading. The pay is not very much, but it gives you a sense of freedom and identity, something you struggled to find for the last twenty-two years.

“Head Court Lady Yeo speaks very highly of you.” General Choi states. You do not understand whether he meant it positively or negatively, given his flat tone. Confused, you chuckle awkwardly. “It is a pleasure to work under her guidance. She is very patient and—”

Suddenly, Seungcheol reaches out to you, grabbing you by the arm and harshly tugging you towards him. Completely oblivious as to what is happening, you bump into his chest as his arms snake around you, protectively holding your body next to his.

Less than half a second later, a man riding a horse whooshes by, yelling out apologies to all the people for his rowdy horse. Dear Lord, you were about to be trampled by a horse if not for him.

“Are you alright?” 

His voice makes you look up at him, wide-eyed and panting. It takes a moment for you to realize that he is holding you against his chest, his warm hand resting on your shoulder in a protective grip while your hands rest on his shoulders, gripping the fabric of his jeonbok for support.

With your heart pounding loudly in your ears, it takes you yet another moment to remember how inappropriate this is, the way you are pressed against him. In a flash, you free yourself from his hold and shuffle back, murmuring a mortified apology. At the same time, you hate how much you miss his touch on you.

How odd.

“My lady, are you alright!” Jihye comes running down the street, a packet of confectionery in her hands. 

“Y-yes, I am okay. Let us get going.” You announce, immediately turning away from General Choi, desperate to escape this mortifying situation.

“Hold on.” The deep baritone of his voice steals a breath from your lips. Your body instinctively listens to his command, and you carefully look behind to see him picking up your jangot, which you probably dropped earlier and were about to leave without.

Once more, you cringe at your clumsiness as you watch him brush off the dirt before extending the material towards you. With shaky hands, you reach for it. “Thank you, my Lord. I wish you a pleasant day.”

The next second, you rush out of the marketplace as if the grim reaper himself were chasing after you. Behind you, Jihye struggles to keep up, but you couldn't care less, hiding your face in embarrassment.

That night, under the blanket, you lie wide awake. The memory of General Choi’s hand on your body and his chest pressed against yours keeps repeating in your head in a loop. A foreign, warm sensation pools in your belly, and you find yourself shamefully fantasizing about your future husband, forsaking slumber.

—

You got married today. 

According to the elders of the town, it is one of the most important days of your life, yet it felt like every other—quick and ordinary. Probably because the groom was barely there.

During noon, he came in to fulfil the basic rituals before marching out, leaving a note for you with Jihye. The work in the palace is too demanding, so he must go. He would see you tonight at his place. That was all he said.

Hours later, night has fallen and you are now in his home.

You sit alone in a chamber prepared especially for you. His servants made sure you were comfortable, helping you bathe and prepare for the first night with your husband before leaving you alone to sit with your thoughts and hear the hum of the crickets in the nearby forest.

You declined their offer to serve you dinner. It is only appropriate to wait for your husband and share the first meal together. 

Adorned in fine silk and pretty ribbons, you sit and wait for your husband to come, watching the flame of the candle dancing and melting away the wax. 

You are nervous. It is your first night with your husband. You, who has never even looked at a man for a second too long. You are now married to one of the most feared men in the kingdom. You have heard people talk about his ruthlessness in bed. Apparently, the girls in the brothel talk about it all the time, especially when he visits. Jihye said that whoever spends the night with him needs an entire day to recover.

“Lady Choi,” Head Servant Yang suddenly calls your name before opening the door. “Master has arrived. He is taking a bath currently.”

You snap out of the thoughts of bedding your husband and give her a shy smile. “Could you please set the table then?”

“Of course.” The elderly woman bows and walks out of the room, arranging for dinner to be set in your chamber.

Ten minutes after the dinner is served, General Choi walks into the room. Fresh out of the bath, he is dressed in his nightwear and his hair is tied up in a neat bun, giving you an uninterrupted view of his face. Once again, you find yourself hypnotised by his heterochromatic eyes.

“You did not have dinner?” He asks, sitting down in front of you. His movement is as graceful as always, silent yet stealthy. His posture is upright, the muscles of his shoulders taught as he sits and regards you with careful eyes.

“I was waiting for you, my Lord.” You reply meekly.

“You should not have,” he states, his tone almost condescending. “I am sure Head Servant Yang informed you that I return from work late most days.”

“Today is a special day, is it not?” You find yourself speaking boldly. Your words are firm like the gaze in your eyes, and for a long moment, the chamber is plunged into suffocating silence.

General Choi keeps looking down at you, his gaze as intimidating as ever, and you half expect him to draw his sword from its sheath and slice your head off. Instead, his lips curl upwards, and a noise of amusement leaves his throat. 

“Lady Choi, you seem upset.” He states, his voice half challenging and half something you cannot pinpoint. Sarcasm? Threat?

Unsure how to reply to that, you bite your lip and stare at the food laid out in front of you. All your appetite is gone now.

“Let me tell you something, Lady Choi.” Your husband leans closer to you over the table. Something about the way he utters your title forces you to meet his gaze. Like always, the fierce look in his eyes steals away your breath.

The man is hauntingly beautiful.

“I am certain you have some expectations from this marriage, and I cannot hold that against you. However, let me inform you now, I will not be able to fulfil your expectations, whatever they may be. So, I suggest you completely let go of your expectations, for your own good.”

What? You are sure no woman in Joseon’s history ever had to hear these words on her wedding night.

“My Lord, I do not understand.”

He does not bother clarifying his words. Instead, the look in his eyes shifts, his gaze sharpening on you. Lazily, he pours himself a drink from the pitcher and chugs it down.

“I know what this marriage means to you.”

You hold your breath and watch him, alarmed. He smirks. “It means freedom. It is your way out of that house. So, let this marriage be just that. A way out for you and a duty obliged for me.”

Well, consummating the marriage is also a duty. So is spending time with your wife and sharing a meal with her on your wedding night. You want to yell the words out, but you press your lips shut and stare at him, still processing what is happening.

“As long as we maintain our boundaries, this will be a great union,” he announces almost like he is reassuring you. You feel anything but that.

You feel abandoned, yet again.

“You should eat now,” he says, standing up. “I will retire for the night.” Without sparing another glance at you, he leaves the room. For a long moment, you silently sit in your place, your fancy garment and jewellery suddenly becoming too heavy on your skin. Ignoring the sensation, you reach for the rice, nibbling on the grains with your chopsticks.

You do not understand why tears prick your eyes.

— 

The next morning, an unknown man waits for you as you step out of your chamber and put on your shoes, ready to leave for the palace.

Your husband had left early in the morning, and while the news hurt you slightly, it also left you with relief. After last night, you have not had enough time to process your emotions to face him.

The strange man bows as he sees you approaching. “Greetings, Lady Choi. I am San. As per General Choi’s orders, I shall accompany you from now on for your safety.” Stupefied, you blink at the man. His build and posture indicate that he is a military person, but you do not understand why your husband would have someone guard you.

“My husband put you up to this?” You raise a brow. “Why?”

“I am afraid I cannot say. It was his order.”

You narrow your eyes at him. “So, from now on, you will what? Follow me everywhere?”

“Yes. Whenever you need to go out, I shall accompany you.”

“Is someone trying to kill me?” You ask, point blank, blinking at him.

San makes a noise of surprise before an awkward laugh spills from his lips. “O-of course not, my lady.” You keep eyeing the strange man with suspicion as you start heading for the front door. “Alright then, let us leave.”

— 

You bump into your husband at the palace.

At noon, when the sun is high in the sky, you finish teaching the young girls. Then, you head to the library to cool off and see if the head librarian needs any help. With no new work for you, Librarian Kim serves you some tea and sweets, congratulating you on your marriage. On your way out, he gives you some dasik to take home and share with your husband.

The husband who seems to want to do nothing with you.

With gratitude, you take the sweets and head out of the library, done with your day's work at the palace. That is when you see him. Below the steps of the library building, he approaches, followed by two other men, all dressed in uniforms. Their movements are quick and determined, almost like they are on a military mission.

General Choi takes notice of you as he climbs the stairs. Flustered and oddly shy, your first instinct is to hide. With no place to do that, you stand your ground and bow, “My Lord—”

He walks past as if he did not see you.

You stand rooted to your spot, blinking at the ground.

What just happened?

He ignored you. He blatantly ignored you. His wife. There is no way he did not see you. He did. His eyes met yours, and he held your gaze before looking away.

Hurt and humiliated, you stand there for several long moments, the sun scorching your back. You are tempted to storm back into the library and demand why he did that, but you know better than that.

For one, there is always the danger of him chopping your head off. You heard he once cut off a man’s head just for looking at him too long.

The other issue is more personal. Walking in there would make you look desperate, especially in front of others. You are supposed to be a newlywed happy wife, not someone who chases after her husband when he ignores her in public. The thought makes you feel like pins prickling your heart.

Once more in your life, you are insignificant. You are the lesser one, the one who can be forgotten, overlooked.

With boulders forming in your heart, you head home.

— 

Your husband returned home late today as well.

You had your dinner long ago, and Jihye prepared your bed for you. However, you did not get under the covers. In the dimly lit space of your bedchamber, you have been sitting with your head on your knees, curled up in a corner and watching the candle burn.

No matter how hard you try, you fail to get past the incident earlier today. You simply cannot comprehend why your husband would ignore you like that.

Your curiosity gets the better of you. With a resolved breath, you step out of your room and walk into his bedchamber. You knock at his door. “My Lord, may I come in?”

A beat of silence. “Yes.”

Opening the doors, you find Seungcheol tying the knot of his undershirt. The material is thin and white, giving you a pretty decent glimpse of his silhouette. Flustered, you immediately lower your gaze and shake your head at yourself. 

You did not think this through. Of course, he would be in his sleepwear, like you.

Shit.

It takes you another second to realize you, too, are in your sleepwear. A thin white top over your underskirt. With the realization dawning on you, you cross your arms over your chest and look up at him, conflicted and embarrassed.

Like always, his face gives nothing away. In the calmest of tones, he questions, “Did you need something from me?”

“Uhm…well…” Once again, you get distracted by the visual of your husband. In the dimly lit room, he appears even more stunning, the light of the candle casting strange shadows on his figure, contouring his muscles underneath the thin fabric. With his long, black hair undone, some strands fall on his face, covering his eyes. Through the curtain of his hair, his odd eye shines exceptionally bright in the darkness, stealing your breath.

“I am sure the reason for your visit is not to stare at me, Lady Choi.” He states once more, and you finally snap out of your thoughts.

Closing the door behind you, you gather all your resolve and stand straight.  “My apologies. I wanted to talk to you.”

“I am all ears.” He says, not looking at you. He busies himself by placing his sword next to his mat and sitting down comfortably.

“Why did you ignore me today at the palace?” You get straight to the point. The man turns to look at you slowly, his eyes sharpening ever so slightly. Despite him sitting, you feel as if he is towering over you, and you cannot help but hold your breath, waiting for whatever is to come. Something flashes in his eyes, and once again, you do not know what it is. Rage? Annoyance? Amusement?

You have no clue.

“It seems that you are disappointed, Lady Choi.” He finally replies, his tone containing that tinge of amusement he has with you. Like you are a circus monkey whose action provides him with fleeting, insignificant pleasure. 

You wait for him to elaborate, but he does not, looking at you with a challenging stare. You hate how…diplomatic he is all the time. “Why did you do it?” You repeat, trying to appear as stern as possible, which is almost comical. In front of you is the man people call the grim reaper.

General Choi shifts his position, resting his arm on his knee before fixing his gaze back on you. His tone is quiet, serious. “Let me tell you something, Lady Choi. In public, we are not to acknowledge each other. Do you understand me?”

The ground has been snatched from beneath your feet. You fall into an endless pit, your heart crushing into tiny bits with each of his words. Why? Why would he say something like that?

“Why?” You don’t mask the hurt and desperation in your voice. He ignores you. “If that was all, you may leave now. I wish to get some rest.”

Tears brim in your eyes. Why does he treat you like this? What crime did you ever commit against him?

Your mouth hangs open, shocked and helpless at his attitude towards you. Defeated, you silently pad back to the door. Before you open it, however, you pause. Slowly, you turn back to him. “Why did you assign that man to follow me around?”

He does not look at you. “San is one of the few men I trust. He will keep you safe.”

He has this tendency to never answer your question directly. He dances around it, giving curt, memorized answers. It feels like you are talking to a wall, frustrating and pointless. The next words slip past your lips thoughtlessly and barely above a whisper. “Why do we not sleep in the same room?” That finally gets his attention. He slowly turns his head to look at you, his pupils wide with shock. Like, he cannot believe that you just said that. 

Right. Why did you say that out loud? You look away in embarrassment, cringing at your words.

“So…” he starts to get up. You step back, alarmed.

Why is he getting up? He will slice your head off for sure this time.

With the grace of a lion about to devour his prey, he inches closer to you, his eyes flashing almost unnaturally. You keep walking backwards until your back meets the door and there is no place left to go.

He stops a mere inch away from you, so close that your clothes brush, so close that you can see his chest underneath his nightshirt, so close that you can inhale the scent of soap on his skin. Your breath catches in your throat, and your eyes fall shut on their own.

“My wife wishes to sleep with me. Is that it?” His voice is heaven against your ears, deep, husky and warm, leaving your brain fumbling. You open your eyes to see him staring straight at you, and immediately, heat shoots up all through your body from your toes. 

“I…I didn’t…mean…” You stumble over your words, the sight of him so close to you, messing with your system.

He stares at you, his lips curling up in a smirk. “I am sure you have heard what they say about me.” He pauses. His hand reaches out towards your face, and you hold your breath in alarm and anticipation. With the faintest of touches, he drags his index finger against your jaw and down your neck. “I am sure you know how I am…in bed.” He whispers against your ear, and you can feel your heart physically drop as tingles shoot through your entire body.

At this point, you have forgotten how to breathe. 

“You could not handle me, Lady Choi.” He says and then, absolutely shocking you, leans closer to your neck. Tucking a stray piece of hair beneath your ears, he takes a long inhale of you and then slowly steps away from you.

You feel like you are on fire, beads of sweat gathering on your temples. Your mouth remains agape, processing what just happened as you stand pressed against the door, frozen like prey in shock.

“Good night, Lady Choi.” He says in the most nonchalant way possible, going back to bed. You manage to summon all your strength and rush out of his room, shutting the wooden panels loudly behind you. Outside, you gasp for air, clutching your chest, your heart racing like you just ran for your life. You stand outside the door for a long time, taking in deep breaths and trying to get your heart to calm down as foreign sensations flood through your veins, leaving behind an ache you have never felt before.

You want your husband, you realize. You want him to do all those filthy, animalistic things that you heard of…with you.

— 

You have accepted your new life. A married woman without a husband’s attention or acknowledgement.

In the last two weeks, a routine has fallen into place for you. You wake up, go to work, come home for lunch, spend the afternoon with Jihye lounging around before having dinner and going to bed. Throughout the day, setting eyes upon your husband is rare because he leaves with the sunrise and gets home after dinner. Most days, he has dinner in his chamber by himself, and on the rare occasions he is home early (twice), he shares it with you.

The freedom you thought an advantageous marriage would give you has not come. In fact, you feel more restricted than before. With San following you around like a hawk, you have lost interest in going outside to explore the neighbourhood. Jihye, too, has been weird lately. She vehemently opposes you going outside, especially to the market or other crowded areas and always runs your errands for you.

After a lot of thinking, you have come to a conclusion. Your husband has a mistress. Maybe, mistress is not the right word. If anything, you feel like the mistress in this relationship.

“I am sure he has someone he loves.” You hum, nodding to yourself. 

It is a Thursday afternoon in early spring, the warmth of the sun shining on you as you return home from an unusually long shift at the palace. A few steps behind you is San, ever present like a shadow, following you down a steep road to home.

With him around, you have started to voice your thoughts, no matter how crazy. There is nothing to hide from him after all. He sees it all firsthand, how his boss never spends time with you. 

You have another theory. San knows about the other woman. He has to, right? That is why General Choi employed him to guard you in the first place. He probably knows where your husband goes during his free time, and it is his job to make sure you never see him. 

General Choi seems to have bought off Jihye somehow, too. You find that absolutely bizarre, considering her long loyalty towards you. You are deeply hurt by her betrayal, and so, you have decided to shun her until she comes to you and explains what is going on.

That leaves you with San only.

“I’m right, no?” You turn around to take a glance at him. As usual, he looks helpless and awkward, almost like he is about to leave everything behind and run for the hills. You continue. “He has to have known her for a long, long time. However, I do not understand why he didn’t marry her. Is she not a nobleborn?”

You stop for a moment.

“Ah! She is someone from the brothel, probably, right?”

San continues looking at you helplessly, an awkward smile plastered on his face. You continue walking, nodding to yourself. “No wonder he told me not to expect anything from him. He also said that he fulfilled his duty by marrying me. No one will pester him now because he has the perfect cover.” You nod your head, impressed. “I have to give it to him. This is a good plan.”

The path down the cliff comes to an end, and you stop, admiring the sun slowly going lower in the western sky. The birds fly in the sky in groups, returning home as the sky changes colour, a deep tint of orange taking over the blue.

Is she pretty? You wonder to yourself. She must be. There must be something about her that keeps a man like him hooked. 

The thought pains you. More than it should.

You understand it. You really do, but what you don’t understand is why he married you. Why did he trap you into this marriage? The least he could have done was be honest with you instead of avoiding you like the plague.

The more you get to know this man, the more cowardly he seems. The thought brings an unironic smile to your face. The most feared man in the country, yet he refuses to communicate with his wife. He does not have the guts to speak the truth, which makes him nothing but a coward in your eyes.

“Let us stop by the market.” You announce, taking a different route. San rushes in front of you, alarmed. “Lady Choi, w-why?”

You stare at him, slightly annoyed. Why is he acting like this? Is General Choi supposed to be there now? With his lover? All the more reason why you must go.

You continue walking, ignoring San.

“My Lady, please. Tell me what you need and I shall get that for you after I escort you home.”

“San,” you abruptly stop and glare at him. “I shall tell you what I need right now. I need you to shut up and follow me quietly. Or, you can just leave and report to your boss that I am breaking protocol. Whatever fancies you.”

The man makes a pained sound, groaning almost like a wounded animal. However, you don’t wait for him, marching down the path with determination. Helplessly, he chases after you.

— 

The marketplace is less crowded than you expected. You heard there have been attacks by gangs in this area, so people are more reluctant to leave their houses, especially as evening approaches.

With the roads not as crowded as usual, it takes you only a couple of minutes to spot him. He stands out, as always, his broad shoulders and tall build catching your eye from far away. You observe him for a moment from afar, squinting your eyes to see what he is doing exactly.

He stands in front of a trinket shop, carefully going through the pieces laid out in front of him. 

Wow, is he shopping for something for his hidden lover? 

Bemused, you watch him, eyes scanning for a woman near him, only to find no one.

“My Lady, we should really get going. This area is not safe, and—” Ignoring San’s plea, you head straight towards where your husband stands.

“My Lord, what brings you here?” You chirp, standing right behind him. The man immediately turns around, his pupils blown wide in shock. You do not miss the way he hides something behind him. It takes a moment for him to register that it is you, and once he does, that grim look settles on his face. “What are you doing here?’’

San rushes next to you, “My Lord, I am so sorry—”

General Choi cuts him off with a raised hand and gives him a look of dismissal, which sends the young man scurrying away. Ignoring his question, you say. “It seems like you were finished with work early today.” You pointedly look at the shop behind him.

“Yes. I finished early today.” He states, expressionless. “Are you returning from the palace now?”

“Yes, the work at the library took longer than usual. Some records were accidentally destroyed, so we had to salvage them.”

“I see.” He nods. You wait, wondering if he has anything more to say. He keeps gazing at you silently, his odd eye hidden behind his hair. You have noticed that he always hides it in public. Why? To avoid detection? 

Finally, he speaks, his eyes narrow and his tone sharp. “You should not be here. I am sure you are aware of the looting and killing taking place in this area.”

You hate his tone. Frowning, you reply. “Thank you for your concern, My Lord. I was aware. I just wanted to explore—”

You are cut off.

The next sequence of events takes place exceptionally quickly. First, you see your husband’s gaze shift and focus on something behind you. The very next moment, he yanks you towards him, making a swift turn so that his body covers yours. You lose your footing from the harsh tug, gripping onto his arms with a yelp of surprise.

Something whizzes past you, sharp and quick, that makes you jerk and hold onto him tighter.

Gasps, yells and screams of people echo all around you. You blink, befuddled, staring at your husband, who holds you tightly against his body, looking behind him. Following his gaze, you find San chasing after a man who dashes away through the crowd at remarkably fast speed, shoving people and running over stalls on his way.

Your husband whips his head back to look at you, his eyes wide with alarm. “Are you okay? Look at me!” He shakes you, his grip on your arms fierce. Something wet touches your fingers. Slowly, your eyes trail to your right hand, which is grabbing General Choi’s bicep.

There is a tear on his sleeve, a couple of inches above your fingers and red liquid oozes out from the thin cut. You gasp, your breath escaping your lungs in a choked wheeze.

Finally, everything clicks.

Someone just shot an arrow at him. Who? An enemy? A gang member? An assassin?

“Oh…oh my god! My Lord!” You clutch onto his sleeve, panicking.

General Choi ignores your cry and forces you to look at him, tilting your chin upwards. “Are you hurt anywhere?”

Is he seriously worrying about you right now?

“I am fine.” You choke on a sob. “But my Lord, you are bleeding! What…what should I do?”

He rubs a gentle hand on your back, pulling you closer to him. “I am fine. It is nothing.” He assures, his eyes scanning the place carefully as if looking for someone. You panic. “My Lord, we need to go home. Come on. You are hurt!” You urge, tugging him with you, even though you cannot make him move an inch.

The man stands rooted to his spot, his eyes still scouring through the marketplace. Finally, he nods and pulls you into his arms, holding you protectively. “Let us go.”

— 

After your relentless nagging, you finally get your husband to sit still so that you can treat his wound.

“I told you, it is nothing serious.” He admonishes when you step into his bedchamber with a rag, a bowl of water, and some medicine. Ignoring him, you hurry closer to him, inspecting the wound.

You have never treated someone before, but your mother was a very good nurse. She helped a lot of people during the war with her vast knowledge of medicinal herbs. You remember watching her work for hours, and even though you never directly learned from her, you are confident you can do this right.

The memory of his blood seeping out and wetting your hands sends shivers down your spine, and you have to take a deep breath to get yourself to calm down. Your heart has been racing ever since, the adrenaline yet to wear off.

“You should take off your shirt.” You whisper, wetting the rag in the bowl of water. Your husband complies, slowly removing the garment and shrugging it off his shoulders. Your breath catches in your throat once you lay your eyes on his body.

It is not his muscular build but the plethora of scars littering his body. Small and big, they taint his chest and all the way down to his lower abdomen, and you cannot help but stare, wincing at the marks that look particularly nasty.

What has this man been through?

General Choi snatches the rag from your hands and starts treating his cut. Embarrassed, you protest, but he cuts you off. “I can do it myself.” His response, like always, is curt, but you ignore it, too distracted by his scars. The one on his left abdomen looks particularly ghastly, and you know for sure it was a deep stab wound. 

The amount of pain he must have been in…

The thought makes you shudder, and you bite your lip, holding your tears back.

“This is why I assigned someone to protect you.” His voice pulls you out of your thoughts. “I am sure he told you to return, but you insisted on going to the market.”

“Who was that man?” You cut him off, unable to prevent yourself from voicing your worries any longer. Why did they want to hurt him? 

His lips thin, and something flashes over his eyes, leaving you guessing. He pauses for a moment, looking at you impassively, almost like he knows a secret that you don’t. “They were probably from some gang. They have been causing havoc recently, as you know.”

You know it is a lie. It is blatant that he is hiding something from you, and you cannot help but sigh out loud, sagging onto the floor. You do not even have it in you to fight with him right now. You are just glad he is okay. The bleeding has stopped now, and as you watch him apply the herb on his cut, a small sigh of relief flows past your lips.

Finally, it feels like you can breathe.

Silently, you help him tie a clean rag around his bicep before wiping the residual herb from his fingers. “You should take a bath.” He keeps staring at your face as if he is trying to understand something.

“Are you sure you are okay?” he asks, his tone soft. His gaze, for the first time, appears to be almost tender, and for a moment, the concept of language evaporates from your mind.

You want to say a lot of things. You want to yell at him, scream at him to explain himself and cry in his arms. You are unable to do any of that. “I am fine,” you whisper, your voice small and shaky.

He keeps looking at you for a few more seconds before nodding and getting up. Just as he is about to exit the room, you call for him. “My Lord?” “Hm?” He turns around to look at you.

You pause, hesitating. “I know you brought something today. At the market…” you trail off, unsure why you are saying this. His body tenses, and he looks at you warily…like he has been caught. For a second, you pray that he comes clean, but he remains silent, waiting for you to continue.

You swallow a lump in your throat and look away. Your voice is wobbly when you speak. “You should wrap it. Put it in a nice box. Women love gifts that are nicely wrapped. The woman…whoever you bought it for…you should wrap it.”

You do not dare to meet his gaze, so you sit on the floor, staring at the bowl of water that is now tinted red from his blood. He does not reply but walks out the door, his footsteps padding softly over the wooden floors.

— 

That night, you lay in bed awake, replaying the event at the market over and over again in your head. And as you keep revisiting that moment, a shuddering realization dawns on you.

What if…what if…

The arrow wasn't meant for General Choi but for you?

The more you think about it, the more probable it seems. The arrow would have originally hit you if not for him moving you out of the way. The thought makes you bolt up from your bed, your heart racing as beads of sweat gather on your temples. Tossing the blanket away, you step out of your sleeping mat and start pacing around your room.

Today's events are a mystery to you. You have no enemies, and neither does your father. Hell, he has been out of politics ever since your brother died. You simply have no reason to have someone shoot an arrow at you in the middle of a marketplace.

If it were not for your husband, you would have died for sure.

Shit. Who would do that? 

Your mind starts spiraling to the point that your temples begin to throb. You press the spot with your fingers, trying to make the ache go away.

It doesn't.

Instead, paranoia starts settling in. Suddenly, the thought of being alone in your room frightens you so much that you feel a chill in your bones. Unable to tolerate the deafening silence and the darkness any longer, you step out of your chamber, taking tentative steps towards your husband's room. The hallway is dark except for one small lamp flickering at the end of the long corridor, an eerie quietness hanging heavy in the air as the whole house sleeps.

You come to stop in front of your husband's room, your hands hesitating to pull open the wooden panels. 

What are you doing here? Sneaking into your husband’s chamber in the middle of the night?

With the resolved exhale, you pull open the door. In the darkness, it takes a moment for you to spot your husband sleeping on his side, his long raven hair splayed messily over the mat.

You remain rooted in your spot outside the door, hesitating yet once again before gingerly making your way inside and quietly closing the panel behind you. The room would be pitch dark if not for the faint light of the lamp flickering outside, filtering in through the panel. You take a moment to let your eyes adjust to the visibility before placing yourself next to him. With his sword resting between the two of you, you silently lie down, gazing at the silhouette of his face in the darkness.

Your heart aches. He got hurt because of you. 

Why do you feel such a strong attraction towards this cold, stubborn man? Why does it hurt you so much to see him hurt? Most importantly, is this how he feels about his lover? Does her pain make him hurt like this as well? Is that why he refuses to be with you, unable to resist his heart's longing?

So many questions and no answer to soothe your wretched soul. 

You keep gazing at him, a strange sensation filling your heart. He is physically so close to you, right within your reach, yet it feels like he is a million miles away, tucked away in a place for which you have no key. At the same time, lying next to him like this, you feel oddly comfortable. With him next to you, the silence and the darkness of the night are bearable, no longer stealing your sleep.

With a heavy ache in your chest and tears in your eyes, you fall asleep, happy to be in the same space as your husband.

—

When you open your eyes next morning, the sun is high up in the sky and the light flooding into the room immediately tells you that you have slept way longer than you should have.

Shit. You missed work today.

All concerns of work, however, fly out the window when you register where you are. You fell asleep on the floor next to General Choi yesterday. Then why are you sleeping on his mat, his blanket tucked around you, and his pillow under your head? 

With a gasp, you sit up and look around you, double checking to make sure you are in the right place.

How did you get here? Did he tuck you in after waking up? How did you not wake up?

Your face flushes with heat, imagining him carrying you and putting you in his bed. No wonder you feel so well rested after a long time. You must have slept like a log throughout everything.

Did you snore? Did you drool? Did you say something weird in your sleep?

“Oh dear lord, help me!” You whine, putting your face in your hands, cringing at all the possible ways you might have embarrassed yourself. Once you are over the initial wave of embarrassment, you spot a trinket on top of the small wooden table by the mat.

Curious, you shuffle closer. It is a bineyo with a beautiful butterfly in pink and blue, exactly the one you had been looking for. With a gasp, you lean closer, mesmerized by the way it sparkles underneath the sunlight. Next to it sits a letter, face up.

Dear wife, 

I am sorry I did not wrap it. I was interrupted by someone before I could choose a box. I do not know how the misunderstanding came to be, but this was meant to be yours from the beginning, not any other woman’s. I hope you like it.

From, Your husband

Your hands cover your mouth in shock and absolute glee before clutching the letter and the hairpin to your chest. Tears brim your eyes, your heart melting like a caramel under the sun, warm and sweet.

It seems like you misunderstood his actions. Still, some things remain unclear.

“Jihye!” You yell. She rushes in a few moments later. “My lady, you are awake! Master said not to disturb you. He said he will let Head Court Lady Yeo know that you will not go to work today.”

Ignoring her words, you quickly motion for her to come closer to you and sit down. “You,” you narrow your eyes at her. “You have been hiding something from me.” She blinks, her gaze slowly lowering to the floor.

“What did General Choi tell you? He definitely told you something. That is why you have not been letting me out of the house by myself.”

She looks at you helplessly for a long moment before sighing. “Okay, I will tell you, my lady. But you have to promise me you will not tell Master. I gave him my word.” She winces.

What could it be? Eager, you scoot closer to her. “I will not. Now out with it.”

“On the first night of your marriage, he called me and asked about you. What you like to eat, what your favourite season is…things like that.”

Wow. Your heart races with each of her words.

“Then, he asked me what you were doing in the market that day. You know that noon a week before your wedding? When we bumped into him? I said that you were looking for a hairpin. He asked in detail about the hairpin, and I told him that you were looking for one with a butterfly. Then, he ordered me to keep you from going outside, especially to crowded areas, as much as possible. He said it is not safe for you. And he made me promise not to tell you.”

A lot of the blanks start filling up. He listened to her and got this hairpin for you. No wonder!

You keep finding yourself revisiting that moment in the market. The way he protected you. The worry in his eyes, the way his fingers gripped onto you, the way his voice was filled with worry when he asked you if you were ok. The realization that you may have misunderstood him greatly starts settling in your bones. 

Maybe there was no one else from the beginning. Maybe it was only you all along. Maybe everything he did was to protect you. But protect you from what? Did he know that someone was after you? Who? Why did he not tell you anything?

No matter, you shall set the record straight when he gets home today. You have caught a glimpse into your husband’s heart, and it turns out he is not as cruel as they say. Now, there is nothing strong enough to stop you. He has had his way until now, and now, it is your time.

“Did he say when he will return?” You ask Jihye, your heart racing.

“No, my lady.”

“No matter.” You smile. “I will wait for him.”

— 

The heavens seem to be on your side because your husband returns home right before sunset. As he takes a bath, you prepare in your room, getting dressed for the evening.

Jihye braids your hair for you before helping you put on your hanbok, a soft yellow jeogori with a pastel pink chima. 

Just as you are almost finished with your makeup, Head Servant Yang knocks at the door, letting you know that your husband has finished his bath. With a smile, you stand up and walk over to the mirror, smoothing your skirt.

“Jihye, how do I look?”

“Absolutely beautiful, my lady!” She squeals. “Master will not be able to resist you tonight!”

You throw a scandalized look at her before reaching for the hairpin your husband gave you. Gingerly placing it on your hair, you complete the look and twirl in front of the mirror. “Alright, let us go!”

You knock twice at your husband’s chamber.

“Come in.”

Exhaling a shaky breath, you open the door and find sitting on the floor, wearing a navy blue hanbok. A book sits open on his lap, which is discarded once he lays eyes upon you.

Silence.

You hold your breath, watching his eyes scan you top to bottom, before going up again and finally stopping at your hairpin. He looks awestruck and speechless—a look you have never seen on him, and you struggle to stifle a smile.

“May I come in?” You ask coquettishly. 

“Ah—yes, of course.” He blinks and sits up straight. With a smile, you walk into the room and sit in front of him, closer than you have ever been before. "How is your arm?” You ask, jutting your chin towards it. “Do you need me to apply some herbs?”

“No, it is fine. I changed the gauze after my bath.”

“Are you in any pain?”

“Thank you for your concern, Lady Choi, but I am well.” He sets the book aside. “What brings you to my chamber?”

You ignore his curt replies. “Thank you for the gift, my lord.” You smile, saccharine sweet. Titling your head, you show him the trinket nestled in your hair. “How do I look?”

“Hm?” He gapes at you, eyes wide, clearly taken aback by the question. “Uh…it suits you. You look lovely.”

You smile like a lovestruck fool. “Thank you, my Lord.”

Silence. He keeps looking at you like it is a staring competition. Realizing he will not be the first one to break the silence, you continue with a sigh, “I have some questions, my Lord. I hope you will answer them honestly.” His gaze shifts, something unreadable briefly flashing by his eyes. His hands on to rest on his knees, his back straightening as he takes a moment before subtly nodding his head.

“Is there someone trying to kill me?” Your gaze does not waver. General Choi’s lips press into a thin line, his thick brows forming a frown, a look of pure displeasure settling on his face.

You do not back down. “Yesterday, the arrow was meant for me, was it not? You knew someone was after me. That is why you assigned San to be with me. That is why you told Jihye not to let me go outside.”

Another beat of silence. “Yes.” He murmurs, his haunting gaze piercing yours.

You swallow. “Who is it? I do not understand…I do not have any enemies— “

“They are my enemies.” He cuts you off. “The arrow yesterday…yes, it was meant for you, but it was also meant for me. It was their warning to me.”

“What warning? Why are they after you?” You cry.

His gaze narrows. “That is private information. Only the King’s most trusted men are aware of it.” You look down, worriedly chewing on your lower lip. After a beat, you ask, “Is that why you ignored me in the palace that day?”

“Yes. I thought the less I interacted with you, the better.” He pauses, his gaze focusing on the lamp burning at his side. “I am sorry for putting you in danger, but rest assured, they will be dealt with.”

You are not really worried about losing your life. If anything, his being in danger scares you more. Odd, is it not?

“Why did you let me misunderstand, my Lord?” You ask softly.

“That was not my intention.”

“But it happened anyway.” You cannot hold back the bite in your voice. “From the first day of this marriage, I believed that you have someone else.”

He remains silent, looking almost guilty. It scares and infuriates you. “Tell me! Do you?”

“No,” his voice never loses its quiet composure. “I do not.”

“Then why did you lie?”

For the first time, you see his gaze soften. For once, it looks like he is not scowling but rather, he appears ashamed and helpless. The hidden frustration inside you reaches its tipping point. “You could have told me! You could have said that I was in danger instead of pushing me away like I disgust you and letting me think that you were seeing someone else!” 

You hear him exhale a breath. “How do you expect me to tell my young, newlywed wife that her life is in danger because of me, her husband?”

The guilt is raw and vivid in his voice, echoing throughout the room like a haunted cry. This new side of your husband knocks all the air out of your lungs, leaving you feeling helpless as you stare at him, tears pricking your eyes.

“My Lord—”

“I know I am not the best match for you. You got married to be free, but instead, this marriage became a trap for you. How could I tell you that? I believed it would be better to let you think all crazy things about me rather than taking away your freedom by scaring you. I apologize for my shortsightedness.” A lone tear rolls down your cheek. He is not the best match for you? What is he saying?

Unable to hold back any longer, you close the little distance between the two of you and leap into his arms, hugging him tightly. With your arms wrapped around his neck, you rest your face on his shoulder, your fingers tightly holding onto the fabric of his hanbok. “Please do not apologize, my Lord. I understand you.”

Against you, your husband’s entire body remains tense, his hands awkwardly raised into the air like he is too scared to touch you. You ignore his hesitation and hold onto him tightly, your heart breaking and healing simultaneously. The warmth and comfort of his body soothe all the anguish in your heart, making you never want to let him go.

Finally, his hands touch your back, his large palms holding the small of your back, softly patting you.

Loosening your arms around him, you take a peek at his face and find the most sincere look in his eyes, warm and kind, the complete opposite of how you have seen him until now. You truly believed he was beyond all emotions, cold and mechanical, but right now, as he holds you in his arms and gazes at you with so much reverence and softness, you can only think of him as this quiet, considerate man who is misunderstood greatly.

Something in you shifts. No longer afraid, you shift in his arms, positioning yourself better on his lap before kissing him.

You press your lips against his without thinking, pulling him closer by the lapels of his hanbok and holding your lips right there, against his, soft and warm. With your heart hammering in your chest, you stay there, testing the waters. Your husband remains frozen at first, almost like he is waiting for you to back out. Once sure that you will not, he reaches for you, gently cupping your cheek with his right hand to tilt your face. The kiss deepens just a tad bit, his lips pressing against you just hard enough. His touch on you is meticulous and guarded, like you are a wild animal he does not want to frighten. You know he is being gentle for your sake, so you take the lead, snaking an arm around his neck and kissing him the way he led you.

Slow, sweet and passionate.

It is everything you imagined and more, all your dreams coming true and giving you a taste of ecstasy. By the time your lips part from his, there is a ringing in your ears along with your heart galloping like a race horse and a strange, tingling sensation between your legs. You feel drunk on your husband’s kiss, your eyes involuntarily trailing to his lips that are now shining with saliva.

You want this man so much, body and soul.

Your husband’s fingers remain against your cheek, his thumb stroking your cheek, slow and tentative like you are the most precious porcelain. Mirroring his hand, your fingers cup his cheek, your thumb gently tracing the scar beneath his odd eye. The skin is harsh and bumpy under your touch, making your heart heavy. You want to kiss it, tell him that he is beautiful despite it, tell him that you feel his pain, but something shifts.

His gaze grows unfocused, something foreign flashing by in his eyes, like he has been woken back to reality. With a sudden noise, he clears his throat and retracts his hand from your face. The action pulls you out of your haze as well, making you suddenly hyper aware of the fact that you kissed him.

Holy shit. You kissed your husband. And he kissed you back. And it was amazing.

Clearing his throat once more, your husband looks away, carefully trying to put some distance between you and him. Flustered, you take the hint and stand up rather unceremoniously. As you take a step back, however, misfortune befalls.

The ghost of clumsiness yet again takes over your body, and you trip over your skirt. With a loud, unladylike yelp, you fall backwards, terrified but also anticipating the brutal hit to the floor.

It does not come. You do not fall on the ground because your husband saves you, reaching for your arm and tugging you back towards him just in time. Something else happens in the process. The ribbon of your jeogori comes off.

You realize that several moments later, too preoccupied with trying to calm your beating heart and processing what just happened. As you stay pressed against his body, your arms tightly holding onto his shoulders for balance, General Choi’s eyes skim over your face before fixing beneath your neck and on your exposed shoulder.

This time, something dark and carnal takes over his gaze, his eyes sharp and narrow, staring intently at your bare skin. Your heart beats so loudly you fear he can hear it, and for a moment, you are sure you will pass out from the intensity of his gaze and the swirl of emotions—desire and shame, surging within you.

Like before, he is the one who backs away, quietly clearing his throat and looking away. Embarrassed, you quickly fix your jeogori and clutch it tightly to your chest while also scrambling off his body.

“I—” you stammer, mortified to look at his face. “I will see you for d-dinner then, my Lord.” Picking up your skirt to avoid further accidents, you rush for the door, eager to be out of his sight.

His voice forces you to stop right at the door. “Why did you come to my room last night?”

You halt, processing his question. Then, with quick fingers, you tie your jeogori and carefully turn around. Your husband looks at you inquisitively. “Were…were you awake, my Lord?” You ask. He did not even sir when you came into the room.

In reply, he nods. You look around, trying to find the words. “I…was scared to be alone. I kept thinking of what happened at the market, and I do not know…” You trail off, embarrassed and worried about his reaction. He, however, keeps looking at you intently before shaking his head up and down in understanding.

“How did you know I came in? You did not even move a muscle. I thought you were asleep.”

“I smelled you.” He states, his face expressionless. You take a step back, alarmed. “Do I stink?”

He shakes his head. “No. I meant that I smelled roses. You smell like roses.”

Oh. “I see,” you mumble shyly, your fingers twiddling with the fabric of your skirt. He regards you quietly for a beat before murmuring. “You can sleep with me tonight as well, if you desire it.”

“Really?” You squeal, not hiding the excitement brimming in your voice. 

“Yes.”

“Thank you, my Lord!” You smile so big it hurts.

— 

After dinner, Headservant Yang sets the mattress for the two of you with a suggestive, happy smile on her face that makes you grin goofily. 

Once finished with your nightly routine and dressed for bed, you pad into your husband's chamber and find him already lying down, his eyes closed and his hands resting over his chest. One could think he was asleep, but you know better now. With wonder, you observe that the place of his sword has shifted and moved to his left, right next to his mat, now that yours occupies the space it took before.

“My Lord,” you ask softly, “shall I blow out the candle?”

“Yes.” He replies, not moving or opening his eyes. Carefully, you pad over to the study table and blow out the candle before finding your place on the mat. With the noise of the crickets humming outside, you lie on your mat, pulling the blanket up to your chin and staring at the ceiling. Your blood thrums in your veins, your brain too wired to fall asleep. The excitement of lying next to your husband keeps you awake.

Once your eyes adjust to the darkness, you take tentative peeks at him and find him in the same position as he originally was. Is he sleeping? You wish you could tell.

“My Lord?” You speak, quiet as a mouse.

Silence.

“Hm?” He hums.

“Why do you sleep with your sword next to you?”

“Force of habit, I suppose…from the war.”

You hum in acknowledgement, looking at him eagerly amid the darkness. After a short pause, you call for him again. “My Lord?”

“Yes.”

“Can I sleep with you from now on?”

Silence. Seconds pass by, but no answer comes, and you start to think that he has fallen asleep. Just then, he finally replies, his voice quiet and deep in the solitude of the night. “If you wish to.” You smile, happy and wide, even though he cannot see you. “Thank you, my Lord.”

Another short pause later, he murmurs. “Goodnight.” You take it as a sign that he does not wish to talk anymore, and with a nod, you shift and lie on your side, your right arm resting underneath your head.  “Goodnight, my Lord.” You whisper with a smile.

— 

You wake up just before sunrise. 

The spot next to you is empty, and with no sign of your husband, you step out of his bedchamber in search of him. It is a rest day, so you wonder where he is so early in the morning.

You find the man in the backyard, already dressed, quietly observing the flowers in the garden. “My Lord?” You call for him.

“Oh, good morning.” He acknowledges you with a small nod. “Why are you up so early?”

“I woke up and you were not there. Is everything okay?”

“Yes.” He assures. “You should sleep some more.” You pause, carefully observing him. In the soft morning light, the man looks different, more relaxed and homely, dressed in his hanbok and his long raven hair draped elegantly against his back.

How can you leave his majestic man just for a few more hours of sleep?

“My Lord?”

“Hm?”

“Let us go for a walk.”

— 

After quickly getting dressed, you and your husband go for a stroll, the early morning sun softly gleaming in the sky.

Your husband heads towards the nearby forest, which leads to a cliff offering a nice view of the town and the hilly background. He walks quietly with his hands behind him, his movements deliberately slow to accommodate your pace. With a soft smile that never leaves your lips, you walk alongside him, your heart thrumming happily.

Can this be called a date?

Without any words exchanged between the two of you, you navigate the path through the forest, your eyes skirting towards him every now and then. The silence between you is not awkward because you can see from his face that he is thinking deeply about something. So, you let him think and use the solitude to take peeks at his handsome face, memorizing the details of his visage.

By the time you reach the cliff, you are out of breath.

“Wow,” you wheeze out, panting for air as you rest with your palms on your knees. 

“Are you alright?” General Choi asks, peering down to see your face. “Yes,” you nod, trying to control your breathing. “It has been a while since I came up here. The view is magnificent.”

“It is.” He hums, looking over the cliff. “That last time I came here, I was a child.” You share, standing up and gazing at the view. It is truly still beautiful.

“Why so long ago?”

“What?” You blink, looking at your husband, who is regarding you with a curious tilt of his head.

“Uh…” you think. “My father…he was not fond of me going out much. Especially anywhere far, after my brother died. He liked to keep me within his sight.”

He keeps looking at you attentively, and you wonder what he is thinking. Is he judging you?

Needing to fill the silence, you ramble. “On top of that, I have always been clumsy. I’m sure you have figured that out by now. Once, when I was a child, I somehow broke my arm playing in the yard. My brother ran all the way to the physician’s office with me on his back. With him gone, my father thought it would be better for me to be within the house. For my safety and his mental peace.”

“It was suffocating, no? That is why you married me. For freedom.” Your husband observes. You nod, albeit shakily, thinking of your days back at your parents' home. The cold treatment of your father and the way you were never enough. Not enough to take away the pain of them losing their son.

In the silence, you take a moment to gather your thoughts before facing the man next to you and voicing a question you have always wanted to ask. “Why did you choose to marry me?”

He takes a moment to answer. 

“Because no one else wanted to. A lot of ministers tried to get me engaged to their daughters, but the girls refused when they saw me. Some even rejected just after hearing my name. They feared me.”

You find it ridiculous. “Why?” Your tone drips with bewilderment. “My reputation,” he shrugs. “My face does not help much, I suppose.”

“What do you mean?” You frown, leaning closer to him. He regards you in silence, as if the answer to that question is the most obvious thing in the world. “I am ugly.”

“What?” You gape at him, utterly befuddled. Does this man truly think that? His sharp eyes narrow on you, his brows knotting in confusion. “I do not know if you are making fun of me.”

“Why would I make fun of you?” You cry. This entire thing is ludicrous. “I simply find it absolutely enraging that you think so!”

He remains mute, watching you like you are an equation he needs to solve.

You take a tentative step closer to him, mumbling, “It is true that your reputation is scary. I also feared you for that in the beginning. I do not know if you are aware, but people say all types of crazy things about you.” You pause, inching even closer to him. With a few small inches between the two of you, you look up and meet his eyes, hoping to convey your sincerity. “But as I got to know you…I have realized there is nothing to fear. You are undoubtedly a cold man, my Lord, but you are also warm. Your heart is always in the right place. That alone is enough to make you the most beautiful man in the land.”

His face relaxes, and you can see how his gaze softens, the turbulent storms ever present in his eyes dissipating for a moment. 

In the back of your mind, one thought runs rampant. You want to kiss him. In the soft morning light, he looks as breathtaking as ever, his lips soft and kissable. Remembering the touch of his lips against yours last night, you muster the courage and lean up on your tippy toes, pressing a quick, chaste kiss on his lips. The man immediately leans back, a look of surprise on his face. Ignoring his reaction, you smile and step back, facing the view again. Your husband clears his throat before silently joining you in gazing at the view.

A while later, you voice out another thought. “My Lord, when you said not to expect anything from you, what did you mean?”

He takes a moment to answer. “I don’t know. Just do not expect anything from me. I cannot give you anything.”

Frowning, you face him. “But you have already given me so much.”

“I do not believe that.”

You sigh. The cranky man is returning. Hitching your skirt, you walk closer to him, determined. “What did you mean, my Lord? I cannot expect what?” He huffs out a frustrated breath. “Whatever a wife expects from her husband, I suppose.”

Your frown deepens. “What? Love? Attention? Devotion?”

“I will be devoted to you, but I cannot give you love.” His words are like a punch to the gut. “Why not?” You plead.

He hesitates. “I…just cannot.”

“You cannot or will not?”

His eyes, sharp and fiery, pierce right through you, and you see the truth in his eyes. You see the answer he refuses to utter. “Let us get back.” He announces, turning on his heel and dismissing you, starts marching down the path. You scoff, watching with an open mouth as he almost runs down the track to escape answering your question.

This stubborn, frustrating man.

— 

After breakfast, General Choi goes out to visit an old friend. With a sour mood, you shuffle through the house, watching as everyone remains busy with their work. You try to practice some needlework but fail to get far with that. As always, your hand at embroidery is embarrassingly bad. For two hours, you try to create a flower on a handkerchief, but when it turns out looking questionable, you drop the task.

You find San sitting outside on the porch, chatting animatedly with Headservant Yang. “My Lady, are you bored?” Headservant Yang asks upon seeing you walk over. With your shoulders slumped, you nod, pouting.

“General Choi will not be back for some time. Should we play a game then? San offers.

Your eyes shine. “Sure!”

— 

Your game of baduk with San lasts even after sunset. 

You keep playing match after match, your own competitive streak matching his. He does not go easy on you just because you are married to his General, and that makes it all the more fun. 

Your husband returns right before lunch and after observing the two of you for a mere minute, he leaves, locking himself in his study for the rest of the day. His disinterest irks you, and you decide to ignore him as well, honing all your attention towards the game. During different times, Headservant Yang and Jihye stop by between their work, watching you two play with rapt fascination.

The game only ends with you winning, long after the sky has gone dark. Cheers and yells erupt in the small crowd of servants gathered to watch the game. You grin cockily, finally standing up and stretching your legs. San accepts his defeat and takes his leave, not before you make him promise to join you another day for another match.

“Would you like to have your bath first or dinner, my Lady?” Headservant Yang asks. You ponder, still reeling from the high of winning. “Did my husband have dinner?”

“Yes, my Lady.” You sigh. “Well then, I will have my dinner now and then take my bath.”

— 

After your bath, you sit in your room with the mirror in front of you while Jihye combs your hair. “Today was a fun day, no, my Lady?” She asks.

“Yes,” you hum. “It is a shame General Choi did not join us.” “Indeed.”

“Where has he been all day?” “In his room, my Lady. He was studying.”

You resist the urge to roll your eyes. Your husband truly does not know how to have fun. Instead of spending a rest day with his wife, he would rather read and strategize and sulk by himself.

As if he could hear your thoughts, the man appears with a knock at your door and steps in a second later. Jihye excuses herself, leaving the two of you alone, the room suddenly buzzing with tension.

Your husband regards you with that same unreadable face, but something in you tells you that he is grumpier than usual. Still, you try to be civil. “Hello, my Lord.”

“Lady Choi. It was hard to catch sight of you all day.” 

Yes. He is annoyed about something. The subtle bite in his voice is unmissable. You finish combing the ends of your hair before setting the comb down. “My apologies about that. I was too immersed in the game of baduk.”

“Yes, I noticed.” He peers down at you, his eyes ethereally flashing in the soft lights of your chamber. “You seemed to quite enjoy your time with San.”

“He is an excellent player. He also mentioned that you used to play with him.” You supply, trying to understand what might be the cause of his annoyance.

“I don’t know about excellent.” He murmurs, looking away from you. “I taught him, true, but he is no match for me.”

You narrow your eyes. What is he implying? “I am sure he is not, my Lord.” You force a smile. 

“Yet, you chose to spend the entire day with him.” This time, he snaps, clear and offended. Your jaw hangs low, surprised at his pettiness. You stand up frowning. “You were away, my Lord.”

“Not the entire day. I returned long ago, but you were too busy playing with him till dinner time.” He grumbles, not meeting your eyes but staring at the lamp. Stunned, you gape at him, trying to understand where he is coming from.

Your heart flutters. Is it possible that he is jealous?

“My Lord,” you step closer to take a look at his face. “Are you…jealous?”

“Ha!” He scoffs, stepping away. “Why would I be jealous of that little punk?” he half yells, waving his hand dismissively like he is swatting away a bug.

Your spirits dampen, and annoyance starts to take over. You give him a saccharine sweet smile that is evidently fake. “Well then, there is nothing to worry about. Shall we head to bed?” He refuses to let the topic go. “You finally remembered me, no? Now that it is time to sleep?”

The thread holding you together snaps. With gritted teeth, you stare at him, trying your level best to keep your tone neutral. “Well, when your husband dismisses you at every chance he gets and tries to run from you at the mere mention of intimacy, a girl would naturally be upset and spend time elsewhere. I hope you pardon her for spending some time away from him.” You bow dramatically in apology, making sure that he understands it is sarcasm. 

“Wha—” He regards you, eyes wide and mouth agape, like he cannot believe the words coming from your lips. “You—” He seems to be at a loss for words.

You step past him, but he raises a finger at you. “So you prefer San over me? Is that what you are saying?”

You roll your eyes at his words. However, today there is an urge within you to push him to his limit. So, you whip your head back and glare at him. 

“Who knows?” You singsong. Your husband’s eyes only enlarge, the look of pure shock taking over his face, his mouth hanging open wider than before. “Maybe I do. Maybe I do prefer him over you. He spends time with me, after all. Despite today being a rest day, you stayed in your room all day when you could have joined us. So what if I prefer his company?” You add the last line for good measure, trying to appear as threatening as possible.

“Take that back,” he says, his tone quiet. The look on his face starts to shift towards something serious. 

You egg him on. “I won’t! In fact, from now on, I will spend more time with him. Who knows, he might give me all the love and attention you refuse.”

The man finally snaps. In the flash of an eye, he is right in front of you, his hand behind your neck pulling you so close to him that you feel his breath. All earlier pettiness and playfulness are gone. He looks like a raging beast, barely hanging on by a thread.

“Take that back. Tell me you do not mean it or I swear to God, I will chop his head off.” He grits, his voice shaking with anger and his grip on your skin tightening. His eyes are like two molten pools of lava, angry and bright, and he has never looked hotter.

Without wasting a second, you smash your lips with his, wrapping your arms around his neck to pull him closer and closer towards you. The force of your kiss is so strong that it knocks him back a few steps. However, he is quick to recover, meeting your lips with even more passion, a side of him completely new to you. Raw and unchained, he goes all in, devouring your lips like it is his salvation.

You don’t hold back either.

You let go of your body weight entirely, pushing him on the ground below you while never letting go of his lips. Your hands—his and yours—move frantically to claw at each other through the layers of fabric. With a huff, your husband finally removes his lips from yours, a long string of saliva connecting your lips to his. “If we continue…I cannot hold back.” He pants, his eyes wild and shining.

His words make you giddy with anticipation, molten hot pools of lava swirling in your belly.

“That is what I want,” you whisper, feeling the cold air against your swollen lips. “I do not want you to hold back.” Slowly, you snake your arms around his neck and you move closer to his face. With a mere inch between your lips, you murmur, “I want you to devour me, my Lord.”

Your husband makes a sound, a low, primal grunt that comes from the deepest part of his chest. He exhales sharply, determination swirling in his eyes as he finally lets go of all the restraint he had been practicing till now.

In a flash, he flips your positions, holding you against the ground, his large body looming over yours. Your breath catches in your throat with the view on top of you, and he has not even taken off his clothes yet. Desire thrums in your veins, making you curl your toes in anticipation.

“I will ruin you tonight.” That is a promise. His voice is laced with something dark, like he will thoroughly enjoy ruining you. Little does he know, you will enjoy it too.

“Please, my Lord.” You beg, all too eager to become his.

His eyes flash at your words, and immediately, his hands get to work. They move with ease, graceful yet quick, as he strips you off your garments. All too soon, you are left only in your underskirt, your bare chest exposed for his eyes to feast on. You have the urge to cover them, and as if your husband can read your mind, he grabs your hands and links your fingers with his, pinning them on top of your head.

“Do not hide from me,” he commands, his lips hovering over yours. You nod, jittery with need and anticipation. 

Once sure your hands will not move, he slowly traces his fingers from your jawbone to your neck and then your shoulder, before reaching for your braid. You shift and let him hold your hair, his fingers gently caressing over the long braided strands. His fingers trace over your daenggi before tugging on it sharply. Undone, the strip of cloth comes off as your hair starts to loosen from the braid.

“So beautiful.” He hums, holding a few strands of hair between his fingers. He places a soft kiss on them before reaching for your hands. With your daenggi, he ties your wrists together, making sure the knot will hold before placing your hands back where they were, arms stretched straight on top of your head.

“Be a good girl.” He whispers, his voice sultry, his gaze half lidded yet dangerous. Your heart hammers loudly in your chest as the reality of what is happening actually starts to settle in your bones.

You are half-naked, tied up and vulnerable underneath your husband. The man they call the Grim Reaper, the most merciless man in the land. Yet, you are not afraid.

You watch as he shifts, making himself comfortable between your spread legs. He lifts your underskirt, exposing your core, and despite the urge to close your legs, you cannot.

“So beautiful. It will be a treat to ruin you.” He hums, his eyes focused between your legs, a faint smirk playing on his lips. Without any warning, he slaps you between your legs, right on your sensitive flesh, the sharp whack echoing through the quietness of the night.

“Ah!” You cry, mortified and surprised. It stings but also unlocks a new sensation of pleasure within you. Your face heats up as you realize how much you enjoyed it, a deep and deprived sense of pleasure.

He slaps you again. “Do you like it? I can see you are getting wet.” He says, his flashing eyes set on your face.

You make a pathetic noise of agreement. “Answer me!” He commands, slapping you once more. A long, needy moan is ripped from your throat. You pant. “Y-yes, my Lord.”

Pleased, he smirks before leaning down to press kisses on your inner thighs. He moves slowly and deliberately, playing with you, nibbling on your skin with his teeth before giving it a soothing lick and making sure it is marked. When he sits back up, his eyes trace all over your face as if he is trying to remember every small detail about you. You do the same, peering at him through your lashes with bated breath, wishing you could pull him closer for another kiss.

You could spend your entire life kissing this man.

With the ease and grace of a panther that has trapped its prey, your husband moves, enveloping you with his body, his hair falling over you like a black curtain. Lying on top of you, one of his hands holds on to the nape of your neck while the other explores your body, teasingly moving down your waist and between your legs. His warm fingers trace your core, feeling the wetness gathered between your legs. Without losing eye contact, he plays with you, dipping his fingers inside, making you shiver and whimper and continues to smirk knowingly.

He pushes his index and middle finger inside you, just up to his knuckles and the intrusion have you shuddering, your core throbbing like it has its own heartbeat. A breathy moan tears from your lips, and he uses the opportunity to lean in and bite your lip softly. 

Dear god. You whimper. “Please.”

“What?” He mouths against your lips. “T-touch me,” you reply, chasing his lips to reconnect with yours.

You hear him scoff cockily. “I am touching you, wife.” His title for you makes you only more desperate. You whine, starting to writhe, “More.”

You feel him smile against your mouth, his fingers slipping all the way in. His lips trace your jaw, his nose pressed against your skin before trailing down your neck, while his fingers start moving in and out. Involuntarily, your hips writhe, chasing his fingers while he peppers your neck with kisses and bites before fixing on a particular spot beneath your ear that makes you whimper. Then, he uses his thumb to give you a flick, his dark eyes trained on your face as your pleasure amplifies. 

“Oh my god,” you shut your eyes closed, reveling in the feeling of his fingers inside you. He starts to pick up pace, moving the fingers in tandem, circling them inside you and giving your clit an occasional flick. You wrap your legs around his lower waist, crossing them over and pulling him even closer, a desperate attempt at trying to ease the growing ache. Inside you, his fingers move rapidly, making your body tense as you start climbing your high, the coil in your belly pulling tight. 

“My L-lord…” You pant, looking at him with pleading eyes, even though you are unsure what you are trying to say. “Say my name,” he commands, dark eyes trained on you.

You feel even hotter, the coil in your belly pulled impossibly tight. “S-Seungcheol.”

“That is right. Scream my name.” He orders, eyes hazy with a film of lust and possessiveness. As if teasing you, his thumb brushes over your clit ever so slightly, drawing out a shuddering whine from your lips that makes him chuckle quietly. The sound feels like magic to your ears, a drug to your system that heightens your pleasure. His teeth dig into the soft flesh of your neck, undoubtedly leaving a mark.

“P-please Seungcheol,” you heave, eyes closed shut, fingernails digging into your palms. Humming against your neck, he uses his fingers to rub an even deeper spot inside you as his thumb rubs your clit mercilessly. 

“Please!” You hiss, throwing your head back, your toes curling as you wail. “I… I cannot…”

“You are going to cum for me. Now,” his voice is a quiet order. 

He curls his fingers inside you one last time and flicks your clit hard with his thumb, sending you over the edge. Your release is a tidal wave of mind-breaking pleasure as your body goes tense, your hips arching off the bed, your mouth hanging open as a reaction to the overwhelming pleasure; your first orgasm. 

You experience a type of bliss you had no idea existed, and for a moment, your mind goes blank, your body lying taut and tense underneath his. The onslaught of pleasure leaves your vision blurry with unshed tears and your mind numb to everything as you slowly descend from the throes of heavenly bliss and register that your husband is sitting upright between your legs.

With his relentless gaze locked with yours, he slowly licks his fingers clean, his long pink tongue darting out to caress his digits as he hums, “This is the sweetest pussy I have ever had.”

The sight is more than erotic, and for a moment, you are scared you will die from a heart attack. You want this man. You need him all at once, in every way possible. There is an ache coming from the depths of your soul that only he can satisfy.

“Please…untie me. I want to touch you.” You beg, hoping he takes mercy. It has been torture keeping your hands off of him. Hearing your plea, he takes mercy and undoes the ribbon tying your wrists. Free, you immediately sit up and wrap yourself around him, pulling him close for a kiss. Vigorously, wantonly, you kiss him and taste yourself on his tongue, moaning and gripping onto his back, your fingers itching to touch his skin underneath his nightshirt. 

“Please take this off,” you breathe against his mouth. Your husband smiles, undoubtedly enjoying teasing you. “Why?”

“Because…I want to see you.” You whisper sweetly, looking at him through your lashes. The man obliges, letting his hands off you for a moment to take off his shirt.

The sight of his naked body renews the heat between your legs, a new wave of desire overcoming your system. You let yourself gawk at the expanse of the muscles on his chest and the bulky thickness of his arms, all littered with scars, strong and dependable. As he stares at your face for a reaction, you reach for him absentmindedly, dragging your index finger over a scar on his right bicep. It is long, old, and jagged, rough and bumpy to the touch. Without thinking, you lean towards his arm and softly press a kiss on the wound before slowly dragging your lips to his chest, where another scar has bloomed. “It must have hurt,” you whisper to yourself, pressing another kiss on the scar before meeting his eyes. “I want to see all of your scars, dear husband. And I want to kiss all of them. I want to kiss away your pain.”

Something flashes by his eyes, brief but vulnerable. He immediately snakes a strong around around your waist to pull you tight against him and seal his lips over yours in a possessive kiss.

With his lips tangled with yours, he carries you to the sleeping mat, setting you down gently. You sigh in satisfaction as your back meets the soft, warm quilt. 

Your husband quickly gets to work, taking off your underskirt in a sharp yank and ripping it in the process. Surprised and embarrassed, you squeak, trying to hide yourself from his gaze. With the lamp burning right on the desk next to the mat, he has a pretty clear view of your body.

“Your pants…” You whisper, tugging them as well, and Seungcheol chuckles. “So desperate, aren't we?”

“Please,” you beg, throwing him your best pleading eyes as your hands roam around his back, feeling the ridge and bump of his muscles. 

The man quickly takes off his pants, giving you the briefest glimpse of his cock. You barely get to see him as he leans down towards you again, his eyes locked with yours. He drags his palms up, cupping your breasts and squeezing them. A breathy sigh of pleasure falls from your lips as you automatically lean closer to his face, your lips chasing his. Seungcheol captures them in a soft, teasing kiss, his lips gently biting yours as you feel his cock brush against your thigh.

You shiver, goosebumps breaking out on your skin.

You are a ball of nerves right now, the idea of getting intimate with a man for the first time plaguing your mind with worry. Yet, at the same time, you are overcome with desire, need running through your veins.

This is scary yet perfect. Absolutely perfect.

Your husband attacks your neck, kissing and biting the skin while simultaneously playing with your breasts. You mewl, letting your head fall to one side to give him better access to your neck. He hums, the sound so deep and throaty you feel it in your core. His lips do not break contact with your skin, kissing and sucking your sensitive flesh until your whole body shakes like leaves in a tree. 

“Please…” You beg, digging your nails into his shoulder, your body unconsciously starting to grind against him, desperate to ease the throbbing ache between your legs. Seungcheol, finally satisfied with the red spot blooming on your neck, lets you go, peering down at you with his hypnotizing eyes.

“I teased you a lot, did I not, wife?” He hums, caressing your heated face with his knuckles. Drunk with desire, you nod, your half-lidded gaze transfixed. “Please, take me, my Lord.”

He tsks disapprovingly. As if to prove a point, he wraps his hand around your throat but does not apply any pressure. “My name.”

“Seungcheol.” You reply immediately.

“Good girl.” Seungcheol smirks, his eyes flashing with something dark as he leans back on his heels, taking a slow, good look at your body. Then, spreading your legs wider, he spits on his fingers and using it as a lubricant over his cock before lining up with your entrance.

“This will hurt at first.” He warns. You nod, one hand covering your face as you choose to look at the ceiling out of embarrassment.

“Ready?”

“Yes.”

“Look at me.” He demands, the tip of his cock brushing against your pussy lips, making you shiver and follow his command. “Keep your eyes on me. Watch me devour this tight cunt.”

You feel like someone set your face on fire. Face flushed with his crude words, you barely get to make a sound when Seungcheol thrusts himself inside you. Your head lolls forward with the impact as your hands immediately clutch his arm around your waist for support. 

“Ah!” You cry out, eyes squeezed shut as you feel a sharp sting between your legs. “Fuck,” Seungcheol hisses, his voice throaty as he remains half buried inside you. Pausing for a moment, he lets you adjust before pulling back and then thrusting back in. This time, he goes all the way in, and you swear you feel him in your stomach. With a loud, pathetic cry, you cling onto his body, your brain unable to keep up with all the different sensations. 

He builds a pace, pushing in and out of you in strong movements.

Your brain feels like mush as you fail to utter anything, your mouth simply hanging open to let out breathy pants as you close your eyes and feel every ridge of his cock move in and out of you, the initial pain of intrusion fizzling away. It is a blissful experience, a high you never want to come out of.

“Push out your hips a little,” he orders quietly, dark eyes set on you so intensely, you feel like he can see your soul.

Immediately, you comply, extending your waist towards him while keeping your upper back pressed to the mat. His hands hold your hip bone n a strong grip as he places a pillow under your ass and slides himself back inside you with a leisurely pace, the new angle making his length curve inside you. 

You start seeing stars.

“Oh my god,” you hiss, eyes squeezed shut. The back of your thighs rests over Seungcheol’s, your legs dangling around his waist, and your hands clenched around the sleeping mat as he starts to pick up pace. With each thrust, the force increases, the tip of his cock hitting your most sensitive spot, low groans falling from his lips to match your breathy moans. 

“I… I cannot…please” your whisper mindlessly, the words scattered and almost unintelligible due to your broken moans. “You want to come?” His voice is almost taunting as he leans closer to look at your face. “Well, that’s unfortunate. You do not come until I give you permission, wife.” Your husband warns, making you whine. 

The need to find your release only intensifies. You are so close you can almost taste the blissful release.

“P-Please,” You beg, wrapping your arms around his neck and digging your fingernails into his shoulder blades. “Say it louder. Scream my name. Who is fucking this tight pussy?’’ he grunts in your ears, his warm breath tickling your skin.

“Seungcheol!” The desperate yell is quick to leave your lips.

“Who will make you come?”

“You! Seungcheol!”

“That is right, wife. It is I, your husband.” He gives you a particularly harsh thrust. “Not San. Not any other man but me.”

“Y-yes. Please…” you sob. Gripping your chin, he forces you to look at him. “Who do you belong to?” His voice is as quiet as a winter night.

“You, my husband.” You manage to utter clearly amid his brutal thrusts. “Good girl,” he praises, nibbling on your jaw. One of his hands reaches below to touch your clit as he wastes no time rubbing the sensitive bundle of nerves with the pads of his finger, all the while continuing to thrust inside you earnestly.

“Seungcheol!” You scream, your entire body jolting.

Your reaction makes him smirk as he chases his own high, seconds away from erupting inside you. He places your clit between his thumb and index finger, giving you a particularly harsh rub followed by a pinch.

You are catapulted over the edge. Your vision goes white, your entire sweat-coated body twitching from the intensity of the pleasure. It only amplifies as you feel Seungcheol spill inside you, his warm release filling you up and dripping lazily out of you. 

You feel like you are floating from the bliss.

— 

Your husband’s hand strokes your back in repeated soothing motions while you bask in the afterglow of your passionate lovemaking. With him lying behind you on the mat, your bodies pressed together, you move from reality to dreamland every now and then, the smile never leaving your face as you savour his touch and warmth. 

“Are you asleep?” he softly asks, bringing his face closer to inspect you.

You make a noise and shake your head, too lazy to move. Your husband gently turns you so that you lie face to face.

“Are you in any pain?” You ask again, carefully looking at your face, his fingers brushing away the rowdy strands of hair from your face. You open your eyes and look at him with a gaze full of love. “I am perfect, husband. Thank you.”

He smiles when you address him by that name, a warm, gummy smile that shows his unbridled joy. The possessive madman from earlier has completely disappeared, replaced by a man eager to dote on his wife.

This is your first time seeing this side of your husband. 

He pulls you against his chest, holding you tight in his arms. “No, thank you, wife. Thank you for being mine.” You smile, nuzzling his bare chest. This is the safest and most comfortable you have ever felt, and you do not want to let go. Ever.

After a moment of pause, he whispers. “I know I lack a lot. I can be clueless sometimes. So from now on, I hope you share with me whatever is on your mind. All your wishes, hopes and dreams, your desires— everything. I promise I will make them come true.”

You are too tired to form a reply, your body growing heavier each second but still, you smile. You peacefully drift off.

— 

Seungcheol did not go to work today.

The news delights you when you hear it from Jihye as she helps you get dressed. Her eyes linger on your body, especially on your neck, where little marks have formed— evidence of your lovemaking. 

She looks half worried and half scandalized, and you wink at her playfully before stepping out of your chamber.  Your husband sits on the porch, fully dressed, basking in the sun with a book in his hand.

“Good morning, my Lord.” You whisper, feeling pathetically shy when you catch sight of him. He looks up, his eyes shining when they land on you. “Good morning, wife. How are you feeling?” Shyly, you walk over to him and sit down without leaving any space between the two of you. Fiddling with your skirt, you look away when you answer, “I am alright, my Lord.”

With a gentle grasp on your chin, he turns your face and forces you to look at him. “The truth.” He says quietly.

Truthfully, you are quite sore, and an ache has taken hold all over your body. However, you cannot complain. The ache is laced with pleasure, especially between your legs, reminding you of last night.

Your heart gallops in your chest as you look into his eyes. “I am a little sore,” you reply timidly. “But it is a good kind of sore, I promise.”

His eyes travel to your neck, eyeing the red marks visible on your skin. “I was too rough with you,” he murmurs, his tone laced with regret, his eyes focused on your neck. Quickly, you snap him out of it. “Not at all, my Lord.” You sling your arms with his, pulling him closer so that you can rest your face on his shoulder. “You were just perfect. I enjoyed it. A lot.” You whisper, face flushing.

Your husband keeps gazing at you like he does not believe you. Whipping your head around, you take a quick scan around the yard before pressing a sweet kiss on his lips and giggling like a child. A soft smile blooms on his lips, even though he tries to stifle it.

“You should smile more, my Lord. You look so handsome.”

“Why are you calling me that? You called me by my name last night.” His lips form a soft pout as he complains. You pause, “Well…last night was…”

“You shall call me Seungcheol from now on.” He announces. “I would like it even more if you gave me a nickname.”

Wide eyed, you look at him.

“Do you understand me, wife?”

“Yes, husband.” 

Happy with that for now, he does not pester you anymore. You rest your head on his shoulders, your hands intertwined, and watch the morning sky in silence.

“You asked me to share all my wishes with you last night.” You speak after a while, eyes focused somewhere distant. “Can I share one with you right now?”

“Of course,” he shifts so that his body faces you. 

Tilting your head up, you admire a white, fluffy cloud. “Ever since my brother died, I have only had one wish for my life. I wanted to live by the sea in a small house. In that house, there would be my husband and I, and we would spend the rest of our days there, away from all the noise and bleakness of this town.”

“That sounds lovely.” He murmurs. You nod before looking at him. “Do you think it would ever be possible for us?”

He remains silent. 

“Given the nature of your job, I understand. However, I need you to promise me one thing. You must take care of yourself. You must not get hurt, do you hear me? You have someone to come home to now. You must think about me and you must return home to me, do you understand?” Your hands grip his in an earnest hold. 

His free hand comes to rest on top of yours, and he gives you a reassuring squeeze, warm and soft. “Rest easy, wife. I shall come back to you. Always.”

A lone drop of tear strolls down your cheek, and he wipes it away with his thumb before pressing the softest, feather-like kiss on your forehead. After a moment's pause, you speak. “Now it is your turn to share something with me.”

He regards you with confusion. 

“Anything. A wish, a secret…” You stare at him with eagerness. He sighs softly, his eyes trained on his lap as he thinks about something. 

“Well…when I told you not to expect anything from me,” he begins, looking almost shy, his gaze soft and apologetic. “I was afraid. I wanted to keep you at an arm's length from the beginning because I was scared of losing you. I have lost everyone close to me, and the thought of going through something like that again terrifies me. Since I joined the military, I have kept myself detached from everyone because the less I cared, the better.”

Your heart aches for the man. With gentle fingers, you brush away the unruly strands of hair from his face and trace the scar next to his eye. “You will not lose me, husband. I am right here.” You promise.

He wraps his arms around you as if to test your words. You wrap yourself around him, basking in his embrace, your bodies melting into one. “Do not leave me.” He whispers, his voice raw and vulnerable.

“Never.”

— 

Seungcheol left for the palace early today. After two days of relaxation, a letter came for him last night from the palace, demanding his presence first thing in the morning.

At night, Seuncheol held you tight in his arms, soothing away your worries. He finally shared what has been going on in the palace and why there are assassins after him.

Turns out they are working for the Minister of Trade, who is strictly against the new reformations currently being done by the king, like an attempt to abolish the slavery system. Seungcheol has been the King’s number one ally and a powerful piece in the game, which is why they are after him. Removing him from the equation is as good as stripping the King of his powers. Minister Kim has done exceptionally well in covering up his tracks, which is why there is no solid proof against him, complicating this entire issue. He has been playing a cat-and-mouse game with the royal army for a while now. 

Your husband left even before you woke up, leaving a note for you promising he would be home for dinner.

The day slowly passes by with you going to the palace and coming home once your shift is over, always under the watchful eye of San. The mood in the palace has been tense today, different rumours about Minister Kim floating in the air and a sinking feeling forms in your gut. No matter how hard you try, you cannot shake off the feeling that something ominous is about to take place.

Your suspicion starts taking shape when dusk falls and Seungcheol does not return. It turns into terror and restlessness as night falls, and still, there is no sign of him. The supper grows cold, and you fall asleep upright, waiting for him, your husband, who never comes.

When you open your eyes again, you find Jihye sitting next to you, a worried look on her face. “What is it?” You immediately sit up straight. “My lady, it is past midnight. Master has not returned yet. Should we send someone to the palace to ask for him?” She asks.

Your fingers fist around your skirt, anxiety coursing through your veins like poison. “We should.” You whisper.

Just as you are following Jihye out of the room, you hear commotion; the voice of a servant and Headservant Yang. Running to the porch, you see Seungcheol entering the house, dressed in his military uniform, his sword in his hand.

He marches straight towards you and drags you into your bedchamber without any words. “My Lord, where have you been!” You cry, gripping his arm. “I have been waiting for you—”

“Listen to me carefully,” he cuts you off, his hands resting on your shoulders as he leans down to be at your eye level. His usual unbothered demeanour is gone, replaced by worry that you see in his eyes as vividly as daylight. 

Something must be wrong. Your heart starts racing.

“The Minister of Trade is planning to attack us here tonight. They will be here anytime, so I need to get you out of here.”

“Wha— How did you even find that out? Are you sure?”

“The royal army captured a member of his team yesterday. We tortured the information out of him. Look at me,” he urges you, his fingers gripping your shoulder even tighter. “Minister Kim knows we are onto him. He has gone into hiding. He will stop at nothing to get to me, to you, do you understand? He plans to go down and drag me with him.” You see the fear in his eyes. The unshakable, indestructible man suddenly appears different, and this change terrifies you. 

“I am scared.” You whisper.

“You have nothing to be scared of.” He pulls you in his arms, holding you tightly against his chest. “I am going to send you to a safe place. I need you to do as I say, okay?”

You nod shakily, your fingers holding onto his sleeve in a death grip.

“Pack your essentials. We will leave within thirty minutes. Ask Jihye to help you.” He says, pressing a kiss on your forehead before marching outside.

With your heart hammering in your chest, you get to work, moving your shaky limbs to pack a bag with the help of Jihye. Soon, you are ready, and Seungcheol wastes no time wrapping everything up. He places Headservant Yang and the other servant in another neighbor's house to make sure they are safe before setting out with you.

In the darkness of the night, you get onto his horse with his help, followed by him sitting behind you, his arms around you to hold onto the reins. Jihye and another male servant get on another horse, and finally, a royal soldier follows from behind.

A little to the south of the town, there is a long, dense forest which leads to a small, quaint village. There is an ancient shrine there, inhabited by monks, and that is where Seungcheol intends to get you by dawn.

The silence grows heavier and thicker as you tread into the forest; the only sound echoing around is the soft galloping of the horses. You shiver, more from dread than from the cold night air and Seungcheol notices it. “Hold the reins.” He orders quietly so that his hands are free. He takes off the muffler wrapped around his neck and gently puts it around yours.

“I asked you to pack the essentials, wife.” His tone is playful. “I think a muffler in this weather counts as an essential.” He teases, and you understand it is his attempt to soothe you. “I am sorry, my lord. You should keep it. You will catch a cold.” You murmur.

“Hush now,” he shushes you, taking back the reins. “You should lean on me and close your eyes. It will take a while for us to reach there.”

“No, it is okay.” You reply, eyes focused ahead on the dark, narrow road cutting through the forest. 

It is such a gloomy night. You cannot spot a single star in the sky, shrouded by clouds.

Time ticks by. The night grows darker. 

Your journey continues through the hour of the ox and into the hour of the tiger. Exhaustion takes over you, and unable to resist it any longer, you close your eyes and lean your head back, resting it against your husband’s shoulder. It is not an ideal condition to get some shut-eye, but somehow you doze off.

When your eyes reopen, you hear the loud sound of a horse neighing and its heavy galloping. Seungcheol holds you tighter, and with a sharp tug of the reins and a nudge of his heels, his horse leaps into a full sprint. You look around worriedly, scanning through the dense bushes surrounding you.

“Master! Did they find us already?” Servant Min cries from behind as his horse too picks up pace.

The sounds grow louder, and just as your body tenses up, fearing the worst, you see San pop up from inside the forest, his horse taking a lunge and joining you on the road. “General, you have to keep going!” He yells. “They are right behind us.”

Seungcheol’s horse sprints parallel to his.

“How did they catch up so quickly?”

“Minister Kim had his men spread out. They were hiding in a camp a few miles behind. I took care of them, but the messenger escaped. I’m sure the minister is on his way. You need to move fast. There might be more of his men hiding in the forest.”

Upon hearing his words, you notice the specks of red on his hanbok. Swallowing the lump in your throat, you look behind to see your husband’s face. His jaw is clenched tight. “We need to come up with a plan. If they find us, we cannot hold them off. I need to get my wife to safety.” He yells back.

It is as if a cactus is lodged in your throat. “W-what do you mean?” You cry, your face aghast. 

He does not reply to you.

“It will be daybreak soon, General! We should hide somewhere.” San suggests.

Just then, you notice a sudden, strange ball of light in the sky, a little towards your right. It takes a moment for you to register that it is a signal, an arrow of fire shot from behind you.

“There are assassins ahead of us. They now know we are headed that way.” Seungcheol hisses.

“I will take care of it.” San nods, wielding his sword and screaming at the horse, “Go!” The horse runs faster, impossibly so, almost flying forward.

“I need you to stay calm and follow my orders.” Your husband says to you. “Do you hear me?” You nod shakily, “Yes.”

In five minutes, you catch up to San, who has taken care of most of the assassins that sat ahead at the curve. As you sprint near, Seungcheol hands the reins to you and readies his bow and arrow, taking perfect shots at the rest of the assassins. Then, he smoothly gets off the horse, followed by the other soldier who has been accompanying you, their swords wielded as they fight one-on-one.

A little ahead of the curb, you stop the horse and so does Jihye and servant Min, watching the fight anxiously. The three men take multiple assassins at a time, making sure they do not get to you.

You chew on your lower lip, your hands fidgeting as you watch the fight unfold. You wish Seungcheol gave you an archery set. You know the basics because you practised regularly as a child with your brother. Even though after his death, you stopped it for a while, you did not completely let go, taking occasional lessons from the older nobleman in your neighbourhood who used to be a skillful archer once upon a time.

By the time the last member of the group has been killed, shades of blue have coated the sky. Seungcheol and his team run back to the horses, their clothes specked with blood.  “Come on, we need to leave,” he says, mounting the horse.

There is a sudden sound; a sharp whoosh like a strong gust of wind just flew by, followed by a soft thud.

It is an arrow.

It whizzes towards you, missing the mark and hitting the tree trunk a couple of inches to your left. Your heart stops. A few hundred meters from the way you came, a large group of armed men show up. It is Minister Kim’s convoy.

They have caught up to you.

At the center, leading them is the minister himself, dressed in iron like he is about to go to war. His eyes, black and empty, scour the dead bodies of his assassins lying on the ground in front of him before looking at your husband.

His thin lips curl up into an evil smile. “General! No point in running now! It’s time to see how good of a fighter you are!” He yells. 

You feel Seungcheol's body growing tenser with each passing second, his hand gripping your thigh in a bruising hold. You, too, are paralyzed with fear, unsure of what to do. Then, absolutely shocking you, Seungcheol does the thing you least expected him to do. He starts getting off the horse slowly, his eyes trained on Minister Kim.

“San, take my wife and go.” He speaks quietly to the younger man who hadn’t gotten on his horse yet. “My Lord, what are you—” You do not get to finish your sentence because the younger man has instantly climbed behind you and snatched the reins from your hands.

“Get them!” You hear a shout as you are swept away with lightning speed. San’s grip around your body is iron solid, holding the reins with his eyes focused ahead on climbing the steep, hilly road at the end of the forest.

“No, please! You need to be with him!” You cry, fighting against him as you look behind to see Seungcheol fighting the Minister’s men, accompanied by the other soldier. 

He can never outfight all those people.

“Have faith in him. He knows what he is doing.” San assures, kicking his heels so the horse runs faster. You hear sounds right behind you, and you turn to see an assassin on a horse, aiming his arrow at you. San takes notice of it and swerves right immediately to avoid it.

As calculated, it misses, but a second later, your horse neighs out loud, standing on its hind legs before dropping down on the ground, taking the two of you with it. The arrow was meant for the horse. It struck his leg, injuring him, leaving the animal on the ground, softly crying in pain.

San wastes no time getting up and wielding his sword to fight off the man and the others following behind him. Jihye and servant Min, who were right behind you, yell out, calling for you to get on their horse. Jihye extends her hand towards you, but you ignore her, bunching up your skirt and making a run towards the curb.

“My Lady, what are you doing?” San yells, fighting off the assassins. “Jihye, stop her!”

“My Lady, come back!”

Ignoring their cries, you pick up the bow and set of arrows dropped by the assassin and continue sprinting down the steep road.

Then, finding a safe distance and a place behind an oak tree, you spot your husband, his movements sharp and precise as he takes down one man after the other. You watch as the minister slowly walks towards him, his sword dragging on the ground, leaving behind a threatening trail. Due to him wearing the armored plates, you know it is pointless to shoot at him, so you load your bow and aim at the assassins and start shooting.

The first one grazes past the man you aim at. Not discouraged, you continue, and the second one hits the target. 

Your husband looks in your direction immediately when the assassin drops dead, his eyes going from confusion to worry the moment he spots you. He does not have the time to do anything about it, as he has to fight the never-ending men.

And you are slightly grateful for that. Right now, he does not have the chance to come to you and force you away, giving you the chance to help him from afar. You continue loading arrows and shooting, missing some but hitting most, well aware of the fact that the Minister has spotted you.

From behind, you hear Jihye coming towards you, her exhausted pleas echoing down the path. “Jihye, I need more arrows!” You yell as you come down to your last two. “There should be some on the road back there!”

By now, most of the assassins have been taken care of, and the remainder are being fought by the soldier accompanying your husband. Minister Kim has approached Seunghceol as they engage in a heated sword fight, the minister swinging his sword like a madman, his growls echoing in the air. Your eyes scan around the place, thinking of finding a way to help Seungcheol, when San finally catches up to you, followed by Jihye, who did not get the arrows you asked for.

“My Lady, enough!” he yells. “You cannot be here! The road has been cleared—”

“We need to help him!” you yell back. “I cannot leave him here for—” You do not get to finish your sentence.

An arrow hits Seungcheol, piercing through the skin right below his right shoulder, on the top of his chest.

“No!” You scream, watching him stumble back for a moment. Your eyes fly through the scene, spotting an archer hidden inside the forest a little ahead towards your right. As you load your bow to take a shot at him, San finally comes to his senses, flying down the road to help Seungcheol.

You take the shot.

The arrow hits the hidden archer right in the chest, making him tumble backwards, disappearing out of sight. Then, you dash down the road, not scared of anything anymore, Jihye following you as your shadow.

San stands no match to Minister Kim, easily overpowered and tossed aside by his brute strength. He has the eyes of a madman, hell bent on getting to Seungcheol, discarding everything in his way like little bugs.

“I told you, you scarred lunatic!” He screams, charging at your husband. “I will slice your head off your neck and then do the same to your wife!”

He swings his sword around, charging for Seungcheol with all his might. Seungcheol blocks him with his sword, but the force of the attack forces him to fall to his knees. Minister Kim takes the opportunity to knock him off his feet with a kick. Seungcheol falls on the ground on his back, and in the split second, the minister raises his sword towards the sky before bringing it down sideways on his chest.

“Seungcheol!” You yell at the top of your lungs. “General!” San yells, coming from behind and tackling Minister Kim to the ground before he can fully swing his sword across. His helmet falls off from the force of San's attack. With your heart thundering in your ears, you point the remaining arrow at him.

It is like your body is not yours anymore. With zero hesitation, you take the shot while he is still pinned to the ground, struggling to get free, and the arrow hits the bullseye, right in the center of his forehead. 

His body slumps to the ground.

Pushing him away, San holds your husband’s lifeless body, his eyes slowly falling shut as he yells his name. Jihye and servant Min run past you, calling their master.

The bow drops from your hand.

You stand there, watching the ground go red underneath your husband’s body, your fingers gripping his muffler around your neck. 

—

Seungcheol receives his initial treatment in the shrine you were originally supposed to visit.

Once the news of the attack reached the capital, upon the king’s orders, the royal physician Yoon came to treat Seungcheol. He and his assistants crowded the room, tending to your husband’s injury with medicine and wrapping the area with gauze as he lay motionless on the mat.

You stood just outside the room, gazing at your sleeping husband, who looked nothing like his usual self—pale and frail, his body littered with little cuts. 

Why won’t he wake up? You miss his eyes. You miss his slow, unravelling gaze on you, his crimson, fiery eye that can almost cut through stone with a simple gaze. Where is that man?

Physician Yoon said he is in a deep sleep. They call it a vegetative state. The injury was quite lethal; the wound just a few centimetres away from damaging his heart. He said that the worst is over, and his pulse is stable now.

But he won’t wake up. He remains unresponsive, and it is unclear how long it will take for him to regain consciousness. 

“I see,” was all you said, standing motionless in your spot, gazing at your comatose husband.

A couple of days later, the King sent a royal convoy to move Seungcheol back to his house from the shrine. You had no complaints, wanting your husband to rest comfortably in his own house rather than a shrine. After a long journey, you reached home in the afternoon, greeted by Headservant Yang, who looked as devastated as you. After making sure your husband was okay, physician Yoon left, leaving you anticipating yet another sleepless night. 

It is nighttime now, and you sit still next to your sleeping husband. Headservant Yang peeks into the room, begging you to have some food. You ignore her, sitting quietly and observing your husband. The small lamp in the bedchamber casts warm shadows on his face, his sharp features appearing softer and weaker. 

He looks oddly at peace. You do not cry. You force a smile.

Leaning closer to him, you glide a gentle hand down his face and whisper, “You can rest. You have had a tough life, my dear. You can rest as long as you need, but you have to come back to me.”

You will pray to every god out there. You will visit every shrine, give unlimited offerings, and pray that your husband returns to you. You will do everything in your power to see him open his eyes. It is truly a shame you do not have much power in your hands.

Sometime later, your exhausted body falls into deep slumber, riddled with nightmares. Your husband lies in a pool of blood, and he does not wake up.

— 

The next morning, your father comes to see you. You do not move from your spot next to your husband to greet him as San leads him into the room before excusing himself.

He sits next to you, watching his son-in-law with small, worried eyes, muttering words of regret and concern. You hardly hear them, too busy patting Seungcheol’s face and arms with a damp cloth. Physician Yoon left a while ago after checking up on him and said that there is no progress. The king’s personal messenger came with him as well as the Head Eunuch, praying for Seungcheol and assuring to provide help in any way they can.

You couldn't care less about them. You sent them off, handing the letter you wrote for the king in the messenger’s hand before asking San to see them out.

“My daughter, you should eat something. You have to take care of yourself so that you can take care of him.” Your father urges.

You finish wiping your husband’s body in silence before setting the rag down and clasping his hand in yours. They are calloused but warm, and you silently send a prayer of gratitude to the heavens. He is alive. He is still here.

Tracing over his bruised knuckles with your fingertips, you whisper, “You know, Father, I have been lonely for a long time. After orabeoni died, I thought that was it. It could not get worse, but then Mother died. And I…I hated that I was alive. Because in that house, I was dead. I was dead while still being alive.”

You exhale a shaky breath, pulling Seungcheol’s hand closer to inspect it. You need to apply ointment on his knuckles.

“There was no colour, no joy, no celebration in that house. You were there but also not there. You never saw me. I was not enough, not after losing someone as precious as orabeoni. I felt so guilty. It should have been me, not him—that is all I could think of. I thought my entire life would be miserable like that, which is why I was so eager to marry this man.”

Another heavy sigh whooshes out of your lungs.

“Father, this man…people fear him. They say all sorts of weird things about him. But he is the kindest, warmest man I know. He kept his heart locked and hidden from the world, but he is so precious. He is gentle and kind, and he loves me. He loves me so dearly, Father, and I love him. How could I go on without him?”

And finally, the tears fall. Big droplets of water roll down your cheek as you fall on the ground, clutching onto your husband’s hand and sobbing into the floor, loud and broken.

Your father’s hand comes to rest on your shoulder rather unsurely, softly patting you as you keep crying, the tears that never came till now gushing out like a river with a broken dam. Your broken heart continues to shatter into even smaller pieces, and you cannot help but wonder what if he never wakes up again. Maybe you are doomed to be lonely.

The thought makes you cry some more. After a while, once you have managed to calm down, you sit up and wipe your tears.

“I…I did not know you felt that way.” Your father whispers, his voice ridden with guilt. “I…I never meant to hurt you. I am sorry—”

“I don’t want your apology right now, Father. I want you to pray for him.” You cut him off.

“I will. Of course I will.” He says, his eyes shining with unshed tears and guilt. “And when he is back on his feet, I will come visit you and I will accept your apology then.” You murmur, your gaze trained on your husband.

“Of course. Have faith, my dear. He will be awake soon.” Your father assures, his voice unstable. You hum absentmindedly.

If Seungcheol does not wake up, you do not know what you will do.

— 

The wind is particularly chilly this morning.

It has been a fortnight since Seungcheol fell into his comatose state, and he is just as before. Every day, Physician Yoon comes to check on him and then leaves while handing you some herbs to apply to his wound.

You have accepted this as your life now. Waking up every morning with a prayer that all the previous days were a long, gruesome nightmare, but then feeling grateful to see him still breathing, warm and alive.

After completing your daily prayer and offerings at the temple, you walk home in slow steps, the fatigue slowly creeping into your bones. The past week has been hard on you, and it looks like your body to starting to give up. You have not been eating properly, spending all your waking hours beside Seungcheol, tending to his comatose body or crying at the altar of the temple.

You cannot give up. Seungcheol is yet to awake.

Just as you come in front of your house, you find a small stray cat sitting comfortably in the sun. With a small, exhausted smile, you walk closer and crouch down, running your fingers through its shaggy fur. It looks dirty and disheveled, and you wonder where it is from.

You should probably bring it inside and give it some milk to eat. Judging by how comfortably it sits and basks in the sun, you are doubtful you will be able to get it inside your house.

“Would you like something to eat?” You whisper, gently scratching between its ears. The cat meows rather boredly, closing its eyes and resting its head on the ground after a quick swish of its tail.

Right then, a servant bursts out of the front door, looking like he saw a ghost. He looks back and forth down the road before finally spotting you on the ground. The wide-eyed, frazzled look on his face makes your blood run ice cold, and you immediately stand up.

“What is it?”

“My lady…Master is awake.”

You are free falling. You fall and fall, all the limbs of your body finally giving up after a week of war. For a long moment, you stand there, stuck in a daze. You don’t dare to breathe, afraid you would wake up and realize it was a dream.

“I will go get Physician Yoon. Please go inside, my lady.” The servant says before rushing down the street. You struggle to move. The stray cat at your feet has got up due to the commotion and is now strolling into the house.

With your heart racing in your chest, you slowly follow it, your legs shaky due to the nerves.

Seungcheol is awake. He is finally awake. 

You hear lots of voices, especially Headservant Yang’s, as she scolds and cries loudly. With a lump lodged in your throat, you keep on walking until you spot the door to his bedchamber. You catch a glimpse of your husband sitting up, and for some reason unknown to you, you immediately hide behind a nearby wall.

You are too scared to see him. Too overwhelmed, too afraid.

You thought of this. You dreamed of the day he would wake and look at you, and now that it is here, you do not know what to do. It feels unreal.

You are angry at him. You are also grateful. Angry for getting hurt. Grateful for waking up.

A sob bursts out of your throat, and you start wailing, unable to hold back the tears any longer. With your palms clasped over your mouth, you cry so hard that it becomes hard to breathe. The sobs wrack your body, knocking the air out of your lungs and leaving behind only pain.

The pain of almost losing him. The pain of seeing him lie there almost lifeless, day after day.

A hand on your shoulder startles you, and you find Jihye standing next to you. Her eyes are misty as she wraps an arm around your heaving body and rubs your arms soothingly. “It is alright, my lady. Please do not cry. He is looking for you.”

Her words make you cry some more before you manage to wipe your tears and snot. It is pretty futile because they do not stop completely. With shaky legs, you move from your hiding spot and continue towards his chamber, your heart pounding loudly in your ears.

Seungcheol spots you immediately, his posture straightening as he sees you arriving. But you do not meet his eye. 

You cannot bring yourself to. If you look at him, you will start crying once more, right in the middle of the yard, in front of all the servants. 

Headservant Yang and others start moving away as they see you approaching, giving you privacy. You cross the porch, your eyes still trained on the wooden floor of his bedchamber, your hands slightly shaking.

Finally, you step inside and shut the door behind you. Then, your eyes slowly travel to his.

He is definitely paler and thinner than before, but you see life in his eyes. You see the spark and the shine that have always been present in them, and right at that moment, you are sure he will be alright.

Thank god.

He looks up at you, his eyes brimming with longing and guilt. His usual plump red lip shaded in a pale pink colour. His face littered with little cuts that are still healing, yet he has never looked more handsome.

And you have never been happier to see him.

You want to scream. You want to yell at him and tell him how much you love him, but you cannot speak. Tears and sobs threaten to overflow once more, so you stand there like a statue and keep staring at your husband, repeating in your head that he is alive and well. 

Until your knees finally give out. 

You kneel in front of him and wrap your arms around his neck, careful to avoid his left chest and leaning your weight more on the right.  Breathing him in, you hold him as tightly as possible, wishing you could merge yourself into him, wishing you could lock him away and protect him for the rest of his life.

Your tears wet his bare shoulders, your fingers tightly gripping onto the muscles on his back, clutching him on for dear life. It feels as if you let him go— if your grip loosens ever so slightly, you will lose him forever.

It takes a long moment for you to realize how your body is shaking due to your sobs and tearful hiccups, only when your husband's warm hands wrap around you, patting your back like you are a small, wounded animal.

“It is okay, my dear. Everything is okay,” he soothes in the softest voice, and when you hear him, another violent sob slips past your throat while you cling to him and cry in the crook of his neck.

You want to stop, but the tears are endless, a mixture of pain and relief. Gingerly, Seungcheol pulls you away from him to take a look at your face, which is puffy and tear-stained. With his thumbs, he wipes your tears away, murmuring, “Hush, now. It pains me to see you cry like this.”

You want to reply, but the lump in your throat is still heavy, and you know if you try to utter something, only sobs will come out, so you remain silent, raking your eyes over his body before settling on the wound on his chest.

“I am alright, I promise.” He assures you once he sees your gaze. “I feel well-rested, in fact.”

You are glad to hear that.

Wiping the remaining tears and snot rather unceremoniously with your sleeve, you get up on your feet to leave the room, but he tugs on your wrist, pulling you back down and into his arms this time.

“Where are you going?”

“To get you some herbal tea.” You reply, your voice meek and scratchy. Your husband locks his arms around you. “Headservant Yang will do that. I need you to stay here. I have missed you.”

Your lower lip trembles, but you will yourself not to cry again. Instead, you whisper, “I have missed you as well. I have missed you so much, you have no idea, Seungcheol.”

He shifts, peering at your face with a surprised look. “You called me by my name.”

“I have been calling your name for the past week.” You murmur, staring at your lap.

He maneuvers your body with gentle, effortless hands so that he can see you fully. “You know, you look like the one who has been comatose for a week. What is this I am seeing? When was the last time you had a proper meal?” He frowns, his eyes trained on you like a hawk as he squints at your face.

You look away, murmuring, “I have been busy nursing a sick man.”

He scoffs. “Not busy enough to eat. You look like a ghost, my wife. I am genuinely worried about you.”

You do not meet his gaze. With an exasperated sigh, he gently tilts your face up by the chin. “Look at me.” He softly commands you. You do as you are told, finding his eyes set on you, those beautiful, mesmerizing eyes that you missed so deeply. 

Your husband’s face inches closer to press a soft kiss on your forehead. It is not quick; he holds his lips pressed right in the middle of your forehead, slightly above your brow, like he is trying to leave an imprint. You close your eyes and lean closer, savouring the feel of his lips against your skin.

Oh, how you longed for this.

“I love you.”

You must have heard wrong. You stop breathing, your body going tense for a moment. Seungcheol leans back, one of his hands wrapped around your neck, his thumb stroking your cheek while the other cups the back of your head, angling your face just slightly upwards and in line with his gaze.

“I love you.” He repeats—his words slow, heavy, deliberate.

You feel faint. It is hard for you to find words, and while you continue gaping at him with parted lips and shining eyes, he continues, “I was scared I would not be able to say this to you. As I lay on the ground and saw you standing there, this was all I could think of. I was angry at myself for never telling you how much I love you.”

“Oh Seungcheol…” your lips tremble. You wrap your arms around his neck, making yourself at home by placing your head under his chin, feeling his hard muscles against your body.

“I love you, dear wife. I love you more than life itself. More than I could ever express.” You hug him tighter. “I love you, too. I love you so much, Seungcheol. You are my whole world.”

“I know.” He murmurs. “I knew the moment you came back towards me. Which you should not have done, by the way. You put yourself in danger.” He loosens his hold on you to catch a glimpse of your face, his gaze admonishing. “I am still mad at you for doing that, but you look miserable enough, so I will let you off.”

You only smile.

“Also, when were you going to tell me what an amazing archer you are? How come I did not know that?”

You look away sheepishly, biting your lip. “You never asked.”

He laughs, the sound sweet and throaty. His arms wrap around you in a tight, protective hold once again, and you close your eyes, savouring the rhythm of his heartbeat next to your ear. As you bask in his warmth, you announce, “You are not going back to the military. I am not letting you go.” Detangling himself from you, your husband regards you with an amused look, like he cannot believe you. “Oh, really?”

“I am serious.” You huff with a frown. “You are not going back. You have fought enough battles for a lifetime. Now it is time for you to rest.”

“Hm. And what if His Majesty disapproves?” His tone is playful.

“I do not care. I already wrote him a letter, saying that once you woke up, you would not resume your duties.”

Amazed, your husband watches you, his eyes twinkling with pride. “I cannot believe you did that.” You ignore him. “Promise me. Promise me you will not go back to the military.”

He remains silent, watching you calmly, and you start getting anxious, expecting the worst. Just as you start thinking of different ways to force him to stay, he says, “I will not, I promise. I was not going to go any way. That was the first decision I made when I opened my eyes. I got another chance at life with you. I plan on using it very well.”

Your heart soars. You grin, a full-on smile sweeping over your face after a long time. Pressing a soft, chaste kiss on his lips, you whisper, “Can we go live by the sea now?” His eyes shine with love. “Yes, we can.”

You couldn't be happier. Your heart couldn't be fuller. It is pure delight when you think of a future with this man, away from all the noise and the troubles that have been plaguing your life until now.

He can be safe now. He can rest.

Unconsciously, your thumb traces the scar next to his eye, feeling the bumpy skin underneath your finger. The scar now looks like a tree branch that extends into even smaller branches containing little flowers.

You lean forward and press a kiss on it. 

“I am just glad you will not get hurt anymore. You have already been through so much.” You whisper, your sad gaze trailing over all the marks on his skin, old and new, before settling on his left chest. You gingerly place your hand over the gauze, remembering how long and deep the gash was.

It will scar for sure. Probably the biggest scar on his body, and it will be because he was protecting you. A shaky breath parts from your lips as you are momentarily transported back in time; him lying motionless on the ground that was turning red. As if your husband can read your thoughts, he gently tilts your chin up and forces you to meet his eyes.

“My dear, I am alright. Look at me.”

“This will scar. You will be in much pain as it heals. Because of me.”

“Don't say that.” He holds you against his chest, his fingers wrapping tightly around your limbs. “You are the only one who loves my scars. Because of you, I now love them too. I would not have changed a single thing if I had the chance. You know why? Because every one of the scars in my body led me to you. And this one?” He places a hand over yours, which is resting on his chest.

“This one tied me to you forever. I earned you. I earned your forever through this. So I think this is the most beautiful.”

A lone tear strolls down your cheek. “Oh, Seungcheol,” you choke over a sob, tilting your face up to capture his lips in a kiss.

His arms engulf you completely, his lips taking over yours, his tongue moving inside your mouth like he has been starving for this.

It is breathless, passionate, and gentle at the same time, conveying all the feelings and emotions the two of you could never put into words. 

It is beautiful, like the scars on his body, leaving behind a trace of love.

For a special epilogue, head over to my Patreon. Click here to see the preview!

© startlightxsvt 2025 | All Rights Reserved. Do not copy, translate, adapt, or repurpose any of my works.

A/N 2: First of all, I want to thank you for reading till the end. Next, I just want to say that this fic has been one of my dream projects. Is it the best? Maybe not but did I have the most fun writing it? Hell yes! It was originally supposed to be a bit longer but I cut some parts out, mainly because I was worried this app wouldn't let me post the entire thing easily. Sure enough, it said that there were too many blocks on my post, so I had to stitch together a lot of passages even though they were separate at first. So, I'm sorry if the flow gets weird in some places.

On a different note, I will also be posting this on AO3 once I have opened my account (I am still waiting for their invitation mail), so once I have made my account, I will link it here. Do support me over there! Finally, I just want to take a moment to thank you all for your support. I am really excited to hear from you guys about this fic, so please do send an ask!

That's it from me for now. For my next fic, I will be returning with something short and lighthearted. Stay happy and healthy, y'all! <33

[starlightxsvt]

Scars Leave a Beautiful Trace | c.sc

synopsis ➳ ❝an arranged marriage with the man the entire land is afraid of. the man with a crimson eye. they call him the grim reaper. cold, ruthless, unforgiving. yet you are drawn to him, curious to see the man hiding behind the cold, hard exterior. and the man behind is hauntingly beautiful but your forever with him is not promised.❞ pairing ➳ husband general!seungcheol/ x wife noblewoman!reader genre ➳ historical romance (joseon era), angst, pining, smut. wc ➳ 25.4k + 1040 (patreon) warnings ➳ blood, mentions of war, scars, minor character death, attachment issues, arranged marriage, mentions of cheating, severe injury, miscommunication. cheol is an ass in the first half, reader is lowkey a simp, jealousy, big dicc cheol, bondage, virgin sex, rough, unprotected sex, fingering, teasing, edging, dirty talking, praise kink. a/n: this is a work of fiction, so take this with a grain of salt. it will be historically inaccurate, so my apologies beforehand. (also, surprise?? posting it a day early hehe)

glossary:

Jangot – Veil-like cloak for women

Binyeo – Decorative hairpin

Yakgwa – Honey-ginger cookie

Jeonbok – Traditional sleeveless vest for men

Dasik – Pressed tea cookie

Jeogori – Upper garment or jacket

Chima – Skirt worn by women

Baduk – Strategy board game (Go)

Daenggi – Ribbon for braids

Hour of the Ox – 1:00–3:00 AM

Hour of the Tiger – 3:00–5:00 AM

Orabeoni – Respectful term for older brother

+82 some miracle

only listen to my general

“Daughter, this is General Choi Seungcheol, your betrothed. Greet him properly,” your father commands softly, his eyes trained on you.

Your breath stutters in your chest.

Whether from the loaded tension in the air, the silence of the room or your future husband’s penetrating eyes on you, you are unsure. 

His eyes…

You saw them once, a long, long time ago, and you remember them in explicit detail because they are heterochromatic. His right iris is red, a shade of fiery crimson that is scary but also hypnotizing—a stark contrast to his left iris, which is pure black. 

You wish it were only his eyes that were lethal. Unfortunately for you, it is his presence itself. It is the way he silently sits there, poised and alert, holding his sword in his right hand and softly drumming his left index finger on his knee, as if telling you to hurry up. It is the way his face remains unreadable, a porcelain white canvas containing a pair of eyes fiercer than a mountain lion's, a sharp nose that is slightly crooked on the left, and pink lips that are pressed in a thin line. The most daunting of it all, the scar on the right side of his face, just below his eye and on top of his cheekbone. It is no more than a couple of inches long, but the gash looks deep, even after it has healed and imagining the pain behind that curse rakes shivers down your spine. 

Finally, you snap out of your reverie.

With a shaky exhale, you bow down and speak as humbly as possible. “Please accept my greetings, my lord. It is a pleasure to meet you.”

— 

Choi Seungcheol is well known throughout the kingdom, highly feared and revered. In fact, many hold him in the same regard as the king, which is not unfair or surprising. He is the Minister of War and the General of the royal military, the right-hand man of the King and his most trusted subject. Since his boyhood, he demonstrated excellent swordsmanship, and paired with his keen intellect and faultless war strategies, he quickly rose through the ranks and became the King's favourite. His name spread far and wide after he brought victory to the nation in two consecutive wars. He attended the first one when he was only eighteen, and he became infamous for that.

That war with the nearby enemy nation was extremely brutal, as it took away the lives of many of the best men in the military. When Seungcheol returned to the capital with the enemy General’s head in his hands, he was a changed man who had altered the course of history. Bloodied, beaten and bruised, he sported the deep scar on his face, fresh and bleeding. 

Rumours spread from there. Though he brought the nation victory, the townspeople gossiped about everything from his scar, his crimson eye, to his temper, claiming that he was a madman or possessed by an evil spirit. 

You have heard a few things from your father, too. He has agreed that the war changed the man, rightfully so. As the state minister, your father saw firsthand how brutal and merciless the war was till the last moment. So much so that he stepped down from his position afterwards.

He lost his son in the war, after all. Your older brother, whom you vaguely remember because you were only eight at that time. 

Nothing was the same after his passing. Your father lost his spark, your mother became quiet and indifferent, and the house fell into a deathly silence that felt haunted. The silence still lingers, fourteen years later. 

It has been a long time, so long that sometimes you feel like those days never existed. Yet, you remember them vividly: the pain of your mother’s death four years after your brothers, the remaining light dissipating from your father's eyes and the house falling into a perpetuating state of darkness, a place where everyone remained silent, from the slaves to the master. A place that never truly was illuminated, even during the brightest days of summer. A place that you had to call home but wasn’t your home. It was a graveyard where you floated through, watching the world outside bathe and shine with colours when the second war was won, when the king became the father of a boy, when the economy flourished. Seasons passed and years went by, yet your house never celebrated a holiday or a special occasion. 

You saw your father survive each day, haunted by his past and unaware of the present. Every day, he would see students from morning till noon, fulfilling his duties as a scholar before retiring to his room and staying there till the next morning.

The only time you saw some life in him was three years ago, when he called you one day in his chamber to announce that you would get married to Choi Seungcheol once he returned from his three-year trip to another country. Choi Seungcheol, the General of the Royal Military. The man with heterochromatic eyes, who came to your brother’s funeral years ago.

That’s how you have remembered him. The man with two different colored eyes, who stood in the rain with a grim expression on his face as they lowered your brother into the ground.

Over the years, you have heard notorious things about him. He has gained an infamous reputation among the townspeople. Many people believe that he is insane and that he murders people for fun. Word goes around that he is a womanizer, a man without a heart, a man who did not spare his own brother and executed him for treason.

You don’t know how much of this is true.

It all might be true; he just might be the devil living in a human body, but funnily enough, you do not care.

You will do anything to get out of this house. Living here for the past fourteen years has been like being buried alive. You are breathing, yet you don’t feel alive—you don’t remember the last time you felt that way, if ever.

And if a diabolical, insane man is your ticket out of this grave, you will take it. You will accept it with open arms and a smile on your face.

— 

The marketplace is crowded.

You gently tread through the throng of people, holding your jangot over your head as you eye the stalls leisurely, nothing in particular catching your attention. 

“My lady,” Jihye whispers, walking alongside you. “You have been circling the market for the past half an hour. What are you even looking for?”

A dejected sigh flows past your lips. 

Last time you came to the market, a pretty flower binyeo caught your eye. You had not received your salary yet at that time, and so, you could not purchase the piece. You had aimed to buy that binyeo today, but now that you've received your pay, it's no longer available. You have been scouring the market ever since, looking for something similar, but there is none.

“You know what, let us buy some yakgwa and head home,” you say, looking for a snack shop. Jihye smiles, her eyes flickering excitedly at your mention of buying sweets.

A few feet ahead of you, you spot a sweet shop. Instead of focusing on the plethora of sweets laid out, your gaze travels to the right, stopping on two men standing by that shop, their backs facing you.

Something about the tall, broad man dressed in black makes you stop in your tracks. Particularly, his long ebony hair feels oddly familiar to you. 

The man shifts a little, and you catch the slightest glimpse of his side profile through the busy street. Immediately, you squeak and hide behind a nearby stall.

It is General Choi, your husband-to-be.

“My lady, what is wrong?” Jihye hovers around you worriedly. Without looking away from the man, you dig into the sleeve of your hanbok, fishing out some coins and handing them to Jihye. 

“Here. Go buy as much yakgwa as you want.” You murmur, pushing her towards the shop while you get more comfortable in your hiding spot.

You don’t even know why you are hiding. You did not do anything wrong, and you surely have no reason to spy on your future husband in the middle of a busy marketplace.

Still, you continue observing him converse with the other gentleman. His stance is poised and powerful as always, and dressed head to toe in his signature black military clothes, he looks like death itself. Haunting but hypnotizing; which would explain why you cannot look away. 

And then, suddenly, he turns around, locking his eyes with you straight, as if he knew exactly where you were hiding. 

With a gasp of mortification and terror, you immediately whip your head away and bump into a passerby. Bowing your head in an apology, you let the woman pass through before tentatively turning your head back to the street.

Choi Seungcheol stands right behind you.

“Ah!” You yelp, taken aback and stumble a few steps behind. He reaches out immediately and grabs your elbow in a flash, saving you from the fall.

Flushed and breathless, you gape at him like a fish out of water.

He has the usual grim and unamused look on his face, peering down at you almost like he is judging you. His hair is tied up in a half bun, and his bangs frame half of his face, covering his odd eye and the scar. It is a shame, you find yourself thinking as you observe the rest of his face, counting the moles on his pale skin.

It is when he lets you go that you realize he had been holding onto you all this time, and you stood there like a statue.

How unladylike!

First, he catches you spying on him, and now— 

“My apologies, my Lord.” You immediately take several steps back, putting a safe distance between the two of you. Full of shame, you keep your head low as you murmur, “I was simply startled to see you.”

“It seems that you were spying on me.” His voice is smooth and rich, calm and authoritative. “No!” You gasp. “I was just…um…looking. I thought you…ah…looked somewhat familiar…”

He cocks a thick brow in amusement, the faintest smirk creeping up on his lips. 

What are you even saying?

Cringing at your own words, you press your lips shut and scowl at the ground, cursing the heavens for your predicament.

“You are not at the palace today?” He asks. You welcome the change of topic with great relief.

"No, my Lord. I asked for a break from my duties this week as I am preparing for the wedding.”

With no mother or close female relatives, it is up to you to prepare your wedding. 

Generally, you do not like skipping work. It has been two months since you secured a job at the palace after a lot of struggle. Your father was not very happy with the idea of you working, especially in the palace, but he ultimately gave in. 

You work as a teacher to the children under the head court lady of the palace, teaching them how to read and write while they train to be future court ladies. Sometimes you also work as a bookkeeper for the royal library, but that is something you do voluntarily and out of your love for reading. The pay is not very much, but it gives you a sense of freedom and identity, something you struggled to find for the last twenty-two years.

“Head Court Lady Yeo speaks very highly of you.” General Choi states. You do not understand whether he meant it positively or negatively, given his flat tone. Confused, you chuckle awkwardly. “It is a pleasure to work under her guidance. She is very patient and—”

Suddenly, Seungcheol reaches out to you, grabbing you by the arm and harshly tugging you towards him. Completely oblivious as to what is happening, you bump into his chest as his arms snake around you, protectively holding your body next to his.

Less than half a second later, a man riding a horse whooshes by, yelling out apologies to all the people for his rowdy horse. Dear Lord, you were about to be trampled by a horse if not for him.

“Are you alright?” 

His voice makes you look up at him, wide-eyed and panting. It takes a moment for you to realize that he is holding you against his chest, his warm hand resting on your shoulder in a protective grip while your hands rest on his shoulders, gripping the fabric of his jeonbok for support.

With your heart pounding loudly in your ears, it takes you yet another moment to remember how inappropriate this is, the way you are pressed against him. In a flash, you free yourself from his hold and shuffle back, murmuring a mortified apology. At the same time, you hate how much you miss his touch on you.

How odd.

“My lady, are you alright!” Jihye comes running down the street, a packet of confectionery in her hands. 

“Y-yes, I am okay. Let us get going.” You announce, immediately turning away from General Choi, desperate to escape this mortifying situation.

“Hold on.” The deep baritone of his voice steals a breath from your lips. Your body instinctively listens to his command, and you carefully look behind to see him picking up your jangot, which you probably dropped earlier and were about to leave without.

Once more, you cringe at your clumsiness as you watch him brush off the dirt before extending the material towards you. With shaky hands, you reach for it. “Thank you, my Lord. I wish you a pleasant day.”

The next second, you rush out of the marketplace as if the grim reaper himself were chasing after you. Behind you, Jihye struggles to keep up, but you couldn't care less, hiding your face in embarrassment.

That night, under the blanket, you lie wide awake. The memory of General Choi’s hand on your body and his chest pressed against yours keeps repeating in your head in a loop. A foreign, warm sensation pools in your belly, and you find yourself shamefully fantasizing about your future husband, forsaking slumber.

—

You got married today. 

According to the elders of the town, it is one of the most important days of your life, yet it felt like every other—quick and ordinary. Probably because the groom was barely there.

During noon, he came in to fulfil the basic rituals before marching out, leaving a note for you with Jihye. The work in the palace is too demanding, so he must go. He would see you tonight at his place. That was all he said.

Hours later, night has fallen and you are now in his home.

You sit alone in a chamber prepared especially for you. His servants made sure you were comfortable, helping you bathe and prepare for the first night with your husband before leaving you alone to sit with your thoughts and hear the hum of the crickets in the nearby forest.

You declined their offer to serve you dinner. It is only appropriate to wait for your husband and share the first meal together. 

Adorned in fine silk and pretty ribbons, you sit and wait for your husband to come, watching the flame of the candle dancing and melting away the wax. 

You are nervous. It is your first night with your husband. You, who has never even looked at a man for a second too long. You are now married to one of the most feared men in the kingdom. You have heard people talk about his ruthlessness in bed. Apparently, the girls in the brothel talk about it all the time, especially when he visits. Jihye said that whoever spends the night with him needs an entire day to recover.

“Lady Choi,” Head Servant Yang suddenly calls your name before opening the door. “Master has arrived. He is taking a bath currently.”

You snap out of the thoughts of bedding your husband and give her a shy smile. “Could you please set the table then?”

“Of course.” The elderly woman bows and walks out of the room, arranging for dinner to be set in your chamber.

Ten minutes after the dinner is served, General Choi walks into the room. Fresh out of the bath, he is dressed in his nightwear and his hair is tied up in a neat bun, giving you an uninterrupted view of his face. Once again, you find yourself hypnotised by his heterochromatic eyes.

“You did not have dinner?” He asks, sitting down in front of you. His movement is as graceful as always, silent yet stealthy. His posture is upright, the muscles of his shoulders taught as he sits and regards you with careful eyes.

“I was waiting for you, my Lord.” You reply meekly.

“You should not have,” he states, his tone almost condescending. “I am sure Head Servant Yang informed you that I return from work late most days.”

“Today is a special day, is it not?” You find yourself speaking boldly. Your words are firm like the gaze in your eyes, and for a long moment, the chamber is plunged into suffocating silence.

General Choi keeps looking down at you, his gaze as intimidating as ever, and you half expect him to draw his sword from its sheath and slice your head off. Instead, his lips curl upwards, and a noise of amusement leaves his throat. 

“Lady Choi, you seem upset.” He states, his voice half challenging and half something you cannot pinpoint. Sarcasm? Threat?

Unsure how to reply to that, you bite your lip and stare at the food laid out in front of you. All your appetite is gone now.

“Let me tell you something, Lady Choi.” Your husband leans closer to you over the table. Something about the way he utters your title forces you to meet his gaze. Like always, the fierce look in his eyes steals away your breath.

The man is hauntingly beautiful.

“I am certain you have some expectations from this marriage, and I cannot hold that against you. However, let me inform you now, I will not be able to fulfil your expectations, whatever they may be. So, I suggest you completely let go of your expectations, for your own good.”

What? You are sure no woman in Joseon’s history ever had to hear these words on her wedding night.

“My Lord, I do not understand.”

He does not bother clarifying his words. Instead, the look in his eyes shifts, his gaze sharpening on you. Lazily, he pours himself a drink from the pitcher and chugs it down.

“I know what this marriage means to you.”

You hold your breath and watch him, alarmed. He smirks. “It means freedom. It is your way out of that house. So, let this marriage be just that. A way out for you and a duty obliged for me.”

Well, consummating the marriage is also a duty. So is spending time with your wife and sharing a meal with her on your wedding night. You want to yell the words out, but you press your lips shut and stare at him, still processing what is happening.

“As long as we maintain our boundaries, this will be a great union,” he announces almost like he is reassuring you. You feel anything but that.

You feel abandoned, yet again.

“You should eat now,” he says, standing up. “I will retire for the night.” Without sparing another glance at you, he leaves the room. For a long moment, you silently sit in your place, your fancy garment and jewellery suddenly becoming too heavy on your skin. Ignoring the sensation, you reach for the rice, nibbling on the grains with your chopsticks.

You do not understand why tears prick your eyes.

— 

The next morning, an unknown man waits for you as you step out of your chamber and put on your shoes, ready to leave for the palace.

Your husband had left early in the morning, and while the news hurt you slightly, it also left you with relief. After last night, you have not had enough time to process your emotions to face him.

The strange man bows as he sees you approaching. “Greetings, Lady Choi. I am San. As per General Choi’s orders, I shall accompany you from now on for your safety.” Stupefied, you blink at the man. His build and posture indicate that he is a military person, but you do not understand why your husband would have someone guard you.

“My husband put you up to this?” You raise a brow. “Why?”

“I am afraid I cannot say. It was his order.”

You narrow your eyes at him. “So, from now on, you will what? Follow me everywhere?”

“Yes. Whenever you need to go out, I shall accompany you.”

“Is someone trying to kill me?” You ask, point blank, blinking at him.

San makes a noise of surprise before an awkward laugh spills from his lips. “O-of course not, my lady.” You keep eyeing the strange man with suspicion as you start heading for the front door. “Alright then, let us leave.”

— 

You bump into your husband at the palace.

At noon, when the sun is high in the sky, you finish teaching the young girls. Then, you head to the library to cool off and see if the head librarian needs any help. With no new work for you, Librarian Kim serves you some tea and sweets, congratulating you on your marriage. On your way out, he gives you some dasik to take home and share with your husband.

The husband who seems to want to do nothing with you.

With gratitude, you take the sweets and head out of the library, done with your day's work at the palace. That is when you see him. Below the steps of the library building, he approaches, followed by two other men, all dressed in uniforms. Their movements are quick and determined, almost like they are on a military mission.

General Choi takes notice of you as he climbs the stairs. Flustered and oddly shy, your first instinct is to hide. With no place to do that, you stand your ground and bow, “My Lord—”

He walks past as if he did not see you.

You stand rooted to your spot, blinking at the ground.

What just happened?

He ignored you. He blatantly ignored you. His wife. There is no way he did not see you. He did. His eyes met yours, and he held your gaze before looking away.

Hurt and humiliated, you stand there for several long moments, the sun scorching your back. You are tempted to storm back into the library and demand why he did that, but you know better than that.

For one, there is always the danger of him chopping your head off. You heard he once cut off a man’s head just for looking at him too long.

The other issue is more personal. Walking in there would make you look desperate, especially in front of others. You are supposed to be a newlywed happy wife, not someone who chases after her husband when he ignores her in public. The thought makes you feel like pins prickling your heart.

Once more in your life, you are insignificant. You are the lesser one, the one who can be forgotten, overlooked.

With boulders forming in your heart, you head home.

— 

Your husband returned home late today as well.

You had your dinner long ago, and Jihye prepared your bed for you. However, you did not get under the covers. In the dimly lit space of your bedchamber, you have been sitting with your head on your knees, curled up in a corner and watching the candle burn.

No matter how hard you try, you fail to get past the incident earlier today. You simply cannot comprehend why your husband would ignore you like that.

Your curiosity gets the better of you. With a resolved breath, you step out of your room and walk into his bedchamber. You knock at his door. “My Lord, may I come in?”

A beat of silence. “Yes.”

Opening the doors, you find Seungcheol tying the knot of his undershirt. The material is thin and white, giving you a pretty decent glimpse of his silhouette. Flustered, you immediately lower your gaze and shake your head at yourself. 

You did not think this through. Of course, he would be in his sleepwear, like you.

Shit.

It takes you another second to realize you, too, are in your sleepwear. A thin white top over your underskirt. With the realization dawning on you, you cross your arms over your chest and look up at him, conflicted and embarrassed.

Like always, his face gives nothing away. In the calmest of tones, he questions, “Did you need something from me?”

“Uhm…well…” Once again, you get distracted by the visual of your husband. In the dimly lit room, he appears even more stunning, the light of the candle casting strange shadows on his figure, contouring his muscles underneath the thin fabric. With his long, black hair undone, some strands fall on his face, covering his eyes. Through the curtain of his hair, his odd eye shines exceptionally bright in the darkness, stealing your breath.

“I am sure the reason for your visit is not to stare at me, Lady Choi.” He states once more, and you finally snap out of your thoughts.

Closing the door behind you, you gather all your resolve and stand straight.  “My apologies. I wanted to talk to you.”

“I am all ears.” He says, not looking at you. He busies himself by placing his sword next to his mat and sitting down comfortably.

“Why did you ignore me today at the palace?” You get straight to the point. The man turns to look at you slowly, his eyes sharpening ever so slightly. Despite him sitting, you feel as if he is towering over you, and you cannot help but hold your breath, waiting for whatever is to come. Something flashes in his eyes, and once again, you do not know what it is. Rage? Annoyance? Amusement?

You have no clue.

“It seems that you are disappointed, Lady Choi.” He finally replies, his tone containing that tinge of amusement he has with you. Like you are a circus monkey whose action provides him with fleeting, insignificant pleasure. 

You wait for him to elaborate, but he does not, looking at you with a challenging stare. You hate how…diplomatic he is all the time. “Why did you do it?” You repeat, trying to appear as stern as possible, which is almost comical. In front of you is the man people call the grim reaper.

General Choi shifts his position, resting his arm on his knee before fixing his gaze back on you. His tone is quiet, serious. “Let me tell you something, Lady Choi. In public, we are not to acknowledge each other. Do you understand me?”

The ground has been snatched from beneath your feet. You fall into an endless pit, your heart crushing into tiny bits with each of his words. Why? Why would he say something like that?

“Why?” You don’t mask the hurt and desperation in your voice. He ignores you. “If that was all, you may leave now. I wish to get some rest.”

Tears brim in your eyes. Why does he treat you like this? What crime did you ever commit against him?

Your mouth hangs open, shocked and helpless at his attitude towards you. Defeated, you silently pad back to the door. Before you open it, however, you pause. Slowly, you turn back to him. “Why did you assign that man to follow me around?”

He does not look at you. “San is one of the few men I trust. He will keep you safe.”

He has this tendency to never answer your question directly. He dances around it, giving curt, memorized answers. It feels like you are talking to a wall, frustrating and pointless. The next words slip past your lips thoughtlessly and barely above a whisper. “Why do we not sleep in the same room?” That finally gets his attention. He slowly turns his head to look at you, his pupils wide with shock. Like, he cannot believe that you just said that. 

Right. Why did you say that out loud? You look away in embarrassment, cringing at your words.

“So…” he starts to get up. You step back, alarmed.

Why is he getting up? He will slice your head off for sure this time.

With the grace of a lion about to devour his prey, he inches closer to you, his eyes flashing almost unnaturally. You keep walking backwards until your back meets the door and there is no place left to go.

He stops a mere inch away from you, so close that your clothes brush, so close that you can see his chest underneath his nightshirt, so close that you can inhale the scent of soap on his skin. Your breath catches in your throat, and your eyes fall shut on their own.

“My wife wishes to sleep with me. Is that it?” His voice is heaven against your ears, deep, husky and warm, leaving your brain fumbling. You open your eyes to see him staring straight at you, and immediately, heat shoots up all through your body from your toes. 

“I…I didn’t…mean…” You stumble over your words, the sight of him so close to you, messing with your system.

He stares at you, his lips curling up in a smirk. “I am sure you have heard what they say about me.” He pauses. His hand reaches out towards your face, and you hold your breath in alarm and anticipation. With the faintest of touches, he drags his index finger against your jaw and down your neck. “I am sure you know how I am…in bed.” He whispers against your ear, and you can feel your heart physically drop as tingles shoot through your entire body.

At this point, you have forgotten how to breathe. 

“You could not handle me, Lady Choi.” He says and then, absolutely shocking you, leans closer to your neck. Tucking a stray piece of hair beneath your ears, he takes a long inhale of you and then slowly steps away from you.

You feel like you are on fire, beads of sweat gathering on your temples. Your mouth remains agape, processing what just happened as you stand pressed against the door, frozen like prey in shock.

“Good night, Lady Choi.” He says in the most nonchalant way possible, going back to bed. You manage to summon all your strength and rush out of his room, shutting the wooden panels loudly behind you. Outside, you gasp for air, clutching your chest, your heart racing like you just ran for your life. You stand outside the door for a long time, taking in deep breaths and trying to get your heart to calm down as foreign sensations flood through your veins, leaving behind an ache you have never felt before.

You want your husband, you realize. You want him to do all those filthy, animalistic things that you heard of…with you.

— 

You have accepted your new life. A married woman without a husband’s attention or acknowledgement.

In the last two weeks, a routine has fallen into place for you. You wake up, go to work, come home for lunch, spend the afternoon with Jihye lounging around before having dinner and going to bed. Throughout the day, setting eyes upon your husband is rare because he leaves with the sunrise and gets home after dinner. Most days, he has dinner in his chamber by himself, and on the rare occasions he is home early (twice), he shares it with you.

The freedom you thought an advantageous marriage would give you has not come. In fact, you feel more restricted than before. With San following you around like a hawk, you have lost interest in going outside to explore the neighbourhood. Jihye, too, has been weird lately. She vehemently opposes you going outside, especially to the market or other crowded areas and always runs your errands for you.

After a lot of thinking, you have come to a conclusion. Your husband has a mistress. Maybe, mistress is not the right word. If anything, you feel like the mistress in this relationship.

“I am sure he has someone he loves.” You hum, nodding to yourself. 

It is a Thursday afternoon in early spring, the warmth of the sun shining on you as you return home from an unusually long shift at the palace. A few steps behind you is San, ever present like a shadow, following you down a steep road to home.

With him around, you have started to voice your thoughts, no matter how crazy. There is nothing to hide from him after all. He sees it all firsthand, how his boss never spends time with you. 

You have another theory. San knows about the other woman. He has to, right? That is why General Choi employed him to guard you in the first place. He probably knows where your husband goes during his free time, and it is his job to make sure you never see him. 

General Choi seems to have bought off Jihye somehow, too. You find that absolutely bizarre, considering her long loyalty towards you. You are deeply hurt by her betrayal, and so, you have decided to shun her until she comes to you and explains what is going on.

That leaves you with San only.

“I’m right, no?” You turn around to take a glance at him. As usual, he looks helpless and awkward, almost like he is about to leave everything behind and run for the hills. You continue. “He has to have known her for a long, long time. However, I do not understand why he didn’t marry her. Is she not a nobleborn?”

You stop for a moment.

“Ah! She is someone from the brothel, probably, right?”

San continues looking at you helplessly, an awkward smile plastered on his face. You continue walking, nodding to yourself. “No wonder he told me not to expect anything from him. He also said that he fulfilled his duty by marrying me. No one will pester him now because he has the perfect cover.” You nod your head, impressed. “I have to give it to him. This is a good plan.”

The path down the cliff comes to an end, and you stop, admiring the sun slowly going lower in the western sky. The birds fly in the sky in groups, returning home as the sky changes colour, a deep tint of orange taking over the blue.

Is she pretty? You wonder to yourself. She must be. There must be something about her that keeps a man like him hooked. 

The thought pains you. More than it should.

You understand it. You really do, but what you don’t understand is why he married you. Why did he trap you into this marriage? The least he could have done was be honest with you instead of avoiding you like the plague.

The more you get to know this man, the more cowardly he seems. The thought brings an unironic smile to your face. The most feared man in the country, yet he refuses to communicate with his wife. He does not have the guts to speak the truth, which makes him nothing but a coward in your eyes.

“Let us stop by the market.” You announce, taking a different route. San rushes in front of you, alarmed. “Lady Choi, w-why?”

You stare at him, slightly annoyed. Why is he acting like this? Is General Choi supposed to be there now? With his lover? All the more reason why you must go.

You continue walking, ignoring San.

“My Lady, please. Tell me what you need and I shall get that for you after I escort you home.”

“San,” you abruptly stop and glare at him. “I shall tell you what I need right now. I need you to shut up and follow me quietly. Or, you can just leave and report to your boss that I am breaking protocol. Whatever fancies you.”

The man makes a pained sound, groaning almost like a wounded animal. However, you don’t wait for him, marching down the path with determination. Helplessly, he chases after you.

— 

The marketplace is less crowded than you expected. You heard there have been attacks by gangs in this area, so people are more reluctant to leave their houses, especially as evening approaches.

With the roads not as crowded as usual, it takes you only a couple of minutes to spot him. He stands out, as always, his broad shoulders and tall build catching your eye from far away. You observe him for a moment from afar, squinting your eyes to see what he is doing exactly.

He stands in front of a trinket shop, carefully going through the pieces laid out in front of him. 

Wow, is he shopping for something for his hidden lover? 

Bemused, you watch him, eyes scanning for a woman near him, only to find no one.

“My Lady, we should really get going. This area is not safe, and—” Ignoring San’s plea, you head straight towards where your husband stands.

“My Lord, what brings you here?” You chirp, standing right behind him. The man immediately turns around, his pupils blown wide in shock. You do not miss the way he hides something behind him. It takes a moment for him to register that it is you, and once he does, that grim look settles on his face. “What are you doing here?’’

San rushes next to you, “My Lord, I am so sorry—”

General Choi cuts him off with a raised hand and gives him a look of dismissal, which sends the young man scurrying away. Ignoring his question, you say. “It seems like you were finished with work early today.” You pointedly look at the shop behind him.

“Yes. I finished early today.” He states, expressionless. “Are you returning from the palace now?”

“Yes, the work at the library took longer than usual. Some records were accidentally destroyed, so we had to salvage them.”

“I see.” He nods. You wait, wondering if he has anything more to say. He keeps gazing at you silently, his odd eye hidden behind his hair. You have noticed that he always hides it in public. Why? To avoid detection? 

Finally, he speaks, his eyes narrow and his tone sharp. “You should not be here. I am sure you are aware of the looting and killing taking place in this area.”

You hate his tone. Frowning, you reply. “Thank you for your concern, My Lord. I was aware. I just wanted to explore—”

You are cut off.

The next sequence of events takes place exceptionally quickly. First, you see your husband’s gaze shift and focus on something behind you. The very next moment, he yanks you towards him, making a swift turn so that his body covers yours. You lose your footing from the harsh tug, gripping onto his arms with a yelp of surprise.

Something whizzes past you, sharp and quick, that makes you jerk and hold onto him tighter.

Gasps, yells and screams of people echo all around you. You blink, befuddled, staring at your husband, who holds you tightly against his body, looking behind him. Following his gaze, you find San chasing after a man who dashes away through the crowd at remarkably fast speed, shoving people and running over stalls on his way.

Your husband whips his head back to look at you, his eyes wide with alarm. “Are you okay? Look at me!” He shakes you, his grip on your arms fierce. Something wet touches your fingers. Slowly, your eyes trail to your right hand, which is grabbing General Choi’s bicep.

There is a tear on his sleeve, a couple of inches above your fingers and red liquid oozes out from the thin cut. You gasp, your breath escaping your lungs in a choked wheeze.

Finally, everything clicks.

Someone just shot an arrow at him. Who? An enemy? A gang member? An assassin?

“Oh…oh my god! My Lord!” You clutch onto his sleeve, panicking.

General Choi ignores your cry and forces you to look at him, tilting your chin upwards. “Are you hurt anywhere?”

Is he seriously worrying about you right now?

“I am fine.” You choke on a sob. “But my Lord, you are bleeding! What…what should I do?”

He rubs a gentle hand on your back, pulling you closer to him. “I am fine. It is nothing.” He assures, his eyes scanning the place carefully as if looking for someone. You panic. “My Lord, we need to go home. Come on. You are hurt!” You urge, tugging him with you, even though you cannot make him move an inch.

The man stands rooted to his spot, his eyes still scouring through the marketplace. Finally, he nods and pulls you into his arms, holding you protectively. “Let us go.”

— 

After your relentless nagging, you finally get your husband to sit still so that you can treat his wound.

“I told you, it is nothing serious.” He admonishes when you step into his bedchamber with a rag, a bowl of water, and some medicine. Ignoring him, you hurry closer to him, inspecting the wound.

You have never treated someone before, but your mother was a very good nurse. She helped a lot of people during the war with her vast knowledge of medicinal herbs. You remember watching her work for hours, and even though you never directly learned from her, you are confident you can do this right.

The memory of his blood seeping out and wetting your hands sends shivers down your spine, and you have to take a deep breath to get yourself to calm down. Your heart has been racing ever since, the adrenaline yet to wear off.

“You should take off your shirt.” You whisper, wetting the rag in the bowl of water. Your husband complies, slowly removing the garment and shrugging it off his shoulders. Your breath catches in your throat once you lay your eyes on his body.

It is not his muscular build but the plethora of scars littering his body. Small and big, they taint his chest and all the way down to his lower abdomen, and you cannot help but stare, wincing at the marks that look particularly nasty.

What has this man been through?

General Choi snatches the rag from your hands and starts treating his cut. Embarrassed, you protest, but he cuts you off. “I can do it myself.” His response, like always, is curt, but you ignore it, too distracted by his scars. The one on his left abdomen looks particularly ghastly, and you know for sure it was a deep stab wound. 

The amount of pain he must have been in…

The thought makes you shudder, and you bite your lip, holding your tears back.

“This is why I assigned someone to protect you.” His voice pulls you out of your thoughts. “I am sure he told you to return, but you insisted on going to the market.”

“Who was that man?” You cut him off, unable to prevent yourself from voicing your worries any longer. Why did they want to hurt him? 

His lips thin, and something flashes over his eyes, leaving you guessing. He pauses for a moment, looking at you impassively, almost like he knows a secret that you don’t. “They were probably from some gang. They have been causing havoc recently, as you know.”

You know it is a lie. It is blatant that he is hiding something from you, and you cannot help but sigh out loud, sagging onto the floor. You do not even have it in you to fight with him right now. You are just glad he is okay. The bleeding has stopped now, and as you watch him apply the herb on his cut, a small sigh of relief flows past your lips.

Finally, it feels like you can breathe.

Silently, you help him tie a clean rag around his bicep before wiping the residual herb from his fingers. “You should take a bath.” He keeps staring at your face as if he is trying to understand something.

“Are you sure you are okay?” he asks, his tone soft. His gaze, for the first time, appears to be almost tender, and for a moment, the concept of language evaporates from your mind.

You want to say a lot of things. You want to yell at him, scream at him to explain himself and cry in his arms. You are unable to do any of that. “I am fine,” you whisper, your voice small and shaky.

He keeps looking at you for a few more seconds before nodding and getting up. Just as he is about to exit the room, you call for him. “My Lord?” “Hm?” He turns around to look at you.

You pause, hesitating. “I know you brought something today. At the market…” you trail off, unsure why you are saying this. His body tenses, and he looks at you warily…like he has been caught. For a second, you pray that he comes clean, but he remains silent, waiting for you to continue.

You swallow a lump in your throat and look away. Your voice is wobbly when you speak. “You should wrap it. Put it in a nice box. Women love gifts that are nicely wrapped. The woman…whoever you bought it for…you should wrap it.”

You do not dare to meet his gaze, so you sit on the floor, staring at the bowl of water that is now tinted red from his blood. He does not reply but walks out the door, his footsteps padding softly over the wooden floors.

— 

That night, you lay in bed awake, replaying the event at the market over and over again in your head. And as you keep revisiting that moment, a shuddering realization dawns on you.

What if…what if…

The arrow wasn't meant for General Choi but for you?

The more you think about it, the more probable it seems. The arrow would have originally hit you if not for him moving you out of the way. The thought makes you bolt up from your bed, your heart racing as beads of sweat gather on your temples. Tossing the blanket away, you step out of your sleeping mat and start pacing around your room.

Today's events are a mystery to you. You have no enemies, and neither does your father. Hell, he has been out of politics ever since your brother died. You simply have no reason to have someone shoot an arrow at you in the middle of a marketplace.

If it were not for your husband, you would have died for sure.

Shit. Who would do that? 

Your mind starts spiraling to the point that your temples begin to throb. You press the spot with your fingers, trying to make the ache go away.

It doesn't.

Instead, paranoia starts settling in. Suddenly, the thought of being alone in your room frightens you so much that you feel a chill in your bones. Unable to tolerate the deafening silence and the darkness any longer, you step out of your chamber, taking tentative steps towards your husband's room. The hallway is dark except for one small lamp flickering at the end of the long corridor, an eerie quietness hanging heavy in the air as the whole house sleeps.

You come to stop in front of your husband's room, your hands hesitating to pull open the wooden panels. 

What are you doing here? Sneaking into your husband’s chamber in the middle of the night?

With the resolved exhale, you pull open the door. In the darkness, it takes a moment for you to spot your husband sleeping on his side, his long raven hair splayed messily over the mat.

You remain rooted in your spot outside the door, hesitating yet once again before gingerly making your way inside and quietly closing the panel behind you. The room would be pitch dark if not for the faint light of the lamp flickering outside, filtering in through the panel. You take a moment to let your eyes adjust to the visibility before placing yourself next to him. With his sword resting between the two of you, you silently lie down, gazing at the silhouette of his face in the darkness.

Your heart aches. He got hurt because of you. 

Why do you feel such a strong attraction towards this cold, stubborn man? Why does it hurt you so much to see him hurt? Most importantly, is this how he feels about his lover? Does her pain make him hurt like this as well? Is that why he refuses to be with you, unable to resist his heart's longing?

So many questions and no answer to soothe your wretched soul. 

You keep gazing at him, a strange sensation filling your heart. He is physically so close to you, right within your reach, yet it feels like he is a million miles away, tucked away in a place for which you have no key. At the same time, lying next to him like this, you feel oddly comfortable. With him next to you, the silence and the darkness of the night are bearable, no longer stealing your sleep.

With a heavy ache in your chest and tears in your eyes, you fall asleep, happy to be in the same space as your husband.

—

When you open your eyes next morning, the sun is high up in the sky and the light flooding into the room immediately tells you that you have slept way longer than you should have.

Shit. You missed work today.

All concerns of work, however, fly out the window when you register where you are. You fell asleep on the floor next to General Choi yesterday. Then why are you sleeping on his mat, his blanket tucked around you, and his pillow under your head? 

With a gasp, you sit up and look around you, double checking to make sure you are in the right place.

How did you get here? Did he tuck you in after waking up? How did you not wake up?

Your face flushes with heat, imagining him carrying you and putting you in his bed. No wonder you feel so well rested after a long time. You must have slept like a log throughout everything.

Did you snore? Did you drool? Did you say something weird in your sleep?

“Oh dear lord, help me!” You whine, putting your face in your hands, cringing at all the possible ways you might have embarrassed yourself. Once you are over the initial wave of embarrassment, you spot a trinket on top of the small wooden table by the mat.

Curious, you shuffle closer. It is a bineyo with a beautiful butterfly in pink and blue, exactly the one you had been looking for. With a gasp, you lean closer, mesmerized by the way it sparkles underneath the sunlight. Next to it sits a letter, face up.

Dear wife, 

I am sorry I did not wrap it. I was interrupted by someone before I could choose a box. I do not know how the misunderstanding came to be, but this was meant to be yours from the beginning, not any other woman’s. I hope you like it.

From, Your husband

Your hands cover your mouth in shock and absolute glee before clutching the letter and the hairpin to your chest. Tears brim your eyes, your heart melting like a caramel under the sun, warm and sweet.

It seems like you misunderstood his actions. Still, some things remain unclear.

“Jihye!” You yell. She rushes in a few moments later. “My lady, you are awake! Master said not to disturb you. He said he will let Head Court Lady Yeo know that you will not go to work today.”

Ignoring her words, you quickly motion for her to come closer to you and sit down. “You,” you narrow your eyes at her. “You have been hiding something from me.” She blinks, her gaze slowly lowering to the floor.

“What did General Choi tell you? He definitely told you something. That is why you have not been letting me out of the house by myself.”

She looks at you helplessly for a long moment before sighing. “Okay, I will tell you, my lady. But you have to promise me you will not tell Master. I gave him my word.” She winces.

What could it be? Eager, you scoot closer to her. “I will not. Now out with it.”

“On the first night of your marriage, he called me and asked about you. What you like to eat, what your favourite season is…things like that.”

Wow. Your heart races with each of her words.

“Then, he asked me what you were doing in the market that day. You know that noon a week before your wedding? When we bumped into him? I said that you were looking for a hairpin. He asked in detail about the hairpin, and I told him that you were looking for one with a butterfly. Then, he ordered me to keep you from going outside, especially to crowded areas, as much as possible. He said it is not safe for you. And he made me promise not to tell you.”

A lot of the blanks start filling up. He listened to her and got this hairpin for you. No wonder!

You keep finding yourself revisiting that moment in the market. The way he protected you. The worry in his eyes, the way his fingers gripped onto you, the way his voice was filled with worry when he asked you if you were ok. The realization that you may have misunderstood him greatly starts settling in your bones. 

Maybe there was no one else from the beginning. Maybe it was only you all along. Maybe everything he did was to protect you. But protect you from what? Did he know that someone was after you? Who? Why did he not tell you anything?

No matter, you shall set the record straight when he gets home today. You have caught a glimpse into your husband’s heart, and it turns out he is not as cruel as they say. Now, there is nothing strong enough to stop you. He has had his way until now, and now, it is your time.

“Did he say when he will return?” You ask Jihye, your heart racing.

“No, my lady.”

“No matter.” You smile. “I will wait for him.”

— 

The heavens seem to be on your side because your husband returns home right before sunset. As he takes a bath, you prepare in your room, getting dressed for the evening.

Jihye braids your hair for you before helping you put on your hanbok, a soft yellow jeogori with a pastel pink chima. 

Just as you are almost finished with your makeup, Head Servant Yang knocks at the door, letting you know that your husband has finished his bath. With a smile, you stand up and walk over to the mirror, smoothing your skirt.

“Jihye, how do I look?”

“Absolutely beautiful, my lady!” She squeals. “Master will not be able to resist you tonight!”

You throw a scandalized look at her before reaching for the hairpin your husband gave you. Gingerly placing it on your hair, you complete the look and twirl in front of the mirror. “Alright, let us go!”

You knock twice at your husband’s chamber.

“Come in.”

Exhaling a shaky breath, you open the door and find sitting on the floor, wearing a navy blue hanbok. A book sits open on his lap, which is discarded once he lays eyes upon you.

Silence.

You hold your breath, watching his eyes scan you top to bottom, before going up again and finally stopping at your hairpin. He looks awestruck and speechless—a look you have never seen on him, and you struggle to stifle a smile.

“May I come in?” You ask coquettishly. 

“Ah—yes, of course.” He blinks and sits up straight. With a smile, you walk into the room and sit in front of him, closer than you have ever been before. "How is your arm?” You ask, jutting your chin towards it. “Do you need me to apply some herbs?”

“No, it is fine. I changed the gauze after my bath.”

“Are you in any pain?”

“Thank you for your concern, Lady Choi, but I am well.” He sets the book aside. “What brings you to my chamber?”

You ignore his curt replies. “Thank you for the gift, my lord.” You smile, saccharine sweet. Titling your head, you show him the trinket nestled in your hair. “How do I look?”

“Hm?” He gapes at you, eyes wide, clearly taken aback by the question. “Uh…it suits you. You look lovely.”

You smile like a lovestruck fool. “Thank you, my Lord.”

Silence. He keeps looking at you like it is a staring competition. Realizing he will not be the first one to break the silence, you continue with a sigh, “I have some questions, my Lord. I hope you will answer them honestly.” His gaze shifts, something unreadable briefly flashing by his eyes. His hands on to rest on his knees, his back straightening as he takes a moment before subtly nodding his head.

“Is there someone trying to kill me?” Your gaze does not waver. General Choi’s lips press into a thin line, his thick brows forming a frown, a look of pure displeasure settling on his face.

You do not back down. “Yesterday, the arrow was meant for me, was it not? You knew someone was after me. That is why you assigned San to be with me. That is why you told Jihye not to let me go outside.”

Another beat of silence. “Yes.” He murmurs, his haunting gaze piercing yours.

You swallow. “Who is it? I do not understand…I do not have any enemies— “

“They are my enemies.” He cuts you off. “The arrow yesterday…yes, it was meant for you, but it was also meant for me. It was their warning to me.”

“What warning? Why are they after you?” You cry.

His gaze narrows. “That is private information. Only the King’s most trusted men are aware of it.” You look down, worriedly chewing on your lower lip. After a beat, you ask, “Is that why you ignored me in the palace that day?”

“Yes. I thought the less I interacted with you, the better.” He pauses, his gaze focusing on the lamp burning at his side. “I am sorry for putting you in danger, but rest assured, they will be dealt with.”

You are not really worried about losing your life. If anything, his being in danger scares you more. Odd, is it not?

“Why did you let me misunderstand, my Lord?” You ask softly.

“That was not my intention.”

“But it happened anyway.” You cannot hold back the bite in your voice. “From the first day of this marriage, I believed that you have someone else.”

He remains silent, looking almost guilty. It scares and infuriates you. “Tell me! Do you?”

“No,” his voice never loses its quiet composure. “I do not.”

“Then why did you lie?”

For the first time, you see his gaze soften. For once, it looks like he is not scowling but rather, he appears ashamed and helpless. The hidden frustration inside you reaches its tipping point. “You could have told me! You could have said that I was in danger instead of pushing me away like I disgust you and letting me think that you were seeing someone else!” 

You hear him exhale a breath. “How do you expect me to tell my young, newlywed wife that her life is in danger because of me, her husband?”

The guilt is raw and vivid in his voice, echoing throughout the room like a haunted cry. This new side of your husband knocks all the air out of your lungs, leaving you feeling helpless as you stare at him, tears pricking your eyes.

“My Lord—”

“I know I am not the best match for you. You got married to be free, but instead, this marriage became a trap for you. How could I tell you that? I believed it would be better to let you think all crazy things about me rather than taking away your freedom by scaring you. I apologize for my shortsightedness.” A lone tear rolls down your cheek. He is not the best match for you? What is he saying?

Unable to hold back any longer, you close the little distance between the two of you and leap into his arms, hugging him tightly. With your arms wrapped around his neck, you rest your face on his shoulder, your fingers tightly holding onto the fabric of his hanbok. “Please do not apologize, my Lord. I understand you.”

Against you, your husband’s entire body remains tense, his hands awkwardly raised into the air like he is too scared to touch you. You ignore his hesitation and hold onto him tightly, your heart breaking and healing simultaneously. The warmth and comfort of his body soothe all the anguish in your heart, making you never want to let him go.

Finally, his hands touch your back, his large palms holding the small of your back, softly patting you.

Loosening your arms around him, you take a peek at his face and find the most sincere look in his eyes, warm and kind, the complete opposite of how you have seen him until now. You truly believed he was beyond all emotions, cold and mechanical, but right now, as he holds you in his arms and gazes at you with so much reverence and softness, you can only think of him as this quiet, considerate man who is misunderstood greatly.

Something in you shifts. No longer afraid, you shift in his arms, positioning yourself better on his lap before kissing him.

You press your lips against his without thinking, pulling him closer by the lapels of his hanbok and holding your lips right there, against his, soft and warm. With your heart hammering in your chest, you stay there, testing the waters. Your husband remains frozen at first, almost like he is waiting for you to back out. Once sure that you will not, he reaches for you, gently cupping your cheek with his right hand to tilt your face. The kiss deepens just a tad bit, his lips pressing against you just hard enough. His touch on you is meticulous and guarded, like you are a wild animal he does not want to frighten. You know he is being gentle for your sake, so you take the lead, snaking an arm around his neck and kissing him the way he led you.

Slow, sweet and passionate.

It is everything you imagined and more, all your dreams coming true and giving you a taste of ecstasy. By the time your lips part from his, there is a ringing in your ears along with your heart galloping like a race horse and a strange, tingling sensation between your legs. You feel drunk on your husband’s kiss, your eyes involuntarily trailing to his lips that are now shining with saliva.

You want this man so much, body and soul.

Your husband’s fingers remain against your cheek, his thumb stroking your cheek, slow and tentative like you are the most precious porcelain. Mirroring his hand, your fingers cup his cheek, your thumb gently tracing the scar beneath his odd eye. The skin is harsh and bumpy under your touch, making your heart heavy. You want to kiss it, tell him that he is beautiful despite it, tell him that you feel his pain, but something shifts.

His gaze grows unfocused, something foreign flashing by in his eyes, like he has been woken back to reality. With a sudden noise, he clears his throat and retracts his hand from your face. The action pulls you out of your haze as well, making you suddenly hyper aware of the fact that you kissed him.

Holy shit. You kissed your husband. And he kissed you back. And it was amazing.

Clearing his throat once more, your husband looks away, carefully trying to put some distance between you and him. Flustered, you take the hint and stand up rather unceremoniously. As you take a step back, however, misfortune befalls.

The ghost of clumsiness yet again takes over your body, and you trip over your skirt. With a loud, unladylike yelp, you fall backwards, terrified but also anticipating the brutal hit to the floor.

It does not come. You do not fall on the ground because your husband saves you, reaching for your arm and tugging you back towards him just in time. Something else happens in the process. The ribbon of your jeogori comes off.

You realize that several moments later, too preoccupied with trying to calm your beating heart and processing what just happened. As you stay pressed against his body, your arms tightly holding onto his shoulders for balance, General Choi’s eyes skim over your face before fixing beneath your neck and on your exposed shoulder.

This time, something dark and carnal takes over his gaze, his eyes sharp and narrow, staring intently at your bare skin. Your heart beats so loudly you fear he can hear it, and for a moment, you are sure you will pass out from the intensity of his gaze and the swirl of emotions—desire and shame, surging within you.

Like before, he is the one who backs away, quietly clearing his throat and looking away. Embarrassed, you quickly fix your jeogori and clutch it tightly to your chest while also scrambling off his body.

“I—” you stammer, mortified to look at his face. “I will see you for d-dinner then, my Lord.” Picking up your skirt to avoid further accidents, you rush for the door, eager to be out of his sight.

His voice forces you to stop right at the door. “Why did you come to my room last night?”

You halt, processing his question. Then, with quick fingers, you tie your jeogori and carefully turn around. Your husband looks at you inquisitively. “Were…were you awake, my Lord?” You ask. He did not even sir when you came into the room.

In reply, he nods. You look around, trying to find the words. “I…was scared to be alone. I kept thinking of what happened at the market, and I do not know…” You trail off, embarrassed and worried about his reaction. He, however, keeps looking at you intently before shaking his head up and down in understanding.

“How did you know I came in? You did not even move a muscle. I thought you were asleep.”

“I smelled you.” He states, his face expressionless. You take a step back, alarmed. “Do I stink?”

He shakes his head. “No. I meant that I smelled roses. You smell like roses.”

Oh. “I see,” you mumble shyly, your fingers twiddling with the fabric of your skirt. He regards you quietly for a beat before murmuring. “You can sleep with me tonight as well, if you desire it.”

“Really?” You squeal, not hiding the excitement brimming in your voice. 

“Yes.”

“Thank you, my Lord!” You smile so big it hurts.

— 

After dinner, Headservant Yang sets the mattress for the two of you with a suggestive, happy smile on her face that makes you grin goofily. 

Once finished with your nightly routine and dressed for bed, you pad into your husband's chamber and find him already lying down, his eyes closed and his hands resting over his chest. One could think he was asleep, but you know better now. With wonder, you observe that the place of his sword has shifted and moved to his left, right next to his mat, now that yours occupies the space it took before.

“My Lord,” you ask softly, “shall I blow out the candle?”

“Yes.” He replies, not moving or opening his eyes. Carefully, you pad over to the study table and blow out the candle before finding your place on the mat. With the noise of the crickets humming outside, you lie on your mat, pulling the blanket up to your chin and staring at the ceiling. Your blood thrums in your veins, your brain too wired to fall asleep. The excitement of lying next to your husband keeps you awake.

Once your eyes adjust to the darkness, you take tentative peeks at him and find him in the same position as he originally was. Is he sleeping? You wish you could tell.

“My Lord?” You speak, quiet as a mouse.

Silence.

“Hm?” He hums.

“Why do you sleep with your sword next to you?”

“Force of habit, I suppose…from the war.”

You hum in acknowledgement, looking at him eagerly amid the darkness. After a short pause, you call for him again. “My Lord?”

“Yes.”

“Can I sleep with you from now on?”

Silence. Seconds pass by, but no answer comes, and you start to think that he has fallen asleep. Just then, he finally replies, his voice quiet and deep in the solitude of the night. “If you wish to.” You smile, happy and wide, even though he cannot see you. “Thank you, my Lord.”

Another short pause later, he murmurs. “Goodnight.” You take it as a sign that he does not wish to talk anymore, and with a nod, you shift and lie on your side, your right arm resting underneath your head.  “Goodnight, my Lord.” You whisper with a smile.

— 

You wake up just before sunrise. 

The spot next to you is empty, and with no sign of your husband, you step out of his bedchamber in search of him. It is a rest day, so you wonder where he is so early in the morning.

You find the man in the backyard, already dressed, quietly observing the flowers in the garden. “My Lord?” You call for him.

“Oh, good morning.” He acknowledges you with a small nod. “Why are you up so early?”

“I woke up and you were not there. Is everything okay?”

“Yes.” He assures. “You should sleep some more.” You pause, carefully observing him. In the soft morning light, the man looks different, more relaxed and homely, dressed in his hanbok and his long raven hair draped elegantly against his back.

How can you leave his majestic man just for a few more hours of sleep?

“My Lord?”

“Hm?”

“Let us go for a walk.”

— 

After quickly getting dressed, you and your husband go for a stroll, the early morning sun softly gleaming in the sky.

Your husband heads towards the nearby forest, which leads to a cliff offering a nice view of the town and the hilly background. He walks quietly with his hands behind him, his movements deliberately slow to accommodate your pace. With a soft smile that never leaves your lips, you walk alongside him, your heart thrumming happily.

Can this be called a date?

Without any words exchanged between the two of you, you navigate the path through the forest, your eyes skirting towards him every now and then. The silence between you is not awkward because you can see from his face that he is thinking deeply about something. So, you let him think and use the solitude to take peeks at his handsome face, memorizing the details of his visage.

By the time you reach the cliff, you are out of breath.

“Wow,” you wheeze out, panting for air as you rest with your palms on your knees. 

“Are you alright?” General Choi asks, peering down to see your face. “Yes,” you nod, trying to control your breathing. “It has been a while since I came up here. The view is magnificent.”

“It is.” He hums, looking over the cliff. “That last time I came here, I was a child.” You share, standing up and gazing at the view. It is truly still beautiful.

“Why so long ago?”

“What?” You blink, looking at your husband, who is regarding you with a curious tilt of his head.

“Uh…” you think. “My father…he was not fond of me going out much. Especially anywhere far, after my brother died. He liked to keep me within his sight.”

He keeps looking at you attentively, and you wonder what he is thinking. Is he judging you?

Needing to fill the silence, you ramble. “On top of that, I have always been clumsy. I’m sure you have figured that out by now. Once, when I was a child, I somehow broke my arm playing in the yard. My brother ran all the way to the physician’s office with me on his back. With him gone, my father thought it would be better for me to be within the house. For my safety and his mental peace.”

“It was suffocating, no? That is why you married me. For freedom.” Your husband observes. You nod, albeit shakily, thinking of your days back at your parents' home. The cold treatment of your father and the way you were never enough. Not enough to take away the pain of them losing their son.

In the silence, you take a moment to gather your thoughts before facing the man next to you and voicing a question you have always wanted to ask. “Why did you choose to marry me?”

He takes a moment to answer. 

“Because no one else wanted to. A lot of ministers tried to get me engaged to their daughters, but the girls refused when they saw me. Some even rejected just after hearing my name. They feared me.”

You find it ridiculous. “Why?” Your tone drips with bewilderment. “My reputation,” he shrugs. “My face does not help much, I suppose.”

“What do you mean?” You frown, leaning closer to him. He regards you in silence, as if the answer to that question is the most obvious thing in the world. “I am ugly.”

“What?” You gape at him, utterly befuddled. Does this man truly think that? His sharp eyes narrow on you, his brows knotting in confusion. “I do not know if you are making fun of me.”

“Why would I make fun of you?” You cry. This entire thing is ludicrous. “I simply find it absolutely enraging that you think so!”

He remains mute, watching you like you are an equation he needs to solve.

You take a tentative step closer to him, mumbling, “It is true that your reputation is scary. I also feared you for that in the beginning. I do not know if you are aware, but people say all types of crazy things about you.” You pause, inching even closer to him. With a few small inches between the two of you, you look up and meet his eyes, hoping to convey your sincerity. “But as I got to know you…I have realized there is nothing to fear. You are undoubtedly a cold man, my Lord, but you are also warm. Your heart is always in the right place. That alone is enough to make you the most beautiful man in the land.”

His face relaxes, and you can see how his gaze softens, the turbulent storms ever present in his eyes dissipating for a moment. 

In the back of your mind, one thought runs rampant. You want to kiss him. In the soft morning light, he looks as breathtaking as ever, his lips soft and kissable. Remembering the touch of his lips against yours last night, you muster the courage and lean up on your tippy toes, pressing a quick, chaste kiss on his lips. The man immediately leans back, a look of surprise on his face. Ignoring his reaction, you smile and step back, facing the view again. Your husband clears his throat before silently joining you in gazing at the view.

A while later, you voice out another thought. “My Lord, when you said not to expect anything from you, what did you mean?”

He takes a moment to answer. “I don’t know. Just do not expect anything from me. I cannot give you anything.”

Frowning, you face him. “But you have already given me so much.”

“I do not believe that.”

You sigh. The cranky man is returning. Hitching your skirt, you walk closer to him, determined. “What did you mean, my Lord? I cannot expect what?” He huffs out a frustrated breath. “Whatever a wife expects from her husband, I suppose.”

Your frown deepens. “What? Love? Attention? Devotion?”

“I will be devoted to you, but I cannot give you love.” His words are like a punch to the gut. “Why not?” You plead.

He hesitates. “I…just cannot.”

“You cannot or will not?”

His eyes, sharp and fiery, pierce right through you, and you see the truth in his eyes. You see the answer he refuses to utter. “Let us get back.” He announces, turning on his heel and dismissing you, starts marching down the path. You scoff, watching with an open mouth as he almost runs down the track to escape answering your question.

This stubborn, frustrating man.

— 

After breakfast, General Choi goes out to visit an old friend. With a sour mood, you shuffle through the house, watching as everyone remains busy with their work. You try to practice some needlework but fail to get far with that. As always, your hand at embroidery is embarrassingly bad. For two hours, you try to create a flower on a handkerchief, but when it turns out looking questionable, you drop the task.

You find San sitting outside on the porch, chatting animatedly with Headservant Yang. “My Lady, are you bored?” Headservant Yang asks upon seeing you walk over. With your shoulders slumped, you nod, pouting.

“General Choi will not be back for some time. Should we play a game then? San offers.

Your eyes shine. “Sure!”

— 

Your game of baduk with San lasts even after sunset. 

You keep playing match after match, your own competitive streak matching his. He does not go easy on you just because you are married to his General, and that makes it all the more fun. 

Your husband returns right before lunch and after observing the two of you for a mere minute, he leaves, locking himself in his study for the rest of the day. His disinterest irks you, and you decide to ignore him as well, honing all your attention towards the game. During different times, Headservant Yang and Jihye stop by between their work, watching you two play with rapt fascination.

The game only ends with you winning, long after the sky has gone dark. Cheers and yells erupt in the small crowd of servants gathered to watch the game. You grin cockily, finally standing up and stretching your legs. San accepts his defeat and takes his leave, not before you make him promise to join you another day for another match.

“Would you like to have your bath first or dinner, my Lady?” Headservant Yang asks. You ponder, still reeling from the high of winning. “Did my husband have dinner?”

“Yes, my Lady.” You sigh. “Well then, I will have my dinner now and then take my bath.”

— 

After your bath, you sit in your room with the mirror in front of you while Jihye combs your hair. “Today was a fun day, no, my Lady?” She asks.

“Yes,” you hum. “It is a shame General Choi did not join us.” “Indeed.”

“Where has he been all day?” “In his room, my Lady. He was studying.”

You resist the urge to roll your eyes. Your husband truly does not know how to have fun. Instead of spending a rest day with his wife, he would rather read and strategize and sulk by himself.

As if he could hear your thoughts, the man appears with a knock at your door and steps in a second later. Jihye excuses herself, leaving the two of you alone, the room suddenly buzzing with tension.

Your husband regards you with that same unreadable face, but something in you tells you that he is grumpier than usual. Still, you try to be civil. “Hello, my Lord.”

“Lady Choi. It was hard to catch sight of you all day.” 

Yes. He is annoyed about something. The subtle bite in his voice is unmissable. You finish combing the ends of your hair before setting the comb down. “My apologies about that. I was too immersed in the game of baduk.”

“Yes, I noticed.” He peers down at you, his eyes ethereally flashing in the soft lights of your chamber. “You seemed to quite enjoy your time with San.”

“He is an excellent player. He also mentioned that you used to play with him.” You supply, trying to understand what might be the cause of his annoyance.

“I don’t know about excellent.” He murmurs, looking away from you. “I taught him, true, but he is no match for me.”

You narrow your eyes. What is he implying? “I am sure he is not, my Lord.” You force a smile. 

“Yet, you chose to spend the entire day with him.” This time, he snaps, clear and offended. Your jaw hangs low, surprised at his pettiness. You stand up frowning. “You were away, my Lord.”

“Not the entire day. I returned long ago, but you were too busy playing with him till dinner time.” He grumbles, not meeting your eyes but staring at the lamp. Stunned, you gape at him, trying to understand where he is coming from.

Your heart flutters. Is it possible that he is jealous?

“My Lord,” you step closer to take a look at his face. “Are you…jealous?”

“Ha!” He scoffs, stepping away. “Why would I be jealous of that little punk?” he half yells, waving his hand dismissively like he is swatting away a bug.

Your spirits dampen, and annoyance starts to take over. You give him a saccharine sweet smile that is evidently fake. “Well then, there is nothing to worry about. Shall we head to bed?” He refuses to let the topic go. “You finally remembered me, no? Now that it is time to sleep?”

The thread holding you together snaps. With gritted teeth, you stare at him, trying your level best to keep your tone neutral. “Well, when your husband dismisses you at every chance he gets and tries to run from you at the mere mention of intimacy, a girl would naturally be upset and spend time elsewhere. I hope you pardon her for spending some time away from him.” You bow dramatically in apology, making sure that he understands it is sarcasm. 

“Wha—” He regards you, eyes wide and mouth agape, like he cannot believe the words coming from your lips. “You—” He seems to be at a loss for words.

You step past him, but he raises a finger at you. “So you prefer San over me? Is that what you are saying?”

You roll your eyes at his words. However, today there is an urge within you to push him to his limit. So, you whip your head back and glare at him. 

“Who knows?” You singsong. Your husband’s eyes only enlarge, the look of pure shock taking over his face, his mouth hanging open wider than before. “Maybe I do. Maybe I do prefer him over you. He spends time with me, after all. Despite today being a rest day, you stayed in your room all day when you could have joined us. So what if I prefer his company?” You add the last line for good measure, trying to appear as threatening as possible.

“Take that back,” he says, his tone quiet. The look on his face starts to shift towards something serious. 

You egg him on. “I won’t! In fact, from now on, I will spend more time with him. Who knows, he might give me all the love and attention you refuse.”

The man finally snaps. In the flash of an eye, he is right in front of you, his hand behind your neck pulling you so close to him that you feel his breath. All earlier pettiness and playfulness are gone. He looks like a raging beast, barely hanging on by a thread.

“Take that back. Tell me you do not mean it or I swear to God, I will chop his head off.” He grits, his voice shaking with anger and his grip on your skin tightening. His eyes are like two molten pools of lava, angry and bright, and he has never looked hotter.

Without wasting a second, you smash your lips with his, wrapping your arms around his neck to pull him closer and closer towards you. The force of your kiss is so strong that it knocks him back a few steps. However, he is quick to recover, meeting your lips with even more passion, a side of him completely new to you. Raw and unchained, he goes all in, devouring your lips like it is his salvation.

You don’t hold back either.

You let go of your body weight entirely, pushing him on the ground below you while never letting go of his lips. Your hands—his and yours—move frantically to claw at each other through the layers of fabric. With a huff, your husband finally removes his lips from yours, a long string of saliva connecting your lips to his. “If we continue…I cannot hold back.” He pants, his eyes wild and shining.

His words make you giddy with anticipation, molten hot pools of lava swirling in your belly.

“That is what I want,” you whisper, feeling the cold air against your swollen lips. “I do not want you to hold back.” Slowly, you snake your arms around his neck and you move closer to his face. With a mere inch between your lips, you murmur, “I want you to devour me, my Lord.”

Your husband makes a sound, a low, primal grunt that comes from the deepest part of his chest. He exhales sharply, determination swirling in his eyes as he finally lets go of all the restraint he had been practicing till now.

In a flash, he flips your positions, holding you against the ground, his large body looming over yours. Your breath catches in your throat with the view on top of you, and he has not even taken off his clothes yet. Desire thrums in your veins, making you curl your toes in anticipation.

“I will ruin you tonight.” That is a promise. His voice is laced with something dark, like he will thoroughly enjoy ruining you. Little does he know, you will enjoy it too.

“Please, my Lord.” You beg, all too eager to become his.

His eyes flash at your words, and immediately, his hands get to work. They move with ease, graceful yet quick, as he strips you off your garments. All too soon, you are left only in your underskirt, your bare chest exposed for his eyes to feast on. You have the urge to cover them, and as if your husband can read your mind, he grabs your hands and links your fingers with his, pinning them on top of your head.

“Do not hide from me,” he commands, his lips hovering over yours. You nod, jittery with need and anticipation. 

Once sure your hands will not move, he slowly traces his fingers from your jawbone to your neck and then your shoulder, before reaching for your braid. You shift and let him hold your hair, his fingers gently caressing over the long braided strands. His fingers trace over your daenggi before tugging on it sharply. Undone, the strip of cloth comes off as your hair starts to loosen from the braid.

“So beautiful.” He hums, holding a few strands of hair between his fingers. He places a soft kiss on them before reaching for your hands. With your daenggi, he ties your wrists together, making sure the knot will hold before placing your hands back where they were, arms stretched straight on top of your head.

“Be a good girl.” He whispers, his voice sultry, his gaze half lidded yet dangerous. Your heart hammers loudly in your chest as the reality of what is happening actually starts to settle in your bones.

You are half-naked, tied up and vulnerable underneath your husband. The man they call the Grim Reaper, the most merciless man in the land. Yet, you are not afraid.

You watch as he shifts, making himself comfortable between your spread legs. He lifts your underskirt, exposing your core, and despite the urge to close your legs, you cannot.

“So beautiful. It will be a treat to ruin you.” He hums, his eyes focused between your legs, a faint smirk playing on his lips. Without any warning, he slaps you between your legs, right on your sensitive flesh, the sharp whack echoing through the quietness of the night.

“Ah!” You cry, mortified and surprised. It stings but also unlocks a new sensation of pleasure within you. Your face heats up as you realize how much you enjoyed it, a deep and deprived sense of pleasure.

He slaps you again. “Do you like it? I can see you are getting wet.” He says, his flashing eyes set on your face.

You make a pathetic noise of agreement. “Answer me!” He commands, slapping you once more. A long, needy moan is ripped from your throat. You pant. “Y-yes, my Lord.”

Pleased, he smirks before leaning down to press kisses on your inner thighs. He moves slowly and deliberately, playing with you, nibbling on your skin with his teeth before giving it a soothing lick and making sure it is marked. When he sits back up, his eyes trace all over your face as if he is trying to remember every small detail about you. You do the same, peering at him through your lashes with bated breath, wishing you could pull him closer for another kiss.

You could spend your entire life kissing this man.

With the ease and grace of a panther that has trapped its prey, your husband moves, enveloping you with his body, his hair falling over you like a black curtain. Lying on top of you, one of his hands holds on to the nape of your neck while the other explores your body, teasingly moving down your waist and between your legs. His warm fingers trace your core, feeling the wetness gathered between your legs. Without losing eye contact, he plays with you, dipping his fingers inside, making you shiver and whimper and continues to smirk knowingly.

He pushes his index and middle finger inside you, just up to his knuckles and the intrusion have you shuddering, your core throbbing like it has its own heartbeat. A breathy moan tears from your lips, and he uses the opportunity to lean in and bite your lip softly. 

Dear god. You whimper. “Please.”

“What?” He mouths against your lips. “T-touch me,” you reply, chasing his lips to reconnect with yours.

You hear him scoff cockily. “I am touching you, wife.” His title for you makes you only more desperate. You whine, starting to writhe, “More.”

You feel him smile against your mouth, his fingers slipping all the way in. His lips trace your jaw, his nose pressed against your skin before trailing down your neck, while his fingers start moving in and out. Involuntarily, your hips writhe, chasing his fingers while he peppers your neck with kisses and bites before fixing on a particular spot beneath your ear that makes you whimper. Then, he uses his thumb to give you a flick, his dark eyes trained on your face as your pleasure amplifies. 

“Oh my god,” you shut your eyes closed, reveling in the feeling of his fingers inside you. He starts to pick up pace, moving the fingers in tandem, circling them inside you and giving your clit an occasional flick. You wrap your legs around his lower waist, crossing them over and pulling him even closer, a desperate attempt at trying to ease the growing ache. Inside you, his fingers move rapidly, making your body tense as you start climbing your high, the coil in your belly pulling tight. 

“My L-lord…” You pant, looking at him with pleading eyes, even though you are unsure what you are trying to say. “Say my name,” he commands, dark eyes trained on you.

You feel even hotter, the coil in your belly pulled impossibly tight. “S-Seungcheol.”

“That is right. Scream my name.” He orders, eyes hazy with a film of lust and possessiveness. As if teasing you, his thumb brushes over your clit ever so slightly, drawing out a shuddering whine from your lips that makes him chuckle quietly. The sound feels like magic to your ears, a drug to your system that heightens your pleasure. His teeth dig into the soft flesh of your neck, undoubtedly leaving a mark.

“P-please Seungcheol,” you heave, eyes closed shut, fingernails digging into your palms. Humming against your neck, he uses his fingers to rub an even deeper spot inside you as his thumb rubs your clit mercilessly. 

“Please!” You hiss, throwing your head back, your toes curling as you wail. “I… I cannot…”

“You are going to cum for me. Now,” his voice is a quiet order. 

He curls his fingers inside you one last time and flicks your clit hard with his thumb, sending you over the edge. Your release is a tidal wave of mind-breaking pleasure as your body goes tense, your hips arching off the bed, your mouth hanging open as a reaction to the overwhelming pleasure; your first orgasm. 

You experience a type of bliss you had no idea existed, and for a moment, your mind goes blank, your body lying taut and tense underneath his. The onslaught of pleasure leaves your vision blurry with unshed tears and your mind numb to everything as you slowly descend from the throes of heavenly bliss and register that your husband is sitting upright between your legs.

With his relentless gaze locked with yours, he slowly licks his fingers clean, his long pink tongue darting out to caress his digits as he hums, “This is the sweetest pussy I have ever had.”

The sight is more than erotic, and for a moment, you are scared you will die from a heart attack. You want this man. You need him all at once, in every way possible. There is an ache coming from the depths of your soul that only he can satisfy.

“Please…untie me. I want to touch you.” You beg, hoping he takes mercy. It has been torture keeping your hands off of him. Hearing your plea, he takes mercy and undoes the ribbon tying your wrists. Free, you immediately sit up and wrap yourself around him, pulling him close for a kiss. Vigorously, wantonly, you kiss him and taste yourself on his tongue, moaning and gripping onto his back, your fingers itching to touch his skin underneath his nightshirt. 

“Please take this off,” you breathe against his mouth. Your husband smiles, undoubtedly enjoying teasing you. “Why?”

“Because…I want to see you.” You whisper sweetly, looking at him through your lashes. The man obliges, letting his hands off you for a moment to take off his shirt.

The sight of his naked body renews the heat between your legs, a new wave of desire overcoming your system. You let yourself gawk at the expanse of the muscles on his chest and the bulky thickness of his arms, all littered with scars, strong and dependable. As he stares at your face for a reaction, you reach for him absentmindedly, dragging your index finger over a scar on his right bicep. It is long, old, and jagged, rough and bumpy to the touch. Without thinking, you lean towards his arm and softly press a kiss on the wound before slowly dragging your lips to his chest, where another scar has bloomed. “It must have hurt,” you whisper to yourself, pressing another kiss on the scar before meeting his eyes. “I want to see all of your scars, dear husband. And I want to kiss all of them. I want to kiss away your pain.”

Something flashes by his eyes, brief but vulnerable. He immediately snakes a strong around around your waist to pull you tight against him and seal his lips over yours in a possessive kiss.

With his lips tangled with yours, he carries you to the sleeping mat, setting you down gently. You sigh in satisfaction as your back meets the soft, warm quilt. 

Your husband quickly gets to work, taking off your underskirt in a sharp yank and ripping it in the process. Surprised and embarrassed, you squeak, trying to hide yourself from his gaze. With the lamp burning right on the desk next to the mat, he has a pretty clear view of your body.

“Your pants…” You whisper, tugging them as well, and Seungcheol chuckles. “So desperate, aren't we?”

“Please,” you beg, throwing him your best pleading eyes as your hands roam around his back, feeling the ridge and bump of his muscles. 

The man quickly takes off his pants, giving you the briefest glimpse of his cock. You barely get to see him as he leans down towards you again, his eyes locked with yours. He drags his palms up, cupping your breasts and squeezing them. A breathy sigh of pleasure falls from your lips as you automatically lean closer to his face, your lips chasing his. Seungcheol captures them in a soft, teasing kiss, his lips gently biting yours as you feel his cock brush against your thigh.

You shiver, goosebumps breaking out on your skin.

You are a ball of nerves right now, the idea of getting intimate with a man for the first time plaguing your mind with worry. Yet, at the same time, you are overcome with desire, need running through your veins.

This is scary yet perfect. Absolutely perfect.

Your husband attacks your neck, kissing and biting the skin while simultaneously playing with your breasts. You mewl, letting your head fall to one side to give him better access to your neck. He hums, the sound so deep and throaty you feel it in your core. His lips do not break contact with your skin, kissing and sucking your sensitive flesh until your whole body shakes like leaves in a tree. 

“Please…” You beg, digging your nails into his shoulder, your body unconsciously starting to grind against him, desperate to ease the throbbing ache between your legs. Seungcheol, finally satisfied with the red spot blooming on your neck, lets you go, peering down at you with his hypnotizing eyes.

“I teased you a lot, did I not, wife?” He hums, caressing your heated face with his knuckles. Drunk with desire, you nod, your half-lidded gaze transfixed. “Please, take me, my Lord.”

He tsks disapprovingly. As if to prove a point, he wraps his hand around your throat but does not apply any pressure. “My name.”

“Seungcheol.” You reply immediately.

“Good girl.” Seungcheol smirks, his eyes flashing with something dark as he leans back on his heels, taking a slow, good look at your body. Then, spreading your legs wider, he spits on his fingers and using it as a lubricant over his cock before lining up with your entrance.

“This will hurt at first.” He warns. You nod, one hand covering your face as you choose to look at the ceiling out of embarrassment.

“Ready?”

“Yes.”

“Look at me.” He demands, the tip of his cock brushing against your pussy lips, making you shiver and follow his command. “Keep your eyes on me. Watch me devour this tight cunt.”

You feel like someone set your face on fire. Face flushed with his crude words, you barely get to make a sound when Seungcheol thrusts himself inside you. Your head lolls forward with the impact as your hands immediately clutch his arm around your waist for support. 

“Ah!” You cry out, eyes squeezed shut as you feel a sharp sting between your legs. “Fuck,” Seungcheol hisses, his voice throaty as he remains half buried inside you. Pausing for a moment, he lets you adjust before pulling back and then thrusting back in. This time, he goes all the way in, and you swear you feel him in your stomach. With a loud, pathetic cry, you cling onto his body, your brain unable to keep up with all the different sensations. 

He builds a pace, pushing in and out of you in strong movements.

Your brain feels like mush as you fail to utter anything, your mouth simply hanging open to let out breathy pants as you close your eyes and feel every ridge of his cock move in and out of you, the initial pain of intrusion fizzling away. It is a blissful experience, a high you never want to come out of.

“Push out your hips a little,” he orders quietly, dark eyes set on you so intensely, you feel like he can see your soul.

Immediately, you comply, extending your waist towards him while keeping your upper back pressed to the mat. His hands hold your hip bone n a strong grip as he places a pillow under your ass and slides himself back inside you with a leisurely pace, the new angle making his length curve inside you. 

You start seeing stars.

“Oh my god,” you hiss, eyes squeezed shut. The back of your thighs rests over Seungcheol’s, your legs dangling around his waist, and your hands clenched around the sleeping mat as he starts to pick up pace. With each thrust, the force increases, the tip of his cock hitting your most sensitive spot, low groans falling from his lips to match your breathy moans. 

“I… I cannot…please” your whisper mindlessly, the words scattered and almost unintelligible due to your broken moans. “You want to come?” His voice is almost taunting as he leans closer to look at your face. “Well, that’s unfortunate. You do not come until I give you permission, wife.” Your husband warns, making you whine. 

The need to find your release only intensifies. You are so close you can almost taste the blissful release.

“P-Please,” You beg, wrapping your arms around his neck and digging your fingernails into his shoulder blades. “Say it louder. Scream my name. Who is fucking this tight pussy?’’ he grunts in your ears, his warm breath tickling your skin.

“Seungcheol!” The desperate yell is quick to leave your lips.

“Who will make you come?”

“You! Seungcheol!”

“That is right, wife. It is I, your husband.” He gives you a particularly harsh thrust. “Not San. Not any other man but me.”

“Y-yes. Please…” you sob. Gripping your chin, he forces you to look at him. “Who do you belong to?” His voice is as quiet as a winter night.

“You, my husband.” You manage to utter clearly amid his brutal thrusts. “Good girl,” he praises, nibbling on your jaw. One of his hands reaches below to touch your clit as he wastes no time rubbing the sensitive bundle of nerves with the pads of his finger, all the while continuing to thrust inside you earnestly.

“Seungcheol!” You scream, your entire body jolting.

Your reaction makes him smirk as he chases his own high, seconds away from erupting inside you. He places your clit between his thumb and index finger, giving you a particularly harsh rub followed by a pinch.

You are catapulted over the edge. Your vision goes white, your entire sweat-coated body twitching from the intensity of the pleasure. It only amplifies as you feel Seungcheol spill inside you, his warm release filling you up and dripping lazily out of you. 

You feel like you are floating from the bliss.

— 

Your husband’s hand strokes your back in repeated soothing motions while you bask in the afterglow of your passionate lovemaking. With him lying behind you on the mat, your bodies pressed together, you move from reality to dreamland every now and then, the smile never leaving your face as you savour his touch and warmth. 

“Are you asleep?” he softly asks, bringing his face closer to inspect you.

You make a noise and shake your head, too lazy to move. Your husband gently turns you so that you lie face to face.

“Are you in any pain?” You ask again, carefully looking at your face, his fingers brushing away the rowdy strands of hair from your face. You open your eyes and look at him with a gaze full of love. “I am perfect, husband. Thank you.”

He smiles when you address him by that name, a warm, gummy smile that shows his unbridled joy. The possessive madman from earlier has completely disappeared, replaced by a man eager to dote on his wife.

This is your first time seeing this side of your husband. 

He pulls you against his chest, holding you tight in his arms. “No, thank you, wife. Thank you for being mine.” You smile, nuzzling his bare chest. This is the safest and most comfortable you have ever felt, and you do not want to let go. Ever.

After a moment of pause, he whispers. “I know I lack a lot. I can be clueless sometimes. So from now on, I hope you share with me whatever is on your mind. All your wishes, hopes and dreams, your desires— everything. I promise I will make them come true.”

You are too tired to form a reply, your body growing heavier each second but still, you smile. You peacefully drift off.

— 

Seungcheol did not go to work today.

The news delights you when you hear it from Jihye as she helps you get dressed. Her eyes linger on your body, especially on your neck, where little marks have formed— evidence of your lovemaking. 

She looks half worried and half scandalized, and you wink at her playfully before stepping out of your chamber.  Your husband sits on the porch, fully dressed, basking in the sun with a book in his hand.

“Good morning, my Lord.” You whisper, feeling pathetically shy when you catch sight of him. He looks up, his eyes shining when they land on you. “Good morning, wife. How are you feeling?” Shyly, you walk over to him and sit down without leaving any space between the two of you. Fiddling with your skirt, you look away when you answer, “I am alright, my Lord.”

With a gentle grasp on your chin, he turns your face and forces you to look at him. “The truth.” He says quietly.

Truthfully, you are quite sore, and an ache has taken hold all over your body. However, you cannot complain. The ache is laced with pleasure, especially between your legs, reminding you of last night.

Your heart gallops in your chest as you look into his eyes. “I am a little sore,” you reply timidly. “But it is a good kind of sore, I promise.”

His eyes travel to your neck, eyeing the red marks visible on your skin. “I was too rough with you,” he murmurs, his tone laced with regret, his eyes focused on your neck. Quickly, you snap him out of it. “Not at all, my Lord.” You sling your arms with his, pulling him closer so that you can rest your face on his shoulder. “You were just perfect. I enjoyed it. A lot.” You whisper, face flushing.

Your husband keeps gazing at you like he does not believe you. Whipping your head around, you take a quick scan around the yard before pressing a sweet kiss on his lips and giggling like a child. A soft smile blooms on his lips, even though he tries to stifle it.

“You should smile more, my Lord. You look so handsome.”

“Why are you calling me that? You called me by my name last night.” His lips form a soft pout as he complains. You pause, “Well…last night was…”

“You shall call me Seungcheol from now on.” He announces. “I would like it even more if you gave me a nickname.”

Wide eyed, you look at him.

“Do you understand me, wife?”

“Yes, husband.” 

Happy with that for now, he does not pester you anymore. You rest your head on his shoulders, your hands intertwined, and watch the morning sky in silence.

“You asked me to share all my wishes with you last night.” You speak after a while, eyes focused somewhere distant. “Can I share one with you right now?”

“Of course,” he shifts so that his body faces you. 

Tilting your head up, you admire a white, fluffy cloud. “Ever since my brother died, I have only had one wish for my life. I wanted to live by the sea in a small house. In that house, there would be my husband and I, and we would spend the rest of our days there, away from all the noise and bleakness of this town.”

“That sounds lovely.” He murmurs. You nod before looking at him. “Do you think it would ever be possible for us?”

He remains silent. 

“Given the nature of your job, I understand. However, I need you to promise me one thing. You must take care of yourself. You must not get hurt, do you hear me? You have someone to come home to now. You must think about me and you must return home to me, do you understand?” Your hands grip his in an earnest hold. 

His free hand comes to rest on top of yours, and he gives you a reassuring squeeze, warm and soft. “Rest easy, wife. I shall come back to you. Always.”

A lone drop of tear strolls down your cheek, and he wipes it away with his thumb before pressing the softest, feather-like kiss on your forehead. After a moment's pause, you speak. “Now it is your turn to share something with me.”

He regards you with confusion. 

“Anything. A wish, a secret…” You stare at him with eagerness. He sighs softly, his eyes trained on his lap as he thinks about something. 

“Well…when I told you not to expect anything from me,” he begins, looking almost shy, his gaze soft and apologetic. “I was afraid. I wanted to keep you at an arm's length from the beginning because I was scared of losing you. I have lost everyone close to me, and the thought of going through something like that again terrifies me. Since I joined the military, I have kept myself detached from everyone because the less I cared, the better.”

Your heart aches for the man. With gentle fingers, you brush away the unruly strands of hair from his face and trace the scar next to his eye. “You will not lose me, husband. I am right here.” You promise.

He wraps his arms around you as if to test your words. You wrap yourself around him, basking in his embrace, your bodies melting into one. “Do not leave me.” He whispers, his voice raw and vulnerable.

“Never.”

— 

Seungcheol left for the palace early today. After two days of relaxation, a letter came for him last night from the palace, demanding his presence first thing in the morning.

At night, Seuncheol held you tight in his arms, soothing away your worries. He finally shared what has been going on in the palace and why there are assassins after him.

Turns out they are working for the Minister of Trade, who is strictly against the new reformations currently being done by the king, like an attempt to abolish the slavery system. Seungcheol has been the King’s number one ally and a powerful piece in the game, which is why they are after him. Removing him from the equation is as good as stripping the King of his powers. Minister Kim has done exceptionally well in covering up his tracks, which is why there is no solid proof against him, complicating this entire issue. He has been playing a cat-and-mouse game with the royal army for a while now. 

Your husband left even before you woke up, leaving a note for you promising he would be home for dinner.

The day slowly passes by with you going to the palace and coming home once your shift is over, always under the watchful eye of San. The mood in the palace has been tense today, different rumours about Minister Kim floating in the air and a sinking feeling forms in your gut. No matter how hard you try, you cannot shake off the feeling that something ominous is about to take place.

Your suspicion starts taking shape when dusk falls and Seungcheol does not return. It turns into terror and restlessness as night falls, and still, there is no sign of him. The supper grows cold, and you fall asleep upright, waiting for him, your husband, who never comes.

When you open your eyes again, you find Jihye sitting next to you, a worried look on her face. “What is it?” You immediately sit up straight. “My lady, it is past midnight. Master has not returned yet. Should we send someone to the palace to ask for him?” She asks.

Your fingers fist around your skirt, anxiety coursing through your veins like poison. “We should.” You whisper.

Just as you are following Jihye out of the room, you hear commotion; the voice of a servant and Headservant Yang. Running to the porch, you see Seungcheol entering the house, dressed in his military uniform, his sword in his hand.

He marches straight towards you and drags you into your bedchamber without any words. “My Lord, where have you been!” You cry, gripping his arm. “I have been waiting for you—”

“Listen to me carefully,” he cuts you off, his hands resting on your shoulders as he leans down to be at your eye level. His usual unbothered demeanour is gone, replaced by worry that you see in his eyes as vividly as daylight. 

Something must be wrong. Your heart starts racing.

“The Minister of Trade is planning to attack us here tonight. They will be here anytime, so I need to get you out of here.”

“Wha— How did you even find that out? Are you sure?”

“The royal army captured a member of his team yesterday. We tortured the information out of him. Look at me,” he urges you, his fingers gripping your shoulder even tighter. “Minister Kim knows we are onto him. He has gone into hiding. He will stop at nothing to get to me, to you, do you understand? He plans to go down and drag me with him.” You see the fear in his eyes. The unshakable, indestructible man suddenly appears different, and this change terrifies you. 

“I am scared.” You whisper.

“You have nothing to be scared of.” He pulls you in his arms, holding you tightly against his chest. “I am going to send you to a safe place. I need you to do as I say, okay?”

You nod shakily, your fingers holding onto his sleeve in a death grip.

“Pack your essentials. We will leave within thirty minutes. Ask Jihye to help you.” He says, pressing a kiss on your forehead before marching outside.

With your heart hammering in your chest, you get to work, moving your shaky limbs to pack a bag with the help of Jihye. Soon, you are ready, and Seungcheol wastes no time wrapping everything up. He places Headservant Yang and the other servant in another neighbor's house to make sure they are safe before setting out with you.

In the darkness of the night, you get onto his horse with his help, followed by him sitting behind you, his arms around you to hold onto the reins. Jihye and another male servant get on another horse, and finally, a royal soldier follows from behind.

A little to the south of the town, there is a long, dense forest which leads to a small, quaint village. There is an ancient shrine there, inhabited by monks, and that is where Seungcheol intends to get you by dawn.

The silence grows heavier and thicker as you tread into the forest; the only sound echoing around is the soft galloping of the horses. You shiver, more from dread than from the cold night air and Seungcheol notices it. “Hold the reins.” He orders quietly so that his hands are free. He takes off the muffler wrapped around his neck and gently puts it around yours.

“I asked you to pack the essentials, wife.” His tone is playful. “I think a muffler in this weather counts as an essential.” He teases, and you understand it is his attempt to soothe you. “I am sorry, my lord. You should keep it. You will catch a cold.” You murmur.

“Hush now,” he shushes you, taking back the reins. “You should lean on me and close your eyes. It will take a while for us to reach there.”

“No, it is okay.” You reply, eyes focused ahead on the dark, narrow road cutting through the forest. 

It is such a gloomy night. You cannot spot a single star in the sky, shrouded by clouds.

Time ticks by. The night grows darker. 

Your journey continues through the hour of the ox and into the hour of the tiger. Exhaustion takes over you, and unable to resist it any longer, you close your eyes and lean your head back, resting it against your husband’s shoulder. It is not an ideal condition to get some shut-eye, but somehow you doze off.

When your eyes reopen, you hear the loud sound of a horse neighing and its heavy galloping. Seungcheol holds you tighter, and with a sharp tug of the reins and a nudge of his heels, his horse leaps into a full sprint. You look around worriedly, scanning through the dense bushes surrounding you.

“Master! Did they find us already?” Servant Min cries from behind as his horse too picks up pace.

The sounds grow louder, and just as your body tenses up, fearing the worst, you see San pop up from inside the forest, his horse taking a lunge and joining you on the road. “General, you have to keep going!” He yells. “They are right behind us.”

Seungcheol’s horse sprints parallel to his.

“How did they catch up so quickly?”

“Minister Kim had his men spread out. They were hiding in a camp a few miles behind. I took care of them, but the messenger escaped. I’m sure the minister is on his way. You need to move fast. There might be more of his men hiding in the forest.”

Upon hearing his words, you notice the specks of red on his hanbok. Swallowing the lump in your throat, you look behind to see your husband’s face. His jaw is clenched tight. “We need to come up with a plan. If they find us, we cannot hold them off. I need to get my wife to safety.” He yells back.

It is as if a cactus is lodged in your throat. “W-what do you mean?” You cry, your face aghast. 

He does not reply to you.

“It will be daybreak soon, General! We should hide somewhere.” San suggests.

Just then, you notice a sudden, strange ball of light in the sky, a little towards your right. It takes a moment for you to register that it is a signal, an arrow of fire shot from behind you.

“There are assassins ahead of us. They now know we are headed that way.” Seungcheol hisses.

“I will take care of it.” San nods, wielding his sword and screaming at the horse, “Go!” The horse runs faster, impossibly so, almost flying forward.

“I need you to stay calm and follow my orders.” Your husband says to you. “Do you hear me?” You nod shakily, “Yes.”

In five minutes, you catch up to San, who has taken care of most of the assassins that sat ahead at the curve. As you sprint near, Seungcheol hands the reins to you and readies his bow and arrow, taking perfect shots at the rest of the assassins. Then, he smoothly gets off the horse, followed by the other soldier who has been accompanying you, their swords wielded as they fight one-on-one.

A little ahead of the curb, you stop the horse and so does Jihye and servant Min, watching the fight anxiously. The three men take multiple assassins at a time, making sure they do not get to you.

You chew on your lower lip, your hands fidgeting as you watch the fight unfold. You wish Seungcheol gave you an archery set. You know the basics because you practised regularly as a child with your brother. Even though after his death, you stopped it for a while, you did not completely let go, taking occasional lessons from the older nobleman in your neighbourhood who used to be a skillful archer once upon a time.

By the time the last member of the group has been killed, shades of blue have coated the sky. Seungcheol and his team run back to the horses, their clothes specked with blood.  “Come on, we need to leave,” he says, mounting the horse.

There is a sudden sound; a sharp whoosh like a strong gust of wind just flew by, followed by a soft thud.

It is an arrow.

It whizzes towards you, missing the mark and hitting the tree trunk a couple of inches to your left. Your heart stops. A few hundred meters from the way you came, a large group of armed men show up. It is Minister Kim’s convoy.

They have caught up to you.

At the center, leading them is the minister himself, dressed in iron like he is about to go to war. His eyes, black and empty, scour the dead bodies of his assassins lying on the ground in front of him before looking at your husband.

His thin lips curl up into an evil smile. “General! No point in running now! It’s time to see how good of a fighter you are!” He yells. 

You feel Seungcheol's body growing tenser with each passing second, his hand gripping your thigh in a bruising hold. You, too, are paralyzed with fear, unsure of what to do. Then, absolutely shocking you, Seungcheol does the thing you least expected him to do. He starts getting off the horse slowly, his eyes trained on Minister Kim.

“San, take my wife and go.” He speaks quietly to the younger man who hadn’t gotten on his horse yet. “My Lord, what are you—” You do not get to finish your sentence because the younger man has instantly climbed behind you and snatched the reins from your hands.

“Get them!” You hear a shout as you are swept away with lightning speed. San’s grip around your body is iron solid, holding the reins with his eyes focused ahead on climbing the steep, hilly road at the end of the forest.

“No, please! You need to be with him!” You cry, fighting against him as you look behind to see Seungcheol fighting the Minister’s men, accompanied by the other soldier. 

He can never outfight all those people.

“Have faith in him. He knows what he is doing.” San assures, kicking his heels so the horse runs faster. You hear sounds right behind you, and you turn to see an assassin on a horse, aiming his arrow at you. San takes notice of it and swerves right immediately to avoid it.

As calculated, it misses, but a second later, your horse neighs out loud, standing on its hind legs before dropping down on the ground, taking the two of you with it. The arrow was meant for the horse. It struck his leg, injuring him, leaving the animal on the ground, softly crying in pain.

San wastes no time getting up and wielding his sword to fight off the man and the others following behind him. Jihye and servant Min, who were right behind you, yell out, calling for you to get on their horse. Jihye extends her hand towards you, but you ignore her, bunching up your skirt and making a run towards the curb.

“My Lady, what are you doing?” San yells, fighting off the assassins. “Jihye, stop her!”

“My Lady, come back!”

Ignoring their cries, you pick up the bow and set of arrows dropped by the assassin and continue sprinting down the steep road.

Then, finding a safe distance and a place behind an oak tree, you spot your husband, his movements sharp and precise as he takes down one man after the other. You watch as the minister slowly walks towards him, his sword dragging on the ground, leaving behind a threatening trail. Due to him wearing the armored plates, you know it is pointless to shoot at him, so you load your bow and aim at the assassins and start shooting.

The first one grazes past the man you aim at. Not discouraged, you continue, and the second one hits the target. 

Your husband looks in your direction immediately when the assassin drops dead, his eyes going from confusion to worry the moment he spots you. He does not have the time to do anything about it, as he has to fight the never-ending men.

And you are slightly grateful for that. Right now, he does not have the chance to come to you and force you away, giving you the chance to help him from afar. You continue loading arrows and shooting, missing some but hitting most, well aware of the fact that the Minister has spotted you.

From behind, you hear Jihye coming towards you, her exhausted pleas echoing down the path. “Jihye, I need more arrows!” You yell as you come down to your last two. “There should be some on the road back there!”

By now, most of the assassins have been taken care of, and the remainder are being fought by the soldier accompanying your husband. Minister Kim has approached Seunghceol as they engage in a heated sword fight, the minister swinging his sword like a madman, his growls echoing in the air. Your eyes scan around the place, thinking of finding a way to help Seungcheol, when San finally catches up to you, followed by Jihye, who did not get the arrows you asked for.

“My Lady, enough!” he yells. “You cannot be here! The road has been cleared—”

“We need to help him!” you yell back. “I cannot leave him here for—” You do not get to finish your sentence.

An arrow hits Seungcheol, piercing through the skin right below his right shoulder, on the top of his chest.

“No!” You scream, watching him stumble back for a moment. Your eyes fly through the scene, spotting an archer hidden inside the forest a little ahead towards your right. As you load your bow to take a shot at him, San finally comes to his senses, flying down the road to help Seungcheol.

You take the shot.

The arrow hits the hidden archer right in the chest, making him tumble backwards, disappearing out of sight. Then, you dash down the road, not scared of anything anymore, Jihye following you as your shadow.

San stands no match to Minister Kim, easily overpowered and tossed aside by his brute strength. He has the eyes of a madman, hell bent on getting to Seungcheol, discarding everything in his way like little bugs.

“I told you, you scarred lunatic!” He screams, charging at your husband. “I will slice your head off your neck and then do the same to your wife!”

He swings his sword around, charging for Seungcheol with all his might. Seungcheol blocks him with his sword, but the force of the attack forces him to fall to his knees. Minister Kim takes the opportunity to knock him off his feet with a kick. Seungcheol falls on the ground on his back, and in the split second, the minister raises his sword towards the sky before bringing it down sideways on his chest.

“Seungcheol!” You yell at the top of your lungs. “General!” San yells, coming from behind and tackling Minister Kim to the ground before he can fully swing his sword across. His helmet falls off from the force of San's attack. With your heart thundering in your ears, you point the remaining arrow at him.

It is like your body is not yours anymore. With zero hesitation, you take the shot while he is still pinned to the ground, struggling to get free, and the arrow hits the bullseye, right in the center of his forehead. 

His body slumps to the ground.

Pushing him away, San holds your husband’s lifeless body, his eyes slowly falling shut as he yells his name. Jihye and servant Min run past you, calling their master.

The bow drops from your hand.

You stand there, watching the ground go red underneath your husband’s body, your fingers gripping his muffler around your neck. 

—

Seungcheol receives his initial treatment in the shrine you were originally supposed to visit.

Once the news of the attack reached the capital, upon the king’s orders, the royal physician Yoon came to treat Seungcheol. He and his assistants crowded the room, tending to your husband’s injury with medicine and wrapping the area with gauze as he lay motionless on the mat.

You stood just outside the room, gazing at your sleeping husband, who looked nothing like his usual self—pale and frail, his body littered with little cuts. 

Why won’t he wake up? You miss his eyes. You miss his slow, unravelling gaze on you, his crimson, fiery eye that can almost cut through stone with a simple gaze. Where is that man?

Physician Yoon said he is in a deep sleep. They call it a vegetative state. The injury was quite lethal; the wound just a few centimetres away from damaging his heart. He said that the worst is over, and his pulse is stable now.

But he won’t wake up. He remains unresponsive, and it is unclear how long it will take for him to regain consciousness. 

“I see,” was all you said, standing motionless in your spot, gazing at your comatose husband.

A couple of days later, the King sent a royal convoy to move Seungcheol back to his house from the shrine. You had no complaints, wanting your husband to rest comfortably in his own house rather than a shrine. After a long journey, you reached home in the afternoon, greeted by Headservant Yang, who looked as devastated as you. After making sure your husband was okay, physician Yoon left, leaving you anticipating yet another sleepless night. 

It is nighttime now, and you sit still next to your sleeping husband. Headservant Yang peeks into the room, begging you to have some food. You ignore her, sitting quietly and observing your husband. The small lamp in the bedchamber casts warm shadows on his face, his sharp features appearing softer and weaker. 

He looks oddly at peace. You do not cry. You force a smile.

Leaning closer to him, you glide a gentle hand down his face and whisper, “You can rest. You have had a tough life, my dear. You can rest as long as you need, but you have to come back to me.”

You will pray to every god out there. You will visit every shrine, give unlimited offerings, and pray that your husband returns to you. You will do everything in your power to see him open his eyes. It is truly a shame you do not have much power in your hands.

Sometime later, your exhausted body falls into deep slumber, riddled with nightmares. Your husband lies in a pool of blood, and he does not wake up.

— 

The next morning, your father comes to see you. You do not move from your spot next to your husband to greet him as San leads him into the room before excusing himself.

He sits next to you, watching his son-in-law with small, worried eyes, muttering words of regret and concern. You hardly hear them, too busy patting Seungcheol’s face and arms with a damp cloth. Physician Yoon left a while ago after checking up on him and said that there is no progress. The king’s personal messenger came with him as well as the Head Eunuch, praying for Seungcheol and assuring to provide help in any way they can.

You couldn't care less about them. You sent them off, handing the letter you wrote for the king in the messenger’s hand before asking San to see them out.

“My daughter, you should eat something. You have to take care of yourself so that you can take care of him.” Your father urges.

You finish wiping your husband’s body in silence before setting the rag down and clasping his hand in yours. They are calloused but warm, and you silently send a prayer of gratitude to the heavens. He is alive. He is still here.

Tracing over his bruised knuckles with your fingertips, you whisper, “You know, Father, I have been lonely for a long time. After orabeoni died, I thought that was it. It could not get worse, but then Mother died. And I…I hated that I was alive. Because in that house, I was dead. I was dead while still being alive.”

You exhale a shaky breath, pulling Seungcheol’s hand closer to inspect it. You need to apply ointment on his knuckles.

“There was no colour, no joy, no celebration in that house. You were there but also not there. You never saw me. I was not enough, not after losing someone as precious as orabeoni. I felt so guilty. It should have been me, not him—that is all I could think of. I thought my entire life would be miserable like that, which is why I was so eager to marry this man.”

Another heavy sigh whooshes out of your lungs.

“Father, this man…people fear him. They say all sorts of weird things about him. But he is the kindest, warmest man I know. He kept his heart locked and hidden from the world, but he is so precious. He is gentle and kind, and he loves me. He loves me so dearly, Father, and I love him. How could I go on without him?”

And finally, the tears fall. Big droplets of water roll down your cheek as you fall on the ground, clutching onto your husband’s hand and sobbing into the floor, loud and broken.

Your father’s hand comes to rest on your shoulder rather unsurely, softly patting you as you keep crying, the tears that never came till now gushing out like a river with a broken dam. Your broken heart continues to shatter into even smaller pieces, and you cannot help but wonder what if he never wakes up again. Maybe you are doomed to be lonely.

The thought makes you cry some more. After a while, once you have managed to calm down, you sit up and wipe your tears.

“I…I did not know you felt that way.” Your father whispers, his voice ridden with guilt. “I…I never meant to hurt you. I am sorry—”

“I don’t want your apology right now, Father. I want you to pray for him.” You cut him off.

“I will. Of course I will.” He says, his eyes shining with unshed tears and guilt. “And when he is back on his feet, I will come visit you and I will accept your apology then.” You murmur, your gaze trained on your husband.

“Of course. Have faith, my dear. He will be awake soon.” Your father assures, his voice unstable. You hum absentmindedly.

If Seungcheol does not wake up, you do not know what you will do.

— 

The wind is particularly chilly this morning.

It has been a fortnight since Seungcheol fell into his comatose state, and he is just as before. Every day, Physician Yoon comes to check on him and then leaves while handing you some herbs to apply to his wound.

You have accepted this as your life now. Waking up every morning with a prayer that all the previous days were a long, gruesome nightmare, but then feeling grateful to see him still breathing, warm and alive.

After completing your daily prayer and offerings at the temple, you walk home in slow steps, the fatigue slowly creeping into your bones. The past week has been hard on you, and it looks like your body to starting to give up. You have not been eating properly, spending all your waking hours beside Seungcheol, tending to his comatose body or crying at the altar of the temple.

You cannot give up. Seungcheol is yet to awake.

Just as you come in front of your house, you find a small stray cat sitting comfortably in the sun. With a small, exhausted smile, you walk closer and crouch down, running your fingers through its shaggy fur. It looks dirty and disheveled, and you wonder where it is from.

You should probably bring it inside and give it some milk to eat. Judging by how comfortably it sits and basks in the sun, you are doubtful you will be able to get it inside your house.

“Would you like something to eat?” You whisper, gently scratching between its ears. The cat meows rather boredly, closing its eyes and resting its head on the ground after a quick swish of its tail.

Right then, a servant bursts out of the front door, looking like he saw a ghost. He looks back and forth down the road before finally spotting you on the ground. The wide-eyed, frazzled look on his face makes your blood run ice cold, and you immediately stand up.

“What is it?”

“My lady…Master is awake.”

You are free falling. You fall and fall, all the limbs of your body finally giving up after a week of war. For a long moment, you stand there, stuck in a daze. You don’t dare to breathe, afraid you would wake up and realize it was a dream.

“I will go get Physician Yoon. Please go inside, my lady.” The servant says before rushing down the street. You struggle to move. The stray cat at your feet has got up due to the commotion and is now strolling into the house.

With your heart racing in your chest, you slowly follow it, your legs shaky due to the nerves.

Seungcheol is awake. He is finally awake. 

You hear lots of voices, especially Headservant Yang’s, as she scolds and cries loudly. With a lump lodged in your throat, you keep on walking until you spot the door to his bedchamber. You catch a glimpse of your husband sitting up, and for some reason unknown to you, you immediately hide behind a nearby wall.

You are too scared to see him. Too overwhelmed, too afraid.

You thought of this. You dreamed of the day he would wake and look at you, and now that it is here, you do not know what to do. It feels unreal.

You are angry at him. You are also grateful. Angry for getting hurt. Grateful for waking up.

A sob bursts out of your throat, and you start wailing, unable to hold back the tears any longer. With your palms clasped over your mouth, you cry so hard that it becomes hard to breathe. The sobs wrack your body, knocking the air out of your lungs and leaving behind only pain.

The pain of almost losing him. The pain of seeing him lie there almost lifeless, day after day.

A hand on your shoulder startles you, and you find Jihye standing next to you. Her eyes are misty as she wraps an arm around your heaving body and rubs your arms soothingly. “It is alright, my lady. Please do not cry. He is looking for you.”

Her words make you cry some more before you manage to wipe your tears and snot. It is pretty futile because they do not stop completely. With shaky legs, you move from your hiding spot and continue towards his chamber, your heart pounding loudly in your ears.

Seungcheol spots you immediately, his posture straightening as he sees you arriving. But you do not meet his eye. 

You cannot bring yourself to. If you look at him, you will start crying once more, right in the middle of the yard, in front of all the servants. 

Headservant Yang and others start moving away as they see you approaching, giving you privacy. You cross the porch, your eyes still trained on the wooden floor of his bedchamber, your hands slightly shaking.

Finally, you step inside and shut the door behind you. Then, your eyes slowly travel to his.

He is definitely paler and thinner than before, but you see life in his eyes. You see the spark and the shine that have always been present in them, and right at that moment, you are sure he will be alright.

Thank god.

He looks up at you, his eyes brimming with longing and guilt. His usual plump red lip shaded in a pale pink colour. His face littered with little cuts that are still healing, yet he has never looked more handsome.

And you have never been happier to see him.

You want to scream. You want to yell at him and tell him how much you love him, but you cannot speak. Tears and sobs threaten to overflow once more, so you stand there like a statue and keep staring at your husband, repeating in your head that he is alive and well. 

Until your knees finally give out. 

You kneel in front of him and wrap your arms around his neck, careful to avoid his left chest and leaning your weight more on the right.  Breathing him in, you hold him as tightly as possible, wishing you could merge yourself into him, wishing you could lock him away and protect him for the rest of his life.

Your tears wet his bare shoulders, your fingers tightly gripping onto the muscles on his back, clutching him on for dear life. It feels as if you let him go— if your grip loosens ever so slightly, you will lose him forever.

It takes a long moment for you to realize how your body is shaking due to your sobs and tearful hiccups, only when your husband's warm hands wrap around you, patting your back like you are a small, wounded animal.

“It is okay, my dear. Everything is okay,” he soothes in the softest voice, and when you hear him, another violent sob slips past your throat while you cling to him and cry in the crook of his neck.

You want to stop, but the tears are endless, a mixture of pain and relief. Gingerly, Seungcheol pulls you away from him to take a look at your face, which is puffy and tear-stained. With his thumbs, he wipes your tears away, murmuring, “Hush, now. It pains me to see you cry like this.”

You want to reply, but the lump in your throat is still heavy, and you know if you try to utter something, only sobs will come out, so you remain silent, raking your eyes over his body before settling on the wound on his chest.

“I am alright, I promise.” He assures you once he sees your gaze. “I feel well-rested, in fact.”

You are glad to hear that.

Wiping the remaining tears and snot rather unceremoniously with your sleeve, you get up on your feet to leave the room, but he tugs on your wrist, pulling you back down and into his arms this time.

“Where are you going?”

“To get you some herbal tea.” You reply, your voice meek and scratchy. Your husband locks his arms around you. “Headservant Yang will do that. I need you to stay here. I have missed you.”

Your lower lip trembles, but you will yourself not to cry again. Instead, you whisper, “I have missed you as well. I have missed you so much, you have no idea, Seungcheol.”

He shifts, peering at your face with a surprised look. “You called me by my name.”

“I have been calling your name for the past week.” You murmur, staring at your lap.

He maneuvers your body with gentle, effortless hands so that he can see you fully. “You know, you look like the one who has been comatose for a week. What is this I am seeing? When was the last time you had a proper meal?” He frowns, his eyes trained on you like a hawk as he squints at your face.

You look away, murmuring, “I have been busy nursing a sick man.”

He scoffs. “Not busy enough to eat. You look like a ghost, my wife. I am genuinely worried about you.”

You do not meet his gaze. With an exasperated sigh, he gently tilts your face up by the chin. “Look at me.” He softly commands you. You do as you are told, finding his eyes set on you, those beautiful, mesmerizing eyes that you missed so deeply. 

Your husband’s face inches closer to press a soft kiss on your forehead. It is not quick; he holds his lips pressed right in the middle of your forehead, slightly above your brow, like he is trying to leave an imprint. You close your eyes and lean closer, savouring the feel of his lips against your skin.

Oh, how you longed for this.

“I love you.”

You must have heard wrong. You stop breathing, your body going tense for a moment. Seungcheol leans back, one of his hands wrapped around your neck, his thumb stroking your cheek while the other cups the back of your head, angling your face just slightly upwards and in line with his gaze.

“I love you.” He repeats—his words slow, heavy, deliberate.

You feel faint. It is hard for you to find words, and while you continue gaping at him with parted lips and shining eyes, he continues, “I was scared I would not be able to say this to you. As I lay on the ground and saw you standing there, this was all I could think of. I was angry at myself for never telling you how much I love you.”

“Oh Seungcheol…” your lips tremble. You wrap your arms around his neck, making yourself at home by placing your head under his chin, feeling his hard muscles against your body.

“I love you, dear wife. I love you more than life itself. More than I could ever express.” You hug him tighter. “I love you, too. I love you so much, Seungcheol. You are my whole world.”

“I know.” He murmurs. “I knew the moment you came back towards me. Which you should not have done, by the way. You put yourself in danger.” He loosens his hold on you to catch a glimpse of your face, his gaze admonishing. “I am still mad at you for doing that, but you look miserable enough, so I will let you off.”

You only smile.

“Also, when were you going to tell me what an amazing archer you are? How come I did not know that?”

You look away sheepishly, biting your lip. “You never asked.”

He laughs, the sound sweet and throaty. His arms wrap around you in a tight, protective hold once again, and you close your eyes, savouring the rhythm of his heartbeat next to your ear. As you bask in his warmth, you announce, “You are not going back to the military. I am not letting you go.” Detangling himself from you, your husband regards you with an amused look, like he cannot believe you. “Oh, really?”

“I am serious.” You huff with a frown. “You are not going back. You have fought enough battles for a lifetime. Now it is time for you to rest.”

“Hm. And what if His Majesty disapproves?” His tone is playful.

“I do not care. I already wrote him a letter, saying that once you woke up, you would not resume your duties.”

Amazed, your husband watches you, his eyes twinkling with pride. “I cannot believe you did that.” You ignore him. “Promise me. Promise me you will not go back to the military.”

He remains silent, watching you calmly, and you start getting anxious, expecting the worst. Just as you start thinking of different ways to force him to stay, he says, “I will not, I promise. I was not going to go any way. That was the first decision I made when I opened my eyes. I got another chance at life with you. I plan on using it very well.”

Your heart soars. You grin, a full-on smile sweeping over your face after a long time. Pressing a soft, chaste kiss on his lips, you whisper, “Can we go live by the sea now?” His eyes shine with love. “Yes, we can.”

You couldn't be happier. Your heart couldn't be fuller. It is pure delight when you think of a future with this man, away from all the noise and the troubles that have been plaguing your life until now.

He can be safe now. He can rest.

Unconsciously, your thumb traces the scar next to his eye, feeling the bumpy skin underneath your finger. The scar now looks like a tree branch that extends into even smaller branches containing little flowers.

You lean forward and press a kiss on it. 

“I am just glad you will not get hurt anymore. You have already been through so much.” You whisper, your sad gaze trailing over all the marks on his skin, old and new, before settling on his left chest. You gingerly place your hand over the gauze, remembering how long and deep the gash was.

It will scar for sure. Probably the biggest scar on his body, and it will be because he was protecting you. A shaky breath parts from your lips as you are momentarily transported back in time; him lying motionless on the ground that was turning red. As if your husband can read your thoughts, he gently tilts your chin up and forces you to meet his eyes.

“My dear, I am alright. Look at me.”

“This will scar. You will be in much pain as it heals. Because of me.”

“Don't say that.” He holds you against his chest, his fingers wrapping tightly around your limbs. “You are the only one who loves my scars. Because of you, I now love them too. I would not have changed a single thing if I had the chance. You know why? Because every one of the scars in my body led me to you. And this one?” He places a hand over yours, which is resting on his chest.

“This one tied me to you forever. I earned you. I earned your forever through this. So I think this is the most beautiful.”

A lone tear strolls down your cheek. “Oh, Seungcheol,” you choke over a sob, tilting your face up to capture his lips in a kiss.

His arms engulf you completely, his lips taking over yours, his tongue moving inside your mouth like he has been starving for this.

It is breathless, passionate, and gentle at the same time, conveying all the feelings and emotions the two of you could never put into words. 

It is beautiful, like the scars on his body, leaving behind a trace of love.

For a special epilogue, head over to my Patreon. Click here to see the preview!

© startlightxsvt 2025 | All Rights Reserved. Do not copy, translate, adapt, or repurpose any of my works.

A/N 2: First of all, I want to thank you for reading till the end. Next, I just want to say that this fic has been one of my dream projects. Is it the best? Maybe not but did I have the most fun writing it? Hell yes! It was originally supposed to be a bit longer but I cut some parts out, mainly because I was worried this app wouldn't let me post the entire thing easily. Sure enough, it said that there were too many blocks on my post, so I had to stitch together a lot of passages even though they were separate at first. So, I'm sorry if the flow gets weird in some places.

On a different note, I will also be posting this on AO3 once I have opened my account (I am still waiting for their invitation mail), so once I have made my account, I will link it here. Do support me over there! Finally, I just want to take a moment to thank you all for your support. I am really excited to hear from you guys about this fic, so please do send an ask!

That's it from me for now. For my next fic, I will be returning with something short and lighthearted. Stay happy and healthy, y'all! <33

[starlightxsvt]

I love you and your fics <3333

Haha, thank you sm anon! <3333

[starlightxsvt]

Hi. Your latest scoups fic is so damn gorgeous I was speechless after finishing it. The tension ,the angst, the pinning, the smut, the romance, the suspense, the ending!! Every single thing worked so perfectly together and their character arc so absolutely fabulous I just wanted to take a moment to appreciate it. I hope you keep writing such amazing fics in the future(I know you will!)

Thank you so much for your kind words! I initially had a fear that people wouldn't enjoy it but I'm so happy to see all the love for it <33 Sometimes, experimenting really pays off haha!

[starlightxsvt]

SCARS LEAVE A BEAUTIFUL TRACE WAS SO GOOD YOU JAVE NO IDEA IT WAS SO HEART TOUCHING AND PERFECT ITS MY FAV NOW LIKE MY MIND IS ACTUALLY BLOWN YOU HAVE NO IDEA WHAT A GREAT JOB YOU DID. I WILL NEVER RECOVER 😭😭😭😭

TYSM!! I'M SO GLAD YOU ENJOYED IT!

Thanks for dropping by!

[starlightxsvt]

Hii,I loved the au on ‘scars leave a beautiful trace’ and was wondering if the epilogue could be posted on here as not everyone has access to patreon and can spend money,would love to see the epilogue myself but understandable if it isn’t possible!

Thank you for enjoying the fic but unfortunately I can't meet your request. Posting patreon special content on here will mean that my patreons will be paying for nothing. I understand that not everyone can purchase paid posts which is why I always post extra epilogues or extensions of my stories on patreon, keeping in mind not to post anything too grand that my main audience will miss out. Have a lovely day!

[starlightxsvt]

Scars Leave a Beautiful Trace | c.sc

synopsis ➳ ❝an arranged marriage with the man the entire land is afraid of. the man with a crimson eye. they call him the grim reaper. cold, ruthless, unforgiving. yet you are drawn to him, curious to see the man hiding behind the cold, hard exterior. and the man behind is hauntingly beautiful but your forever with him is not promised.❞ pairing ➳ husband general!seungcheol/ x wife noblewoman!reader genre ➳ historical romance (joseon era), angst, pining, smut. wc ➳ 25.4k + 1040 (patreon) warnings ➳ blood, mentions of war, scars, minor character death, attachment issues, arranged marriage, mentions of cheating, severe injury, miscommunication. cheol is an ass in the first half, reader is lowkey a simp, jealousy, big dicc cheol, bondage, virgin sex, rough, unprotected sex, fingering, teasing, edging, dirty talking, praise kink. a/n: this is a work of fiction, so take this with a grain of salt. it will be historically inaccurate, so my apologies beforehand. (also, surprise?? posting it a day early hehe)

glossary:

Jangot – Veil-like cloak for women

Binyeo – Decorative hairpin

Yakgwa – Honey-ginger cookie

Jeonbok – Traditional sleeveless vest for men

Dasik – Pressed tea cookie

Jeogori – Upper garment or jacket

Chima – Skirt worn by women

Baduk – Strategy board game (Go)

Daenggi – Ribbon for braids

Hour of the Ox – 1:00–3:00 AM

Hour of the Tiger – 3:00–5:00 AM

Orabeoni – Respectful term for older brother

+82 some miracle

only listen to my general

“Daughter, this is General Choi Seungcheol, your betrothed. Greet him properly,” your father commands softly, his eyes trained on you.

Your breath stutters in your chest.

Whether from the loaded tension in the air, the silence of the room or your future husband’s penetrating eyes on you, you are unsure. 

His eyes…

You saw them once, a long, long time ago, and you remember them in explicit detail because they are heterochromatic. His right iris is red, a shade of fiery crimson that is scary but also hypnotizing—a stark contrast to his left iris, which is pure black. 

You wish it were only his eyes that were lethal. Unfortunately for you, it is his presence itself. It is the way he silently sits there, poised and alert, holding his sword in his right hand and softly drumming his left index finger on his knee, as if telling you to hurry up. It is the way his face remains unreadable, a porcelain white canvas containing a pair of eyes fiercer than a mountain lion's, a sharp nose that is slightly crooked on the left, and pink lips that are pressed in a thin line. The most daunting of it all, the scar on the right side of his face, just below his eye and on top of his cheekbone. It is no more than a couple of inches long, but the gash looks deep, even after it has healed and imagining the pain behind that curse rakes shivers down your spine. 

Finally, you snap out of your reverie.

With a shaky exhale, you bow down and speak as humbly as possible. “Please accept my greetings, my lord. It is a pleasure to meet you.”

— 

Choi Seungcheol is well known throughout the kingdom, highly feared and revered. In fact, many hold him in the same regard as the king, which is not unfair or surprising. He is the Minister of War and the General of the royal military, the right-hand man of the King and his most trusted subject. Since his boyhood, he demonstrated excellent swordsmanship, and paired with his keen intellect and faultless war strategies, he quickly rose through the ranks and became the King's favourite. His name spread far and wide after he brought victory to the nation in two consecutive wars. He attended the first one when he was only eighteen, and he became infamous for that.

That war with the nearby enemy nation was extremely brutal, as it took away the lives of many of the best men in the military. When Seungcheol returned to the capital with the enemy General’s head in his hands, he was a changed man who had altered the course of history. Bloodied, beaten and bruised, he sported the deep scar on his face, fresh and bleeding. 

Rumours spread from there. Though he brought the nation victory, the townspeople gossiped about everything from his scar, his crimson eye, to his temper, claiming that he was a madman or possessed by an evil spirit. 

You have heard a few things from your father, too. He has agreed that the war changed the man, rightfully so. As the state minister, your father saw firsthand how brutal and merciless the war was till the last moment. So much so that he stepped down from his position afterwards.

He lost his son in the war, after all. Your older brother, whom you vaguely remember because you were only eight at that time. 

Nothing was the same after his passing. Your father lost his spark, your mother became quiet and indifferent, and the house fell into a deathly silence that felt haunted. The silence still lingers, fourteen years later. 

It has been a long time, so long that sometimes you feel like those days never existed. Yet, you remember them vividly: the pain of your mother’s death four years after your brothers, the remaining light dissipating from your father's eyes and the house falling into a perpetuating state of darkness, a place where everyone remained silent, from the slaves to the master. A place that never truly was illuminated, even during the brightest days of summer. A place that you had to call home but wasn’t your home. It was a graveyard where you floated through, watching the world outside bathe and shine with colours when the second war was won, when the king became the father of a boy, when the economy flourished. Seasons passed and years went by, yet your house never celebrated a holiday or a special occasion. 

You saw your father survive each day, haunted by his past and unaware of the present. Every day, he would see students from morning till noon, fulfilling his duties as a scholar before retiring to his room and staying there till the next morning.

The only time you saw some life in him was three years ago, when he called you one day in his chamber to announce that you would get married to Choi Seungcheol once he returned from his three-year trip to another country. Choi Seungcheol, the General of the Royal Military. The man with heterochromatic eyes, who came to your brother’s funeral years ago.

That’s how you have remembered him. The man with two different colored eyes, who stood in the rain with a grim expression on his face as they lowered your brother into the ground.

Over the years, you have heard notorious things about him. He has gained an infamous reputation among the townspeople. Many people believe that he is insane and that he murders people for fun. Word goes around that he is a womanizer, a man without a heart, a man who did not spare his own brother and executed him for treason.

You don’t know how much of this is true.

It all might be true; he just might be the devil living in a human body, but funnily enough, you do not care.

You will do anything to get out of this house. Living here for the past fourteen years has been like being buried alive. You are breathing, yet you don’t feel alive—you don’t remember the last time you felt that way, if ever.

And if a diabolical, insane man is your ticket out of this grave, you will take it. You will accept it with open arms and a smile on your face.

— 

The marketplace is crowded.

You gently tread through the throng of people, holding your jangot over your head as you eye the stalls leisurely, nothing in particular catching your attention. 

“My lady,” Jihye whispers, walking alongside you. “You have been circling the market for the past half an hour. What are you even looking for?”

A dejected sigh flows past your lips. 

Last time you came to the market, a pretty flower binyeo caught your eye. You had not received your salary yet at that time, and so, you could not purchase the piece. You had aimed to buy that binyeo today, but now that you've received your pay, it's no longer available. You have been scouring the market ever since, looking for something similar, but there is none.

“You know what, let us buy some yakgwa and head home,” you say, looking for a snack shop. Jihye smiles, her eyes flickering excitedly at your mention of buying sweets.

A few feet ahead of you, you spot a sweet shop. Instead of focusing on the plethora of sweets laid out, your gaze travels to the right, stopping on two men standing by that shop, their backs facing you.

Something about the tall, broad man dressed in black makes you stop in your tracks. Particularly, his long ebony hair feels oddly familiar to you. 

The man shifts a little, and you catch the slightest glimpse of his side profile through the busy street. Immediately, you squeak and hide behind a nearby stall.

It is General Choi, your husband-to-be.

“My lady, what is wrong?” Jihye hovers around you worriedly. Without looking away from the man, you dig into the sleeve of your hanbok, fishing out some coins and handing them to Jihye. 

“Here. Go buy as much yakgwa as you want.” You murmur, pushing her towards the shop while you get more comfortable in your hiding spot.

You don’t even know why you are hiding. You did not do anything wrong, and you surely have no reason to spy on your future husband in the middle of a busy marketplace.

Still, you continue observing him converse with the other gentleman. His stance is poised and powerful as always, and dressed head to toe in his signature black military clothes, he looks like death itself. Haunting but hypnotizing; which would explain why you cannot look away. 

And then, suddenly, he turns around, locking his eyes with you straight, as if he knew exactly where you were hiding. 

With a gasp of mortification and terror, you immediately whip your head away and bump into a passerby. Bowing your head in an apology, you let the woman pass through before tentatively turning your head back to the street.

Choi Seungcheol stands right behind you.

“Ah!” You yelp, taken aback and stumble a few steps behind. He reaches out immediately and grabs your elbow in a flash, saving you from the fall.

Flushed and breathless, you gape at him like a fish out of water.

He has the usual grim and unamused look on his face, peering down at you almost like he is judging you. His hair is tied up in a half bun, and his bangs frame half of his face, covering his odd eye and the scar. It is a shame, you find yourself thinking as you observe the rest of his face, counting the moles on his pale skin.

It is when he lets you go that you realize he had been holding onto you all this time, and you stood there like a statue.

How unladylike!

First, he catches you spying on him, and now— 

“My apologies, my Lord.” You immediately take several steps back, putting a safe distance between the two of you. Full of shame, you keep your head low as you murmur, “I was simply startled to see you.”

“It seems that you were spying on me.” His voice is smooth and rich, calm and authoritative. “No!” You gasp. “I was just…um…looking. I thought you…ah…looked somewhat familiar…”

He cocks a thick brow in amusement, the faintest smirk creeping up on his lips. 

What are you even saying?

Cringing at your own words, you press your lips shut and scowl at the ground, cursing the heavens for your predicament.

“You are not at the palace today?” He asks. You welcome the change of topic with great relief.

"No, my Lord. I asked for a break from my duties this week as I am preparing for the wedding.”

With no mother or close female relatives, it is up to you to prepare your wedding. 

Generally, you do not like skipping work. It has been two months since you secured a job at the palace after a lot of struggle. Your father was not very happy with the idea of you working, especially in the palace, but he ultimately gave in. 

You work as a teacher to the children under the head court lady of the palace, teaching them how to read and write while they train to be future court ladies. Sometimes you also work as a bookkeeper for the royal library, but that is something you do voluntarily and out of your love for reading. The pay is not very much, but it gives you a sense of freedom and identity, something you struggled to find for the last twenty-two years.

“Head Court Lady Yeo speaks very highly of you.” General Choi states. You do not understand whether he meant it positively or negatively, given his flat tone. Confused, you chuckle awkwardly. “It is a pleasure to work under her guidance. She is very patient and—”

Suddenly, Seungcheol reaches out to you, grabbing you by the arm and harshly tugging you towards him. Completely oblivious as to what is happening, you bump into his chest as his arms snake around you, protectively holding your body next to his.

Less than half a second later, a man riding a horse whooshes by, yelling out apologies to all the people for his rowdy horse. Dear Lord, you were about to be trampled by a horse if not for him.

“Are you alright?” 

His voice makes you look up at him, wide-eyed and panting. It takes a moment for you to realize that he is holding you against his chest, his warm hand resting on your shoulder in a protective grip while your hands rest on his shoulders, gripping the fabric of his jeonbok for support.

With your heart pounding loudly in your ears, it takes you yet another moment to remember how inappropriate this is, the way you are pressed against him. In a flash, you free yourself from his hold and shuffle back, murmuring a mortified apology. At the same time, you hate how much you miss his touch on you.

How odd.

“My lady, are you alright!” Jihye comes running down the street, a packet of confectionery in her hands. 

“Y-yes, I am okay. Let us get going.” You announce, immediately turning away from General Choi, desperate to escape this mortifying situation.

“Hold on.” The deep baritone of his voice steals a breath from your lips. Your body instinctively listens to his command, and you carefully look behind to see him picking up your jangot, which you probably dropped earlier and were about to leave without.

Once more, you cringe at your clumsiness as you watch him brush off the dirt before extending the material towards you. With shaky hands, you reach for it. “Thank you, my Lord. I wish you a pleasant day.”

The next second, you rush out of the marketplace as if the grim reaper himself were chasing after you. Behind you, Jihye struggles to keep up, but you couldn't care less, hiding your face in embarrassment.

That night, under the blanket, you lie wide awake. The memory of General Choi’s hand on your body and his chest pressed against yours keeps repeating in your head in a loop. A foreign, warm sensation pools in your belly, and you find yourself shamefully fantasizing about your future husband, forsaking slumber.

—

You got married today. 

According to the elders of the town, it is one of the most important days of your life, yet it felt like every other—quick and ordinary. Probably because the groom was barely there.

During noon, he came in to fulfil the basic rituals before marching out, leaving a note for you with Jihye. The work in the palace is too demanding, so he must go. He would see you tonight at his place. That was all he said.

Hours later, night has fallen and you are now in his home.

You sit alone in a chamber prepared especially for you. His servants made sure you were comfortable, helping you bathe and prepare for the first night with your husband before leaving you alone to sit with your thoughts and hear the hum of the crickets in the nearby forest.

You declined their offer to serve you dinner. It is only appropriate to wait for your husband and share the first meal together. 

Adorned in fine silk and pretty ribbons, you sit and wait for your husband to come, watching the flame of the candle dancing and melting away the wax. 

You are nervous. It is your first night with your husband. You, who has never even looked at a man for a second too long. You are now married to one of the most feared men in the kingdom. You have heard people talk about his ruthlessness in bed. Apparently, the girls in the brothel talk about it all the time, especially when he visits. Jihye said that whoever spends the night with him needs an entire day to recover.

“Lady Choi,” Head Servant Yang suddenly calls your name before opening the door. “Master has arrived. He is taking a bath currently.”

You snap out of the thoughts of bedding your husband and give her a shy smile. “Could you please set the table then?”

“Of course.” The elderly woman bows and walks out of the room, arranging for dinner to be set in your chamber.

Ten minutes after the dinner is served, General Choi walks into the room. Fresh out of the bath, he is dressed in his nightwear and his hair is tied up in a neat bun, giving you an uninterrupted view of his face. Once again, you find yourself hypnotised by his heterochromatic eyes.

“You did not have dinner?” He asks, sitting down in front of you. His movement is as graceful as always, silent yet stealthy. His posture is upright, the muscles of his shoulders taught as he sits and regards you with careful eyes.

“I was waiting for you, my Lord.” You reply meekly.

“You should not have,” he states, his tone almost condescending. “I am sure Head Servant Yang informed you that I return from work late most days.”

“Today is a special day, is it not?” You find yourself speaking boldly. Your words are firm like the gaze in your eyes, and for a long moment, the chamber is plunged into suffocating silence.

General Choi keeps looking down at you, his gaze as intimidating as ever, and you half expect him to draw his sword from its sheath and slice your head off. Instead, his lips curl upwards, and a noise of amusement leaves his throat. 

“Lady Choi, you seem upset.” He states, his voice half challenging and half something you cannot pinpoint. Sarcasm? Threat?

Unsure how to reply to that, you bite your lip and stare at the food laid out in front of you. All your appetite is gone now.

“Let me tell you something, Lady Choi.” Your husband leans closer to you over the table. Something about the way he utters your title forces you to meet his gaze. Like always, the fierce look in his eyes steals away your breath.

The man is hauntingly beautiful.

“I am certain you have some expectations from this marriage, and I cannot hold that against you. However, let me inform you now, I will not be able to fulfil your expectations, whatever they may be. So, I suggest you completely let go of your expectations, for your own good.”

What? You are sure no woman in Joseon’s history ever had to hear these words on her wedding night.

“My Lord, I do not understand.”

He does not bother clarifying his words. Instead, the look in his eyes shifts, his gaze sharpening on you. Lazily, he pours himself a drink from the pitcher and chugs it down.

“I know what this marriage means to you.”

You hold your breath and watch him, alarmed. He smirks. “It means freedom. It is your way out of that house. So, let this marriage be just that. A way out for you and a duty obliged for me.”

Well, consummating the marriage is also a duty. So is spending time with your wife and sharing a meal with her on your wedding night. You want to yell the words out, but you press your lips shut and stare at him, still processing what is happening.

“As long as we maintain our boundaries, this will be a great union,” he announces almost like he is reassuring you. You feel anything but that.

You feel abandoned, yet again.

“You should eat now,” he says, standing up. “I will retire for the night.” Without sparing another glance at you, he leaves the room. For a long moment, you silently sit in your place, your fancy garment and jewellery suddenly becoming too heavy on your skin. Ignoring the sensation, you reach for the rice, nibbling on the grains with your chopsticks.

You do not understand why tears prick your eyes.

— 

The next morning, an unknown man waits for you as you step out of your chamber and put on your shoes, ready to leave for the palace.

Your husband had left early in the morning, and while the news hurt you slightly, it also left you with relief. After last night, you have not had enough time to process your emotions to face him.

The strange man bows as he sees you approaching. “Greetings, Lady Choi. I am San. As per General Choi’s orders, I shall accompany you from now on for your safety.” Stupefied, you blink at the man. His build and posture indicate that he is a military person, but you do not understand why your husband would have someone guard you.

“My husband put you up to this?” You raise a brow. “Why?”

“I am afraid I cannot say. It was his order.”

You narrow your eyes at him. “So, from now on, you will what? Follow me everywhere?”

“Yes. Whenever you need to go out, I shall accompany you.”

“Is someone trying to kill me?” You ask, point blank, blinking at him.

San makes a noise of surprise before an awkward laugh spills from his lips. “O-of course not, my lady.” You keep eyeing the strange man with suspicion as you start heading for the front door. “Alright then, let us leave.”

— 

You bump into your husband at the palace.

At noon, when the sun is high in the sky, you finish teaching the young girls. Then, you head to the library to cool off and see if the head librarian needs any help. With no new work for you, Librarian Kim serves you some tea and sweets, congratulating you on your marriage. On your way out, he gives you some dasik to take home and share with your husband.

The husband who seems to want to do nothing with you.

With gratitude, you take the sweets and head out of the library, done with your day's work at the palace. That is when you see him. Below the steps of the library building, he approaches, followed by two other men, all dressed in uniforms. Their movements are quick and determined, almost like they are on a military mission.

General Choi takes notice of you as he climbs the stairs. Flustered and oddly shy, your first instinct is to hide. With no place to do that, you stand your ground and bow, “My Lord—”

He walks past as if he did not see you.

You stand rooted to your spot, blinking at the ground.

What just happened?

He ignored you. He blatantly ignored you. His wife. There is no way he did not see you. He did. His eyes met yours, and he held your gaze before looking away.

Hurt and humiliated, you stand there for several long moments, the sun scorching your back. You are tempted to storm back into the library and demand why he did that, but you know better than that.

For one, there is always the danger of him chopping your head off. You heard he once cut off a man’s head just for looking at him too long.

The other issue is more personal. Walking in there would make you look desperate, especially in front of others. You are supposed to be a newlywed happy wife, not someone who chases after her husband when he ignores her in public. The thought makes you feel like pins prickling your heart.

Once more in your life, you are insignificant. You are the lesser one, the one who can be forgotten, overlooked.

With boulders forming in your heart, you head home.

— 

Your husband returned home late today as well.

You had your dinner long ago, and Jihye prepared your bed for you. However, you did not get under the covers. In the dimly lit space of your bedchamber, you have been sitting with your head on your knees, curled up in a corner and watching the candle burn.

No matter how hard you try, you fail to get past the incident earlier today. You simply cannot comprehend why your husband would ignore you like that.

Your curiosity gets the better of you. With a resolved breath, you step out of your room and walk into his bedchamber. You knock at his door. “My Lord, may I come in?”

A beat of silence. “Yes.”

Opening the doors, you find Seungcheol tying the knot of his undershirt. The material is thin and white, giving you a pretty decent glimpse of his silhouette. Flustered, you immediately lower your gaze and shake your head at yourself. 

You did not think this through. Of course, he would be in his sleepwear, like you.

Shit.

It takes you another second to realize you, too, are in your sleepwear. A thin white top over your underskirt. With the realization dawning on you, you cross your arms over your chest and look up at him, conflicted and embarrassed.

Like always, his face gives nothing away. In the calmest of tones, he questions, “Did you need something from me?”

“Uhm…well…” Once again, you get distracted by the visual of your husband. In the dimly lit room, he appears even more stunning, the light of the candle casting strange shadows on his figure, contouring his muscles underneath the thin fabric. With his long, black hair undone, some strands fall on his face, covering his eyes. Through the curtain of his hair, his odd eye shines exceptionally bright in the darkness, stealing your breath.

“I am sure the reason for your visit is not to stare at me, Lady Choi.” He states once more, and you finally snap out of your thoughts.

Closing the door behind you, you gather all your resolve and stand straight.  “My apologies. I wanted to talk to you.”

“I am all ears.” He says, not looking at you. He busies himself by placing his sword next to his mat and sitting down comfortably.

“Why did you ignore me today at the palace?” You get straight to the point. The man turns to look at you slowly, his eyes sharpening ever so slightly. Despite him sitting, you feel as if he is towering over you, and you cannot help but hold your breath, waiting for whatever is to come. Something flashes in his eyes, and once again, you do not know what it is. Rage? Annoyance? Amusement?

You have no clue.

“It seems that you are disappointed, Lady Choi.” He finally replies, his tone containing that tinge of amusement he has with you. Like you are a circus monkey whose action provides him with fleeting, insignificant pleasure. 

You wait for him to elaborate, but he does not, looking at you with a challenging stare. You hate how…diplomatic he is all the time. “Why did you do it?” You repeat, trying to appear as stern as possible, which is almost comical. In front of you is the man people call the grim reaper.

General Choi shifts his position, resting his arm on his knee before fixing his gaze back on you. His tone is quiet, serious. “Let me tell you something, Lady Choi. In public, we are not to acknowledge each other. Do you understand me?”

The ground has been snatched from beneath your feet. You fall into an endless pit, your heart crushing into tiny bits with each of his words. Why? Why would he say something like that?

“Why?” You don’t mask the hurt and desperation in your voice. He ignores you. “If that was all, you may leave now. I wish to get some rest.”

Tears brim in your eyes. Why does he treat you like this? What crime did you ever commit against him?

Your mouth hangs open, shocked and helpless at his attitude towards you. Defeated, you silently pad back to the door. Before you open it, however, you pause. Slowly, you turn back to him. “Why did you assign that man to follow me around?”

He does not look at you. “San is one of the few men I trust. He will keep you safe.”

He has this tendency to never answer your question directly. He dances around it, giving curt, memorized answers. It feels like you are talking to a wall, frustrating and pointless. The next words slip past your lips thoughtlessly and barely above a whisper. “Why do we not sleep in the same room?” That finally gets his attention. He slowly turns his head to look at you, his pupils wide with shock. Like, he cannot believe that you just said that. 

Right. Why did you say that out loud? You look away in embarrassment, cringing at your words.

“So…” he starts to get up. You step back, alarmed.

Why is he getting up? He will slice your head off for sure this time.

With the grace of a lion about to devour his prey, he inches closer to you, his eyes flashing almost unnaturally. You keep walking backwards until your back meets the door and there is no place left to go.

He stops a mere inch away from you, so close that your clothes brush, so close that you can see his chest underneath his nightshirt, so close that you can inhale the scent of soap on his skin. Your breath catches in your throat, and your eyes fall shut on their own.

“My wife wishes to sleep with me. Is that it?” His voice is heaven against your ears, deep, husky and warm, leaving your brain fumbling. You open your eyes to see him staring straight at you, and immediately, heat shoots up all through your body from your toes. 

“I…I didn’t…mean…” You stumble over your words, the sight of him so close to you, messing with your system.

He stares at you, his lips curling up in a smirk. “I am sure you have heard what they say about me.” He pauses. His hand reaches out towards your face, and you hold your breath in alarm and anticipation. With the faintest of touches, he drags his index finger against your jaw and down your neck. “I am sure you know how I am…in bed.” He whispers against your ear, and you can feel your heart physically drop as tingles shoot through your entire body.

At this point, you have forgotten how to breathe. 

“You could not handle me, Lady Choi.” He says and then, absolutely shocking you, leans closer to your neck. Tucking a stray piece of hair beneath your ears, he takes a long inhale of you and then slowly steps away from you.

You feel like you are on fire, beads of sweat gathering on your temples. Your mouth remains agape, processing what just happened as you stand pressed against the door, frozen like prey in shock.

“Good night, Lady Choi.” He says in the most nonchalant way possible, going back to bed. You manage to summon all your strength and rush out of his room, shutting the wooden panels loudly behind you. Outside, you gasp for air, clutching your chest, your heart racing like you just ran for your life. You stand outside the door for a long time, taking in deep breaths and trying to get your heart to calm down as foreign sensations flood through your veins, leaving behind an ache you have never felt before.

You want your husband, you realize. You want him to do all those filthy, animalistic things that you heard of…with you.

— 

You have accepted your new life. A married woman without a husband’s attention or acknowledgement.

In the last two weeks, a routine has fallen into place for you. You wake up, go to work, come home for lunch, spend the afternoon with Jihye lounging around before having dinner and going to bed. Throughout the day, setting eyes upon your husband is rare because he leaves with the sunrise and gets home after dinner. Most days, he has dinner in his chamber by himself, and on the rare occasions he is home early (twice), he shares it with you.

The freedom you thought an advantageous marriage would give you has not come. In fact, you feel more restricted than before. With San following you around like a hawk, you have lost interest in going outside to explore the neighbourhood. Jihye, too, has been weird lately. She vehemently opposes you going outside, especially to the market or other crowded areas and always runs your errands for you.

After a lot of thinking, you have come to a conclusion. Your husband has a mistress. Maybe, mistress is not the right word. If anything, you feel like the mistress in this relationship.

“I am sure he has someone he loves.” You hum, nodding to yourself. 

It is a Thursday afternoon in early spring, the warmth of the sun shining on you as you return home from an unusually long shift at the palace. A few steps behind you is San, ever present like a shadow, following you down a steep road to home.

With him around, you have started to voice your thoughts, no matter how crazy. There is nothing to hide from him after all. He sees it all firsthand, how his boss never spends time with you. 

You have another theory. San knows about the other woman. He has to, right? That is why General Choi employed him to guard you in the first place. He probably knows where your husband goes during his free time, and it is his job to make sure you never see him. 

General Choi seems to have bought off Jihye somehow, too. You find that absolutely bizarre, considering her long loyalty towards you. You are deeply hurt by her betrayal, and so, you have decided to shun her until she comes to you and explains what is going on.

That leaves you with San only.

“I’m right, no?” You turn around to take a glance at him. As usual, he looks helpless and awkward, almost like he is about to leave everything behind and run for the hills. You continue. “He has to have known her for a long, long time. However, I do not understand why he didn’t marry her. Is she not a nobleborn?”

You stop for a moment.

“Ah! She is someone from the brothel, probably, right?”

San continues looking at you helplessly, an awkward smile plastered on his face. You continue walking, nodding to yourself. “No wonder he told me not to expect anything from him. He also said that he fulfilled his duty by marrying me. No one will pester him now because he has the perfect cover.” You nod your head, impressed. “I have to give it to him. This is a good plan.”

The path down the cliff comes to an end, and you stop, admiring the sun slowly going lower in the western sky. The birds fly in the sky in groups, returning home as the sky changes colour, a deep tint of orange taking over the blue.

Is she pretty? You wonder to yourself. She must be. There must be something about her that keeps a man like him hooked. 

The thought pains you. More than it should.

You understand it. You really do, but what you don’t understand is why he married you. Why did he trap you into this marriage? The least he could have done was be honest with you instead of avoiding you like the plague.

The more you get to know this man, the more cowardly he seems. The thought brings an unironic smile to your face. The most feared man in the country, yet he refuses to communicate with his wife. He does not have the guts to speak the truth, which makes him nothing but a coward in your eyes.

“Let us stop by the market.” You announce, taking a different route. San rushes in front of you, alarmed. “Lady Choi, w-why?”

You stare at him, slightly annoyed. Why is he acting like this? Is General Choi supposed to be there now? With his lover? All the more reason why you must go.

You continue walking, ignoring San.

“My Lady, please. Tell me what you need and I shall get that for you after I escort you home.”

“San,” you abruptly stop and glare at him. “I shall tell you what I need right now. I need you to shut up and follow me quietly. Or, you can just leave and report to your boss that I am breaking protocol. Whatever fancies you.”

The man makes a pained sound, groaning almost like a wounded animal. However, you don’t wait for him, marching down the path with determination. Helplessly, he chases after you.

— 

The marketplace is less crowded than you expected. You heard there have been attacks by gangs in this area, so people are more reluctant to leave their houses, especially as evening approaches.

With the roads not as crowded as usual, it takes you only a couple of minutes to spot him. He stands out, as always, his broad shoulders and tall build catching your eye from far away. You observe him for a moment from afar, squinting your eyes to see what he is doing exactly.

He stands in front of a trinket shop, carefully going through the pieces laid out in front of him. 

Wow, is he shopping for something for his hidden lover? 

Bemused, you watch him, eyes scanning for a woman near him, only to find no one.

“My Lady, we should really get going. This area is not safe, and—” Ignoring San’s plea, you head straight towards where your husband stands.

“My Lord, what brings you here?” You chirp, standing right behind him. The man immediately turns around, his pupils blown wide in shock. You do not miss the way he hides something behind him. It takes a moment for him to register that it is you, and once he does, that grim look settles on his face. “What are you doing here?’’

San rushes next to you, “My Lord, I am so sorry—”

General Choi cuts him off with a raised hand and gives him a look of dismissal, which sends the young man scurrying away. Ignoring his question, you say. “It seems like you were finished with work early today.” You pointedly look at the shop behind him.

“Yes. I finished early today.” He states, expressionless. “Are you returning from the palace now?”

“Yes, the work at the library took longer than usual. Some records were accidentally destroyed, so we had to salvage them.”

“I see.” He nods. You wait, wondering if he has anything more to say. He keeps gazing at you silently, his odd eye hidden behind his hair. You have noticed that he always hides it in public. Why? To avoid detection? 

Finally, he speaks, his eyes narrow and his tone sharp. “You should not be here. I am sure you are aware of the looting and killing taking place in this area.”

You hate his tone. Frowning, you reply. “Thank you for your concern, My Lord. I was aware. I just wanted to explore—”

You are cut off.

The next sequence of events takes place exceptionally quickly. First, you see your husband’s gaze shift and focus on something behind you. The very next moment, he yanks you towards him, making a swift turn so that his body covers yours. You lose your footing from the harsh tug, gripping onto his arms with a yelp of surprise.

Something whizzes past you, sharp and quick, that makes you jerk and hold onto him tighter.

Gasps, yells and screams of people echo all around you. You blink, befuddled, staring at your husband, who holds you tightly against his body, looking behind him. Following his gaze, you find San chasing after a man who dashes away through the crowd at remarkably fast speed, shoving people and running over stalls on his way.

Your husband whips his head back to look at you, his eyes wide with alarm. “Are you okay? Look at me!” He shakes you, his grip on your arms fierce. Something wet touches your fingers. Slowly, your eyes trail to your right hand, which is grabbing General Choi’s bicep.

There is a tear on his sleeve, a couple of inches above your fingers and red liquid oozes out from the thin cut. You gasp, your breath escaping your lungs in a choked wheeze.

Finally, everything clicks.

Someone just shot an arrow at him. Who? An enemy? A gang member? An assassin?

“Oh…oh my god! My Lord!” You clutch onto his sleeve, panicking.

General Choi ignores your cry and forces you to look at him, tilting your chin upwards. “Are you hurt anywhere?”

Is he seriously worrying about you right now?

“I am fine.” You choke on a sob. “But my Lord, you are bleeding! What…what should I do?”

He rubs a gentle hand on your back, pulling you closer to him. “I am fine. It is nothing.” He assures, his eyes scanning the place carefully as if looking for someone. You panic. “My Lord, we need to go home. Come on. You are hurt!” You urge, tugging him with you, even though you cannot make him move an inch.

The man stands rooted to his spot, his eyes still scouring through the marketplace. Finally, he nods and pulls you into his arms, holding you protectively. “Let us go.”

— 

After your relentless nagging, you finally get your husband to sit still so that you can treat his wound.

“I told you, it is nothing serious.” He admonishes when you step into his bedchamber with a rag, a bowl of water, and some medicine. Ignoring him, you hurry closer to him, inspecting the wound.

You have never treated someone before, but your mother was a very good nurse. She helped a lot of people during the war with her vast knowledge of medicinal herbs. You remember watching her work for hours, and even though you never directly learned from her, you are confident you can do this right.

The memory of his blood seeping out and wetting your hands sends shivers down your spine, and you have to take a deep breath to get yourself to calm down. Your heart has been racing ever since, the adrenaline yet to wear off.

“You should take off your shirt.” You whisper, wetting the rag in the bowl of water. Your husband complies, slowly removing the garment and shrugging it off his shoulders. Your breath catches in your throat once you lay your eyes on his body.

It is not his muscular build but the plethora of scars littering his body. Small and big, they taint his chest and all the way down to his lower abdomen, and you cannot help but stare, wincing at the marks that look particularly nasty.

What has this man been through?

General Choi snatches the rag from your hands and starts treating his cut. Embarrassed, you protest, but he cuts you off. “I can do it myself.” His response, like always, is curt, but you ignore it, too distracted by his scars. The one on his left abdomen looks particularly ghastly, and you know for sure it was a deep stab wound. 

The amount of pain he must have been in…

The thought makes you shudder, and you bite your lip, holding your tears back.

“This is why I assigned someone to protect you.” His voice pulls you out of your thoughts. “I am sure he told you to return, but you insisted on going to the market.”

“Who was that man?” You cut him off, unable to prevent yourself from voicing your worries any longer. Why did they want to hurt him? 

His lips thin, and something flashes over his eyes, leaving you guessing. He pauses for a moment, looking at you impassively, almost like he knows a secret that you don’t. “They were probably from some gang. They have been causing havoc recently, as you know.”

You know it is a lie. It is blatant that he is hiding something from you, and you cannot help but sigh out loud, sagging onto the floor. You do not even have it in you to fight with him right now. You are just glad he is okay. The bleeding has stopped now, and as you watch him apply the herb on his cut, a small sigh of relief flows past your lips.

Finally, it feels like you can breathe.

Silently, you help him tie a clean rag around his bicep before wiping the residual herb from his fingers. “You should take a bath.” He keeps staring at your face as if he is trying to understand something.

“Are you sure you are okay?” he asks, his tone soft. His gaze, for the first time, appears to be almost tender, and for a moment, the concept of language evaporates from your mind.

You want to say a lot of things. You want to yell at him, scream at him to explain himself and cry in his arms. You are unable to do any of that. “I am fine,” you whisper, your voice small and shaky.

He keeps looking at you for a few more seconds before nodding and getting up. Just as he is about to exit the room, you call for him. “My Lord?” “Hm?” He turns around to look at you.

You pause, hesitating. “I know you brought something today. At the market…” you trail off, unsure why you are saying this. His body tenses, and he looks at you warily…like he has been caught. For a second, you pray that he comes clean, but he remains silent, waiting for you to continue.

You swallow a lump in your throat and look away. Your voice is wobbly when you speak. “You should wrap it. Put it in a nice box. Women love gifts that are nicely wrapped. The woman…whoever you bought it for…you should wrap it.”

You do not dare to meet his gaze, so you sit on the floor, staring at the bowl of water that is now tinted red from his blood. He does not reply but walks out the door, his footsteps padding softly over the wooden floors.

— 

That night, you lay in bed awake, replaying the event at the market over and over again in your head. And as you keep revisiting that moment, a shuddering realization dawns on you.

What if…what if…

The arrow wasn't meant for General Choi but for you?

The more you think about it, the more probable it seems. The arrow would have originally hit you if not for him moving you out of the way. The thought makes you bolt up from your bed, your heart racing as beads of sweat gather on your temples. Tossing the blanket away, you step out of your sleeping mat and start pacing around your room.

Today's events are a mystery to you. You have no enemies, and neither does your father. Hell, he has been out of politics ever since your brother died. You simply have no reason to have someone shoot an arrow at you in the middle of a marketplace.

If it were not for your husband, you would have died for sure.

Shit. Who would do that? 

Your mind starts spiraling to the point that your temples begin to throb. You press the spot with your fingers, trying to make the ache go away.

It doesn't.

Instead, paranoia starts settling in. Suddenly, the thought of being alone in your room frightens you so much that you feel a chill in your bones. Unable to tolerate the deafening silence and the darkness any longer, you step out of your chamber, taking tentative steps towards your husband's room. The hallway is dark except for one small lamp flickering at the end of the long corridor, an eerie quietness hanging heavy in the air as the whole house sleeps.

You come to stop in front of your husband's room, your hands hesitating to pull open the wooden panels. 

What are you doing here? Sneaking into your husband’s chamber in the middle of the night?

With the resolved exhale, you pull open the door. In the darkness, it takes a moment for you to spot your husband sleeping on his side, his long raven hair splayed messily over the mat.

You remain rooted in your spot outside the door, hesitating yet once again before gingerly making your way inside and quietly closing the panel behind you. The room would be pitch dark if not for the faint light of the lamp flickering outside, filtering in through the panel. You take a moment to let your eyes adjust to the visibility before placing yourself next to him. With his sword resting between the two of you, you silently lie down, gazing at the silhouette of his face in the darkness.

Your heart aches. He got hurt because of you. 

Why do you feel such a strong attraction towards this cold, stubborn man? Why does it hurt you so much to see him hurt? Most importantly, is this how he feels about his lover? Does her pain make him hurt like this as well? Is that why he refuses to be with you, unable to resist his heart's longing?

So many questions and no answer to soothe your wretched soul. 

You keep gazing at him, a strange sensation filling your heart. He is physically so close to you, right within your reach, yet it feels like he is a million miles away, tucked away in a place for which you have no key. At the same time, lying next to him like this, you feel oddly comfortable. With him next to you, the silence and the darkness of the night are bearable, no longer stealing your sleep.

With a heavy ache in your chest and tears in your eyes, you fall asleep, happy to be in the same space as your husband.

—

When you open your eyes next morning, the sun is high up in the sky and the light flooding into the room immediately tells you that you have slept way longer than you should have.

Shit. You missed work today.

All concerns of work, however, fly out the window when you register where you are. You fell asleep on the floor next to General Choi yesterday. Then why are you sleeping on his mat, his blanket tucked around you, and his pillow under your head? 

With a gasp, you sit up and look around you, double checking to make sure you are in the right place.

How did you get here? Did he tuck you in after waking up? How did you not wake up?

Your face flushes with heat, imagining him carrying you and putting you in his bed. No wonder you feel so well rested after a long time. You must have slept like a log throughout everything.

Did you snore? Did you drool? Did you say something weird in your sleep?

“Oh dear lord, help me!” You whine, putting your face in your hands, cringing at all the possible ways you might have embarrassed yourself. Once you are over the initial wave of embarrassment, you spot a trinket on top of the small wooden table by the mat.

Curious, you shuffle closer. It is a bineyo with a beautiful butterfly in pink and blue, exactly the one you had been looking for. With a gasp, you lean closer, mesmerized by the way it sparkles underneath the sunlight. Next to it sits a letter, face up.

Dear wife, 

I am sorry I did not wrap it. I was interrupted by someone before I could choose a box. I do not know how the misunderstanding came to be, but this was meant to be yours from the beginning, not any other woman’s. I hope you like it.

From, Your husband

Your hands cover your mouth in shock and absolute glee before clutching the letter and the hairpin to your chest. Tears brim your eyes, your heart melting like a caramel under the sun, warm and sweet.

It seems like you misunderstood his actions. Still, some things remain unclear.

“Jihye!” You yell. She rushes in a few moments later. “My lady, you are awake! Master said not to disturb you. He said he will let Head Court Lady Yeo know that you will not go to work today.”

Ignoring her words, you quickly motion for her to come closer to you and sit down. “You,” you narrow your eyes at her. “You have been hiding something from me.” She blinks, her gaze slowly lowering to the floor.

“What did General Choi tell you? He definitely told you something. That is why you have not been letting me out of the house by myself.”

She looks at you helplessly for a long moment before sighing. “Okay, I will tell you, my lady. But you have to promise me you will not tell Master. I gave him my word.” She winces.

What could it be? Eager, you scoot closer to her. “I will not. Now out with it.”

“On the first night of your marriage, he called me and asked about you. What you like to eat, what your favourite season is…things like that.”

Wow. Your heart races with each of her words.

“Then, he asked me what you were doing in the market that day. You know that noon a week before your wedding? When we bumped into him? I said that you were looking for a hairpin. He asked in detail about the hairpin, and I told him that you were looking for one with a butterfly. Then, he ordered me to keep you from going outside, especially to crowded areas, as much as possible. He said it is not safe for you. And he made me promise not to tell you.”

A lot of the blanks start filling up. He listened to her and got this hairpin for you. No wonder!

You keep finding yourself revisiting that moment in the market. The way he protected you. The worry in his eyes, the way his fingers gripped onto you, the way his voice was filled with worry when he asked you if you were ok. The realization that you may have misunderstood him greatly starts settling in your bones. 

Maybe there was no one else from the beginning. Maybe it was only you all along. Maybe everything he did was to protect you. But protect you from what? Did he know that someone was after you? Who? Why did he not tell you anything?

No matter, you shall set the record straight when he gets home today. You have caught a glimpse into your husband’s heart, and it turns out he is not as cruel as they say. Now, there is nothing strong enough to stop you. He has had his way until now, and now, it is your time.

“Did he say when he will return?” You ask Jihye, your heart racing.

“No, my lady.”

“No matter.” You smile. “I will wait for him.”

— 

The heavens seem to be on your side because your husband returns home right before sunset. As he takes a bath, you prepare in your room, getting dressed for the evening.

Jihye braids your hair for you before helping you put on your hanbok, a soft yellow jeogori with a pastel pink chima. 

Just as you are almost finished with your makeup, Head Servant Yang knocks at the door, letting you know that your husband has finished his bath. With a smile, you stand up and walk over to the mirror, smoothing your skirt.

“Jihye, how do I look?”

“Absolutely beautiful, my lady!” She squeals. “Master will not be able to resist you tonight!”

You throw a scandalized look at her before reaching for the hairpin your husband gave you. Gingerly placing it on your hair, you complete the look and twirl in front of the mirror. “Alright, let us go!”

You knock twice at your husband’s chamber.

“Come in.”

Exhaling a shaky breath, you open the door and find sitting on the floor, wearing a navy blue hanbok. A book sits open on his lap, which is discarded once he lays eyes upon you.

Silence.

You hold your breath, watching his eyes scan you top to bottom, before going up again and finally stopping at your hairpin. He looks awestruck and speechless—a look you have never seen on him, and you struggle to stifle a smile.

“May I come in?” You ask coquettishly. 

“Ah—yes, of course.” He blinks and sits up straight. With a smile, you walk into the room and sit in front of him, closer than you have ever been before. "How is your arm?” You ask, jutting your chin towards it. “Do you need me to apply some herbs?”

“No, it is fine. I changed the gauze after my bath.”

“Are you in any pain?”

“Thank you for your concern, Lady Choi, but I am well.” He sets the book aside. “What brings you to my chamber?”

You ignore his curt replies. “Thank you for the gift, my lord.” You smile, saccharine sweet. Titling your head, you show him the trinket nestled in your hair. “How do I look?”

“Hm?” He gapes at you, eyes wide, clearly taken aback by the question. “Uh…it suits you. You look lovely.”

You smile like a lovestruck fool. “Thank you, my Lord.”

Silence. He keeps looking at you like it is a staring competition. Realizing he will not be the first one to break the silence, you continue with a sigh, “I have some questions, my Lord. I hope you will answer them honestly.” His gaze shifts, something unreadable briefly flashing by his eyes. His hands on to rest on his knees, his back straightening as he takes a moment before subtly nodding his head.

“Is there someone trying to kill me?” Your gaze does not waver. General Choi’s lips press into a thin line, his thick brows forming a frown, a look of pure displeasure settling on his face.

You do not back down. “Yesterday, the arrow was meant for me, was it not? You knew someone was after me. That is why you assigned San to be with me. That is why you told Jihye not to let me go outside.”

Another beat of silence. “Yes.” He murmurs, his haunting gaze piercing yours.

You swallow. “Who is it? I do not understand…I do not have any enemies— “

“They are my enemies.” He cuts you off. “The arrow yesterday…yes, it was meant for you, but it was also meant for me. It was their warning to me.”

“What warning? Why are they after you?” You cry.

His gaze narrows. “That is private information. Only the King’s most trusted men are aware of it.” You look down, worriedly chewing on your lower lip. After a beat, you ask, “Is that why you ignored me in the palace that day?”

“Yes. I thought the less I interacted with you, the better.” He pauses, his gaze focusing on the lamp burning at his side. “I am sorry for putting you in danger, but rest assured, they will be dealt with.”

You are not really worried about losing your life. If anything, his being in danger scares you more. Odd, is it not?

“Why did you let me misunderstand, my Lord?” You ask softly.

“That was not my intention.”

“But it happened anyway.” You cannot hold back the bite in your voice. “From the first day of this marriage, I believed that you have someone else.”

He remains silent, looking almost guilty. It scares and infuriates you. “Tell me! Do you?”

“No,” his voice never loses its quiet composure. “I do not.”

“Then why did you lie?”

For the first time, you see his gaze soften. For once, it looks like he is not scowling but rather, he appears ashamed and helpless. The hidden frustration inside you reaches its tipping point. “You could have told me! You could have said that I was in danger instead of pushing me away like I disgust you and letting me think that you were seeing someone else!” 

You hear him exhale a breath. “How do you expect me to tell my young, newlywed wife that her life is in danger because of me, her husband?”

The guilt is raw and vivid in his voice, echoing throughout the room like a haunted cry. This new side of your husband knocks all the air out of your lungs, leaving you feeling helpless as you stare at him, tears pricking your eyes.

“My Lord—”

“I know I am not the best match for you. You got married to be free, but instead, this marriage became a trap for you. How could I tell you that? I believed it would be better to let you think all crazy things about me rather than taking away your freedom by scaring you. I apologize for my shortsightedness.” A lone tear rolls down your cheek. He is not the best match for you? What is he saying?

Unable to hold back any longer, you close the little distance between the two of you and leap into his arms, hugging him tightly. With your arms wrapped around his neck, you rest your face on his shoulder, your fingers tightly holding onto the fabric of his hanbok. “Please do not apologize, my Lord. I understand you.”

Against you, your husband’s entire body remains tense, his hands awkwardly raised into the air like he is too scared to touch you. You ignore his hesitation and hold onto him tightly, your heart breaking and healing simultaneously. The warmth and comfort of his body soothe all the anguish in your heart, making you never want to let him go.

Finally, his hands touch your back, his large palms holding the small of your back, softly patting you.

Loosening your arms around him, you take a peek at his face and find the most sincere look in his eyes, warm and kind, the complete opposite of how you have seen him until now. You truly believed he was beyond all emotions, cold and mechanical, but right now, as he holds you in his arms and gazes at you with so much reverence and softness, you can only think of him as this quiet, considerate man who is misunderstood greatly.

Something in you shifts. No longer afraid, you shift in his arms, positioning yourself better on his lap before kissing him.

You press your lips against his without thinking, pulling him closer by the lapels of his hanbok and holding your lips right there, against his, soft and warm. With your heart hammering in your chest, you stay there, testing the waters. Your husband remains frozen at first, almost like he is waiting for you to back out. Once sure that you will not, he reaches for you, gently cupping your cheek with his right hand to tilt your face. The kiss deepens just a tad bit, his lips pressing against you just hard enough. His touch on you is meticulous and guarded, like you are a wild animal he does not want to frighten. You know he is being gentle for your sake, so you take the lead, snaking an arm around his neck and kissing him the way he led you.

Slow, sweet and passionate.

It is everything you imagined and more, all your dreams coming true and giving you a taste of ecstasy. By the time your lips part from his, there is a ringing in your ears along with your heart galloping like a race horse and a strange, tingling sensation between your legs. You feel drunk on your husband’s kiss, your eyes involuntarily trailing to his lips that are now shining with saliva.

You want this man so much, body and soul.

Your husband’s fingers remain against your cheek, his thumb stroking your cheek, slow and tentative like you are the most precious porcelain. Mirroring his hand, your fingers cup his cheek, your thumb gently tracing the scar beneath his odd eye. The skin is harsh and bumpy under your touch, making your heart heavy. You want to kiss it, tell him that he is beautiful despite it, tell him that you feel his pain, but something shifts.

His gaze grows unfocused, something foreign flashing by in his eyes, like he has been woken back to reality. With a sudden noise, he clears his throat and retracts his hand from your face. The action pulls you out of your haze as well, making you suddenly hyper aware of the fact that you kissed him.

Holy shit. You kissed your husband. And he kissed you back. And it was amazing.

Clearing his throat once more, your husband looks away, carefully trying to put some distance between you and him. Flustered, you take the hint and stand up rather unceremoniously. As you take a step back, however, misfortune befalls.

The ghost of clumsiness yet again takes over your body, and you trip over your skirt. With a loud, unladylike yelp, you fall backwards, terrified but also anticipating the brutal hit to the floor.

It does not come. You do not fall on the ground because your husband saves you, reaching for your arm and tugging you back towards him just in time. Something else happens in the process. The ribbon of your jeogori comes off.

You realize that several moments later, too preoccupied with trying to calm your beating heart and processing what just happened. As you stay pressed against his body, your arms tightly holding onto his shoulders for balance, General Choi’s eyes skim over your face before fixing beneath your neck and on your exposed shoulder.

This time, something dark and carnal takes over his gaze, his eyes sharp and narrow, staring intently at your bare skin. Your heart beats so loudly you fear he can hear it, and for a moment, you are sure you will pass out from the intensity of his gaze and the swirl of emotions—desire and shame, surging within you.

Like before, he is the one who backs away, quietly clearing his throat and looking away. Embarrassed, you quickly fix your jeogori and clutch it tightly to your chest while also scrambling off his body.

“I—” you stammer, mortified to look at his face. “I will see you for d-dinner then, my Lord.” Picking up your skirt to avoid further accidents, you rush for the door, eager to be out of his sight.

His voice forces you to stop right at the door. “Why did you come to my room last night?”

You halt, processing his question. Then, with quick fingers, you tie your jeogori and carefully turn around. Your husband looks at you inquisitively. “Were…were you awake, my Lord?” You ask. He did not even sir when you came into the room.

In reply, he nods. You look around, trying to find the words. “I…was scared to be alone. I kept thinking of what happened at the market, and I do not know…” You trail off, embarrassed and worried about his reaction. He, however, keeps looking at you intently before shaking his head up and down in understanding.

“How did you know I came in? You did not even move a muscle. I thought you were asleep.”

“I smelled you.” He states, his face expressionless. You take a step back, alarmed. “Do I stink?”

He shakes his head. “No. I meant that I smelled roses. You smell like roses.”

Oh. “I see,” you mumble shyly, your fingers twiddling with the fabric of your skirt. He regards you quietly for a beat before murmuring. “You can sleep with me tonight as well, if you desire it.”

“Really?” You squeal, not hiding the excitement brimming in your voice. 

“Yes.”

“Thank you, my Lord!” You smile so big it hurts.

— 

After dinner, Headservant Yang sets the mattress for the two of you with a suggestive, happy smile on her face that makes you grin goofily. 

Once finished with your nightly routine and dressed for bed, you pad into your husband's chamber and find him already lying down, his eyes closed and his hands resting over his chest. One could think he was asleep, but you know better now. With wonder, you observe that the place of his sword has shifted and moved to his left, right next to his mat, now that yours occupies the space it took before.

“My Lord,” you ask softly, “shall I blow out the candle?”

“Yes.” He replies, not moving or opening his eyes. Carefully, you pad over to the study table and blow out the candle before finding your place on the mat. With the noise of the crickets humming outside, you lie on your mat, pulling the blanket up to your chin and staring at the ceiling. Your blood thrums in your veins, your brain too wired to fall asleep. The excitement of lying next to your husband keeps you awake.

Once your eyes adjust to the darkness, you take tentative peeks at him and find him in the same position as he originally was. Is he sleeping? You wish you could tell.

“My Lord?” You speak, quiet as a mouse.

Silence.

“Hm?” He hums.

“Why do you sleep with your sword next to you?”

“Force of habit, I suppose…from the war.”

You hum in acknowledgement, looking at him eagerly amid the darkness. After a short pause, you call for him again. “My Lord?”

“Yes.”

“Can I sleep with you from now on?”

Silence. Seconds pass by, but no answer comes, and you start to think that he has fallen asleep. Just then, he finally replies, his voice quiet and deep in the solitude of the night. “If you wish to.” You smile, happy and wide, even though he cannot see you. “Thank you, my Lord.”

Another short pause later, he murmurs. “Goodnight.” You take it as a sign that he does not wish to talk anymore, and with a nod, you shift and lie on your side, your right arm resting underneath your head.  “Goodnight, my Lord.” You whisper with a smile.

— 

You wake up just before sunrise. 

The spot next to you is empty, and with no sign of your husband, you step out of his bedchamber in search of him. It is a rest day, so you wonder where he is so early in the morning.

You find the man in the backyard, already dressed, quietly observing the flowers in the garden. “My Lord?” You call for him.

“Oh, good morning.” He acknowledges you with a small nod. “Why are you up so early?”

“I woke up and you were not there. Is everything okay?”

“Yes.” He assures. “You should sleep some more.” You pause, carefully observing him. In the soft morning light, the man looks different, more relaxed and homely, dressed in his hanbok and his long raven hair draped elegantly against his back.

How can you leave his majestic man just for a few more hours of sleep?

“My Lord?”

“Hm?”

“Let us go for a walk.”

— 

After quickly getting dressed, you and your husband go for a stroll, the early morning sun softly gleaming in the sky.

Your husband heads towards the nearby forest, which leads to a cliff offering a nice view of the town and the hilly background. He walks quietly with his hands behind him, his movements deliberately slow to accommodate your pace. With a soft smile that never leaves your lips, you walk alongside him, your heart thrumming happily.

Can this be called a date?

Without any words exchanged between the two of you, you navigate the path through the forest, your eyes skirting towards him every now and then. The silence between you is not awkward because you can see from his face that he is thinking deeply about something. So, you let him think and use the solitude to take peeks at his handsome face, memorizing the details of his visage.

By the time you reach the cliff, you are out of breath.

“Wow,” you wheeze out, panting for air as you rest with your palms on your knees. 

“Are you alright?” General Choi asks, peering down to see your face. “Yes,” you nod, trying to control your breathing. “It has been a while since I came up here. The view is magnificent.”

“It is.” He hums, looking over the cliff. “That last time I came here, I was a child.” You share, standing up and gazing at the view. It is truly still beautiful.

“Why so long ago?”

“What?” You blink, looking at your husband, who is regarding you with a curious tilt of his head.

“Uh…” you think. “My father…he was not fond of me going out much. Especially anywhere far, after my brother died. He liked to keep me within his sight.”

He keeps looking at you attentively, and you wonder what he is thinking. Is he judging you?

Needing to fill the silence, you ramble. “On top of that, I have always been clumsy. I’m sure you have figured that out by now. Once, when I was a child, I somehow broke my arm playing in the yard. My brother ran all the way to the physician’s office with me on his back. With him gone, my father thought it would be better for me to be within the house. For my safety and his mental peace.”

“It was suffocating, no? That is why you married me. For freedom.” Your husband observes. You nod, albeit shakily, thinking of your days back at your parents' home. The cold treatment of your father and the way you were never enough. Not enough to take away the pain of them losing their son.

In the silence, you take a moment to gather your thoughts before facing the man next to you and voicing a question you have always wanted to ask. “Why did you choose to marry me?”

He takes a moment to answer. 

“Because no one else wanted to. A lot of ministers tried to get me engaged to their daughters, but the girls refused when they saw me. Some even rejected just after hearing my name. They feared me.”

You find it ridiculous. “Why?” Your tone drips with bewilderment. “My reputation,” he shrugs. “My face does not help much, I suppose.”

“What do you mean?” You frown, leaning closer to him. He regards you in silence, as if the answer to that question is the most obvious thing in the world. “I am ugly.”

“What?” You gape at him, utterly befuddled. Does this man truly think that? His sharp eyes narrow on you, his brows knotting in confusion. “I do not know if you are making fun of me.”

“Why would I make fun of you?” You cry. This entire thing is ludicrous. “I simply find it absolutely enraging that you think so!”

He remains mute, watching you like you are an equation he needs to solve.

You take a tentative step closer to him, mumbling, “It is true that your reputation is scary. I also feared you for that in the beginning. I do not know if you are aware, but people say all types of crazy things about you.” You pause, inching even closer to him. With a few small inches between the two of you, you look up and meet his eyes, hoping to convey your sincerity. “But as I got to know you…I have realized there is nothing to fear. You are undoubtedly a cold man, my Lord, but you are also warm. Your heart is always in the right place. That alone is enough to make you the most beautiful man in the land.”

His face relaxes, and you can see how his gaze softens, the turbulent storms ever present in his eyes dissipating for a moment. 

In the back of your mind, one thought runs rampant. You want to kiss him. In the soft morning light, he looks as breathtaking as ever, his lips soft and kissable. Remembering the touch of his lips against yours last night, you muster the courage and lean up on your tippy toes, pressing a quick, chaste kiss on his lips. The man immediately leans back, a look of surprise on his face. Ignoring his reaction, you smile and step back, facing the view again. Your husband clears his throat before silently joining you in gazing at the view.

A while later, you voice out another thought. “My Lord, when you said not to expect anything from you, what did you mean?”

He takes a moment to answer. “I don’t know. Just do not expect anything from me. I cannot give you anything.”

Frowning, you face him. “But you have already given me so much.”

“I do not believe that.”

You sigh. The cranky man is returning. Hitching your skirt, you walk closer to him, determined. “What did you mean, my Lord? I cannot expect what?” He huffs out a frustrated breath. “Whatever a wife expects from her husband, I suppose.”

Your frown deepens. “What? Love? Attention? Devotion?”

“I will be devoted to you, but I cannot give you love.” His words are like a punch to the gut. “Why not?” You plead.

He hesitates. “I…just cannot.”

“You cannot or will not?”

His eyes, sharp and fiery, pierce right through you, and you see the truth in his eyes. You see the answer he refuses to utter. “Let us get back.” He announces, turning on his heel and dismissing you, starts marching down the path. You scoff, watching with an open mouth as he almost runs down the track to escape answering your question.

This stubborn, frustrating man.

— 

After breakfast, General Choi goes out to visit an old friend. With a sour mood, you shuffle through the house, watching as everyone remains busy with their work. You try to practice some needlework but fail to get far with that. As always, your hand at embroidery is embarrassingly bad. For two hours, you try to create a flower on a handkerchief, but when it turns out looking questionable, you drop the task.

You find San sitting outside on the porch, chatting animatedly with Headservant Yang. “My Lady, are you bored?” Headservant Yang asks upon seeing you walk over. With your shoulders slumped, you nod, pouting.

“General Choi will not be back for some time. Should we play a game then? San offers.

Your eyes shine. “Sure!”

— 

Your game of baduk with San lasts even after sunset. 

You keep playing match after match, your own competitive streak matching his. He does not go easy on you just because you are married to his General, and that makes it all the more fun. 

Your husband returns right before lunch and after observing the two of you for a mere minute, he leaves, locking himself in his study for the rest of the day. His disinterest irks you, and you decide to ignore him as well, honing all your attention towards the game. During different times, Headservant Yang and Jihye stop by between their work, watching you two play with rapt fascination.

The game only ends with you winning, long after the sky has gone dark. Cheers and yells erupt in the small crowd of servants gathered to watch the game. You grin cockily, finally standing up and stretching your legs. San accepts his defeat and takes his leave, not before you make him promise to join you another day for another match.

“Would you like to have your bath first or dinner, my Lady?” Headservant Yang asks. You ponder, still reeling from the high of winning. “Did my husband have dinner?”

“Yes, my Lady.” You sigh. “Well then, I will have my dinner now and then take my bath.”

— 

After your bath, you sit in your room with the mirror in front of you while Jihye combs your hair. “Today was a fun day, no, my Lady?” She asks.

“Yes,” you hum. “It is a shame General Choi did not join us.” “Indeed.”

“Where has he been all day?” “In his room, my Lady. He was studying.”

You resist the urge to roll your eyes. Your husband truly does not know how to have fun. Instead of spending a rest day with his wife, he would rather read and strategize and sulk by himself.

As if he could hear your thoughts, the man appears with a knock at your door and steps in a second later. Jihye excuses herself, leaving the two of you alone, the room suddenly buzzing with tension.

Your husband regards you with that same unreadable face, but something in you tells you that he is grumpier than usual. Still, you try to be civil. “Hello, my Lord.”

“Lady Choi. It was hard to catch sight of you all day.” 

Yes. He is annoyed about something. The subtle bite in his voice is unmissable. You finish combing the ends of your hair before setting the comb down. “My apologies about that. I was too immersed in the game of baduk.”

“Yes, I noticed.” He peers down at you, his eyes ethereally flashing in the soft lights of your chamber. “You seemed to quite enjoy your time with San.”

“He is an excellent player. He also mentioned that you used to play with him.” You supply, trying to understand what might be the cause of his annoyance.

“I don’t know about excellent.” He murmurs, looking away from you. “I taught him, true, but he is no match for me.”

You narrow your eyes. What is he implying? “I am sure he is not, my Lord.” You force a smile. 

“Yet, you chose to spend the entire day with him.” This time, he snaps, clear and offended. Your jaw hangs low, surprised at his pettiness. You stand up frowning. “You were away, my Lord.”

“Not the entire day. I returned long ago, but you were too busy playing with him till dinner time.” He grumbles, not meeting your eyes but staring at the lamp. Stunned, you gape at him, trying to understand where he is coming from.

Your heart flutters. Is it possible that he is jealous?

“My Lord,” you step closer to take a look at his face. “Are you…jealous?”

“Ha!” He scoffs, stepping away. “Why would I be jealous of that little punk?” he half yells, waving his hand dismissively like he is swatting away a bug.

Your spirits dampen, and annoyance starts to take over. You give him a saccharine sweet smile that is evidently fake. “Well then, there is nothing to worry about. Shall we head to bed?” He refuses to let the topic go. “You finally remembered me, no? Now that it is time to sleep?”

The thread holding you together snaps. With gritted teeth, you stare at him, trying your level best to keep your tone neutral. “Well, when your husband dismisses you at every chance he gets and tries to run from you at the mere mention of intimacy, a girl would naturally be upset and spend time elsewhere. I hope you pardon her for spending some time away from him.” You bow dramatically in apology, making sure that he understands it is sarcasm. 

“Wha—” He regards you, eyes wide and mouth agape, like he cannot believe the words coming from your lips. “You—” He seems to be at a loss for words.

You step past him, but he raises a finger at you. “So you prefer San over me? Is that what you are saying?”

You roll your eyes at his words. However, today there is an urge within you to push him to his limit. So, you whip your head back and glare at him. 

“Who knows?” You singsong. Your husband’s eyes only enlarge, the look of pure shock taking over his face, his mouth hanging open wider than before. “Maybe I do. Maybe I do prefer him over you. He spends time with me, after all. Despite today being a rest day, you stayed in your room all day when you could have joined us. So what if I prefer his company?” You add the last line for good measure, trying to appear as threatening as possible.

“Take that back,” he says, his tone quiet. The look on his face starts to shift towards something serious. 

You egg him on. “I won’t! In fact, from now on, I will spend more time with him. Who knows, he might give me all the love and attention you refuse.”

The man finally snaps. In the flash of an eye, he is right in front of you, his hand behind your neck pulling you so close to him that you feel his breath. All earlier pettiness and playfulness are gone. He looks like a raging beast, barely hanging on by a thread.

“Take that back. Tell me you do not mean it or I swear to God, I will chop his head off.” He grits, his voice shaking with anger and his grip on your skin tightening. His eyes are like two molten pools of lava, angry and bright, and he has never looked hotter.

Without wasting a second, you smash your lips with his, wrapping your arms around his neck to pull him closer and closer towards you. The force of your kiss is so strong that it knocks him back a few steps. However, he is quick to recover, meeting your lips with even more passion, a side of him completely new to you. Raw and unchained, he goes all in, devouring your lips like it is his salvation.

You don’t hold back either.

You let go of your body weight entirely, pushing him on the ground below you while never letting go of his lips. Your hands—his and yours—move frantically to claw at each other through the layers of fabric. With a huff, your husband finally removes his lips from yours, a long string of saliva connecting your lips to his. “If we continue…I cannot hold back.” He pants, his eyes wild and shining.

His words make you giddy with anticipation, molten hot pools of lava swirling in your belly.

“That is what I want,” you whisper, feeling the cold air against your swollen lips. “I do not want you to hold back.” Slowly, you snake your arms around his neck and you move closer to his face. With a mere inch between your lips, you murmur, “I want you to devour me, my Lord.”

Your husband makes a sound, a low, primal grunt that comes from the deepest part of his chest. He exhales sharply, determination swirling in his eyes as he finally lets go of all the restraint he had been practicing till now.

In a flash, he flips your positions, holding you against the ground, his large body looming over yours. Your breath catches in your throat with the view on top of you, and he has not even taken off his clothes yet. Desire thrums in your veins, making you curl your toes in anticipation.

“I will ruin you tonight.” That is a promise. His voice is laced with something dark, like he will thoroughly enjoy ruining you. Little does he know, you will enjoy it too.

“Please, my Lord.” You beg, all too eager to become his.

His eyes flash at your words, and immediately, his hands get to work. They move with ease, graceful yet quick, as he strips you off your garments. All too soon, you are left only in your underskirt, your bare chest exposed for his eyes to feast on. You have the urge to cover them, and as if your husband can read your mind, he grabs your hands and links your fingers with his, pinning them on top of your head.

“Do not hide from me,” he commands, his lips hovering over yours. You nod, jittery with need and anticipation. 

Once sure your hands will not move, he slowly traces his fingers from your jawbone to your neck and then your shoulder, before reaching for your braid. You shift and let him hold your hair, his fingers gently caressing over the long braided strands. His fingers trace over your daenggi before tugging on it sharply. Undone, the strip of cloth comes off as your hair starts to loosen from the braid.

“So beautiful.” He hums, holding a few strands of hair between his fingers. He places a soft kiss on them before reaching for your hands. With your daenggi, he ties your wrists together, making sure the knot will hold before placing your hands back where they were, arms stretched straight on top of your head.

“Be a good girl.” He whispers, his voice sultry, his gaze half lidded yet dangerous. Your heart hammers loudly in your chest as the reality of what is happening actually starts to settle in your bones.

You are half-naked, tied up and vulnerable underneath your husband. The man they call the Grim Reaper, the most merciless man in the land. Yet, you are not afraid.

You watch as he shifts, making himself comfortable between your spread legs. He lifts your underskirt, exposing your core, and despite the urge to close your legs, you cannot.

“So beautiful. It will be a treat to ruin you.” He hums, his eyes focused between your legs, a faint smirk playing on his lips. Without any warning, he slaps you between your legs, right on your sensitive flesh, the sharp whack echoing through the quietness of the night.

“Ah!” You cry, mortified and surprised. It stings but also unlocks a new sensation of pleasure within you. Your face heats up as you realize how much you enjoyed it, a deep and deprived sense of pleasure.

He slaps you again. “Do you like it? I can see you are getting wet.” He says, his flashing eyes set on your face.

You make a pathetic noise of agreement. “Answer me!” He commands, slapping you once more. A long, needy moan is ripped from your throat. You pant. “Y-yes, my Lord.”

Pleased, he smirks before leaning down to press kisses on your inner thighs. He moves slowly and deliberately, playing with you, nibbling on your skin with his teeth before giving it a soothing lick and making sure it is marked. When he sits back up, his eyes trace all over your face as if he is trying to remember every small detail about you. You do the same, peering at him through your lashes with bated breath, wishing you could pull him closer for another kiss.

You could spend your entire life kissing this man.

With the ease and grace of a panther that has trapped its prey, your husband moves, enveloping you with his body, his hair falling over you like a black curtain. Lying on top of you, one of his hands holds on to the nape of your neck while the other explores your body, teasingly moving down your waist and between your legs. His warm fingers trace your core, feeling the wetness gathered between your legs. Without losing eye contact, he plays with you, dipping his fingers inside, making you shiver and whimper and continues to smirk knowingly.

He pushes his index and middle finger inside you, just up to his knuckles and the intrusion have you shuddering, your core throbbing like it has its own heartbeat. A breathy moan tears from your lips, and he uses the opportunity to lean in and bite your lip softly. 

Dear god. You whimper. “Please.”

“What?” He mouths against your lips. “T-touch me,” you reply, chasing his lips to reconnect with yours.

You hear him scoff cockily. “I am touching you, wife.” His title for you makes you only more desperate. You whine, starting to writhe, “More.”

You feel him smile against your mouth, his fingers slipping all the way in. His lips trace your jaw, his nose pressed against your skin before trailing down your neck, while his fingers start moving in and out. Involuntarily, your hips writhe, chasing his fingers while he peppers your neck with kisses and bites before fixing on a particular spot beneath your ear that makes you whimper. Then, he uses his thumb to give you a flick, his dark eyes trained on your face as your pleasure amplifies. 

“Oh my god,” you shut your eyes closed, reveling in the feeling of his fingers inside you. He starts to pick up pace, moving the fingers in tandem, circling them inside you and giving your clit an occasional flick. You wrap your legs around his lower waist, crossing them over and pulling him even closer, a desperate attempt at trying to ease the growing ache. Inside you, his fingers move rapidly, making your body tense as you start climbing your high, the coil in your belly pulling tight. 

“My L-lord…” You pant, looking at him with pleading eyes, even though you are unsure what you are trying to say. “Say my name,” he commands, dark eyes trained on you.

You feel even hotter, the coil in your belly pulled impossibly tight. “S-Seungcheol.”

“That is right. Scream my name.” He orders, eyes hazy with a film of lust and possessiveness. As if teasing you, his thumb brushes over your clit ever so slightly, drawing out a shuddering whine from your lips that makes him chuckle quietly. The sound feels like magic to your ears, a drug to your system that heightens your pleasure. His teeth dig into the soft flesh of your neck, undoubtedly leaving a mark.

“P-please Seungcheol,” you heave, eyes closed shut, fingernails digging into your palms. Humming against your neck, he uses his fingers to rub an even deeper spot inside you as his thumb rubs your clit mercilessly. 

“Please!” You hiss, throwing your head back, your toes curling as you wail. “I… I cannot…”

“You are going to cum for me. Now,” his voice is a quiet order. 

He curls his fingers inside you one last time and flicks your clit hard with his thumb, sending you over the edge. Your release is a tidal wave of mind-breaking pleasure as your body goes tense, your hips arching off the bed, your mouth hanging open as a reaction to the overwhelming pleasure; your first orgasm. 

You experience a type of bliss you had no idea existed, and for a moment, your mind goes blank, your body lying taut and tense underneath his. The onslaught of pleasure leaves your vision blurry with unshed tears and your mind numb to everything as you slowly descend from the throes of heavenly bliss and register that your husband is sitting upright between your legs.

With his relentless gaze locked with yours, he slowly licks his fingers clean, his long pink tongue darting out to caress his digits as he hums, “This is the sweetest pussy I have ever had.”

The sight is more than erotic, and for a moment, you are scared you will die from a heart attack. You want this man. You need him all at once, in every way possible. There is an ache coming from the depths of your soul that only he can satisfy.

“Please…untie me. I want to touch you.” You beg, hoping he takes mercy. It has been torture keeping your hands off of him. Hearing your plea, he takes mercy and undoes the ribbon tying your wrists. Free, you immediately sit up and wrap yourself around him, pulling him close for a kiss. Vigorously, wantonly, you kiss him and taste yourself on his tongue, moaning and gripping onto his back, your fingers itching to touch his skin underneath his nightshirt. 

“Please take this off,” you breathe against his mouth. Your husband smiles, undoubtedly enjoying teasing you. “Why?”

“Because…I want to see you.” You whisper sweetly, looking at him through your lashes. The man obliges, letting his hands off you for a moment to take off his shirt.

The sight of his naked body renews the heat between your legs, a new wave of desire overcoming your system. You let yourself gawk at the expanse of the muscles on his chest and the bulky thickness of his arms, all littered with scars, strong and dependable. As he stares at your face for a reaction, you reach for him absentmindedly, dragging your index finger over a scar on his right bicep. It is long, old, and jagged, rough and bumpy to the touch. Without thinking, you lean towards his arm and softly press a kiss on the wound before slowly dragging your lips to his chest, where another scar has bloomed. “It must have hurt,” you whisper to yourself, pressing another kiss on the scar before meeting his eyes. “I want to see all of your scars, dear husband. And I want to kiss all of them. I want to kiss away your pain.”

Something flashes by his eyes, brief but vulnerable. He immediately snakes a strong around around your waist to pull you tight against him and seal his lips over yours in a possessive kiss.

With his lips tangled with yours, he carries you to the sleeping mat, setting you down gently. You sigh in satisfaction as your back meets the soft, warm quilt. 

Your husband quickly gets to work, taking off your underskirt in a sharp yank and ripping it in the process. Surprised and embarrassed, you squeak, trying to hide yourself from his gaze. With the lamp burning right on the desk next to the mat, he has a pretty clear view of your body.

“Your pants…” You whisper, tugging them as well, and Seungcheol chuckles. “So desperate, aren't we?”

“Please,” you beg, throwing him your best pleading eyes as your hands roam around his back, feeling the ridge and bump of his muscles. 

The man quickly takes off his pants, giving you the briefest glimpse of his cock. You barely get to see him as he leans down towards you again, his eyes locked with yours. He drags his palms up, cupping your breasts and squeezing them. A breathy sigh of pleasure falls from your lips as you automatically lean closer to his face, your lips chasing his. Seungcheol captures them in a soft, teasing kiss, his lips gently biting yours as you feel his cock brush against your thigh.

You shiver, goosebumps breaking out on your skin.

You are a ball of nerves right now, the idea of getting intimate with a man for the first time plaguing your mind with worry. Yet, at the same time, you are overcome with desire, need running through your veins.

This is scary yet perfect. Absolutely perfect.

Your husband attacks your neck, kissing and biting the skin while simultaneously playing with your breasts. You mewl, letting your head fall to one side to give him better access to your neck. He hums, the sound so deep and throaty you feel it in your core. His lips do not break contact with your skin, kissing and sucking your sensitive flesh until your whole body shakes like leaves in a tree. 

“Please…” You beg, digging your nails into his shoulder, your body unconsciously starting to grind against him, desperate to ease the throbbing ache between your legs. Seungcheol, finally satisfied with the red spot blooming on your neck, lets you go, peering down at you with his hypnotizing eyes.

“I teased you a lot, did I not, wife?” He hums, caressing your heated face with his knuckles. Drunk with desire, you nod, your half-lidded gaze transfixed. “Please, take me, my Lord.”

He tsks disapprovingly. As if to prove a point, he wraps his hand around your throat but does not apply any pressure. “My name.”

“Seungcheol.” You reply immediately.

“Good girl.” Seungcheol smirks, his eyes flashing with something dark as he leans back on his heels, taking a slow, good look at your body. Then, spreading your legs wider, he spits on his fingers and using it as a lubricant over his cock before lining up with your entrance.

“This will hurt at first.” He warns. You nod, one hand covering your face as you choose to look at the ceiling out of embarrassment.

“Ready?”

“Yes.”

“Look at me.” He demands, the tip of his cock brushing against your pussy lips, making you shiver and follow his command. “Keep your eyes on me. Watch me devour this tight cunt.”

You feel like someone set your face on fire. Face flushed with his crude words, you barely get to make a sound when Seungcheol thrusts himself inside you. Your head lolls forward with the impact as your hands immediately clutch his arm around your waist for support. 

“Ah!” You cry out, eyes squeezed shut as you feel a sharp sting between your legs. “Fuck,” Seungcheol hisses, his voice throaty as he remains half buried inside you. Pausing for a moment, he lets you adjust before pulling back and then thrusting back in. This time, he goes all the way in, and you swear you feel him in your stomach. With a loud, pathetic cry, you cling onto his body, your brain unable to keep up with all the different sensations. 

He builds a pace, pushing in and out of you in strong movements.

Your brain feels like mush as you fail to utter anything, your mouth simply hanging open to let out breathy pants as you close your eyes and feel every ridge of his cock move in and out of you, the initial pain of intrusion fizzling away. It is a blissful experience, a high you never want to come out of.

“Push out your hips a little,” he orders quietly, dark eyes set on you so intensely, you feel like he can see your soul.

Immediately, you comply, extending your waist towards him while keeping your upper back pressed to the mat. His hands hold your hip bone n a strong grip as he places a pillow under your ass and slides himself back inside you with a leisurely pace, the new angle making his length curve inside you. 

You start seeing stars.

“Oh my god,” you hiss, eyes squeezed shut. The back of your thighs rests over Seungcheol’s, your legs dangling around his waist, and your hands clenched around the sleeping mat as he starts to pick up pace. With each thrust, the force increases, the tip of his cock hitting your most sensitive spot, low groans falling from his lips to match your breathy moans. 

“I… I cannot…please” your whisper mindlessly, the words scattered and almost unintelligible due to your broken moans. “You want to come?” His voice is almost taunting as he leans closer to look at your face. “Well, that’s unfortunate. You do not come until I give you permission, wife.” Your husband warns, making you whine. 

The need to find your release only intensifies. You are so close you can almost taste the blissful release.

“P-Please,” You beg, wrapping your arms around his neck and digging your fingernails into his shoulder blades. “Say it louder. Scream my name. Who is fucking this tight pussy?’’ he grunts in your ears, his warm breath tickling your skin.

“Seungcheol!” The desperate yell is quick to leave your lips.

“Who will make you come?”

“You! Seungcheol!”

“That is right, wife. It is I, your husband.” He gives you a particularly harsh thrust. “Not San. Not any other man but me.”

“Y-yes. Please…” you sob. Gripping your chin, he forces you to look at him. “Who do you belong to?” His voice is as quiet as a winter night.

“You, my husband.” You manage to utter clearly amid his brutal thrusts. “Good girl,” he praises, nibbling on your jaw. One of his hands reaches below to touch your clit as he wastes no time rubbing the sensitive bundle of nerves with the pads of his finger, all the while continuing to thrust inside you earnestly.

“Seungcheol!” You scream, your entire body jolting.

Your reaction makes him smirk as he chases his own high, seconds away from erupting inside you. He places your clit between his thumb and index finger, giving you a particularly harsh rub followed by a pinch.

You are catapulted over the edge. Your vision goes white, your entire sweat-coated body twitching from the intensity of the pleasure. It only amplifies as you feel Seungcheol spill inside you, his warm release filling you up and dripping lazily out of you. 

You feel like you are floating from the bliss.

— 

Your husband’s hand strokes your back in repeated soothing motions while you bask in the afterglow of your passionate lovemaking. With him lying behind you on the mat, your bodies pressed together, you move from reality to dreamland every now and then, the smile never leaving your face as you savour his touch and warmth. 

“Are you asleep?” he softly asks, bringing his face closer to inspect you.

You make a noise and shake your head, too lazy to move. Your husband gently turns you so that you lie face to face.

“Are you in any pain?” You ask again, carefully looking at your face, his fingers brushing away the rowdy strands of hair from your face. You open your eyes and look at him with a gaze full of love. “I am perfect, husband. Thank you.”

He smiles when you address him by that name, a warm, gummy smile that shows his unbridled joy. The possessive madman from earlier has completely disappeared, replaced by a man eager to dote on his wife.

This is your first time seeing this side of your husband. 

He pulls you against his chest, holding you tight in his arms. “No, thank you, wife. Thank you for being mine.” You smile, nuzzling his bare chest. This is the safest and most comfortable you have ever felt, and you do not want to let go. Ever.

After a moment of pause, he whispers. “I know I lack a lot. I can be clueless sometimes. So from now on, I hope you share with me whatever is on your mind. All your wishes, hopes and dreams, your desires— everything. I promise I will make them come true.”

You are too tired to form a reply, your body growing heavier each second but still, you smile. You peacefully drift off.

— 

Seungcheol did not go to work today.

The news delights you when you hear it from Jihye as she helps you get dressed. Her eyes linger on your body, especially on your neck, where little marks have formed— evidence of your lovemaking. 

She looks half worried and half scandalized, and you wink at her playfully before stepping out of your chamber.  Your husband sits on the porch, fully dressed, basking in the sun with a book in his hand.

“Good morning, my Lord.” You whisper, feeling pathetically shy when you catch sight of him. He looks up, his eyes shining when they land on you. “Good morning, wife. How are you feeling?” Shyly, you walk over to him and sit down without leaving any space between the two of you. Fiddling with your skirt, you look away when you answer, “I am alright, my Lord.”

With a gentle grasp on your chin, he turns your face and forces you to look at him. “The truth.” He says quietly.

Truthfully, you are quite sore, and an ache has taken hold all over your body. However, you cannot complain. The ache is laced with pleasure, especially between your legs, reminding you of last night.

Your heart gallops in your chest as you look into his eyes. “I am a little sore,” you reply timidly. “But it is a good kind of sore, I promise.”

His eyes travel to your neck, eyeing the red marks visible on your skin. “I was too rough with you,” he murmurs, his tone laced with regret, his eyes focused on your neck. Quickly, you snap him out of it. “Not at all, my Lord.” You sling your arms with his, pulling him closer so that you can rest your face on his shoulder. “You were just perfect. I enjoyed it. A lot.” You whisper, face flushing.

Your husband keeps gazing at you like he does not believe you. Whipping your head around, you take a quick scan around the yard before pressing a sweet kiss on his lips and giggling like a child. A soft smile blooms on his lips, even though he tries to stifle it.

“You should smile more, my Lord. You look so handsome.”

“Why are you calling me that? You called me by my name last night.” His lips form a soft pout as he complains. You pause, “Well…last night was…”

“You shall call me Seungcheol from now on.” He announces. “I would like it even more if you gave me a nickname.”

Wide eyed, you look at him.

“Do you understand me, wife?”

“Yes, husband.” 

Happy with that for now, he does not pester you anymore. You rest your head on his shoulders, your hands intertwined, and watch the morning sky in silence.

“You asked me to share all my wishes with you last night.” You speak after a while, eyes focused somewhere distant. “Can I share one with you right now?”

“Of course,” he shifts so that his body faces you. 

Tilting your head up, you admire a white, fluffy cloud. “Ever since my brother died, I have only had one wish for my life. I wanted to live by the sea in a small house. In that house, there would be my husband and I, and we would spend the rest of our days there, away from all the noise and bleakness of this town.”

“That sounds lovely.” He murmurs. You nod before looking at him. “Do you think it would ever be possible for us?”

He remains silent. 

“Given the nature of your job, I understand. However, I need you to promise me one thing. You must take care of yourself. You must not get hurt, do you hear me? You have someone to come home to now. You must think about me and you must return home to me, do you understand?” Your hands grip his in an earnest hold. 

His free hand comes to rest on top of yours, and he gives you a reassuring squeeze, warm and soft. “Rest easy, wife. I shall come back to you. Always.”

A lone drop of tear strolls down your cheek, and he wipes it away with his thumb before pressing the softest, feather-like kiss on your forehead. After a moment's pause, you speak. “Now it is your turn to share something with me.”

He regards you with confusion. 

“Anything. A wish, a secret…” You stare at him with eagerness. He sighs softly, his eyes trained on his lap as he thinks about something. 

“Well…when I told you not to expect anything from me,” he begins, looking almost shy, his gaze soft and apologetic. “I was afraid. I wanted to keep you at an arm's length from the beginning because I was scared of losing you. I have lost everyone close to me, and the thought of going through something like that again terrifies me. Since I joined the military, I have kept myself detached from everyone because the less I cared, the better.”

Your heart aches for the man. With gentle fingers, you brush away the unruly strands of hair from his face and trace the scar next to his eye. “You will not lose me, husband. I am right here.” You promise.

He wraps his arms around you as if to test your words. You wrap yourself around him, basking in his embrace, your bodies melting into one. “Do not leave me.” He whispers, his voice raw and vulnerable.

“Never.”

— 

Seungcheol left for the palace early today. After two days of relaxation, a letter came for him last night from the palace, demanding his presence first thing in the morning.

At night, Seuncheol held you tight in his arms, soothing away your worries. He finally shared what has been going on in the palace and why there are assassins after him.

Turns out they are working for the Minister of Trade, who is strictly against the new reformations currently being done by the king, like an attempt to abolish the slavery system. Seungcheol has been the King’s number one ally and a powerful piece in the game, which is why they are after him. Removing him from the equation is as good as stripping the King of his powers. Minister Kim has done exceptionally well in covering up his tracks, which is why there is no solid proof against him, complicating this entire issue. He has been playing a cat-and-mouse game with the royal army for a while now. 

Your husband left even before you woke up, leaving a note for you promising he would be home for dinner.

The day slowly passes by with you going to the palace and coming home once your shift is over, always under the watchful eye of San. The mood in the palace has been tense today, different rumours about Minister Kim floating in the air and a sinking feeling forms in your gut. No matter how hard you try, you cannot shake off the feeling that something ominous is about to take place.

Your suspicion starts taking shape when dusk falls and Seungcheol does not return. It turns into terror and restlessness as night falls, and still, there is no sign of him. The supper grows cold, and you fall asleep upright, waiting for him, your husband, who never comes.

When you open your eyes again, you find Jihye sitting next to you, a worried look on her face. “What is it?” You immediately sit up straight. “My lady, it is past midnight. Master has not returned yet. Should we send someone to the palace to ask for him?” She asks.

Your fingers fist around your skirt, anxiety coursing through your veins like poison. “We should.” You whisper.

Just as you are following Jihye out of the room, you hear commotion; the voice of a servant and Headservant Yang. Running to the porch, you see Seungcheol entering the house, dressed in his military uniform, his sword in his hand.

He marches straight towards you and drags you into your bedchamber without any words. “My Lord, where have you been!” You cry, gripping his arm. “I have been waiting for you—”

“Listen to me carefully,” he cuts you off, his hands resting on your shoulders as he leans down to be at your eye level. His usual unbothered demeanour is gone, replaced by worry that you see in his eyes as vividly as daylight. 

Something must be wrong. Your heart starts racing.

“The Minister of Trade is planning to attack us here tonight. They will be here anytime, so I need to get you out of here.”

“Wha— How did you even find that out? Are you sure?”

“The royal army captured a member of his team yesterday. We tortured the information out of him. Look at me,” he urges you, his fingers gripping your shoulder even tighter. “Minister Kim knows we are onto him. He has gone into hiding. He will stop at nothing to get to me, to you, do you understand? He plans to go down and drag me with him.” You see the fear in his eyes. The unshakable, indestructible man suddenly appears different, and this change terrifies you. 

“I am scared.” You whisper.

“You have nothing to be scared of.” He pulls you in his arms, holding you tightly against his chest. “I am going to send you to a safe place. I need you to do as I say, okay?”

You nod shakily, your fingers holding onto his sleeve in a death grip.

“Pack your essentials. We will leave within thirty minutes. Ask Jihye to help you.” He says, pressing a kiss on your forehead before marching outside.

With your heart hammering in your chest, you get to work, moving your shaky limbs to pack a bag with the help of Jihye. Soon, you are ready, and Seungcheol wastes no time wrapping everything up. He places Headservant Yang and the other servant in another neighbor's house to make sure they are safe before setting out with you.

In the darkness of the night, you get onto his horse with his help, followed by him sitting behind you, his arms around you to hold onto the reins. Jihye and another male servant get on another horse, and finally, a royal soldier follows from behind.

A little to the south of the town, there is a long, dense forest which leads to a small, quaint village. There is an ancient shrine there, inhabited by monks, and that is where Seungcheol intends to get you by dawn.

The silence grows heavier and thicker as you tread into the forest; the only sound echoing around is the soft galloping of the horses. You shiver, more from dread than from the cold night air and Seungcheol notices it. “Hold the reins.” He orders quietly so that his hands are free. He takes off the muffler wrapped around his neck and gently puts it around yours.

“I asked you to pack the essentials, wife.” His tone is playful. “I think a muffler in this weather counts as an essential.” He teases, and you understand it is his attempt to soothe you. “I am sorry, my lord. You should keep it. You will catch a cold.” You murmur.

“Hush now,” he shushes you, taking back the reins. “You should lean on me and close your eyes. It will take a while for us to reach there.”

“No, it is okay.” You reply, eyes focused ahead on the dark, narrow road cutting through the forest. 

It is such a gloomy night. You cannot spot a single star in the sky, shrouded by clouds.

Time ticks by. The night grows darker. 

Your journey continues through the hour of the ox and into the hour of the tiger. Exhaustion takes over you, and unable to resist it any longer, you close your eyes and lean your head back, resting it against your husband’s shoulder. It is not an ideal condition to get some shut-eye, but somehow you doze off.

When your eyes reopen, you hear the loud sound of a horse neighing and its heavy galloping. Seungcheol holds you tighter, and with a sharp tug of the reins and a nudge of his heels, his horse leaps into a full sprint. You look around worriedly, scanning through the dense bushes surrounding you.

“Master! Did they find us already?” Servant Min cries from behind as his horse too picks up pace.

The sounds grow louder, and just as your body tenses up, fearing the worst, you see San pop up from inside the forest, his horse taking a lunge and joining you on the road. “General, you have to keep going!” He yells. “They are right behind us.”

Seungcheol’s horse sprints parallel to his.

“How did they catch up so quickly?”

“Minister Kim had his men spread out. They were hiding in a camp a few miles behind. I took care of them, but the messenger escaped. I’m sure the minister is on his way. You need to move fast. There might be more of his men hiding in the forest.”

Upon hearing his words, you notice the specks of red on his hanbok. Swallowing the lump in your throat, you look behind to see your husband’s face. His jaw is clenched tight. “We need to come up with a plan. If they find us, we cannot hold them off. I need to get my wife to safety.” He yells back.

It is as if a cactus is lodged in your throat. “W-what do you mean?” You cry, your face aghast. 

He does not reply to you.

“It will be daybreak soon, General! We should hide somewhere.” San suggests.

Just then, you notice a sudden, strange ball of light in the sky, a little towards your right. It takes a moment for you to register that it is a signal, an arrow of fire shot from behind you.

“There are assassins ahead of us. They now know we are headed that way.” Seungcheol hisses.

“I will take care of it.” San nods, wielding his sword and screaming at the horse, “Go!” The horse runs faster, impossibly so, almost flying forward.

“I need you to stay calm and follow my orders.” Your husband says to you. “Do you hear me?” You nod shakily, “Yes.”

In five minutes, you catch up to San, who has taken care of most of the assassins that sat ahead at the curve. As you sprint near, Seungcheol hands the reins to you and readies his bow and arrow, taking perfect shots at the rest of the assassins. Then, he smoothly gets off the horse, followed by the other soldier who has been accompanying you, their swords wielded as they fight one-on-one.

A little ahead of the curb, you stop the horse and so does Jihye and servant Min, watching the fight anxiously. The three men take multiple assassins at a time, making sure they do not get to you.

You chew on your lower lip, your hands fidgeting as you watch the fight unfold. You wish Seungcheol gave you an archery set. You know the basics because you practised regularly as a child with your brother. Even though after his death, you stopped it for a while, you did not completely let go, taking occasional lessons from the older nobleman in your neighbourhood who used to be a skillful archer once upon a time.

By the time the last member of the group has been killed, shades of blue have coated the sky. Seungcheol and his team run back to the horses, their clothes specked with blood.  “Come on, we need to leave,” he says, mounting the horse.

There is a sudden sound; a sharp whoosh like a strong gust of wind just flew by, followed by a soft thud.

It is an arrow.

It whizzes towards you, missing the mark and hitting the tree trunk a couple of inches to your left. Your heart stops. A few hundred meters from the way you came, a large group of armed men show up. It is Minister Kim’s convoy.

They have caught up to you.

At the center, leading them is the minister himself, dressed in iron like he is about to go to war. His eyes, black and empty, scour the dead bodies of his assassins lying on the ground in front of him before looking at your husband.

His thin lips curl up into an evil smile. “General! No point in running now! It’s time to see how good of a fighter you are!” He yells. 

You feel Seungcheol's body growing tenser with each passing second, his hand gripping your thigh in a bruising hold. You, too, are paralyzed with fear, unsure of what to do. Then, absolutely shocking you, Seungcheol does the thing you least expected him to do. He starts getting off the horse slowly, his eyes trained on Minister Kim.

“San, take my wife and go.” He speaks quietly to the younger man who hadn’t gotten on his horse yet. “My Lord, what are you—” You do not get to finish your sentence because the younger man has instantly climbed behind you and snatched the reins from your hands.

“Get them!” You hear a shout as you are swept away with lightning speed. San’s grip around your body is iron solid, holding the reins with his eyes focused ahead on climbing the steep, hilly road at the end of the forest.

“No, please! You need to be with him!” You cry, fighting against him as you look behind to see Seungcheol fighting the Minister’s men, accompanied by the other soldier. 

He can never outfight all those people.

“Have faith in him. He knows what he is doing.” San assures, kicking his heels so the horse runs faster. You hear sounds right behind you, and you turn to see an assassin on a horse, aiming his arrow at you. San takes notice of it and swerves right immediately to avoid it.

As calculated, it misses, but a second later, your horse neighs out loud, standing on its hind legs before dropping down on the ground, taking the two of you with it. The arrow was meant for the horse. It struck his leg, injuring him, leaving the animal on the ground, softly crying in pain.

San wastes no time getting up and wielding his sword to fight off the man and the others following behind him. Jihye and servant Min, who were right behind you, yell out, calling for you to get on their horse. Jihye extends her hand towards you, but you ignore her, bunching up your skirt and making a run towards the curb.

“My Lady, what are you doing?” San yells, fighting off the assassins. “Jihye, stop her!”

“My Lady, come back!”

Ignoring their cries, you pick up the bow and set of arrows dropped by the assassin and continue sprinting down the steep road.

Then, finding a safe distance and a place behind an oak tree, you spot your husband, his movements sharp and precise as he takes down one man after the other. You watch as the minister slowly walks towards him, his sword dragging on the ground, leaving behind a threatening trail. Due to him wearing the armored plates, you know it is pointless to shoot at him, so you load your bow and aim at the assassins and start shooting.

The first one grazes past the man you aim at. Not discouraged, you continue, and the second one hits the target. 

Your husband looks in your direction immediately when the assassin drops dead, his eyes going from confusion to worry the moment he spots you. He does not have the time to do anything about it, as he has to fight the never-ending men.

And you are slightly grateful for that. Right now, he does not have the chance to come to you and force you away, giving you the chance to help him from afar. You continue loading arrows and shooting, missing some but hitting most, well aware of the fact that the Minister has spotted you.

From behind, you hear Jihye coming towards you, her exhausted pleas echoing down the path. “Jihye, I need more arrows!” You yell as you come down to your last two. “There should be some on the road back there!”

By now, most of the assassins have been taken care of, and the remainder are being fought by the soldier accompanying your husband. Minister Kim has approached Seunghceol as they engage in a heated sword fight, the minister swinging his sword like a madman, his growls echoing in the air. Your eyes scan around the place, thinking of finding a way to help Seungcheol, when San finally catches up to you, followed by Jihye, who did not get the arrows you asked for.

“My Lady, enough!” he yells. “You cannot be here! The road has been cleared—”

“We need to help him!” you yell back. “I cannot leave him here for—” You do not get to finish your sentence.

An arrow hits Seungcheol, piercing through the skin right below his right shoulder, on the top of his chest.

“No!” You scream, watching him stumble back for a moment. Your eyes fly through the scene, spotting an archer hidden inside the forest a little ahead towards your right. As you load your bow to take a shot at him, San finally comes to his senses, flying down the road to help Seungcheol.

You take the shot.

The arrow hits the hidden archer right in the chest, making him tumble backwards, disappearing out of sight. Then, you dash down the road, not scared of anything anymore, Jihye following you as your shadow.

San stands no match to Minister Kim, easily overpowered and tossed aside by his brute strength. He has the eyes of a madman, hell bent on getting to Seungcheol, discarding everything in his way like little bugs.

“I told you, you scarred lunatic!” He screams, charging at your husband. “I will slice your head off your neck and then do the same to your wife!”

He swings his sword around, charging for Seungcheol with all his might. Seungcheol blocks him with his sword, but the force of the attack forces him to fall to his knees. Minister Kim takes the opportunity to knock him off his feet with a kick. Seungcheol falls on the ground on his back, and in the split second, the minister raises his sword towards the sky before bringing it down sideways on his chest.

“Seungcheol!” You yell at the top of your lungs. “General!” San yells, coming from behind and tackling Minister Kim to the ground before he can fully swing his sword across. His helmet falls off from the force of San's attack. With your heart thundering in your ears, you point the remaining arrow at him.

It is like your body is not yours anymore. With zero hesitation, you take the shot while he is still pinned to the ground, struggling to get free, and the arrow hits the bullseye, right in the center of his forehead. 

His body slumps to the ground.

Pushing him away, San holds your husband’s lifeless body, his eyes slowly falling shut as he yells his name. Jihye and servant Min run past you, calling their master.

The bow drops from your hand.

You stand there, watching the ground go red underneath your husband’s body, your fingers gripping his muffler around your neck. 

—

Seungcheol receives his initial treatment in the shrine you were originally supposed to visit.

Once the news of the attack reached the capital, upon the king’s orders, the royal physician Yoon came to treat Seungcheol. He and his assistants crowded the room, tending to your husband’s injury with medicine and wrapping the area with gauze as he lay motionless on the mat.

You stood just outside the room, gazing at your sleeping husband, who looked nothing like his usual self—pale and frail, his body littered with little cuts. 

Why won’t he wake up? You miss his eyes. You miss his slow, unravelling gaze on you, his crimson, fiery eye that can almost cut through stone with a simple gaze. Where is that man?

Physician Yoon said he is in a deep sleep. They call it a vegetative state. The injury was quite lethal; the wound just a few centimetres away from damaging his heart. He said that the worst is over, and his pulse is stable now.

But he won’t wake up. He remains unresponsive, and it is unclear how long it will take for him to regain consciousness. 

“I see,” was all you said, standing motionless in your spot, gazing at your comatose husband.

A couple of days later, the King sent a royal convoy to move Seungcheol back to his house from the shrine. You had no complaints, wanting your husband to rest comfortably in his own house rather than a shrine. After a long journey, you reached home in the afternoon, greeted by Headservant Yang, who looked as devastated as you. After making sure your husband was okay, physician Yoon left, leaving you anticipating yet another sleepless night. 

It is nighttime now, and you sit still next to your sleeping husband. Headservant Yang peeks into the room, begging you to have some food. You ignore her, sitting quietly and observing your husband. The small lamp in the bedchamber casts warm shadows on his face, his sharp features appearing softer and weaker. 

He looks oddly at peace. You do not cry. You force a smile.

Leaning closer to him, you glide a gentle hand down his face and whisper, “You can rest. You have had a tough life, my dear. You can rest as long as you need, but you have to come back to me.”

You will pray to every god out there. You will visit every shrine, give unlimited offerings, and pray that your husband returns to you. You will do everything in your power to see him open his eyes. It is truly a shame you do not have much power in your hands.

Sometime later, your exhausted body falls into deep slumber, riddled with nightmares. Your husband lies in a pool of blood, and he does not wake up.

— 

The next morning, your father comes to see you. You do not move from your spot next to your husband to greet him as San leads him into the room before excusing himself.

He sits next to you, watching his son-in-law with small, worried eyes, muttering words of regret and concern. You hardly hear them, too busy patting Seungcheol’s face and arms with a damp cloth. Physician Yoon left a while ago after checking up on him and said that there is no progress. The king’s personal messenger came with him as well as the Head Eunuch, praying for Seungcheol and assuring to provide help in any way they can.

You couldn't care less about them. You sent them off, handing the letter you wrote for the king in the messenger’s hand before asking San to see them out.

“My daughter, you should eat something. You have to take care of yourself so that you can take care of him.” Your father urges.

You finish wiping your husband’s body in silence before setting the rag down and clasping his hand in yours. They are calloused but warm, and you silently send a prayer of gratitude to the heavens. He is alive. He is still here.

Tracing over his bruised knuckles with your fingertips, you whisper, “You know, Father, I have been lonely for a long time. After orabeoni died, I thought that was it. It could not get worse, but then Mother died. And I…I hated that I was alive. Because in that house, I was dead. I was dead while still being alive.”

You exhale a shaky breath, pulling Seungcheol’s hand closer to inspect it. You need to apply ointment on his knuckles.

“There was no colour, no joy, no celebration in that house. You were there but also not there. You never saw me. I was not enough, not after losing someone as precious as orabeoni. I felt so guilty. It should have been me, not him—that is all I could think of. I thought my entire life would be miserable like that, which is why I was so eager to marry this man.”

Another heavy sigh whooshes out of your lungs.

“Father, this man…people fear him. They say all sorts of weird things about him. But he is the kindest, warmest man I know. He kept his heart locked and hidden from the world, but he is so precious. He is gentle and kind, and he loves me. He loves me so dearly, Father, and I love him. How could I go on without him?”

And finally, the tears fall. Big droplets of water roll down your cheek as you fall on the ground, clutching onto your husband’s hand and sobbing into the floor, loud and broken.

Your father’s hand comes to rest on your shoulder rather unsurely, softly patting you as you keep crying, the tears that never came till now gushing out like a river with a broken dam. Your broken heart continues to shatter into even smaller pieces, and you cannot help but wonder what if he never wakes up again. Maybe you are doomed to be lonely.

The thought makes you cry some more. After a while, once you have managed to calm down, you sit up and wipe your tears.

“I…I did not know you felt that way.” Your father whispers, his voice ridden with guilt. “I…I never meant to hurt you. I am sorry—”

“I don’t want your apology right now, Father. I want you to pray for him.” You cut him off.

“I will. Of course I will.” He says, his eyes shining with unshed tears and guilt. “And when he is back on his feet, I will come visit you and I will accept your apology then.” You murmur, your gaze trained on your husband.

“Of course. Have faith, my dear. He will be awake soon.” Your father assures, his voice unstable. You hum absentmindedly.

If Seungcheol does not wake up, you do not know what you will do.

— 

The wind is particularly chilly this morning.

It has been a fortnight since Seungcheol fell into his comatose state, and he is just as before. Every day, Physician Yoon comes to check on him and then leaves while handing you some herbs to apply to his wound.

You have accepted this as your life now. Waking up every morning with a prayer that all the previous days were a long, gruesome nightmare, but then feeling grateful to see him still breathing, warm and alive.

After completing your daily prayer and offerings at the temple, you walk home in slow steps, the fatigue slowly creeping into your bones. The past week has been hard on you, and it looks like your body to starting to give up. You have not been eating properly, spending all your waking hours beside Seungcheol, tending to his comatose body or crying at the altar of the temple.

You cannot give up. Seungcheol is yet to awake.

Just as you come in front of your house, you find a small stray cat sitting comfortably in the sun. With a small, exhausted smile, you walk closer and crouch down, running your fingers through its shaggy fur. It looks dirty and disheveled, and you wonder where it is from.

You should probably bring it inside and give it some milk to eat. Judging by how comfortably it sits and basks in the sun, you are doubtful you will be able to get it inside your house.

“Would you like something to eat?” You whisper, gently scratching between its ears. The cat meows rather boredly, closing its eyes and resting its head on the ground after a quick swish of its tail.

Right then, a servant bursts out of the front door, looking like he saw a ghost. He looks back and forth down the road before finally spotting you on the ground. The wide-eyed, frazzled look on his face makes your blood run ice cold, and you immediately stand up.

“What is it?”

“My lady…Master is awake.”

You are free falling. You fall and fall, all the limbs of your body finally giving up after a week of war. For a long moment, you stand there, stuck in a daze. You don’t dare to breathe, afraid you would wake up and realize it was a dream.

“I will go get Physician Yoon. Please go inside, my lady.” The servant says before rushing down the street. You struggle to move. The stray cat at your feet has got up due to the commotion and is now strolling into the house.

With your heart racing in your chest, you slowly follow it, your legs shaky due to the nerves.

Seungcheol is awake. He is finally awake. 

You hear lots of voices, especially Headservant Yang’s, as she scolds and cries loudly. With a lump lodged in your throat, you keep on walking until you spot the door to his bedchamber. You catch a glimpse of your husband sitting up, and for some reason unknown to you, you immediately hide behind a nearby wall.

You are too scared to see him. Too overwhelmed, too afraid.

You thought of this. You dreamed of the day he would wake and look at you, and now that it is here, you do not know what to do. It feels unreal.

You are angry at him. You are also grateful. Angry for getting hurt. Grateful for waking up.

A sob bursts out of your throat, and you start wailing, unable to hold back the tears any longer. With your palms clasped over your mouth, you cry so hard that it becomes hard to breathe. The sobs wrack your body, knocking the air out of your lungs and leaving behind only pain.

The pain of almost losing him. The pain of seeing him lie there almost lifeless, day after day.

A hand on your shoulder startles you, and you find Jihye standing next to you. Her eyes are misty as she wraps an arm around your heaving body and rubs your arms soothingly. “It is alright, my lady. Please do not cry. He is looking for you.”

Her words make you cry some more before you manage to wipe your tears and snot. It is pretty futile because they do not stop completely. With shaky legs, you move from your hiding spot and continue towards his chamber, your heart pounding loudly in your ears.

Seungcheol spots you immediately, his posture straightening as he sees you arriving. But you do not meet his eye. 

You cannot bring yourself to. If you look at him, you will start crying once more, right in the middle of the yard, in front of all the servants. 

Headservant Yang and others start moving away as they see you approaching, giving you privacy. You cross the porch, your eyes still trained on the wooden floor of his bedchamber, your hands slightly shaking.

Finally, you step inside and shut the door behind you. Then, your eyes slowly travel to his.

He is definitely paler and thinner than before, but you see life in his eyes. You see the spark and the shine that have always been present in them, and right at that moment, you are sure he will be alright.

Thank god.

He looks up at you, his eyes brimming with longing and guilt. His usual plump red lip shaded in a pale pink colour. His face littered with little cuts that are still healing, yet he has never looked more handsome.

And you have never been happier to see him.

You want to scream. You want to yell at him and tell him how much you love him, but you cannot speak. Tears and sobs threaten to overflow once more, so you stand there like a statue and keep staring at your husband, repeating in your head that he is alive and well. 

Until your knees finally give out. 

You kneel in front of him and wrap your arms around his neck, careful to avoid his left chest and leaning your weight more on the right.  Breathing him in, you hold him as tightly as possible, wishing you could merge yourself into him, wishing you could lock him away and protect him for the rest of his life.

Your tears wet his bare shoulders, your fingers tightly gripping onto the muscles on his back, clutching him on for dear life. It feels as if you let him go— if your grip loosens ever so slightly, you will lose him forever.

It takes a long moment for you to realize how your body is shaking due to your sobs and tearful hiccups, only when your husband's warm hands wrap around you, patting your back like you are a small, wounded animal.

“It is okay, my dear. Everything is okay,” he soothes in the softest voice, and when you hear him, another violent sob slips past your throat while you cling to him and cry in the crook of his neck.

You want to stop, but the tears are endless, a mixture of pain and relief. Gingerly, Seungcheol pulls you away from him to take a look at your face, which is puffy and tear-stained. With his thumbs, he wipes your tears away, murmuring, “Hush, now. It pains me to see you cry like this.”

You want to reply, but the lump in your throat is still heavy, and you know if you try to utter something, only sobs will come out, so you remain silent, raking your eyes over his body before settling on the wound on his chest.

“I am alright, I promise.” He assures you once he sees your gaze. “I feel well-rested, in fact.”

You are glad to hear that.

Wiping the remaining tears and snot rather unceremoniously with your sleeve, you get up on your feet to leave the room, but he tugs on your wrist, pulling you back down and into his arms this time.

“Where are you going?”

“To get you some herbal tea.” You reply, your voice meek and scratchy. Your husband locks his arms around you. “Headservant Yang will do that. I need you to stay here. I have missed you.”

Your lower lip trembles, but you will yourself not to cry again. Instead, you whisper, “I have missed you as well. I have missed you so much, you have no idea, Seungcheol.”

He shifts, peering at your face with a surprised look. “You called me by my name.”

“I have been calling your name for the past week.” You murmur, staring at your lap.

He maneuvers your body with gentle, effortless hands so that he can see you fully. “You know, you look like the one who has been comatose for a week. What is this I am seeing? When was the last time you had a proper meal?” He frowns, his eyes trained on you like a hawk as he squints at your face.

You look away, murmuring, “I have been busy nursing a sick man.”

He scoffs. “Not busy enough to eat. You look like a ghost, my wife. I am genuinely worried about you.”

You do not meet his gaze. With an exasperated sigh, he gently tilts your face up by the chin. “Look at me.” He softly commands you. You do as you are told, finding his eyes set on you, those beautiful, mesmerizing eyes that you missed so deeply. 

Your husband’s face inches closer to press a soft kiss on your forehead. It is not quick; he holds his lips pressed right in the middle of your forehead, slightly above your brow, like he is trying to leave an imprint. You close your eyes and lean closer, savouring the feel of his lips against your skin.

Oh, how you longed for this.

“I love you.”

You must have heard wrong. You stop breathing, your body going tense for a moment. Seungcheol leans back, one of his hands wrapped around your neck, his thumb stroking your cheek while the other cups the back of your head, angling your face just slightly upwards and in line with his gaze.

“I love you.” He repeats—his words slow, heavy, deliberate.

You feel faint. It is hard for you to find words, and while you continue gaping at him with parted lips and shining eyes, he continues, “I was scared I would not be able to say this to you. As I lay on the ground and saw you standing there, this was all I could think of. I was angry at myself for never telling you how much I love you.”

“Oh Seungcheol…” your lips tremble. You wrap your arms around his neck, making yourself at home by placing your head under his chin, feeling his hard muscles against your body.

“I love you, dear wife. I love you more than life itself. More than I could ever express.” You hug him tighter. “I love you, too. I love you so much, Seungcheol. You are my whole world.”

“I know.” He murmurs. “I knew the moment you came back towards me. Which you should not have done, by the way. You put yourself in danger.” He loosens his hold on you to catch a glimpse of your face, his gaze admonishing. “I am still mad at you for doing that, but you look miserable enough, so I will let you off.”

You only smile.

“Also, when were you going to tell me what an amazing archer you are? How come I did not know that?”

You look away sheepishly, biting your lip. “You never asked.”

He laughs, the sound sweet and throaty. His arms wrap around you in a tight, protective hold once again, and you close your eyes, savouring the rhythm of his heartbeat next to your ear. As you bask in his warmth, you announce, “You are not going back to the military. I am not letting you go.” Detangling himself from you, your husband regards you with an amused look, like he cannot believe you. “Oh, really?”

“I am serious.” You huff with a frown. “You are not going back. You have fought enough battles for a lifetime. Now it is time for you to rest.”

“Hm. And what if His Majesty disapproves?” His tone is playful.

“I do not care. I already wrote him a letter, saying that once you woke up, you would not resume your duties.”

Amazed, your husband watches you, his eyes twinkling with pride. “I cannot believe you did that.” You ignore him. “Promise me. Promise me you will not go back to the military.”

He remains silent, watching you calmly, and you start getting anxious, expecting the worst. Just as you start thinking of different ways to force him to stay, he says, “I will not, I promise. I was not going to go any way. That was the first decision I made when I opened my eyes. I got another chance at life with you. I plan on using it very well.”

Your heart soars. You grin, a full-on smile sweeping over your face after a long time. Pressing a soft, chaste kiss on his lips, you whisper, “Can we go live by the sea now?” His eyes shine with love. “Yes, we can.”

You couldn't be happier. Your heart couldn't be fuller. It is pure delight when you think of a future with this man, away from all the noise and the troubles that have been plaguing your life until now.

He can be safe now. He can rest.

Unconsciously, your thumb traces the scar next to his eye, feeling the bumpy skin underneath your finger. The scar now looks like a tree branch that extends into even smaller branches containing little flowers.

You lean forward and press a kiss on it. 

“I am just glad you will not get hurt anymore. You have already been through so much.” You whisper, your sad gaze trailing over all the marks on his skin, old and new, before settling on his left chest. You gingerly place your hand over the gauze, remembering how long and deep the gash was.

It will scar for sure. Probably the biggest scar on his body, and it will be because he was protecting you. A shaky breath parts from your lips as you are momentarily transported back in time; him lying motionless on the ground that was turning red. As if your husband can read your thoughts, he gently tilts your chin up and forces you to meet his eyes.

“My dear, I am alright. Look at me.”

“This will scar. You will be in much pain as it heals. Because of me.”

“Don't say that.” He holds you against his chest, his fingers wrapping tightly around your limbs. “You are the only one who loves my scars. Because of you, I now love them too. I would not have changed a single thing if I had the chance. You know why? Because every one of the scars in my body led me to you. And this one?” He places a hand over yours, which is resting on his chest.

“This one tied me to you forever. I earned you. I earned your forever through this. So I think this is the most beautiful.”

A lone tear strolls down your cheek. “Oh, Seungcheol,” you choke over a sob, tilting your face up to capture his lips in a kiss.

His arms engulf you completely, his lips taking over yours, his tongue moving inside your mouth like he has been starving for this.

It is breathless, passionate, and gentle at the same time, conveying all the feelings and emotions the two of you could never put into words. 

It is beautiful, like the scars on his body, leaving behind a trace of love.

For a special epilogue, head over to my Patreon. Click here to see the preview!

© startlightxsvt 2025 | All Rights Reserved. Do not copy, translate, adapt, or repurpose any of my works.

A/N 2: First of all, I want to thank you for reading till the end. Next, I just want to say that this fic has been one of my dream projects. Is it the best? Maybe not but did I have the most fun writing it? Hell yes! It was originally supposed to be a bit longer but I cut some parts out, mainly because I was worried this app wouldn't let me post the entire thing easily. Sure enough, it said that there were too many blocks on my post, so I had to stitch together a lot of passages even though they were separate at first. So, I'm sorry if the flow gets weird in some places.

On a different note, I will also be posting this on AO3 once I have opened my account (I am still waiting for their invitation mail), so once I have made my account, I will link it here. Do support me over there! Finally, I just want to take a moment to thank you all for your support. I am really excited to hear from you guys about this fic, so please do send an ask!

That's it from me for now. For my next fic, I will be returning with something short and lighthearted. Stay happy and healthy, y'all! <33

[starlightxsvt]

Scars Leave a Beautiful Trace | c.sc

synopsis ➳ ❝an arranged marriage with the man the entire land is afraid of. the man with a crimson eye. they call him the grim reaper. cold, ruthless, unforgiving. yet you are drawn to him, curious to see the man hiding behind the cold, hard exterior. and the man behind is hauntingly beautiful but your forever with him is not promised.❞ pairing ➳ husband general!seungcheol/ x wife noblewoman!reader genre ➳ historical romance (joseon era), angst, pining, smut. wc ➳ 25.4k + 1040 (patreon) warnings ➳ blood, mentions of war, scars, minor character death, attachment issues, arranged marriage, mentions of cheating, severe injury, miscommunication. cheol is an ass in the first half, reader is lowkey a simp, jealousy, big dicc cheol, bondage, virgin sex, rough, unprotected sex, fingering, teasing, edging, dirty talking, praise kink. a/n: this is a work of fiction, so take this with a grain of salt. it will be historically inaccurate, so my apologies beforehand. (also, surprise?? posting it a day early hehe)

glossary:

Jangot – Veil-like cloak for women

Binyeo – Decorative hairpin

Yakgwa – Honey-ginger cookie

Jeonbok – Traditional sleeveless vest for men

Dasik – Pressed tea cookie

Jeogori – Upper garment or jacket

Chima – Skirt worn by women

Baduk – Strategy board game (Go)

Daenggi – Ribbon for braids

Hour of the Ox – 1:00–3:00 AM

Hour of the Tiger – 3:00–5:00 AM

Orabeoni – Respectful term for older brother

+82 some miracle

only listen to my general

“Daughter, this is General Choi Seungcheol, your betrothed. Greet him properly,” your father commands softly, his eyes trained on you.

Your breath stutters in your chest.

Whether from the loaded tension in the air, the silence of the room or your future husband’s penetrating eyes on you, you are unsure. 

His eyes…

You saw them once, a long, long time ago, and you remember them in explicit detail because they are heterochromatic. His right iris is red, a shade of fiery crimson that is scary but also hypnotizing—a stark contrast to his left iris, which is pure black. 

You wish it were only his eyes that were lethal. Unfortunately for you, it is his presence itself. It is the way he silently sits there, poised and alert, holding his sword in his right hand and softly drumming his left index finger on his knee, as if telling you to hurry up. It is the way his face remains unreadable, a porcelain white canvas containing a pair of eyes fiercer than a mountain lion's, a sharp nose that is slightly crooked on the left, and pink lips that are pressed in a thin line. The most daunting of it all, the scar on the right side of his face, just below his eye and on top of his cheekbone. It is no more than a couple of inches long, but the gash looks deep, even after it has healed and imagining the pain behind that curse rakes shivers down your spine. 

Finally, you snap out of your reverie.

With a shaky exhale, you bow down and speak as humbly as possible. “Please accept my greetings, my lord. It is a pleasure to meet you.”

— 

Choi Seungcheol is well known throughout the kingdom, highly feared and revered. In fact, many hold him in the same regard as the king, which is not unfair or surprising. He is the Minister of War and the General of the royal military, the right-hand man of the King and his most trusted subject. Since his boyhood, he demonstrated excellent swordsmanship, and paired with his keen intellect and faultless war strategies, he quickly rose through the ranks and became the King's favourite. His name spread far and wide after he brought victory to the nation in two consecutive wars. He attended the first one when he was only eighteen, and he became infamous for that.

That war with the nearby enemy nation was extremely brutal, as it took away the lives of many of the best men in the military. When Seungcheol returned to the capital with the enemy General’s head in his hands, he was a changed man who had altered the course of history. Bloodied, beaten and bruised, he sported the deep scar on his face, fresh and bleeding. 

Rumours spread from there. Though he brought the nation victory, the townspeople gossiped about everything from his scar, his crimson eye, to his temper, claiming that he was a madman or possessed by an evil spirit. 

You have heard a few things from your father, too. He has agreed that the war changed the man, rightfully so. As the state minister, your father saw firsthand how brutal and merciless the war was till the last moment. So much so that he stepped down from his position afterwards.

He lost his son in the war, after all. Your older brother, whom you vaguely remember because you were only eight at that time. 

Nothing was the same after his passing. Your father lost his spark, your mother became quiet and indifferent, and the house fell into a deathly silence that felt haunted. The silence still lingers, fourteen years later. 

It has been a long time, so long that sometimes you feel like those days never existed. Yet, you remember them vividly: the pain of your mother’s death four years after your brothers, the remaining light dissipating from your father's eyes and the house falling into a perpetuating state of darkness, a place where everyone remained silent, from the slaves to the master. A place that never truly was illuminated, even during the brightest days of summer. A place that you had to call home but wasn’t your home. It was a graveyard where you floated through, watching the world outside bathe and shine with colours when the second war was won, when the king became the father of a boy, when the economy flourished. Seasons passed and years went by, yet your house never celebrated a holiday or a special occasion. 

You saw your father survive each day, haunted by his past and unaware of the present. Every day, he would see students from morning till noon, fulfilling his duties as a scholar before retiring to his room and staying there till the next morning.

The only time you saw some life in him was three years ago, when he called you one day in his chamber to announce that you would get married to Choi Seungcheol once he returned from his three-year trip to another country. Choi Seungcheol, the General of the Royal Military. The man with heterochromatic eyes, who came to your brother’s funeral years ago.

That’s how you have remembered him. The man with two different colored eyes, who stood in the rain with a grim expression on his face as they lowered your brother into the ground.

Over the years, you have heard notorious things about him. He has gained an infamous reputation among the townspeople. Many people believe that he is insane and that he murders people for fun. Word goes around that he is a womanizer, a man without a heart, a man who did not spare his own brother and executed him for treason.

You don’t know how much of this is true.

It all might be true; he just might be the devil living in a human body, but funnily enough, you do not care.

You will do anything to get out of this house. Living here for the past fourteen years has been like being buried alive. You are breathing, yet you don’t feel alive—you don’t remember the last time you felt that way, if ever.

And if a diabolical, insane man is your ticket out of this grave, you will take it. You will accept it with open arms and a smile on your face.

— 

The marketplace is crowded.

You gently tread through the throng of people, holding your jangot over your head as you eye the stalls leisurely, nothing in particular catching your attention. 

“My lady,” Jihye whispers, walking alongside you. “You have been circling the market for the past half an hour. What are you even looking for?”

A dejected sigh flows past your lips. 

Last time you came to the market, a pretty flower binyeo caught your eye. You had not received your salary yet at that time, and so, you could not purchase the piece. You had aimed to buy that binyeo today, but now that you've received your pay, it's no longer available. You have been scouring the market ever since, looking for something similar, but there is none.

“You know what, let us buy some yakgwa and head home,” you say, looking for a snack shop. Jihye smiles, her eyes flickering excitedly at your mention of buying sweets.

A few feet ahead of you, you spot a sweet shop. Instead of focusing on the plethora of sweets laid out, your gaze travels to the right, stopping on two men standing by that shop, their backs facing you.

Something about the tall, broad man dressed in black makes you stop in your tracks. Particularly, his long ebony hair feels oddly familiar to you. 

The man shifts a little, and you catch the slightest glimpse of his side profile through the busy street. Immediately, you squeak and hide behind a nearby stall.

It is General Choi, your husband-to-be.

“My lady, what is wrong?” Jihye hovers around you worriedly. Without looking away from the man, you dig into the sleeve of your hanbok, fishing out some coins and handing them to Jihye. 

“Here. Go buy as much yakgwa as you want.” You murmur, pushing her towards the shop while you get more comfortable in your hiding spot.

You don’t even know why you are hiding. You did not do anything wrong, and you surely have no reason to spy on your future husband in the middle of a busy marketplace.

Still, you continue observing him converse with the other gentleman. His stance is poised and powerful as always, and dressed head to toe in his signature black military clothes, he looks like death itself. Haunting but hypnotizing; which would explain why you cannot look away. 

And then, suddenly, he turns around, locking his eyes with you straight, as if he knew exactly where you were hiding. 

With a gasp of mortification and terror, you immediately whip your head away and bump into a passerby. Bowing your head in an apology, you let the woman pass through before tentatively turning your head back to the street.

Choi Seungcheol stands right behind you.

“Ah!” You yelp, taken aback and stumble a few steps behind. He reaches out immediately and grabs your elbow in a flash, saving you from the fall.

Flushed and breathless, you gape at him like a fish out of water.

He has the usual grim and unamused look on his face, peering down at you almost like he is judging you. His hair is tied up in a half bun, and his bangs frame half of his face, covering his odd eye and the scar. It is a shame, you find yourself thinking as you observe the rest of his face, counting the moles on his pale skin.

It is when he lets you go that you realize he had been holding onto you all this time, and you stood there like a statue.

How unladylike!

First, he catches you spying on him, and now— 

“My apologies, my Lord.” You immediately take several steps back, putting a safe distance between the two of you. Full of shame, you keep your head low as you murmur, “I was simply startled to see you.”

“It seems that you were spying on me.” His voice is smooth and rich, calm and authoritative. “No!” You gasp. “I was just…um…looking. I thought you…ah…looked somewhat familiar…”

He cocks a thick brow in amusement, the faintest smirk creeping up on his lips. 

What are you even saying?

Cringing at your own words, you press your lips shut and scowl at the ground, cursing the heavens for your predicament.

“You are not at the palace today?” He asks. You welcome the change of topic with great relief.

"No, my Lord. I asked for a break from my duties this week as I am preparing for the wedding.”

With no mother or close female relatives, it is up to you to prepare your wedding. 

Generally, you do not like skipping work. It has been two months since you secured a job at the palace after a lot of struggle. Your father was not very happy with the idea of you working, especially in the palace, but he ultimately gave in. 

You work as a teacher to the children under the head court lady of the palace, teaching them how to read and write while they train to be future court ladies. Sometimes you also work as a bookkeeper for the royal library, but that is something you do voluntarily and out of your love for reading. The pay is not very much, but it gives you a sense of freedom and identity, something you struggled to find for the last twenty-two years.

“Head Court Lady Yeo speaks very highly of you.” General Choi states. You do not understand whether he meant it positively or negatively, given his flat tone. Confused, you chuckle awkwardly. “It is a pleasure to work under her guidance. She is very patient and—”

Suddenly, Seungcheol reaches out to you, grabbing you by the arm and harshly tugging you towards him. Completely oblivious as to what is happening, you bump into his chest as his arms snake around you, protectively holding your body next to his.

Less than half a second later, a man riding a horse whooshes by, yelling out apologies to all the people for his rowdy horse. Dear Lord, you were about to be trampled by a horse if not for him.

“Are you alright?” 

His voice makes you look up at him, wide-eyed and panting. It takes a moment for you to realize that he is holding you against his chest, his warm hand resting on your shoulder in a protective grip while your hands rest on his shoulders, gripping the fabric of his jeonbok for support.

With your heart pounding loudly in your ears, it takes you yet another moment to remember how inappropriate this is, the way you are pressed against him. In a flash, you free yourself from his hold and shuffle back, murmuring a mortified apology. At the same time, you hate how much you miss his touch on you.

How odd.

“My lady, are you alright!” Jihye comes running down the street, a packet of confectionery in her hands. 

“Y-yes, I am okay. Let us get going.” You announce, immediately turning away from General Choi, desperate to escape this mortifying situation.

“Hold on.” The deep baritone of his voice steals a breath from your lips. Your body instinctively listens to his command, and you carefully look behind to see him picking up your jangot, which you probably dropped earlier and were about to leave without.

Once more, you cringe at your clumsiness as you watch him brush off the dirt before extending the material towards you. With shaky hands, you reach for it. “Thank you, my Lord. I wish you a pleasant day.”

The next second, you rush out of the marketplace as if the grim reaper himself were chasing after you. Behind you, Jihye struggles to keep up, but you couldn't care less, hiding your face in embarrassment.

That night, under the blanket, you lie wide awake. The memory of General Choi’s hand on your body and his chest pressed against yours keeps repeating in your head in a loop. A foreign, warm sensation pools in your belly, and you find yourself shamefully fantasizing about your future husband, forsaking slumber.

—

You got married today. 

According to the elders of the town, it is one of the most important days of your life, yet it felt like every other—quick and ordinary. Probably because the groom was barely there.

During noon, he came in to fulfil the basic rituals before marching out, leaving a note for you with Jihye. The work in the palace is too demanding, so he must go. He would see you tonight at his place. That was all he said.

Hours later, night has fallen and you are now in his home.

You sit alone in a chamber prepared especially for you. His servants made sure you were comfortable, helping you bathe and prepare for the first night with your husband before leaving you alone to sit with your thoughts and hear the hum of the crickets in the nearby forest.

You declined their offer to serve you dinner. It is only appropriate to wait for your husband and share the first meal together. 

Adorned in fine silk and pretty ribbons, you sit and wait for your husband to come, watching the flame of the candle dancing and melting away the wax. 

You are nervous. It is your first night with your husband. You, who has never even looked at a man for a second too long. You are now married to one of the most feared men in the kingdom. You have heard people talk about his ruthlessness in bed. Apparently, the girls in the brothel talk about it all the time, especially when he visits. Jihye said that whoever spends the night with him needs an entire day to recover.

“Lady Choi,” Head Servant Yang suddenly calls your name before opening the door. “Master has arrived. He is taking a bath currently.”

You snap out of the thoughts of bedding your husband and give her a shy smile. “Could you please set the table then?”

“Of course.” The elderly woman bows and walks out of the room, arranging for dinner to be set in your chamber.

Ten minutes after the dinner is served, General Choi walks into the room. Fresh out of the bath, he is dressed in his nightwear and his hair is tied up in a neat bun, giving you an uninterrupted view of his face. Once again, you find yourself hypnotised by his heterochromatic eyes.

“You did not have dinner?” He asks, sitting down in front of you. His movement is as graceful as always, silent yet stealthy. His posture is upright, the muscles of his shoulders taught as he sits and regards you with careful eyes.

“I was waiting for you, my Lord.” You reply meekly.

“You should not have,” he states, his tone almost condescending. “I am sure Head Servant Yang informed you that I return from work late most days.”

“Today is a special day, is it not?” You find yourself speaking boldly. Your words are firm like the gaze in your eyes, and for a long moment, the chamber is plunged into suffocating silence.

General Choi keeps looking down at you, his gaze as intimidating as ever, and you half expect him to draw his sword from its sheath and slice your head off. Instead, his lips curl upwards, and a noise of amusement leaves his throat. 

“Lady Choi, you seem upset.” He states, his voice half challenging and half something you cannot pinpoint. Sarcasm? Threat?

Unsure how to reply to that, you bite your lip and stare at the food laid out in front of you. All your appetite is gone now.

“Let me tell you something, Lady Choi.” Your husband leans closer to you over the table. Something about the way he utters your title forces you to meet his gaze. Like always, the fierce look in his eyes steals away your breath.

The man is hauntingly beautiful.

“I am certain you have some expectations from this marriage, and I cannot hold that against you. However, let me inform you now, I will not be able to fulfil your expectations, whatever they may be. So, I suggest you completely let go of your expectations, for your own good.”

What? You are sure no woman in Joseon’s history ever had to hear these words on her wedding night.

“My Lord, I do not understand.”

He does not bother clarifying his words. Instead, the look in his eyes shifts, his gaze sharpening on you. Lazily, he pours himself a drink from the pitcher and chugs it down.

“I know what this marriage means to you.”

You hold your breath and watch him, alarmed. He smirks. “It means freedom. It is your way out of that house. So, let this marriage be just that. A way out for you and a duty obliged for me.”

Well, consummating the marriage is also a duty. So is spending time with your wife and sharing a meal with her on your wedding night. You want to yell the words out, but you press your lips shut and stare at him, still processing what is happening.

“As long as we maintain our boundaries, this will be a great union,” he announces almost like he is reassuring you. You feel anything but that.

You feel abandoned, yet again.

“You should eat now,” he says, standing up. “I will retire for the night.” Without sparing another glance at you, he leaves the room. For a long moment, you silently sit in your place, your fancy garment and jewellery suddenly becoming too heavy on your skin. Ignoring the sensation, you reach for the rice, nibbling on the grains with your chopsticks.

You do not understand why tears prick your eyes.

— 

The next morning, an unknown man waits for you as you step out of your chamber and put on your shoes, ready to leave for the palace.

Your husband had left early in the morning, and while the news hurt you slightly, it also left you with relief. After last night, you have not had enough time to process your emotions to face him.

The strange man bows as he sees you approaching. “Greetings, Lady Choi. I am San. As per General Choi’s orders, I shall accompany you from now on for your safety.” Stupefied, you blink at the man. His build and posture indicate that he is a military person, but you do not understand why your husband would have someone guard you.

“My husband put you up to this?” You raise a brow. “Why?”

“I am afraid I cannot say. It was his order.”

You narrow your eyes at him. “So, from now on, you will what? Follow me everywhere?”

“Yes. Whenever you need to go out, I shall accompany you.”

“Is someone trying to kill me?” You ask, point blank, blinking at him.

San makes a noise of surprise before an awkward laugh spills from his lips. “O-of course not, my lady.” You keep eyeing the strange man with suspicion as you start heading for the front door. “Alright then, let us leave.”

— 

You bump into your husband at the palace.

At noon, when the sun is high in the sky, you finish teaching the young girls. Then, you head to the library to cool off and see if the head librarian needs any help. With no new work for you, Librarian Kim serves you some tea and sweets, congratulating you on your marriage. On your way out, he gives you some dasik to take home and share with your husband.

The husband who seems to want to do nothing with you.

With gratitude, you take the sweets and head out of the library, done with your day's work at the palace. That is when you see him. Below the steps of the library building, he approaches, followed by two other men, all dressed in uniforms. Their movements are quick and determined, almost like they are on a military mission.

General Choi takes notice of you as he climbs the stairs. Flustered and oddly shy, your first instinct is to hide. With no place to do that, you stand your ground and bow, “My Lord—”

He walks past as if he did not see you.

You stand rooted to your spot, blinking at the ground.

What just happened?

He ignored you. He blatantly ignored you. His wife. There is no way he did not see you. He did. His eyes met yours, and he held your gaze before looking away.

Hurt and humiliated, you stand there for several long moments, the sun scorching your back. You are tempted to storm back into the library and demand why he did that, but you know better than that.

For one, there is always the danger of him chopping your head off. You heard he once cut off a man’s head just for looking at him too long.

The other issue is more personal. Walking in there would make you look desperate, especially in front of others. You are supposed to be a newlywed happy wife, not someone who chases after her husband when he ignores her in public. The thought makes you feel like pins prickling your heart.

Once more in your life, you are insignificant. You are the lesser one, the one who can be forgotten, overlooked.

With boulders forming in your heart, you head home.

— 

Your husband returned home late today as well.

You had your dinner long ago, and Jihye prepared your bed for you. However, you did not get under the covers. In the dimly lit space of your bedchamber, you have been sitting with your head on your knees, curled up in a corner and watching the candle burn.

No matter how hard you try, you fail to get past the incident earlier today. You simply cannot comprehend why your husband would ignore you like that.

Your curiosity gets the better of you. With a resolved breath, you step out of your room and walk into his bedchamber. You knock at his door. “My Lord, may I come in?”

A beat of silence. “Yes.”

Opening the doors, you find Seungcheol tying the knot of his undershirt. The material is thin and white, giving you a pretty decent glimpse of his silhouette. Flustered, you immediately lower your gaze and shake your head at yourself. 

You did not think this through. Of course, he would be in his sleepwear, like you.

Shit.

It takes you another second to realize you, too, are in your sleepwear. A thin white top over your underskirt. With the realization dawning on you, you cross your arms over your chest and look up at him, conflicted and embarrassed.

Like always, his face gives nothing away. In the calmest of tones, he questions, “Did you need something from me?”

“Uhm…well…” Once again, you get distracted by the visual of your husband. In the dimly lit room, he appears even more stunning, the light of the candle casting strange shadows on his figure, contouring his muscles underneath the thin fabric. With his long, black hair undone, some strands fall on his face, covering his eyes. Through the curtain of his hair, his odd eye shines exceptionally bright in the darkness, stealing your breath.

“I am sure the reason for your visit is not to stare at me, Lady Choi.” He states once more, and you finally snap out of your thoughts.

Closing the door behind you, you gather all your resolve and stand straight.  “My apologies. I wanted to talk to you.”

“I am all ears.” He says, not looking at you. He busies himself by placing his sword next to his mat and sitting down comfortably.

“Why did you ignore me today at the palace?” You get straight to the point. The man turns to look at you slowly, his eyes sharpening ever so slightly. Despite him sitting, you feel as if he is towering over you, and you cannot help but hold your breath, waiting for whatever is to come. Something flashes in his eyes, and once again, you do not know what it is. Rage? Annoyance? Amusement?

You have no clue.

“It seems that you are disappointed, Lady Choi.” He finally replies, his tone containing that tinge of amusement he has with you. Like you are a circus monkey whose action provides him with fleeting, insignificant pleasure. 

You wait for him to elaborate, but he does not, looking at you with a challenging stare. You hate how…diplomatic he is all the time. “Why did you do it?” You repeat, trying to appear as stern as possible, which is almost comical. In front of you is the man people call the grim reaper.

General Choi shifts his position, resting his arm on his knee before fixing his gaze back on you. His tone is quiet, serious. “Let me tell you something, Lady Choi. In public, we are not to acknowledge each other. Do you understand me?”

The ground has been snatched from beneath your feet. You fall into an endless pit, your heart crushing into tiny bits with each of his words. Why? Why would he say something like that?

“Why?” You don’t mask the hurt and desperation in your voice. He ignores you. “If that was all, you may leave now. I wish to get some rest.”

Tears brim in your eyes. Why does he treat you like this? What crime did you ever commit against him?

Your mouth hangs open, shocked and helpless at his attitude towards you. Defeated, you silently pad back to the door. Before you open it, however, you pause. Slowly, you turn back to him. “Why did you assign that man to follow me around?”

He does not look at you. “San is one of the few men I trust. He will keep you safe.”

He has this tendency to never answer your question directly. He dances around it, giving curt, memorized answers. It feels like you are talking to a wall, frustrating and pointless. The next words slip past your lips thoughtlessly and barely above a whisper. “Why do we not sleep in the same room?” That finally gets his attention. He slowly turns his head to look at you, his pupils wide with shock. Like, he cannot believe that you just said that. 

Right. Why did you say that out loud? You look away in embarrassment, cringing at your words.

“So…” he starts to get up. You step back, alarmed.

Why is he getting up? He will slice your head off for sure this time.

With the grace of a lion about to devour his prey, he inches closer to you, his eyes flashing almost unnaturally. You keep walking backwards until your back meets the door and there is no place left to go.

He stops a mere inch away from you, so close that your clothes brush, so close that you can see his chest underneath his nightshirt, so close that you can inhale the scent of soap on his skin. Your breath catches in your throat, and your eyes fall shut on their own.

“My wife wishes to sleep with me. Is that it?” His voice is heaven against your ears, deep, husky and warm, leaving your brain fumbling. You open your eyes to see him staring straight at you, and immediately, heat shoots up all through your body from your toes. 

“I…I didn’t…mean…” You stumble over your words, the sight of him so close to you, messing with your system.

He stares at you, his lips curling up in a smirk. “I am sure you have heard what they say about me.” He pauses. His hand reaches out towards your face, and you hold your breath in alarm and anticipation. With the faintest of touches, he drags his index finger against your jaw and down your neck. “I am sure you know how I am…in bed.” He whispers against your ear, and you can feel your heart physically drop as tingles shoot through your entire body.

At this point, you have forgotten how to breathe. 

“You could not handle me, Lady Choi.” He says and then, absolutely shocking you, leans closer to your neck. Tucking a stray piece of hair beneath your ears, he takes a long inhale of you and then slowly steps away from you.

You feel like you are on fire, beads of sweat gathering on your temples. Your mouth remains agape, processing what just happened as you stand pressed against the door, frozen like prey in shock.

“Good night, Lady Choi.” He says in the most nonchalant way possible, going back to bed. You manage to summon all your strength and rush out of his room, shutting the wooden panels loudly behind you. Outside, you gasp for air, clutching your chest, your heart racing like you just ran for your life. You stand outside the door for a long time, taking in deep breaths and trying to get your heart to calm down as foreign sensations flood through your veins, leaving behind an ache you have never felt before.

You want your husband, you realize. You want him to do all those filthy, animalistic things that you heard of…with you.

— 

You have accepted your new life. A married woman without a husband’s attention or acknowledgement.

In the last two weeks, a routine has fallen into place for you. You wake up, go to work, come home for lunch, spend the afternoon with Jihye lounging around before having dinner and going to bed. Throughout the day, setting eyes upon your husband is rare because he leaves with the sunrise and gets home after dinner. Most days, he has dinner in his chamber by himself, and on the rare occasions he is home early (twice), he shares it with you.

The freedom you thought an advantageous marriage would give you has not come. In fact, you feel more restricted than before. With San following you around like a hawk, you have lost interest in going outside to explore the neighbourhood. Jihye, too, has been weird lately. She vehemently opposes you going outside, especially to the market or other crowded areas and always runs your errands for you.

After a lot of thinking, you have come to a conclusion. Your husband has a mistress. Maybe, mistress is not the right word. If anything, you feel like the mistress in this relationship.

“I am sure he has someone he loves.” You hum, nodding to yourself. 

It is a Thursday afternoon in early spring, the warmth of the sun shining on you as you return home from an unusually long shift at the palace. A few steps behind you is San, ever present like a shadow, following you down a steep road to home.

With him around, you have started to voice your thoughts, no matter how crazy. There is nothing to hide from him after all. He sees it all firsthand, how his boss never spends time with you. 

You have another theory. San knows about the other woman. He has to, right? That is why General Choi employed him to guard you in the first place. He probably knows where your husband goes during his free time, and it is his job to make sure you never see him. 

General Choi seems to have bought off Jihye somehow, too. You find that absolutely bizarre, considering her long loyalty towards you. You are deeply hurt by her betrayal, and so, you have decided to shun her until she comes to you and explains what is going on.

That leaves you with San only.

“I’m right, no?” You turn around to take a glance at him. As usual, he looks helpless and awkward, almost like he is about to leave everything behind and run for the hills. You continue. “He has to have known her for a long, long time. However, I do not understand why he didn’t marry her. Is she not a nobleborn?”

You stop for a moment.

“Ah! She is someone from the brothel, probably, right?”

San continues looking at you helplessly, an awkward smile plastered on his face. You continue walking, nodding to yourself. “No wonder he told me not to expect anything from him. He also said that he fulfilled his duty by marrying me. No one will pester him now because he has the perfect cover.” You nod your head, impressed. “I have to give it to him. This is a good plan.”

The path down the cliff comes to an end, and you stop, admiring the sun slowly going lower in the western sky. The birds fly in the sky in groups, returning home as the sky changes colour, a deep tint of orange taking over the blue.

Is she pretty? You wonder to yourself. She must be. There must be something about her that keeps a man like him hooked. 

The thought pains you. More than it should.

You understand it. You really do, but what you don’t understand is why he married you. Why did he trap you into this marriage? The least he could have done was be honest with you instead of avoiding you like the plague.

The more you get to know this man, the more cowardly he seems. The thought brings an unironic smile to your face. The most feared man in the country, yet he refuses to communicate with his wife. He does not have the guts to speak the truth, which makes him nothing but a coward in your eyes.

“Let us stop by the market.” You announce, taking a different route. San rushes in front of you, alarmed. “Lady Choi, w-why?”

You stare at him, slightly annoyed. Why is he acting like this? Is General Choi supposed to be there now? With his lover? All the more reason why you must go.

You continue walking, ignoring San.

“My Lady, please. Tell me what you need and I shall get that for you after I escort you home.”

“San,” you abruptly stop and glare at him. “I shall tell you what I need right now. I need you to shut up and follow me quietly. Or, you can just leave and report to your boss that I am breaking protocol. Whatever fancies you.”

The man makes a pained sound, groaning almost like a wounded animal. However, you don’t wait for him, marching down the path with determination. Helplessly, he chases after you.

— 

The marketplace is less crowded than you expected. You heard there have been attacks by gangs in this area, so people are more reluctant to leave their houses, especially as evening approaches.

With the roads not as crowded as usual, it takes you only a couple of minutes to spot him. He stands out, as always, his broad shoulders and tall build catching your eye from far away. You observe him for a moment from afar, squinting your eyes to see what he is doing exactly.

He stands in front of a trinket shop, carefully going through the pieces laid out in front of him. 

Wow, is he shopping for something for his hidden lover? 

Bemused, you watch him, eyes scanning for a woman near him, only to find no one.

“My Lady, we should really get going. This area is not safe, and—” Ignoring San’s plea, you head straight towards where your husband stands.

“My Lord, what brings you here?” You chirp, standing right behind him. The man immediately turns around, his pupils blown wide in shock. You do not miss the way he hides something behind him. It takes a moment for him to register that it is you, and once he does, that grim look settles on his face. “What are you doing here?’’

San rushes next to you, “My Lord, I am so sorry—”

General Choi cuts him off with a raised hand and gives him a look of dismissal, which sends the young man scurrying away. Ignoring his question, you say. “It seems like you were finished with work early today.” You pointedly look at the shop behind him.

“Yes. I finished early today.” He states, expressionless. “Are you returning from the palace now?”

“Yes, the work at the library took longer than usual. Some records were accidentally destroyed, so we had to salvage them.”

“I see.” He nods. You wait, wondering if he has anything more to say. He keeps gazing at you silently, his odd eye hidden behind his hair. You have noticed that he always hides it in public. Why? To avoid detection? 

Finally, he speaks, his eyes narrow and his tone sharp. “You should not be here. I am sure you are aware of the looting and killing taking place in this area.”

You hate his tone. Frowning, you reply. “Thank you for your concern, My Lord. I was aware. I just wanted to explore—”

You are cut off.

The next sequence of events takes place exceptionally quickly. First, you see your husband’s gaze shift and focus on something behind you. The very next moment, he yanks you towards him, making a swift turn so that his body covers yours. You lose your footing from the harsh tug, gripping onto his arms with a yelp of surprise.

Something whizzes past you, sharp and quick, that makes you jerk and hold onto him tighter.

Gasps, yells and screams of people echo all around you. You blink, befuddled, staring at your husband, who holds you tightly against his body, looking behind him. Following his gaze, you find San chasing after a man who dashes away through the crowd at remarkably fast speed, shoving people and running over stalls on his way.

Your husband whips his head back to look at you, his eyes wide with alarm. “Are you okay? Look at me!” He shakes you, his grip on your arms fierce. Something wet touches your fingers. Slowly, your eyes trail to your right hand, which is grabbing General Choi’s bicep.

There is a tear on his sleeve, a couple of inches above your fingers and red liquid oozes out from the thin cut. You gasp, your breath escaping your lungs in a choked wheeze.

Finally, everything clicks.

Someone just shot an arrow at him. Who? An enemy? A gang member? An assassin?

“Oh…oh my god! My Lord!” You clutch onto his sleeve, panicking.

General Choi ignores your cry and forces you to look at him, tilting your chin upwards. “Are you hurt anywhere?”

Is he seriously worrying about you right now?

“I am fine.” You choke on a sob. “But my Lord, you are bleeding! What…what should I do?”

He rubs a gentle hand on your back, pulling you closer to him. “I am fine. It is nothing.” He assures, his eyes scanning the place carefully as if looking for someone. You panic. “My Lord, we need to go home. Come on. You are hurt!” You urge, tugging him with you, even though you cannot make him move an inch.

The man stands rooted to his spot, his eyes still scouring through the marketplace. Finally, he nods and pulls you into his arms, holding you protectively. “Let us go.”

— 

After your relentless nagging, you finally get your husband to sit still so that you can treat his wound.

“I told you, it is nothing serious.” He admonishes when you step into his bedchamber with a rag, a bowl of water, and some medicine. Ignoring him, you hurry closer to him, inspecting the wound.

You have never treated someone before, but your mother was a very good nurse. She helped a lot of people during the war with her vast knowledge of medicinal herbs. You remember watching her work for hours, and even though you never directly learned from her, you are confident you can do this right.

The memory of his blood seeping out and wetting your hands sends shivers down your spine, and you have to take a deep breath to get yourself to calm down. Your heart has been racing ever since, the adrenaline yet to wear off.

“You should take off your shirt.” You whisper, wetting the rag in the bowl of water. Your husband complies, slowly removing the garment and shrugging it off his shoulders. Your breath catches in your throat once you lay your eyes on his body.

It is not his muscular build but the plethora of scars littering his body. Small and big, they taint his chest and all the way down to his lower abdomen, and you cannot help but stare, wincing at the marks that look particularly nasty.

What has this man been through?

General Choi snatches the rag from your hands and starts treating his cut. Embarrassed, you protest, but he cuts you off. “I can do it myself.” His response, like always, is curt, but you ignore it, too distracted by his scars. The one on his left abdomen looks particularly ghastly, and you know for sure it was a deep stab wound. 

The amount of pain he must have been in…

The thought makes you shudder, and you bite your lip, holding your tears back.

“This is why I assigned someone to protect you.” His voice pulls you out of your thoughts. “I am sure he told you to return, but you insisted on going to the market.”

“Who was that man?” You cut him off, unable to prevent yourself from voicing your worries any longer. Why did they want to hurt him? 

His lips thin, and something flashes over his eyes, leaving you guessing. He pauses for a moment, looking at you impassively, almost like he knows a secret that you don’t. “They were probably from some gang. They have been causing havoc recently, as you know.”

You know it is a lie. It is blatant that he is hiding something from you, and you cannot help but sigh out loud, sagging onto the floor. You do not even have it in you to fight with him right now. You are just glad he is okay. The bleeding has stopped now, and as you watch him apply the herb on his cut, a small sigh of relief flows past your lips.

Finally, it feels like you can breathe.

Silently, you help him tie a clean rag around his bicep before wiping the residual herb from his fingers. “You should take a bath.” He keeps staring at your face as if he is trying to understand something.

“Are you sure you are okay?” he asks, his tone soft. His gaze, for the first time, appears to be almost tender, and for a moment, the concept of language evaporates from your mind.

You want to say a lot of things. You want to yell at him, scream at him to explain himself and cry in his arms. You are unable to do any of that. “I am fine,” you whisper, your voice small and shaky.

He keeps looking at you for a few more seconds before nodding and getting up. Just as he is about to exit the room, you call for him. “My Lord?” “Hm?” He turns around to look at you.

You pause, hesitating. “I know you brought something today. At the market…” you trail off, unsure why you are saying this. His body tenses, and he looks at you warily…like he has been caught. For a second, you pray that he comes clean, but he remains silent, waiting for you to continue.

You swallow a lump in your throat and look away. Your voice is wobbly when you speak. “You should wrap it. Put it in a nice box. Women love gifts that are nicely wrapped. The woman…whoever you bought it for…you should wrap it.”

You do not dare to meet his gaze, so you sit on the floor, staring at the bowl of water that is now tinted red from his blood. He does not reply but walks out the door, his footsteps padding softly over the wooden floors.

— 

That night, you lay in bed awake, replaying the event at the market over and over again in your head. And as you keep revisiting that moment, a shuddering realization dawns on you.

What if…what if…

The arrow wasn't meant for General Choi but for you?

The more you think about it, the more probable it seems. The arrow would have originally hit you if not for him moving you out of the way. The thought makes you bolt up from your bed, your heart racing as beads of sweat gather on your temples. Tossing the blanket away, you step out of your sleeping mat and start pacing around your room.

Today's events are a mystery to you. You have no enemies, and neither does your father. Hell, he has been out of politics ever since your brother died. You simply have no reason to have someone shoot an arrow at you in the middle of a marketplace.

If it were not for your husband, you would have died for sure.

Shit. Who would do that? 

Your mind starts spiraling to the point that your temples begin to throb. You press the spot with your fingers, trying to make the ache go away.

It doesn't.

Instead, paranoia starts settling in. Suddenly, the thought of being alone in your room frightens you so much that you feel a chill in your bones. Unable to tolerate the deafening silence and the darkness any longer, you step out of your chamber, taking tentative steps towards your husband's room. The hallway is dark except for one small lamp flickering at the end of the long corridor, an eerie quietness hanging heavy in the air as the whole house sleeps.

You come to stop in front of your husband's room, your hands hesitating to pull open the wooden panels. 

What are you doing here? Sneaking into your husband’s chamber in the middle of the night?

With the resolved exhale, you pull open the door. In the darkness, it takes a moment for you to spot your husband sleeping on his side, his long raven hair splayed messily over the mat.

You remain rooted in your spot outside the door, hesitating yet once again before gingerly making your way inside and quietly closing the panel behind you. The room would be pitch dark if not for the faint light of the lamp flickering outside, filtering in through the panel. You take a moment to let your eyes adjust to the visibility before placing yourself next to him. With his sword resting between the two of you, you silently lie down, gazing at the silhouette of his face in the darkness.

Your heart aches. He got hurt because of you. 

Why do you feel such a strong attraction towards this cold, stubborn man? Why does it hurt you so much to see him hurt? Most importantly, is this how he feels about his lover? Does her pain make him hurt like this as well? Is that why he refuses to be with you, unable to resist his heart's longing?

So many questions and no answer to soothe your wretched soul. 

You keep gazing at him, a strange sensation filling your heart. He is physically so close to you, right within your reach, yet it feels like he is a million miles away, tucked away in a place for which you have no key. At the same time, lying next to him like this, you feel oddly comfortable. With him next to you, the silence and the darkness of the night are bearable, no longer stealing your sleep.

With a heavy ache in your chest and tears in your eyes, you fall asleep, happy to be in the same space as your husband.

—

When you open your eyes next morning, the sun is high up in the sky and the light flooding into the room immediately tells you that you have slept way longer than you should have.

Shit. You missed work today.

All concerns of work, however, fly out the window when you register where you are. You fell asleep on the floor next to General Choi yesterday. Then why are you sleeping on his mat, his blanket tucked around you, and his pillow under your head? 

With a gasp, you sit up and look around you, double checking to make sure you are in the right place.

How did you get here? Did he tuck you in after waking up? How did you not wake up?

Your face flushes with heat, imagining him carrying you and putting you in his bed. No wonder you feel so well rested after a long time. You must have slept like a log throughout everything.

Did you snore? Did you drool? Did you say something weird in your sleep?

“Oh dear lord, help me!” You whine, putting your face in your hands, cringing at all the possible ways you might have embarrassed yourself. Once you are over the initial wave of embarrassment, you spot a trinket on top of the small wooden table by the mat.

Curious, you shuffle closer. It is a bineyo with a beautiful butterfly in pink and blue, exactly the one you had been looking for. With a gasp, you lean closer, mesmerized by the way it sparkles underneath the sunlight. Next to it sits a letter, face up.

Dear wife, 

I am sorry I did not wrap it. I was interrupted by someone before I could choose a box. I do not know how the misunderstanding came to be, but this was meant to be yours from the beginning, not any other woman’s. I hope you like it.

From, Your husband

Your hands cover your mouth in shock and absolute glee before clutching the letter and the hairpin to your chest. Tears brim your eyes, your heart melting like a caramel under the sun, warm and sweet.

It seems like you misunderstood his actions. Still, some things remain unclear.

“Jihye!” You yell. She rushes in a few moments later. “My lady, you are awake! Master said not to disturb you. He said he will let Head Court Lady Yeo know that you will not go to work today.”

Ignoring her words, you quickly motion for her to come closer to you and sit down. “You,” you narrow your eyes at her. “You have been hiding something from me.” She blinks, her gaze slowly lowering to the floor.

“What did General Choi tell you? He definitely told you something. That is why you have not been letting me out of the house by myself.”

She looks at you helplessly for a long moment before sighing. “Okay, I will tell you, my lady. But you have to promise me you will not tell Master. I gave him my word.” She winces.

What could it be? Eager, you scoot closer to her. “I will not. Now out with it.”

“On the first night of your marriage, he called me and asked about you. What you like to eat, what your favourite season is…things like that.”

Wow. Your heart races with each of her words.

“Then, he asked me what you were doing in the market that day. You know that noon a week before your wedding? When we bumped into him? I said that you were looking for a hairpin. He asked in detail about the hairpin, and I told him that you were looking for one with a butterfly. Then, he ordered me to keep you from going outside, especially to crowded areas, as much as possible. He said it is not safe for you. And he made me promise not to tell you.”

A lot of the blanks start filling up. He listened to her and got this hairpin for you. No wonder!

You keep finding yourself revisiting that moment in the market. The way he protected you. The worry in his eyes, the way his fingers gripped onto you, the way his voice was filled with worry when he asked you if you were ok. The realization that you may have misunderstood him greatly starts settling in your bones. 

Maybe there was no one else from the beginning. Maybe it was only you all along. Maybe everything he did was to protect you. But protect you from what? Did he know that someone was after you? Who? Why did he not tell you anything?

No matter, you shall set the record straight when he gets home today. You have caught a glimpse into your husband’s heart, and it turns out he is not as cruel as they say. Now, there is nothing strong enough to stop you. He has had his way until now, and now, it is your time.

“Did he say when he will return?” You ask Jihye, your heart racing.

“No, my lady.”

“No matter.” You smile. “I will wait for him.”

— 

The heavens seem to be on your side because your husband returns home right before sunset. As he takes a bath, you prepare in your room, getting dressed for the evening.

Jihye braids your hair for you before helping you put on your hanbok, a soft yellow jeogori with a pastel pink chima. 

Just as you are almost finished with your makeup, Head Servant Yang knocks at the door, letting you know that your husband has finished his bath. With a smile, you stand up and walk over to the mirror, smoothing your skirt.

“Jihye, how do I look?”

“Absolutely beautiful, my lady!” She squeals. “Master will not be able to resist you tonight!”

You throw a scandalized look at her before reaching for the hairpin your husband gave you. Gingerly placing it on your hair, you complete the look and twirl in front of the mirror. “Alright, let us go!”

You knock twice at your husband’s chamber.

“Come in.”

Exhaling a shaky breath, you open the door and find sitting on the floor, wearing a navy blue hanbok. A book sits open on his lap, which is discarded once he lays eyes upon you.

Silence.

You hold your breath, watching his eyes scan you top to bottom, before going up again and finally stopping at your hairpin. He looks awestruck and speechless—a look you have never seen on him, and you struggle to stifle a smile.

“May I come in?” You ask coquettishly. 

“Ah—yes, of course.” He blinks and sits up straight. With a smile, you walk into the room and sit in front of him, closer than you have ever been before. "How is your arm?” You ask, jutting your chin towards it. “Do you need me to apply some herbs?”

“No, it is fine. I changed the gauze after my bath.”

“Are you in any pain?”

“Thank you for your concern, Lady Choi, but I am well.” He sets the book aside. “What brings you to my chamber?”

You ignore his curt replies. “Thank you for the gift, my lord.” You smile, saccharine sweet. Titling your head, you show him the trinket nestled in your hair. “How do I look?”

“Hm?” He gapes at you, eyes wide, clearly taken aback by the question. “Uh…it suits you. You look lovely.”

You smile like a lovestruck fool. “Thank you, my Lord.”

Silence. He keeps looking at you like it is a staring competition. Realizing he will not be the first one to break the silence, you continue with a sigh, “I have some questions, my Lord. I hope you will answer them honestly.” His gaze shifts, something unreadable briefly flashing by his eyes. His hands on to rest on his knees, his back straightening as he takes a moment before subtly nodding his head.

“Is there someone trying to kill me?” Your gaze does not waver. General Choi’s lips press into a thin line, his thick brows forming a frown, a look of pure displeasure settling on his face.

You do not back down. “Yesterday, the arrow was meant for me, was it not? You knew someone was after me. That is why you assigned San to be with me. That is why you told Jihye not to let me go outside.”

Another beat of silence. “Yes.” He murmurs, his haunting gaze piercing yours.

You swallow. “Who is it? I do not understand…I do not have any enemies— “

“They are my enemies.” He cuts you off. “The arrow yesterday…yes, it was meant for you, but it was also meant for me. It was their warning to me.”

“What warning? Why are they after you?” You cry.

His gaze narrows. “That is private information. Only the King’s most trusted men are aware of it.” You look down, worriedly chewing on your lower lip. After a beat, you ask, “Is that why you ignored me in the palace that day?”

“Yes. I thought the less I interacted with you, the better.” He pauses, his gaze focusing on the lamp burning at his side. “I am sorry for putting you in danger, but rest assured, they will be dealt with.”

You are not really worried about losing your life. If anything, his being in danger scares you more. Odd, is it not?

“Why did you let me misunderstand, my Lord?” You ask softly.

“That was not my intention.”

“But it happened anyway.” You cannot hold back the bite in your voice. “From the first day of this marriage, I believed that you have someone else.”

He remains silent, looking almost guilty. It scares and infuriates you. “Tell me! Do you?”

“No,” his voice never loses its quiet composure. “I do not.”

“Then why did you lie?”

For the first time, you see his gaze soften. For once, it looks like he is not scowling but rather, he appears ashamed and helpless. The hidden frustration inside you reaches its tipping point. “You could have told me! You could have said that I was in danger instead of pushing me away like I disgust you and letting me think that you were seeing someone else!” 

You hear him exhale a breath. “How do you expect me to tell my young, newlywed wife that her life is in danger because of me, her husband?”

The guilt is raw and vivid in his voice, echoing throughout the room like a haunted cry. This new side of your husband knocks all the air out of your lungs, leaving you feeling helpless as you stare at him, tears pricking your eyes.

“My Lord—”

“I know I am not the best match for you. You got married to be free, but instead, this marriage became a trap for you. How could I tell you that? I believed it would be better to let you think all crazy things about me rather than taking away your freedom by scaring you. I apologize for my shortsightedness.” A lone tear rolls down your cheek. He is not the best match for you? What is he saying?

Unable to hold back any longer, you close the little distance between the two of you and leap into his arms, hugging him tightly. With your arms wrapped around his neck, you rest your face on his shoulder, your fingers tightly holding onto the fabric of his hanbok. “Please do not apologize, my Lord. I understand you.”

Against you, your husband’s entire body remains tense, his hands awkwardly raised into the air like he is too scared to touch you. You ignore his hesitation and hold onto him tightly, your heart breaking and healing simultaneously. The warmth and comfort of his body soothe all the anguish in your heart, making you never want to let him go.

Finally, his hands touch your back, his large palms holding the small of your back, softly patting you.

Loosening your arms around him, you take a peek at his face and find the most sincere look in his eyes, warm and kind, the complete opposite of how you have seen him until now. You truly believed he was beyond all emotions, cold and mechanical, but right now, as he holds you in his arms and gazes at you with so much reverence and softness, you can only think of him as this quiet, considerate man who is misunderstood greatly.

Something in you shifts. No longer afraid, you shift in his arms, positioning yourself better on his lap before kissing him.

You press your lips against his without thinking, pulling him closer by the lapels of his hanbok and holding your lips right there, against his, soft and warm. With your heart hammering in your chest, you stay there, testing the waters. Your husband remains frozen at first, almost like he is waiting for you to back out. Once sure that you will not, he reaches for you, gently cupping your cheek with his right hand to tilt your face. The kiss deepens just a tad bit, his lips pressing against you just hard enough. His touch on you is meticulous and guarded, like you are a wild animal he does not want to frighten. You know he is being gentle for your sake, so you take the lead, snaking an arm around his neck and kissing him the way he led you.

Slow, sweet and passionate.

It is everything you imagined and more, all your dreams coming true and giving you a taste of ecstasy. By the time your lips part from his, there is a ringing in your ears along with your heart galloping like a race horse and a strange, tingling sensation between your legs. You feel drunk on your husband’s kiss, your eyes involuntarily trailing to his lips that are now shining with saliva.

You want this man so much, body and soul.

Your husband’s fingers remain against your cheek, his thumb stroking your cheek, slow and tentative like you are the most precious porcelain. Mirroring his hand, your fingers cup his cheek, your thumb gently tracing the scar beneath his odd eye. The skin is harsh and bumpy under your touch, making your heart heavy. You want to kiss it, tell him that he is beautiful despite it, tell him that you feel his pain, but something shifts.

His gaze grows unfocused, something foreign flashing by in his eyes, like he has been woken back to reality. With a sudden noise, he clears his throat and retracts his hand from your face. The action pulls you out of your haze as well, making you suddenly hyper aware of the fact that you kissed him.

Holy shit. You kissed your husband. And he kissed you back. And it was amazing.

Clearing his throat once more, your husband looks away, carefully trying to put some distance between you and him. Flustered, you take the hint and stand up rather unceremoniously. As you take a step back, however, misfortune befalls.

The ghost of clumsiness yet again takes over your body, and you trip over your skirt. With a loud, unladylike yelp, you fall backwards, terrified but also anticipating the brutal hit to the floor.

It does not come. You do not fall on the ground because your husband saves you, reaching for your arm and tugging you back towards him just in time. Something else happens in the process. The ribbon of your jeogori comes off.

You realize that several moments later, too preoccupied with trying to calm your beating heart and processing what just happened. As you stay pressed against his body, your arms tightly holding onto his shoulders for balance, General Choi’s eyes skim over your face before fixing beneath your neck and on your exposed shoulder.

This time, something dark and carnal takes over his gaze, his eyes sharp and narrow, staring intently at your bare skin. Your heart beats so loudly you fear he can hear it, and for a moment, you are sure you will pass out from the intensity of his gaze and the swirl of emotions—desire and shame, surging within you.

Like before, he is the one who backs away, quietly clearing his throat and looking away. Embarrassed, you quickly fix your jeogori and clutch it tightly to your chest while also scrambling off his body.

“I—” you stammer, mortified to look at his face. “I will see you for d-dinner then, my Lord.” Picking up your skirt to avoid further accidents, you rush for the door, eager to be out of his sight.

His voice forces you to stop right at the door. “Why did you come to my room last night?”

You halt, processing his question. Then, with quick fingers, you tie your jeogori and carefully turn around. Your husband looks at you inquisitively. “Were…were you awake, my Lord?” You ask. He did not even sir when you came into the room.

In reply, he nods. You look around, trying to find the words. “I…was scared to be alone. I kept thinking of what happened at the market, and I do not know…” You trail off, embarrassed and worried about his reaction. He, however, keeps looking at you intently before shaking his head up and down in understanding.

“How did you know I came in? You did not even move a muscle. I thought you were asleep.”

“I smelled you.” He states, his face expressionless. You take a step back, alarmed. “Do I stink?”

He shakes his head. “No. I meant that I smelled roses. You smell like roses.”

Oh. “I see,” you mumble shyly, your fingers twiddling with the fabric of your skirt. He regards you quietly for a beat before murmuring. “You can sleep with me tonight as well, if you desire it.”

“Really?” You squeal, not hiding the excitement brimming in your voice. 

“Yes.”

“Thank you, my Lord!” You smile so big it hurts.

— 

After dinner, Headservant Yang sets the mattress for the two of you with a suggestive, happy smile on her face that makes you grin goofily. 

Once finished with your nightly routine and dressed for bed, you pad into your husband's chamber and find him already lying down, his eyes closed and his hands resting over his chest. One could think he was asleep, but you know better now. With wonder, you observe that the place of his sword has shifted and moved to his left, right next to his mat, now that yours occupies the space it took before.

“My Lord,” you ask softly, “shall I blow out the candle?”

“Yes.” He replies, not moving or opening his eyes. Carefully, you pad over to the study table and blow out the candle before finding your place on the mat. With the noise of the crickets humming outside, you lie on your mat, pulling the blanket up to your chin and staring at the ceiling. Your blood thrums in your veins, your brain too wired to fall asleep. The excitement of lying next to your husband keeps you awake.

Once your eyes adjust to the darkness, you take tentative peeks at him and find him in the same position as he originally was. Is he sleeping? You wish you could tell.

“My Lord?” You speak, quiet as a mouse.

Silence.

“Hm?” He hums.

“Why do you sleep with your sword next to you?”

“Force of habit, I suppose…from the war.”

You hum in acknowledgement, looking at him eagerly amid the darkness. After a short pause, you call for him again. “My Lord?”

“Yes.”

“Can I sleep with you from now on?”

Silence. Seconds pass by, but no answer comes, and you start to think that he has fallen asleep. Just then, he finally replies, his voice quiet and deep in the solitude of the night. “If you wish to.” You smile, happy and wide, even though he cannot see you. “Thank you, my Lord.”

Another short pause later, he murmurs. “Goodnight.” You take it as a sign that he does not wish to talk anymore, and with a nod, you shift and lie on your side, your right arm resting underneath your head.  “Goodnight, my Lord.” You whisper with a smile.

— 

You wake up just before sunrise. 

The spot next to you is empty, and with no sign of your husband, you step out of his bedchamber in search of him. It is a rest day, so you wonder where he is so early in the morning.

You find the man in the backyard, already dressed, quietly observing the flowers in the garden. “My Lord?” You call for him.

“Oh, good morning.” He acknowledges you with a small nod. “Why are you up so early?”

“I woke up and you were not there. Is everything okay?”

“Yes.” He assures. “You should sleep some more.” You pause, carefully observing him. In the soft morning light, the man looks different, more relaxed and homely, dressed in his hanbok and his long raven hair draped elegantly against his back.

How can you leave his majestic man just for a few more hours of sleep?

“My Lord?”

“Hm?”

“Let us go for a walk.”

— 

After quickly getting dressed, you and your husband go for a stroll, the early morning sun softly gleaming in the sky.

Your husband heads towards the nearby forest, which leads to a cliff offering a nice view of the town and the hilly background. He walks quietly with his hands behind him, his movements deliberately slow to accommodate your pace. With a soft smile that never leaves your lips, you walk alongside him, your heart thrumming happily.

Can this be called a date?

Without any words exchanged between the two of you, you navigate the path through the forest, your eyes skirting towards him every now and then. The silence between you is not awkward because you can see from his face that he is thinking deeply about something. So, you let him think and use the solitude to take peeks at his handsome face, memorizing the details of his visage.

By the time you reach the cliff, you are out of breath.

“Wow,” you wheeze out, panting for air as you rest with your palms on your knees. 

“Are you alright?” General Choi asks, peering down to see your face. “Yes,” you nod, trying to control your breathing. “It has been a while since I came up here. The view is magnificent.”

“It is.” He hums, looking over the cliff. “That last time I came here, I was a child.” You share, standing up and gazing at the view. It is truly still beautiful.

“Why so long ago?”

“What?” You blink, looking at your husband, who is regarding you with a curious tilt of his head.

“Uh…” you think. “My father…he was not fond of me going out much. Especially anywhere far, after my brother died. He liked to keep me within his sight.”

He keeps looking at you attentively, and you wonder what he is thinking. Is he judging you?

Needing to fill the silence, you ramble. “On top of that, I have always been clumsy. I’m sure you have figured that out by now. Once, when I was a child, I somehow broke my arm playing in the yard. My brother ran all the way to the physician’s office with me on his back. With him gone, my father thought it would be better for me to be within the house. For my safety and his mental peace.”

“It was suffocating, no? That is why you married me. For freedom.” Your husband observes. You nod, albeit shakily, thinking of your days back at your parents' home. The cold treatment of your father and the way you were never enough. Not enough to take away the pain of them losing their son.

In the silence, you take a moment to gather your thoughts before facing the man next to you and voicing a question you have always wanted to ask. “Why did you choose to marry me?”

He takes a moment to answer. 

“Because no one else wanted to. A lot of ministers tried to get me engaged to their daughters, but the girls refused when they saw me. Some even rejected just after hearing my name. They feared me.”

You find it ridiculous. “Why?” Your tone drips with bewilderment. “My reputation,” he shrugs. “My face does not help much, I suppose.”

“What do you mean?” You frown, leaning closer to him. He regards you in silence, as if the answer to that question is the most obvious thing in the world. “I am ugly.”

“What?” You gape at him, utterly befuddled. Does this man truly think that? His sharp eyes narrow on you, his brows knotting in confusion. “I do not know if you are making fun of me.”

“Why would I make fun of you?” You cry. This entire thing is ludicrous. “I simply find it absolutely enraging that you think so!”

He remains mute, watching you like you are an equation he needs to solve.

You take a tentative step closer to him, mumbling, “It is true that your reputation is scary. I also feared you for that in the beginning. I do not know if you are aware, but people say all types of crazy things about you.” You pause, inching even closer to him. With a few small inches between the two of you, you look up and meet his eyes, hoping to convey your sincerity. “But as I got to know you…I have realized there is nothing to fear. You are undoubtedly a cold man, my Lord, but you are also warm. Your heart is always in the right place. That alone is enough to make you the most beautiful man in the land.”

His face relaxes, and you can see how his gaze softens, the turbulent storms ever present in his eyes dissipating for a moment. 

In the back of your mind, one thought runs rampant. You want to kiss him. In the soft morning light, he looks as breathtaking as ever, his lips soft and kissable. Remembering the touch of his lips against yours last night, you muster the courage and lean up on your tippy toes, pressing a quick, chaste kiss on his lips. The man immediately leans back, a look of surprise on his face. Ignoring his reaction, you smile and step back, facing the view again. Your husband clears his throat before silently joining you in gazing at the view.

A while later, you voice out another thought. “My Lord, when you said not to expect anything from you, what did you mean?”

He takes a moment to answer. “I don’t know. Just do not expect anything from me. I cannot give you anything.”

Frowning, you face him. “But you have already given me so much.”

“I do not believe that.”

You sigh. The cranky man is returning. Hitching your skirt, you walk closer to him, determined. “What did you mean, my Lord? I cannot expect what?” He huffs out a frustrated breath. “Whatever a wife expects from her husband, I suppose.”

Your frown deepens. “What? Love? Attention? Devotion?”

“I will be devoted to you, but I cannot give you love.” His words are like a punch to the gut. “Why not?” You plead.

He hesitates. “I…just cannot.”

“You cannot or will not?”

His eyes, sharp and fiery, pierce right through you, and you see the truth in his eyes. You see the answer he refuses to utter. “Let us get back.” He announces, turning on his heel and dismissing you, starts marching down the path. You scoff, watching with an open mouth as he almost runs down the track to escape answering your question.

This stubborn, frustrating man.

— 

After breakfast, General Choi goes out to visit an old friend. With a sour mood, you shuffle through the house, watching as everyone remains busy with their work. You try to practice some needlework but fail to get far with that. As always, your hand at embroidery is embarrassingly bad. For two hours, you try to create a flower on a handkerchief, but when it turns out looking questionable, you drop the task.

You find San sitting outside on the porch, chatting animatedly with Headservant Yang. “My Lady, are you bored?” Headservant Yang asks upon seeing you walk over. With your shoulders slumped, you nod, pouting.

“General Choi will not be back for some time. Should we play a game then? San offers.

Your eyes shine. “Sure!”

— 

Your game of baduk with San lasts even after sunset. 

You keep playing match after match, your own competitive streak matching his. He does not go easy on you just because you are married to his General, and that makes it all the more fun. 

Your husband returns right before lunch and after observing the two of you for a mere minute, he leaves, locking himself in his study for the rest of the day. His disinterest irks you, and you decide to ignore him as well, honing all your attention towards the game. During different times, Headservant Yang and Jihye stop by between their work, watching you two play with rapt fascination.

The game only ends with you winning, long after the sky has gone dark. Cheers and yells erupt in the small crowd of servants gathered to watch the game. You grin cockily, finally standing up and stretching your legs. San accepts his defeat and takes his leave, not before you make him promise to join you another day for another match.

“Would you like to have your bath first or dinner, my Lady?” Headservant Yang asks. You ponder, still reeling from the high of winning. “Did my husband have dinner?”

“Yes, my Lady.” You sigh. “Well then, I will have my dinner now and then take my bath.”

— 

After your bath, you sit in your room with the mirror in front of you while Jihye combs your hair. “Today was a fun day, no, my Lady?” She asks.

“Yes,” you hum. “It is a shame General Choi did not join us.” “Indeed.”

“Where has he been all day?” “In his room, my Lady. He was studying.”

You resist the urge to roll your eyes. Your husband truly does not know how to have fun. Instead of spending a rest day with his wife, he would rather read and strategize and sulk by himself.

As if he could hear your thoughts, the man appears with a knock at your door and steps in a second later. Jihye excuses herself, leaving the two of you alone, the room suddenly buzzing with tension.

Your husband regards you with that same unreadable face, but something in you tells you that he is grumpier than usual. Still, you try to be civil. “Hello, my Lord.”

“Lady Choi. It was hard to catch sight of you all day.” 

Yes. He is annoyed about something. The subtle bite in his voice is unmissable. You finish combing the ends of your hair before setting the comb down. “My apologies about that. I was too immersed in the game of baduk.”

“Yes, I noticed.” He peers down at you, his eyes ethereally flashing in the soft lights of your chamber. “You seemed to quite enjoy your time with San.”

“He is an excellent player. He also mentioned that you used to play with him.” You supply, trying to understand what might be the cause of his annoyance.

“I don’t know about excellent.” He murmurs, looking away from you. “I taught him, true, but he is no match for me.”

You narrow your eyes. What is he implying? “I am sure he is not, my Lord.” You force a smile. 

“Yet, you chose to spend the entire day with him.” This time, he snaps, clear and offended. Your jaw hangs low, surprised at his pettiness. You stand up frowning. “You were away, my Lord.”

“Not the entire day. I returned long ago, but you were too busy playing with him till dinner time.” He grumbles, not meeting your eyes but staring at the lamp. Stunned, you gape at him, trying to understand where he is coming from.

Your heart flutters. Is it possible that he is jealous?

“My Lord,” you step closer to take a look at his face. “Are you…jealous?”

“Ha!” He scoffs, stepping away. “Why would I be jealous of that little punk?” he half yells, waving his hand dismissively like he is swatting away a bug.

Your spirits dampen, and annoyance starts to take over. You give him a saccharine sweet smile that is evidently fake. “Well then, there is nothing to worry about. Shall we head to bed?” He refuses to let the topic go. “You finally remembered me, no? Now that it is time to sleep?”

The thread holding you together snaps. With gritted teeth, you stare at him, trying your level best to keep your tone neutral. “Well, when your husband dismisses you at every chance he gets and tries to run from you at the mere mention of intimacy, a girl would naturally be upset and spend time elsewhere. I hope you pardon her for spending some time away from him.” You bow dramatically in apology, making sure that he understands it is sarcasm. 

“Wha—” He regards you, eyes wide and mouth agape, like he cannot believe the words coming from your lips. “You—” He seems to be at a loss for words.

You step past him, but he raises a finger at you. “So you prefer San over me? Is that what you are saying?”

You roll your eyes at his words. However, today there is an urge within you to push him to his limit. So, you whip your head back and glare at him. 

“Who knows?” You singsong. Your husband’s eyes only enlarge, the look of pure shock taking over his face, his mouth hanging open wider than before. “Maybe I do. Maybe I do prefer him over you. He spends time with me, after all. Despite today being a rest day, you stayed in your room all day when you could have joined us. So what if I prefer his company?” You add the last line for good measure, trying to appear as threatening as possible.

“Take that back,” he says, his tone quiet. The look on his face starts to shift towards something serious. 

You egg him on. “I won’t! In fact, from now on, I will spend more time with him. Who knows, he might give me all the love and attention you refuse.”

The man finally snaps. In the flash of an eye, he is right in front of you, his hand behind your neck pulling you so close to him that you feel his breath. All earlier pettiness and playfulness are gone. He looks like a raging beast, barely hanging on by a thread.

“Take that back. Tell me you do not mean it or I swear to God, I will chop his head off.” He grits, his voice shaking with anger and his grip on your skin tightening. His eyes are like two molten pools of lava, angry and bright, and he has never looked hotter.

Without wasting a second, you smash your lips with his, wrapping your arms around his neck to pull him closer and closer towards you. The force of your kiss is so strong that it knocks him back a few steps. However, he is quick to recover, meeting your lips with even more passion, a side of him completely new to you. Raw and unchained, he goes all in, devouring your lips like it is his salvation.

You don’t hold back either.

You let go of your body weight entirely, pushing him on the ground below you while never letting go of his lips. Your hands—his and yours—move frantically to claw at each other through the layers of fabric. With a huff, your husband finally removes his lips from yours, a long string of saliva connecting your lips to his. “If we continue…I cannot hold back.” He pants, his eyes wild and shining.

His words make you giddy with anticipation, molten hot pools of lava swirling in your belly.

“That is what I want,” you whisper, feeling the cold air against your swollen lips. “I do not want you to hold back.” Slowly, you snake your arms around his neck and you move closer to his face. With a mere inch between your lips, you murmur, “I want you to devour me, my Lord.”

Your husband makes a sound, a low, primal grunt that comes from the deepest part of his chest. He exhales sharply, determination swirling in his eyes as he finally lets go of all the restraint he had been practicing till now.

In a flash, he flips your positions, holding you against the ground, his large body looming over yours. Your breath catches in your throat with the view on top of you, and he has not even taken off his clothes yet. Desire thrums in your veins, making you curl your toes in anticipation.

“I will ruin you tonight.” That is a promise. His voice is laced with something dark, like he will thoroughly enjoy ruining you. Little does he know, you will enjoy it too.

“Please, my Lord.” You beg, all too eager to become his.

His eyes flash at your words, and immediately, his hands get to work. They move with ease, graceful yet quick, as he strips you off your garments. All too soon, you are left only in your underskirt, your bare chest exposed for his eyes to feast on. You have the urge to cover them, and as if your husband can read your mind, he grabs your hands and links your fingers with his, pinning them on top of your head.

“Do not hide from me,” he commands, his lips hovering over yours. You nod, jittery with need and anticipation. 

Once sure your hands will not move, he slowly traces his fingers from your jawbone to your neck and then your shoulder, before reaching for your braid. You shift and let him hold your hair, his fingers gently caressing over the long braided strands. His fingers trace over your daenggi before tugging on it sharply. Undone, the strip of cloth comes off as your hair starts to loosen from the braid.

“So beautiful.” He hums, holding a few strands of hair between his fingers. He places a soft kiss on them before reaching for your hands. With your daenggi, he ties your wrists together, making sure the knot will hold before placing your hands back where they were, arms stretched straight on top of your head.

“Be a good girl.” He whispers, his voice sultry, his gaze half lidded yet dangerous. Your heart hammers loudly in your chest as the reality of what is happening actually starts to settle in your bones.

You are half-naked, tied up and vulnerable underneath your husband. The man they call the Grim Reaper, the most merciless man in the land. Yet, you are not afraid.

You watch as he shifts, making himself comfortable between your spread legs. He lifts your underskirt, exposing your core, and despite the urge to close your legs, you cannot.

“So beautiful. It will be a treat to ruin you.” He hums, his eyes focused between your legs, a faint smirk playing on his lips. Without any warning, he slaps you between your legs, right on your sensitive flesh, the sharp whack echoing through the quietness of the night.

“Ah!” You cry, mortified and surprised. It stings but also unlocks a new sensation of pleasure within you. Your face heats up as you realize how much you enjoyed it, a deep and deprived sense of pleasure.

He slaps you again. “Do you like it? I can see you are getting wet.” He says, his flashing eyes set on your face.

You make a pathetic noise of agreement. “Answer me!” He commands, slapping you once more. A long, needy moan is ripped from your throat. You pant. “Y-yes, my Lord.”

Pleased, he smirks before leaning down to press kisses on your inner thighs. He moves slowly and deliberately, playing with you, nibbling on your skin with his teeth before giving it a soothing lick and making sure it is marked. When he sits back up, his eyes trace all over your face as if he is trying to remember every small detail about you. You do the same, peering at him through your lashes with bated breath, wishing you could pull him closer for another kiss.

You could spend your entire life kissing this man.

With the ease and grace of a panther that has trapped its prey, your husband moves, enveloping you with his body, his hair falling over you like a black curtain. Lying on top of you, one of his hands holds on to the nape of your neck while the other explores your body, teasingly moving down your waist and between your legs. His warm fingers trace your core, feeling the wetness gathered between your legs. Without losing eye contact, he plays with you, dipping his fingers inside, making you shiver and whimper and continues to smirk knowingly.

He pushes his index and middle finger inside you, just up to his knuckles and the intrusion have you shuddering, your core throbbing like it has its own heartbeat. A breathy moan tears from your lips, and he uses the opportunity to lean in and bite your lip softly. 

Dear god. You whimper. “Please.”

“What?” He mouths against your lips. “T-touch me,” you reply, chasing his lips to reconnect with yours.

You hear him scoff cockily. “I am touching you, wife.” His title for you makes you only more desperate. You whine, starting to writhe, “More.”

You feel him smile against your mouth, his fingers slipping all the way in. His lips trace your jaw, his nose pressed against your skin before trailing down your neck, while his fingers start moving in and out. Involuntarily, your hips writhe, chasing his fingers while he peppers your neck with kisses and bites before fixing on a particular spot beneath your ear that makes you whimper. Then, he uses his thumb to give you a flick, his dark eyes trained on your face as your pleasure amplifies. 

“Oh my god,” you shut your eyes closed, reveling in the feeling of his fingers inside you. He starts to pick up pace, moving the fingers in tandem, circling them inside you and giving your clit an occasional flick. You wrap your legs around his lower waist, crossing them over and pulling him even closer, a desperate attempt at trying to ease the growing ache. Inside you, his fingers move rapidly, making your body tense as you start climbing your high, the coil in your belly pulling tight. 

“My L-lord…” You pant, looking at him with pleading eyes, even though you are unsure what you are trying to say. “Say my name,” he commands, dark eyes trained on you.

You feel even hotter, the coil in your belly pulled impossibly tight. “S-Seungcheol.”

“That is right. Scream my name.” He orders, eyes hazy with a film of lust and possessiveness. As if teasing you, his thumb brushes over your clit ever so slightly, drawing out a shuddering whine from your lips that makes him chuckle quietly. The sound feels like magic to your ears, a drug to your system that heightens your pleasure. His teeth dig into the soft flesh of your neck, undoubtedly leaving a mark.

“P-please Seungcheol,” you heave, eyes closed shut, fingernails digging into your palms. Humming against your neck, he uses his fingers to rub an even deeper spot inside you as his thumb rubs your clit mercilessly. 

“Please!” You hiss, throwing your head back, your toes curling as you wail. “I… I cannot…”

“You are going to cum for me. Now,” his voice is a quiet order. 

He curls his fingers inside you one last time and flicks your clit hard with his thumb, sending you over the edge. Your release is a tidal wave of mind-breaking pleasure as your body goes tense, your hips arching off the bed, your mouth hanging open as a reaction to the overwhelming pleasure; your first orgasm. 

You experience a type of bliss you had no idea existed, and for a moment, your mind goes blank, your body lying taut and tense underneath his. The onslaught of pleasure leaves your vision blurry with unshed tears and your mind numb to everything as you slowly descend from the throes of heavenly bliss and register that your husband is sitting upright between your legs.

With his relentless gaze locked with yours, he slowly licks his fingers clean, his long pink tongue darting out to caress his digits as he hums, “This is the sweetest pussy I have ever had.”

The sight is more than erotic, and for a moment, you are scared you will die from a heart attack. You want this man. You need him all at once, in every way possible. There is an ache coming from the depths of your soul that only he can satisfy.

“Please…untie me. I want to touch you.” You beg, hoping he takes mercy. It has been torture keeping your hands off of him. Hearing your plea, he takes mercy and undoes the ribbon tying your wrists. Free, you immediately sit up and wrap yourself around him, pulling him close for a kiss. Vigorously, wantonly, you kiss him and taste yourself on his tongue, moaning and gripping onto his back, your fingers itching to touch his skin underneath his nightshirt. 

“Please take this off,” you breathe against his mouth. Your husband smiles, undoubtedly enjoying teasing you. “Why?”

“Because…I want to see you.” You whisper sweetly, looking at him through your lashes. The man obliges, letting his hands off you for a moment to take off his shirt.

The sight of his naked body renews the heat between your legs, a new wave of desire overcoming your system. You let yourself gawk at the expanse of the muscles on his chest and the bulky thickness of his arms, all littered with scars, strong and dependable. As he stares at your face for a reaction, you reach for him absentmindedly, dragging your index finger over a scar on his right bicep. It is long, old, and jagged, rough and bumpy to the touch. Without thinking, you lean towards his arm and softly press a kiss on the wound before slowly dragging your lips to his chest, where another scar has bloomed. “It must have hurt,” you whisper to yourself, pressing another kiss on the scar before meeting his eyes. “I want to see all of your scars, dear husband. And I want to kiss all of them. I want to kiss away your pain.”

Something flashes by his eyes, brief but vulnerable. He immediately snakes a strong around around your waist to pull you tight against him and seal his lips over yours in a possessive kiss.

With his lips tangled with yours, he carries you to the sleeping mat, setting you down gently. You sigh in satisfaction as your back meets the soft, warm quilt. 

Your husband quickly gets to work, taking off your underskirt in a sharp yank and ripping it in the process. Surprised and embarrassed, you squeak, trying to hide yourself from his gaze. With the lamp burning right on the desk next to the mat, he has a pretty clear view of your body.

“Your pants…” You whisper, tugging them as well, and Seungcheol chuckles. “So desperate, aren't we?”

“Please,” you beg, throwing him your best pleading eyes as your hands roam around his back, feeling the ridge and bump of his muscles. 

The man quickly takes off his pants, giving you the briefest glimpse of his cock. You barely get to see him as he leans down towards you again, his eyes locked with yours. He drags his palms up, cupping your breasts and squeezing them. A breathy sigh of pleasure falls from your lips as you automatically lean closer to his face, your lips chasing his. Seungcheol captures them in a soft, teasing kiss, his lips gently biting yours as you feel his cock brush against your thigh.

You shiver, goosebumps breaking out on your skin.

You are a ball of nerves right now, the idea of getting intimate with a man for the first time plaguing your mind with worry. Yet, at the same time, you are overcome with desire, need running through your veins.

This is scary yet perfect. Absolutely perfect.

Your husband attacks your neck, kissing and biting the skin while simultaneously playing with your breasts. You mewl, letting your head fall to one side to give him better access to your neck. He hums, the sound so deep and throaty you feel it in your core. His lips do not break contact with your skin, kissing and sucking your sensitive flesh until your whole body shakes like leaves in a tree. 

“Please…” You beg, digging your nails into his shoulder, your body unconsciously starting to grind against him, desperate to ease the throbbing ache between your legs. Seungcheol, finally satisfied with the red spot blooming on your neck, lets you go, peering down at you with his hypnotizing eyes.

“I teased you a lot, did I not, wife?” He hums, caressing your heated face with his knuckles. Drunk with desire, you nod, your half-lidded gaze transfixed. “Please, take me, my Lord.”

He tsks disapprovingly. As if to prove a point, he wraps his hand around your throat but does not apply any pressure. “My name.”

“Seungcheol.” You reply immediately.

“Good girl.” Seungcheol smirks, his eyes flashing with something dark as he leans back on his heels, taking a slow, good look at your body. Then, spreading your legs wider, he spits on his fingers and using it as a lubricant over his cock before lining up with your entrance.

“This will hurt at first.” He warns. You nod, one hand covering your face as you choose to look at the ceiling out of embarrassment.

“Ready?”

“Yes.”

“Look at me.” He demands, the tip of his cock brushing against your pussy lips, making you shiver and follow his command. “Keep your eyes on me. Watch me devour this tight cunt.”

You feel like someone set your face on fire. Face flushed with his crude words, you barely get to make a sound when Seungcheol thrusts himself inside you. Your head lolls forward with the impact as your hands immediately clutch his arm around your waist for support. 

“Ah!” You cry out, eyes squeezed shut as you feel a sharp sting between your legs. “Fuck,” Seungcheol hisses, his voice throaty as he remains half buried inside you. Pausing for a moment, he lets you adjust before pulling back and then thrusting back in. This time, he goes all the way in, and you swear you feel him in your stomach. With a loud, pathetic cry, you cling onto his body, your brain unable to keep up with all the different sensations. 

He builds a pace, pushing in and out of you in strong movements.

Your brain feels like mush as you fail to utter anything, your mouth simply hanging open to let out breathy pants as you close your eyes and feel every ridge of his cock move in and out of you, the initial pain of intrusion fizzling away. It is a blissful experience, a high you never want to come out of.

“Push out your hips a little,” he orders quietly, dark eyes set on you so intensely, you feel like he can see your soul.

Immediately, you comply, extending your waist towards him while keeping your upper back pressed to the mat. His hands hold your hip bone n a strong grip as he places a pillow under your ass and slides himself back inside you with a leisurely pace, the new angle making his length curve inside you. 

You start seeing stars.

“Oh my god,” you hiss, eyes squeezed shut. The back of your thighs rests over Seungcheol’s, your legs dangling around his waist, and your hands clenched around the sleeping mat as he starts to pick up pace. With each thrust, the force increases, the tip of his cock hitting your most sensitive spot, low groans falling from his lips to match your breathy moans. 

“I… I cannot…please” your whisper mindlessly, the words scattered and almost unintelligible due to your broken moans. “You want to come?” His voice is almost taunting as he leans closer to look at your face. “Well, that’s unfortunate. You do not come until I give you permission, wife.” Your husband warns, making you whine. 

The need to find your release only intensifies. You are so close you can almost taste the blissful release.

“P-Please,” You beg, wrapping your arms around his neck and digging your fingernails into his shoulder blades. “Say it louder. Scream my name. Who is fucking this tight pussy?’’ he grunts in your ears, his warm breath tickling your skin.

“Seungcheol!” The desperate yell is quick to leave your lips.

“Who will make you come?”

“You! Seungcheol!”

“That is right, wife. It is I, your husband.” He gives you a particularly harsh thrust. “Not San. Not any other man but me.”

“Y-yes. Please…” you sob. Gripping your chin, he forces you to look at him. “Who do you belong to?” His voice is as quiet as a winter night.

“You, my husband.” You manage to utter clearly amid his brutal thrusts. “Good girl,” he praises, nibbling on your jaw. One of his hands reaches below to touch your clit as he wastes no time rubbing the sensitive bundle of nerves with the pads of his finger, all the while continuing to thrust inside you earnestly.

“Seungcheol!” You scream, your entire body jolting.

Your reaction makes him smirk as he chases his own high, seconds away from erupting inside you. He places your clit between his thumb and index finger, giving you a particularly harsh rub followed by a pinch.

You are catapulted over the edge. Your vision goes white, your entire sweat-coated body twitching from the intensity of the pleasure. It only amplifies as you feel Seungcheol spill inside you, his warm release filling you up and dripping lazily out of you. 

You feel like you are floating from the bliss.

— 

Your husband’s hand strokes your back in repeated soothing motions while you bask in the afterglow of your passionate lovemaking. With him lying behind you on the mat, your bodies pressed together, you move from reality to dreamland every now and then, the smile never leaving your face as you savour his touch and warmth. 

“Are you asleep?” he softly asks, bringing his face closer to inspect you.

You make a noise and shake your head, too lazy to move. Your husband gently turns you so that you lie face to face.

“Are you in any pain?” You ask again, carefully looking at your face, his fingers brushing away the rowdy strands of hair from your face. You open your eyes and look at him with a gaze full of love. “I am perfect, husband. Thank you.”

He smiles when you address him by that name, a warm, gummy smile that shows his unbridled joy. The possessive madman from earlier has completely disappeared, replaced by a man eager to dote on his wife.

This is your first time seeing this side of your husband. 

He pulls you against his chest, holding you tight in his arms. “No, thank you, wife. Thank you for being mine.” You smile, nuzzling his bare chest. This is the safest and most comfortable you have ever felt, and you do not want to let go. Ever.

After a moment of pause, he whispers. “I know I lack a lot. I can be clueless sometimes. So from now on, I hope you share with me whatever is on your mind. All your wishes, hopes and dreams, your desires— everything. I promise I will make them come true.”

You are too tired to form a reply, your body growing heavier each second but still, you smile. You peacefully drift off.

— 

Seungcheol did not go to work today.

The news delights you when you hear it from Jihye as she helps you get dressed. Her eyes linger on your body, especially on your neck, where little marks have formed— evidence of your lovemaking. 

She looks half worried and half scandalized, and you wink at her playfully before stepping out of your chamber.  Your husband sits on the porch, fully dressed, basking in the sun with a book in his hand.

“Good morning, my Lord.” You whisper, feeling pathetically shy when you catch sight of him. He looks up, his eyes shining when they land on you. “Good morning, wife. How are you feeling?” Shyly, you walk over to him and sit down without leaving any space between the two of you. Fiddling with your skirt, you look away when you answer, “I am alright, my Lord.”

With a gentle grasp on your chin, he turns your face and forces you to look at him. “The truth.” He says quietly.

Truthfully, you are quite sore, and an ache has taken hold all over your body. However, you cannot complain. The ache is laced with pleasure, especially between your legs, reminding you of last night.

Your heart gallops in your chest as you look into his eyes. “I am a little sore,” you reply timidly. “But it is a good kind of sore, I promise.”

His eyes travel to your neck, eyeing the red marks visible on your skin. “I was too rough with you,” he murmurs, his tone laced with regret, his eyes focused on your neck. Quickly, you snap him out of it. “Not at all, my Lord.” You sling your arms with his, pulling him closer so that you can rest your face on his shoulder. “You were just perfect. I enjoyed it. A lot.” You whisper, face flushing.

Your husband keeps gazing at you like he does not believe you. Whipping your head around, you take a quick scan around the yard before pressing a sweet kiss on his lips and giggling like a child. A soft smile blooms on his lips, even though he tries to stifle it.

“You should smile more, my Lord. You look so handsome.”

“Why are you calling me that? You called me by my name last night.” His lips form a soft pout as he complains. You pause, “Well…last night was…”

“You shall call me Seungcheol from now on.” He announces. “I would like it even more if you gave me a nickname.”

Wide eyed, you look at him.

“Do you understand me, wife?”

“Yes, husband.” 

Happy with that for now, he does not pester you anymore. You rest your head on his shoulders, your hands intertwined, and watch the morning sky in silence.

“You asked me to share all my wishes with you last night.” You speak after a while, eyes focused somewhere distant. “Can I share one with you right now?”

“Of course,” he shifts so that his body faces you. 

Tilting your head up, you admire a white, fluffy cloud. “Ever since my brother died, I have only had one wish for my life. I wanted to live by the sea in a small house. In that house, there would be my husband and I, and we would spend the rest of our days there, away from all the noise and bleakness of this town.”

“That sounds lovely.” He murmurs. You nod before looking at him. “Do you think it would ever be possible for us?”

He remains silent. 

“Given the nature of your job, I understand. However, I need you to promise me one thing. You must take care of yourself. You must not get hurt, do you hear me? You have someone to come home to now. You must think about me and you must return home to me, do you understand?” Your hands grip his in an earnest hold. 

His free hand comes to rest on top of yours, and he gives you a reassuring squeeze, warm and soft. “Rest easy, wife. I shall come back to you. Always.”

A lone drop of tear strolls down your cheek, and he wipes it away with his thumb before pressing the softest, feather-like kiss on your forehead. After a moment's pause, you speak. “Now it is your turn to share something with me.”

He regards you with confusion. 

“Anything. A wish, a secret…” You stare at him with eagerness. He sighs softly, his eyes trained on his lap as he thinks about something. 

“Well…when I told you not to expect anything from me,” he begins, looking almost shy, his gaze soft and apologetic. “I was afraid. I wanted to keep you at an arm's length from the beginning because I was scared of losing you. I have lost everyone close to me, and the thought of going through something like that again terrifies me. Since I joined the military, I have kept myself detached from everyone because the less I cared, the better.”

Your heart aches for the man. With gentle fingers, you brush away the unruly strands of hair from his face and trace the scar next to his eye. “You will not lose me, husband. I am right here.” You promise.

He wraps his arms around you as if to test your words. You wrap yourself around him, basking in his embrace, your bodies melting into one. “Do not leave me.” He whispers, his voice raw and vulnerable.

“Never.”

— 

Seungcheol left for the palace early today. After two days of relaxation, a letter came for him last night from the palace, demanding his presence first thing in the morning.

At night, Seuncheol held you tight in his arms, soothing away your worries. He finally shared what has been going on in the palace and why there are assassins after him.

Turns out they are working for the Minister of Trade, who is strictly against the new reformations currently being done by the king, like an attempt to abolish the slavery system. Seungcheol has been the King’s number one ally and a powerful piece in the game, which is why they are after him. Removing him from the equation is as good as stripping the King of his powers. Minister Kim has done exceptionally well in covering up his tracks, which is why there is no solid proof against him, complicating this entire issue. He has been playing a cat-and-mouse game with the royal army for a while now. 

Your husband left even before you woke up, leaving a note for you promising he would be home for dinner.

The day slowly passes by with you going to the palace and coming home once your shift is over, always under the watchful eye of San. The mood in the palace has been tense today, different rumours about Minister Kim floating in the air and a sinking feeling forms in your gut. No matter how hard you try, you cannot shake off the feeling that something ominous is about to take place.

Your suspicion starts taking shape when dusk falls and Seungcheol does not return. It turns into terror and restlessness as night falls, and still, there is no sign of him. The supper grows cold, and you fall asleep upright, waiting for him, your husband, who never comes.

When you open your eyes again, you find Jihye sitting next to you, a worried look on her face. “What is it?” You immediately sit up straight. “My lady, it is past midnight. Master has not returned yet. Should we send someone to the palace to ask for him?” She asks.

Your fingers fist around your skirt, anxiety coursing through your veins like poison. “We should.” You whisper.

Just as you are following Jihye out of the room, you hear commotion; the voice of a servant and Headservant Yang. Running to the porch, you see Seungcheol entering the house, dressed in his military uniform, his sword in his hand.

He marches straight towards you and drags you into your bedchamber without any words. “My Lord, where have you been!” You cry, gripping his arm. “I have been waiting for you—”

“Listen to me carefully,” he cuts you off, his hands resting on your shoulders as he leans down to be at your eye level. His usual unbothered demeanour is gone, replaced by worry that you see in his eyes as vividly as daylight. 

Something must be wrong. Your heart starts racing.

“The Minister of Trade is planning to attack us here tonight. They will be here anytime, so I need to get you out of here.”

“Wha— How did you even find that out? Are you sure?”

“The royal army captured a member of his team yesterday. We tortured the information out of him. Look at me,” he urges you, his fingers gripping your shoulder even tighter. “Minister Kim knows we are onto him. He has gone into hiding. He will stop at nothing to get to me, to you, do you understand? He plans to go down and drag me with him.” You see the fear in his eyes. The unshakable, indestructible man suddenly appears different, and this change terrifies you. 

“I am scared.” You whisper.

“You have nothing to be scared of.” He pulls you in his arms, holding you tightly against his chest. “I am going to send you to a safe place. I need you to do as I say, okay?”

You nod shakily, your fingers holding onto his sleeve in a death grip.

“Pack your essentials. We will leave within thirty minutes. Ask Jihye to help you.” He says, pressing a kiss on your forehead before marching outside.

With your heart hammering in your chest, you get to work, moving your shaky limbs to pack a bag with the help of Jihye. Soon, you are ready, and Seungcheol wastes no time wrapping everything up. He places Headservant Yang and the other servant in another neighbor's house to make sure they are safe before setting out with you.

In the darkness of the night, you get onto his horse with his help, followed by him sitting behind you, his arms around you to hold onto the reins. Jihye and another male servant get on another horse, and finally, a royal soldier follows from behind.

A little to the south of the town, there is a long, dense forest which leads to a small, quaint village. There is an ancient shrine there, inhabited by monks, and that is where Seungcheol intends to get you by dawn.

The silence grows heavier and thicker as you tread into the forest; the only sound echoing around is the soft galloping of the horses. You shiver, more from dread than from the cold night air and Seungcheol notices it. “Hold the reins.” He orders quietly so that his hands are free. He takes off the muffler wrapped around his neck and gently puts it around yours.

“I asked you to pack the essentials, wife.” His tone is playful. “I think a muffler in this weather counts as an essential.” He teases, and you understand it is his attempt to soothe you. “I am sorry, my lord. You should keep it. You will catch a cold.” You murmur.

“Hush now,” he shushes you, taking back the reins. “You should lean on me and close your eyes. It will take a while for us to reach there.”

“No, it is okay.” You reply, eyes focused ahead on the dark, narrow road cutting through the forest. 

It is such a gloomy night. You cannot spot a single star in the sky, shrouded by clouds.

Time ticks by. The night grows darker. 

Your journey continues through the hour of the ox and into the hour of the tiger. Exhaustion takes over you, and unable to resist it any longer, you close your eyes and lean your head back, resting it against your husband’s shoulder. It is not an ideal condition to get some shut-eye, but somehow you doze off.

When your eyes reopen, you hear the loud sound of a horse neighing and its heavy galloping. Seungcheol holds you tighter, and with a sharp tug of the reins and a nudge of his heels, his horse leaps into a full sprint. You look around worriedly, scanning through the dense bushes surrounding you.

“Master! Did they find us already?” Servant Min cries from behind as his horse too picks up pace.

The sounds grow louder, and just as your body tenses up, fearing the worst, you see San pop up from inside the forest, his horse taking a lunge and joining you on the road. “General, you have to keep going!” He yells. “They are right behind us.”

Seungcheol’s horse sprints parallel to his.

“How did they catch up so quickly?”

“Minister Kim had his men spread out. They were hiding in a camp a few miles behind. I took care of them, but the messenger escaped. I’m sure the minister is on his way. You need to move fast. There might be more of his men hiding in the forest.”

Upon hearing his words, you notice the specks of red on his hanbok. Swallowing the lump in your throat, you look behind to see your husband’s face. His jaw is clenched tight. “We need to come up with a plan. If they find us, we cannot hold them off. I need to get my wife to safety.” He yells back.

It is as if a cactus is lodged in your throat. “W-what do you mean?” You cry, your face aghast. 

He does not reply to you.

“It will be daybreak soon, General! We should hide somewhere.” San suggests.

Just then, you notice a sudden, strange ball of light in the sky, a little towards your right. It takes a moment for you to register that it is a signal, an arrow of fire shot from behind you.

“There are assassins ahead of us. They now know we are headed that way.” Seungcheol hisses.

“I will take care of it.” San nods, wielding his sword and screaming at the horse, “Go!” The horse runs faster, impossibly so, almost flying forward.

“I need you to stay calm and follow my orders.” Your husband says to you. “Do you hear me?” You nod shakily, “Yes.”

In five minutes, you catch up to San, who has taken care of most of the assassins that sat ahead at the curve. As you sprint near, Seungcheol hands the reins to you and readies his bow and arrow, taking perfect shots at the rest of the assassins. Then, he smoothly gets off the horse, followed by the other soldier who has been accompanying you, their swords wielded as they fight one-on-one.

A little ahead of the curb, you stop the horse and so does Jihye and servant Min, watching the fight anxiously. The three men take multiple assassins at a time, making sure they do not get to you.

You chew on your lower lip, your hands fidgeting as you watch the fight unfold. You wish Seungcheol gave you an archery set. You know the basics because you practised regularly as a child with your brother. Even though after his death, you stopped it for a while, you did not completely let go, taking occasional lessons from the older nobleman in your neighbourhood who used to be a skillful archer once upon a time.

By the time the last member of the group has been killed, shades of blue have coated the sky. Seungcheol and his team run back to the horses, their clothes specked with blood.  “Come on, we need to leave,” he says, mounting the horse.

There is a sudden sound; a sharp whoosh like a strong gust of wind just flew by, followed by a soft thud.

It is an arrow.

It whizzes towards you, missing the mark and hitting the tree trunk a couple of inches to your left. Your heart stops. A few hundred meters from the way you came, a large group of armed men show up. It is Minister Kim’s convoy.

They have caught up to you.

At the center, leading them is the minister himself, dressed in iron like he is about to go to war. His eyes, black and empty, scour the dead bodies of his assassins lying on the ground in front of him before looking at your husband.

His thin lips curl up into an evil smile. “General! No point in running now! It’s time to see how good of a fighter you are!” He yells. 

You feel Seungcheol's body growing tenser with each passing second, his hand gripping your thigh in a bruising hold. You, too, are paralyzed with fear, unsure of what to do. Then, absolutely shocking you, Seungcheol does the thing you least expected him to do. He starts getting off the horse slowly, his eyes trained on Minister Kim.

“San, take my wife and go.” He speaks quietly to the younger man who hadn’t gotten on his horse yet. “My Lord, what are you—” You do not get to finish your sentence because the younger man has instantly climbed behind you and snatched the reins from your hands.

“Get them!” You hear a shout as you are swept away with lightning speed. San’s grip around your body is iron solid, holding the reins with his eyes focused ahead on climbing the steep, hilly road at the end of the forest.

“No, please! You need to be with him!” You cry, fighting against him as you look behind to see Seungcheol fighting the Minister’s men, accompanied by the other soldier. 

He can never outfight all those people.

“Have faith in him. He knows what he is doing.” San assures, kicking his heels so the horse runs faster. You hear sounds right behind you, and you turn to see an assassin on a horse, aiming his arrow at you. San takes notice of it and swerves right immediately to avoid it.

As calculated, it misses, but a second later, your horse neighs out loud, standing on its hind legs before dropping down on the ground, taking the two of you with it. The arrow was meant for the horse. It struck his leg, injuring him, leaving the animal on the ground, softly crying in pain.

San wastes no time getting up and wielding his sword to fight off the man and the others following behind him. Jihye and servant Min, who were right behind you, yell out, calling for you to get on their horse. Jihye extends her hand towards you, but you ignore her, bunching up your skirt and making a run towards the curb.

“My Lady, what are you doing?” San yells, fighting off the assassins. “Jihye, stop her!”

“My Lady, come back!”

Ignoring their cries, you pick up the bow and set of arrows dropped by the assassin and continue sprinting down the steep road.

Then, finding a safe distance and a place behind an oak tree, you spot your husband, his movements sharp and precise as he takes down one man after the other. You watch as the minister slowly walks towards him, his sword dragging on the ground, leaving behind a threatening trail. Due to him wearing the armored plates, you know it is pointless to shoot at him, so you load your bow and aim at the assassins and start shooting.

The first one grazes past the man you aim at. Not discouraged, you continue, and the second one hits the target. 

Your husband looks in your direction immediately when the assassin drops dead, his eyes going from confusion to worry the moment he spots you. He does not have the time to do anything about it, as he has to fight the never-ending men.

And you are slightly grateful for that. Right now, he does not have the chance to come to you and force you away, giving you the chance to help him from afar. You continue loading arrows and shooting, missing some but hitting most, well aware of the fact that the Minister has spotted you.

From behind, you hear Jihye coming towards you, her exhausted pleas echoing down the path. “Jihye, I need more arrows!” You yell as you come down to your last two. “There should be some on the road back there!”

By now, most of the assassins have been taken care of, and the remainder are being fought by the soldier accompanying your husband. Minister Kim has approached Seunghceol as they engage in a heated sword fight, the minister swinging his sword like a madman, his growls echoing in the air. Your eyes scan around the place, thinking of finding a way to help Seungcheol, when San finally catches up to you, followed by Jihye, who did not get the arrows you asked for.

“My Lady, enough!” he yells. “You cannot be here! The road has been cleared—”

“We need to help him!” you yell back. “I cannot leave him here for—” You do not get to finish your sentence.

An arrow hits Seungcheol, piercing through the skin right below his right shoulder, on the top of his chest.

“No!” You scream, watching him stumble back for a moment. Your eyes fly through the scene, spotting an archer hidden inside the forest a little ahead towards your right. As you load your bow to take a shot at him, San finally comes to his senses, flying down the road to help Seungcheol.

You take the shot.

The arrow hits the hidden archer right in the chest, making him tumble backwards, disappearing out of sight. Then, you dash down the road, not scared of anything anymore, Jihye following you as your shadow.

San stands no match to Minister Kim, easily overpowered and tossed aside by his brute strength. He has the eyes of a madman, hell bent on getting to Seungcheol, discarding everything in his way like little bugs.

“I told you, you scarred lunatic!” He screams, charging at your husband. “I will slice your head off your neck and then do the same to your wife!”

He swings his sword around, charging for Seungcheol with all his might. Seungcheol blocks him with his sword, but the force of the attack forces him to fall to his knees. Minister Kim takes the opportunity to knock him off his feet with a kick. Seungcheol falls on the ground on his back, and in the split second, the minister raises his sword towards the sky before bringing it down sideways on his chest.

“Seungcheol!” You yell at the top of your lungs. “General!” San yells, coming from behind and tackling Minister Kim to the ground before he can fully swing his sword across. His helmet falls off from the force of San's attack. With your heart thundering in your ears, you point the remaining arrow at him.

It is like your body is not yours anymore. With zero hesitation, you take the shot while he is still pinned to the ground, struggling to get free, and the arrow hits the bullseye, right in the center of his forehead. 

His body slumps to the ground.

Pushing him away, San holds your husband’s lifeless body, his eyes slowly falling shut as he yells his name. Jihye and servant Min run past you, calling their master.

The bow drops from your hand.

You stand there, watching the ground go red underneath your husband’s body, your fingers gripping his muffler around your neck. 

—

Seungcheol receives his initial treatment in the shrine you were originally supposed to visit.

Once the news of the attack reached the capital, upon the king’s orders, the royal physician Yoon came to treat Seungcheol. He and his assistants crowded the room, tending to your husband’s injury with medicine and wrapping the area with gauze as he lay motionless on the mat.

You stood just outside the room, gazing at your sleeping husband, who looked nothing like his usual self—pale and frail, his body littered with little cuts. 

Why won’t he wake up? You miss his eyes. You miss his slow, unravelling gaze on you, his crimson, fiery eye that can almost cut through stone with a simple gaze. Where is that man?

Physician Yoon said he is in a deep sleep. They call it a vegetative state. The injury was quite lethal; the wound just a few centimetres away from damaging his heart. He said that the worst is over, and his pulse is stable now.

But he won’t wake up. He remains unresponsive, and it is unclear how long it will take for him to regain consciousness. 

“I see,” was all you said, standing motionless in your spot, gazing at your comatose husband.

A couple of days later, the King sent a royal convoy to move Seungcheol back to his house from the shrine. You had no complaints, wanting your husband to rest comfortably in his own house rather than a shrine. After a long journey, you reached home in the afternoon, greeted by Headservant Yang, who looked as devastated as you. After making sure your husband was okay, physician Yoon left, leaving you anticipating yet another sleepless night. 

It is nighttime now, and you sit still next to your sleeping husband. Headservant Yang peeks into the room, begging you to have some food. You ignore her, sitting quietly and observing your husband. The small lamp in the bedchamber casts warm shadows on his face, his sharp features appearing softer and weaker. 

He looks oddly at peace. You do not cry. You force a smile.

Leaning closer to him, you glide a gentle hand down his face and whisper, “You can rest. You have had a tough life, my dear. You can rest as long as you need, but you have to come back to me.”

You will pray to every god out there. You will visit every shrine, give unlimited offerings, and pray that your husband returns to you. You will do everything in your power to see him open his eyes. It is truly a shame you do not have much power in your hands.

Sometime later, your exhausted body falls into deep slumber, riddled with nightmares. Your husband lies in a pool of blood, and he does not wake up.

— 

The next morning, your father comes to see you. You do not move from your spot next to your husband to greet him as San leads him into the room before excusing himself.

He sits next to you, watching his son-in-law with small, worried eyes, muttering words of regret and concern. You hardly hear them, too busy patting Seungcheol’s face and arms with a damp cloth. Physician Yoon left a while ago after checking up on him and said that there is no progress. The king’s personal messenger came with him as well as the Head Eunuch, praying for Seungcheol and assuring to provide help in any way they can.

You couldn't care less about them. You sent them off, handing the letter you wrote for the king in the messenger’s hand before asking San to see them out.

“My daughter, you should eat something. You have to take care of yourself so that you can take care of him.” Your father urges.

You finish wiping your husband’s body in silence before setting the rag down and clasping his hand in yours. They are calloused but warm, and you silently send a prayer of gratitude to the heavens. He is alive. He is still here.

Tracing over his bruised knuckles with your fingertips, you whisper, “You know, Father, I have been lonely for a long time. After orabeoni died, I thought that was it. It could not get worse, but then Mother died. And I…I hated that I was alive. Because in that house, I was dead. I was dead while still being alive.”

You exhale a shaky breath, pulling Seungcheol’s hand closer to inspect it. You need to apply ointment on his knuckles.

“There was no colour, no joy, no celebration in that house. You were there but also not there. You never saw me. I was not enough, not after losing someone as precious as orabeoni. I felt so guilty. It should have been me, not him—that is all I could think of. I thought my entire life would be miserable like that, which is why I was so eager to marry this man.”

Another heavy sigh whooshes out of your lungs.

“Father, this man…people fear him. They say all sorts of weird things about him. But he is the kindest, warmest man I know. He kept his heart locked and hidden from the world, but he is so precious. He is gentle and kind, and he loves me. He loves me so dearly, Father, and I love him. How could I go on without him?”

And finally, the tears fall. Big droplets of water roll down your cheek as you fall on the ground, clutching onto your husband’s hand and sobbing into the floor, loud and broken.

Your father’s hand comes to rest on your shoulder rather unsurely, softly patting you as you keep crying, the tears that never came till now gushing out like a river with a broken dam. Your broken heart continues to shatter into even smaller pieces, and you cannot help but wonder what if he never wakes up again. Maybe you are doomed to be lonely.

The thought makes you cry some more. After a while, once you have managed to calm down, you sit up and wipe your tears.

“I…I did not know you felt that way.” Your father whispers, his voice ridden with guilt. “I…I never meant to hurt you. I am sorry—”

“I don’t want your apology right now, Father. I want you to pray for him.” You cut him off.

“I will. Of course I will.” He says, his eyes shining with unshed tears and guilt. “And when he is back on his feet, I will come visit you and I will accept your apology then.” You murmur, your gaze trained on your husband.

“Of course. Have faith, my dear. He will be awake soon.” Your father assures, his voice unstable. You hum absentmindedly.

If Seungcheol does not wake up, you do not know what you will do.

— 

The wind is particularly chilly this morning.

It has been a fortnight since Seungcheol fell into his comatose state, and he is just as before. Every day, Physician Yoon comes to check on him and then leaves while handing you some herbs to apply to his wound.

You have accepted this as your life now. Waking up every morning with a prayer that all the previous days were a long, gruesome nightmare, but then feeling grateful to see him still breathing, warm and alive.

After completing your daily prayer and offerings at the temple, you walk home in slow steps, the fatigue slowly creeping into your bones. The past week has been hard on you, and it looks like your body to starting to give up. You have not been eating properly, spending all your waking hours beside Seungcheol, tending to his comatose body or crying at the altar of the temple.

You cannot give up. Seungcheol is yet to awake.

Just as you come in front of your house, you find a small stray cat sitting comfortably in the sun. With a small, exhausted smile, you walk closer and crouch down, running your fingers through its shaggy fur. It looks dirty and disheveled, and you wonder where it is from.

You should probably bring it inside and give it some milk to eat. Judging by how comfortably it sits and basks in the sun, you are doubtful you will be able to get it inside your house.

“Would you like something to eat?” You whisper, gently scratching between its ears. The cat meows rather boredly, closing its eyes and resting its head on the ground after a quick swish of its tail.

Right then, a servant bursts out of the front door, looking like he saw a ghost. He looks back and forth down the road before finally spotting you on the ground. The wide-eyed, frazzled look on his face makes your blood run ice cold, and you immediately stand up.

“What is it?”

“My lady…Master is awake.”

You are free falling. You fall and fall, all the limbs of your body finally giving up after a week of war. For a long moment, you stand there, stuck in a daze. You don’t dare to breathe, afraid you would wake up and realize it was a dream.

“I will go get Physician Yoon. Please go inside, my lady.” The servant says before rushing down the street. You struggle to move. The stray cat at your feet has got up due to the commotion and is now strolling into the house.

With your heart racing in your chest, you slowly follow it, your legs shaky due to the nerves.

Seungcheol is awake. He is finally awake. 

You hear lots of voices, especially Headservant Yang’s, as she scolds and cries loudly. With a lump lodged in your throat, you keep on walking until you spot the door to his bedchamber. You catch a glimpse of your husband sitting up, and for some reason unknown to you, you immediately hide behind a nearby wall.

You are too scared to see him. Too overwhelmed, too afraid.

You thought of this. You dreamed of the day he would wake and look at you, and now that it is here, you do not know what to do. It feels unreal.

You are angry at him. You are also grateful. Angry for getting hurt. Grateful for waking up.

A sob bursts out of your throat, and you start wailing, unable to hold back the tears any longer. With your palms clasped over your mouth, you cry so hard that it becomes hard to breathe. The sobs wrack your body, knocking the air out of your lungs and leaving behind only pain.

The pain of almost losing him. The pain of seeing him lie there almost lifeless, day after day.

A hand on your shoulder startles you, and you find Jihye standing next to you. Her eyes are misty as she wraps an arm around your heaving body and rubs your arms soothingly. “It is alright, my lady. Please do not cry. He is looking for you.”

Her words make you cry some more before you manage to wipe your tears and snot. It is pretty futile because they do not stop completely. With shaky legs, you move from your hiding spot and continue towards his chamber, your heart pounding loudly in your ears.

Seungcheol spots you immediately, his posture straightening as he sees you arriving. But you do not meet his eye. 

You cannot bring yourself to. If you look at him, you will start crying once more, right in the middle of the yard, in front of all the servants. 

Headservant Yang and others start moving away as they see you approaching, giving you privacy. You cross the porch, your eyes still trained on the wooden floor of his bedchamber, your hands slightly shaking.

Finally, you step inside and shut the door behind you. Then, your eyes slowly travel to his.

He is definitely paler and thinner than before, but you see life in his eyes. You see the spark and the shine that have always been present in them, and right at that moment, you are sure he will be alright.

Thank god.

He looks up at you, his eyes brimming with longing and guilt. His usual plump red lip shaded in a pale pink colour. His face littered with little cuts that are still healing, yet he has never looked more handsome.

And you have never been happier to see him.

You want to scream. You want to yell at him and tell him how much you love him, but you cannot speak. Tears and sobs threaten to overflow once more, so you stand there like a statue and keep staring at your husband, repeating in your head that he is alive and well. 

Until your knees finally give out. 

You kneel in front of him and wrap your arms around his neck, careful to avoid his left chest and leaning your weight more on the right.  Breathing him in, you hold him as tightly as possible, wishing you could merge yourself into him, wishing you could lock him away and protect him for the rest of his life.

Your tears wet his bare shoulders, your fingers tightly gripping onto the muscles on his back, clutching him on for dear life. It feels as if you let him go— if your grip loosens ever so slightly, you will lose him forever.

It takes a long moment for you to realize how your body is shaking due to your sobs and tearful hiccups, only when your husband's warm hands wrap around you, patting your back like you are a small, wounded animal.

“It is okay, my dear. Everything is okay,” he soothes in the softest voice, and when you hear him, another violent sob slips past your throat while you cling to him and cry in the crook of his neck.

You want to stop, but the tears are endless, a mixture of pain and relief. Gingerly, Seungcheol pulls you away from him to take a look at your face, which is puffy and tear-stained. With his thumbs, he wipes your tears away, murmuring, “Hush, now. It pains me to see you cry like this.”

You want to reply, but the lump in your throat is still heavy, and you know if you try to utter something, only sobs will come out, so you remain silent, raking your eyes over his body before settling on the wound on his chest.

“I am alright, I promise.” He assures you once he sees your gaze. “I feel well-rested, in fact.”

You are glad to hear that.

Wiping the remaining tears and snot rather unceremoniously with your sleeve, you get up on your feet to leave the room, but he tugs on your wrist, pulling you back down and into his arms this time.

“Where are you going?”

“To get you some herbal tea.” You reply, your voice meek and scratchy. Your husband locks his arms around you. “Headservant Yang will do that. I need you to stay here. I have missed you.”

Your lower lip trembles, but you will yourself not to cry again. Instead, you whisper, “I have missed you as well. I have missed you so much, you have no idea, Seungcheol.”

He shifts, peering at your face with a surprised look. “You called me by my name.”

“I have been calling your name for the past week.” You murmur, staring at your lap.

He maneuvers your body with gentle, effortless hands so that he can see you fully. “You know, you look like the one who has been comatose for a week. What is this I am seeing? When was the last time you had a proper meal?” He frowns, his eyes trained on you like a hawk as he squints at your face.

You look away, murmuring, “I have been busy nursing a sick man.”

He scoffs. “Not busy enough to eat. You look like a ghost, my wife. I am genuinely worried about you.”

You do not meet his gaze. With an exasperated sigh, he gently tilts your face up by the chin. “Look at me.” He softly commands you. You do as you are told, finding his eyes set on you, those beautiful, mesmerizing eyes that you missed so deeply. 

Your husband’s face inches closer to press a soft kiss on your forehead. It is not quick; he holds his lips pressed right in the middle of your forehead, slightly above your brow, like he is trying to leave an imprint. You close your eyes and lean closer, savouring the feel of his lips against your skin.

Oh, how you longed for this.

“I love you.”

You must have heard wrong. You stop breathing, your body going tense for a moment. Seungcheol leans back, one of his hands wrapped around your neck, his thumb stroking your cheek while the other cups the back of your head, angling your face just slightly upwards and in line with his gaze.

“I love you.” He repeats—his words slow, heavy, deliberate.

You feel faint. It is hard for you to find words, and while you continue gaping at him with parted lips and shining eyes, he continues, “I was scared I would not be able to say this to you. As I lay on the ground and saw you standing there, this was all I could think of. I was angry at myself for never telling you how much I love you.”

“Oh Seungcheol…” your lips tremble. You wrap your arms around his neck, making yourself at home by placing your head under his chin, feeling his hard muscles against your body.

“I love you, dear wife. I love you more than life itself. More than I could ever express.” You hug him tighter. “I love you, too. I love you so much, Seungcheol. You are my whole world.”

“I know.” He murmurs. “I knew the moment you came back towards me. Which you should not have done, by the way. You put yourself in danger.” He loosens his hold on you to catch a glimpse of your face, his gaze admonishing. “I am still mad at you for doing that, but you look miserable enough, so I will let you off.”

You only smile.

“Also, when were you going to tell me what an amazing archer you are? How come I did not know that?”

You look away sheepishly, biting your lip. “You never asked.”

He laughs, the sound sweet and throaty. His arms wrap around you in a tight, protective hold once again, and you close your eyes, savouring the rhythm of his heartbeat next to your ear. As you bask in his warmth, you announce, “You are not going back to the military. I am not letting you go.” Detangling himself from you, your husband regards you with an amused look, like he cannot believe you. “Oh, really?”

“I am serious.” You huff with a frown. “You are not going back. You have fought enough battles for a lifetime. Now it is time for you to rest.”

“Hm. And what if His Majesty disapproves?” His tone is playful.

“I do not care. I already wrote him a letter, saying that once you woke up, you would not resume your duties.”

Amazed, your husband watches you, his eyes twinkling with pride. “I cannot believe you did that.” You ignore him. “Promise me. Promise me you will not go back to the military.”

He remains silent, watching you calmly, and you start getting anxious, expecting the worst. Just as you start thinking of different ways to force him to stay, he says, “I will not, I promise. I was not going to go any way. That was the first decision I made when I opened my eyes. I got another chance at life with you. I plan on using it very well.”

Your heart soars. You grin, a full-on smile sweeping over your face after a long time. Pressing a soft, chaste kiss on his lips, you whisper, “Can we go live by the sea now?” His eyes shine with love. “Yes, we can.”

You couldn't be happier. Your heart couldn't be fuller. It is pure delight when you think of a future with this man, away from all the noise and the troubles that have been plaguing your life until now.

He can be safe now. He can rest.

Unconsciously, your thumb traces the scar next to his eye, feeling the bumpy skin underneath your finger. The scar now looks like a tree branch that extends into even smaller branches containing little flowers.

You lean forward and press a kiss on it. 

“I am just glad you will not get hurt anymore. You have already been through so much.” You whisper, your sad gaze trailing over all the marks on his skin, old and new, before settling on his left chest. You gingerly place your hand over the gauze, remembering how long and deep the gash was.

It will scar for sure. Probably the biggest scar on his body, and it will be because he was protecting you. A shaky breath parts from your lips as you are momentarily transported back in time; him lying motionless on the ground that was turning red. As if your husband can read your thoughts, he gently tilts your chin up and forces you to meet his eyes.

“My dear, I am alright. Look at me.”

“This will scar. You will be in much pain as it heals. Because of me.”

“Don't say that.” He holds you against his chest, his fingers wrapping tightly around your limbs. “You are the only one who loves my scars. Because of you, I now love them too. I would not have changed a single thing if I had the chance. You know why? Because every one of the scars in my body led me to you. And this one?” He places a hand over yours, which is resting on his chest.

“This one tied me to you forever. I earned you. I earned your forever through this. So I think this is the most beautiful.”

A lone tear strolls down your cheek. “Oh, Seungcheol,” you choke over a sob, tilting your face up to capture his lips in a kiss.

His arms engulf you completely, his lips taking over yours, his tongue moving inside your mouth like he has been starving for this.

It is breathless, passionate, and gentle at the same time, conveying all the feelings and emotions the two of you could never put into words. 

It is beautiful, like the scars on his body, leaving behind a trace of love.

For a special epilogue, head over to my Patreon. Click here to see the preview!

© startlightxsvt 2025 | All Rights Reserved. Do not copy, translate, adapt, or repurpose any of my works.

A/N 2: First of all, I want to thank you for reading till the end. Next, I just want to say that this fic has been one of my dream projects. Is it the best? Maybe not but did I have the most fun writing it? Hell yes! It was originally supposed to be a bit longer but I cut some parts out, mainly because I was worried this app wouldn't let me post the entire thing easily. Sure enough, it said that there were too many blocks on my post, so I had to stitch together a lot of passages even though they were separate at first. So, I'm sorry if the flow gets weird in some places.

On a different note, I will also be posting this on AO3 once I have opened my account (I am still waiting for their invitation mail), so once I have made my account, I will link it here. Do support me over there! Finally, I just want to take a moment to thank you all for your support. I am really excited to hear from you guys about this fic, so please do send an ask!

That's it from me for now. For my next fic, I will be returning with something short and lighthearted. Stay happy and healthy, y'all! <33

[starlightxsvt]

Scars Leave a Beautiful Trace | c.sc

synopsis ➳ ❝an arranged marriage with the man the entire land is afraid of. the man with a crimson eye. they call him the grim reaper. cold, ruthless, unforgiving. yet you are drawn to him, curious to see the man hiding behind the cold, hard exterior. and the man behind is hauntingly beautiful but your forever with him is not promised.❞ pairing ➳ husband general!seungcheol/ x wife noblewoman!reader genre ➳ historical romance (joseon era), angst, pining, smut. wc ➳ 25.4k + 1040 (patreon) warnings ➳ blood, mentions of war, scars, minor character death, attachment issues, arranged marriage, mentions of cheating, severe injury, miscommunication. cheol is an ass in the first half, reader is lowkey a simp, jealousy, big dicc cheol, bondage, virgin sex, rough, unprotected sex, fingering, teasing, edging, dirty talking, praise kink. a/n: this is a work of fiction, so take this with a grain of salt. it will be historically inaccurate, so my apologies beforehand. (also, surprise?? posting it a day early hehe)

glossary:

Jangot – Veil-like cloak for women

Binyeo – Decorative hairpin

Yakgwa – Honey-ginger cookie

Jeonbok – Traditional sleeveless vest for men

Dasik – Pressed tea cookie

Jeogori – Upper garment or jacket

Chima – Skirt worn by women

Baduk – Strategy board game (Go)

Daenggi – Ribbon for braids

Hour of the Ox – 1:00–3:00 AM

Hour of the Tiger – 3:00–5:00 AM

Orabeoni – Respectful term for older brother

+82 some miracle

only listen to my general

“Daughter, this is General Choi Seungcheol, your betrothed. Greet him properly,” your father commands softly, his eyes trained on you.

Your breath stutters in your chest.

Whether from the loaded tension in the air, the silence of the room or your future husband’s penetrating eyes on you, you are unsure. 

His eyes…

You saw them once, a long, long time ago, and you remember them in explicit detail because they are heterochromatic. His right iris is red, a shade of fiery crimson that is scary but also hypnotizing—a stark contrast to his left iris, which is pure black. 

You wish it were only his eyes that were lethal. Unfortunately for you, it is his presence itself. It is the way he silently sits there, poised and alert, holding his sword in his right hand and softly drumming his left index finger on his knee, as if telling you to hurry up. It is the way his face remains unreadable, a porcelain white canvas containing a pair of eyes fiercer than a mountain lion's, a sharp nose that is slightly crooked on the left, and pink lips that are pressed in a thin line. The most daunting of it all, the scar on the right side of his face, just below his eye and on top of his cheekbone. It is no more than a couple of inches long, but the gash looks deep, even after it has healed and imagining the pain behind that curse rakes shivers down your spine. 

Finally, you snap out of your reverie.

With a shaky exhale, you bow down and speak as humbly as possible. “Please accept my greetings, my lord. It is a pleasure to meet you.”

— 

Choi Seungcheol is well known throughout the kingdom, highly feared and revered. In fact, many hold him in the same regard as the king, which is not unfair or surprising. He is the Minister of War and the General of the royal military, the right-hand man of the King and his most trusted subject. Since his boyhood, he demonstrated excellent swordsmanship, and paired with his keen intellect and faultless war strategies, he quickly rose through the ranks and became the King's favourite. His name spread far and wide after he brought victory to the nation in two consecutive wars. He attended the first one when he was only eighteen, and he became infamous for that.

That war with the nearby enemy nation was extremely brutal, as it took away the lives of many of the best men in the military. When Seungcheol returned to the capital with the enemy General’s head in his hands, he was a changed man who had altered the course of history. Bloodied, beaten and bruised, he sported the deep scar on his face, fresh and bleeding. 

Rumours spread from there. Though he brought the nation victory, the townspeople gossiped about everything from his scar, his crimson eye, to his temper, claiming that he was a madman or possessed by an evil spirit. 

You have heard a few things from your father, too. He has agreed that the war changed the man, rightfully so. As the state minister, your father saw firsthand how brutal and merciless the war was till the last moment. So much so that he stepped down from his position afterwards.

He lost his son in the war, after all. Your older brother, whom you vaguely remember because you were only eight at that time. 

Nothing was the same after his passing. Your father lost his spark, your mother became quiet and indifferent, and the house fell into a deathly silence that felt haunted. The silence still lingers, fourteen years later. 

It has been a long time, so long that sometimes you feel like those days never existed. Yet, you remember them vividly: the pain of your mother’s death four years after your brothers, the remaining light dissipating from your father's eyes and the house falling into a perpetuating state of darkness, a place where everyone remained silent, from the slaves to the master. A place that never truly was illuminated, even during the brightest days of summer. A place that you had to call home but wasn’t your home. It was a graveyard where you floated through, watching the world outside bathe and shine with colours when the second war was won, when the king became the father of a boy, when the economy flourished. Seasons passed and years went by, yet your house never celebrated a holiday or a special occasion. 

You saw your father survive each day, haunted by his past and unaware of the present. Every day, he would see students from morning till noon, fulfilling his duties as a scholar before retiring to his room and staying there till the next morning.

The only time you saw some life in him was three years ago, when he called you one day in his chamber to announce that you would get married to Choi Seungcheol once he returned from his three-year trip to another country. Choi Seungcheol, the General of the Royal Military. The man with heterochromatic eyes, who came to your brother’s funeral years ago.

That’s how you have remembered him. The man with two different colored eyes, who stood in the rain with a grim expression on his face as they lowered your brother into the ground.

Over the years, you have heard notorious things about him. He has gained an infamous reputation among the townspeople. Many people believe that he is insane and that he murders people for fun. Word goes around that he is a womanizer, a man without a heart, a man who did not spare his own brother and executed him for treason.

You don’t know how much of this is true.

It all might be true; he just might be the devil living in a human body, but funnily enough, you do not care.

You will do anything to get out of this house. Living here for the past fourteen years has been like being buried alive. You are breathing, yet you don’t feel alive—you don’t remember the last time you felt that way, if ever.

And if a diabolical, insane man is your ticket out of this grave, you will take it. You will accept it with open arms and a smile on your face.

— 

The marketplace is crowded.

You gently tread through the throng of people, holding your jangot over your head as you eye the stalls leisurely, nothing in particular catching your attention. 

“My lady,” Jihye whispers, walking alongside you. “You have been circling the market for the past half an hour. What are you even looking for?”

A dejected sigh flows past your lips. 

Last time you came to the market, a pretty flower binyeo caught your eye. You had not received your salary yet at that time, and so, you could not purchase the piece. You had aimed to buy that binyeo today, but now that you've received your pay, it's no longer available. You have been scouring the market ever since, looking for something similar, but there is none.

“You know what, let us buy some yakgwa and head home,” you say, looking for a snack shop. Jihye smiles, her eyes flickering excitedly at your mention of buying sweets.

A few feet ahead of you, you spot a sweet shop. Instead of focusing on the plethora of sweets laid out, your gaze travels to the right, stopping on two men standing by that shop, their backs facing you.

Something about the tall, broad man dressed in black makes you stop in your tracks. Particularly, his long ebony hair feels oddly familiar to you. 

The man shifts a little, and you catch the slightest glimpse of his side profile through the busy street. Immediately, you squeak and hide behind a nearby stall.

It is General Choi, your husband-to-be.

“My lady, what is wrong?” Jihye hovers around you worriedly. Without looking away from the man, you dig into the sleeve of your hanbok, fishing out some coins and handing them to Jihye. 

“Here. Go buy as much yakgwa as you want.” You murmur, pushing her towards the shop while you get more comfortable in your hiding spot.

You don’t even know why you are hiding. You did not do anything wrong, and you surely have no reason to spy on your future husband in the middle of a busy marketplace.

Still, you continue observing him converse with the other gentleman. His stance is poised and powerful as always, and dressed head to toe in his signature black military clothes, he looks like death itself. Haunting but hypnotizing; which would explain why you cannot look away. 

And then, suddenly, he turns around, locking his eyes with you straight, as if he knew exactly where you were hiding. 

With a gasp of mortification and terror, you immediately whip your head away and bump into a passerby. Bowing your head in an apology, you let the woman pass through before tentatively turning your head back to the street.

Choi Seungcheol stands right behind you.

“Ah!” You yelp, taken aback and stumble a few steps behind. He reaches out immediately and grabs your elbow in a flash, saving you from the fall.

Flushed and breathless, you gape at him like a fish out of water.

He has the usual grim and unamused look on his face, peering down at you almost like he is judging you. His hair is tied up in a half bun, and his bangs frame half of his face, covering his odd eye and the scar. It is a shame, you find yourself thinking as you observe the rest of his face, counting the moles on his pale skin.

It is when he lets you go that you realize he had been holding onto you all this time, and you stood there like a statue.

How unladylike!

First, he catches you spying on him, and now— 

“My apologies, my Lord.” You immediately take several steps back, putting a safe distance between the two of you. Full of shame, you keep your head low as you murmur, “I was simply startled to see you.”

“It seems that you were spying on me.” His voice is smooth and rich, calm and authoritative. “No!” You gasp. “I was just…um…looking. I thought you…ah…looked somewhat familiar…”

He cocks a thick brow in amusement, the faintest smirk creeping up on his lips. 

What are you even saying?

Cringing at your own words, you press your lips shut and scowl at the ground, cursing the heavens for your predicament.

“You are not at the palace today?” He asks. You welcome the change of topic with great relief.

"No, my Lord. I asked for a break from my duties this week as I am preparing for the wedding.”

With no mother or close female relatives, it is up to you to prepare your wedding. 

Generally, you do not like skipping work. It has been two months since you secured a job at the palace after a lot of struggle. Your father was not very happy with the idea of you working, especially in the palace, but he ultimately gave in. 

You work as a teacher to the children under the head court lady of the palace, teaching them how to read and write while they train to be future court ladies. Sometimes you also work as a bookkeeper for the royal library, but that is something you do voluntarily and out of your love for reading. The pay is not very much, but it gives you a sense of freedom and identity, something you struggled to find for the last twenty-two years.

“Head Court Lady Yeo speaks very highly of you.” General Choi states. You do not understand whether he meant it positively or negatively, given his flat tone. Confused, you chuckle awkwardly. “It is a pleasure to work under her guidance. She is very patient and—”

Suddenly, Seungcheol reaches out to you, grabbing you by the arm and harshly tugging you towards him. Completely oblivious as to what is happening, you bump into his chest as his arms snake around you, protectively holding your body next to his.

Less than half a second later, a man riding a horse whooshes by, yelling out apologies to all the people for his rowdy horse. Dear Lord, you were about to be trampled by a horse if not for him.

“Are you alright?” 

His voice makes you look up at him, wide-eyed and panting. It takes a moment for you to realize that he is holding you against his chest, his warm hand resting on your shoulder in a protective grip while your hands rest on his shoulders, gripping the fabric of his jeonbok for support.

With your heart pounding loudly in your ears, it takes you yet another moment to remember how inappropriate this is, the way you are pressed against him. In a flash, you free yourself from his hold and shuffle back, murmuring a mortified apology. At the same time, you hate how much you miss his touch on you.

How odd.

“My lady, are you alright!” Jihye comes running down the street, a packet of confectionery in her hands. 

“Y-yes, I am okay. Let us get going.” You announce, immediately turning away from General Choi, desperate to escape this mortifying situation.

“Hold on.” The deep baritone of his voice steals a breath from your lips. Your body instinctively listens to his command, and you carefully look behind to see him picking up your jangot, which you probably dropped earlier and were about to leave without.

Once more, you cringe at your clumsiness as you watch him brush off the dirt before extending the material towards you. With shaky hands, you reach for it. “Thank you, my Lord. I wish you a pleasant day.”

The next second, you rush out of the marketplace as if the grim reaper himself were chasing after you. Behind you, Jihye struggles to keep up, but you couldn't care less, hiding your face in embarrassment.

That night, under the blanket, you lie wide awake. The memory of General Choi’s hand on your body and his chest pressed against yours keeps repeating in your head in a loop. A foreign, warm sensation pools in your belly, and you find yourself shamefully fantasizing about your future husband, forsaking slumber.

—

You got married today. 

According to the elders of the town, it is one of the most important days of your life, yet it felt like every other—quick and ordinary. Probably because the groom was barely there.

During noon, he came in to fulfil the basic rituals before marching out, leaving a note for you with Jihye. The work in the palace is too demanding, so he must go. He would see you tonight at his place. That was all he said.

Hours later, night has fallen and you are now in his home.

You sit alone in a chamber prepared especially for you. His servants made sure you were comfortable, helping you bathe and prepare for the first night with your husband before leaving you alone to sit with your thoughts and hear the hum of the crickets in the nearby forest.

You declined their offer to serve you dinner. It is only appropriate to wait for your husband and share the first meal together. 

Adorned in fine silk and pretty ribbons, you sit and wait for your husband to come, watching the flame of the candle dancing and melting away the wax. 

You are nervous. It is your first night with your husband. You, who has never even looked at a man for a second too long. You are now married to one of the most feared men in the kingdom. You have heard people talk about his ruthlessness in bed. Apparently, the girls in the brothel talk about it all the time, especially when he visits. Jihye said that whoever spends the night with him needs an entire day to recover.

“Lady Choi,” Head Servant Yang suddenly calls your name before opening the door. “Master has arrived. He is taking a bath currently.”

You snap out of the thoughts of bedding your husband and give her a shy smile. “Could you please set the table then?”

“Of course.” The elderly woman bows and walks out of the room, arranging for dinner to be set in your chamber.

Ten minutes after the dinner is served, General Choi walks into the room. Fresh out of the bath, he is dressed in his nightwear and his hair is tied up in a neat bun, giving you an uninterrupted view of his face. Once again, you find yourself hypnotised by his heterochromatic eyes.

“You did not have dinner?” He asks, sitting down in front of you. His movement is as graceful as always, silent yet stealthy. His posture is upright, the muscles of his shoulders taught as he sits and regards you with careful eyes.

“I was waiting for you, my Lord.” You reply meekly.

“You should not have,” he states, his tone almost condescending. “I am sure Head Servant Yang informed you that I return from work late most days.”

“Today is a special day, is it not?” You find yourself speaking boldly. Your words are firm like the gaze in your eyes, and for a long moment, the chamber is plunged into suffocating silence.

General Choi keeps looking down at you, his gaze as intimidating as ever, and you half expect him to draw his sword from its sheath and slice your head off. Instead, his lips curl upwards, and a noise of amusement leaves his throat. 

“Lady Choi, you seem upset.” He states, his voice half challenging and half something you cannot pinpoint. Sarcasm? Threat?

Unsure how to reply to that, you bite your lip and stare at the food laid out in front of you. All your appetite is gone now.

“Let me tell you something, Lady Choi.” Your husband leans closer to you over the table. Something about the way he utters your title forces you to meet his gaze. Like always, the fierce look in his eyes steals away your breath.

The man is hauntingly beautiful.

“I am certain you have some expectations from this marriage, and I cannot hold that against you. However, let me inform you now, I will not be able to fulfil your expectations, whatever they may be. So, I suggest you completely let go of your expectations, for your own good.”

What? You are sure no woman in Joseon’s history ever had to hear these words on her wedding night.

“My Lord, I do not understand.”

He does not bother clarifying his words. Instead, the look in his eyes shifts, his gaze sharpening on you. Lazily, he pours himself a drink from the pitcher and chugs it down.

“I know what this marriage means to you.”

You hold your breath and watch him, alarmed. He smirks. “It means freedom. It is your way out of that house. So, let this marriage be just that. A way out for you and a duty obliged for me.”

Well, consummating the marriage is also a duty. So is spending time with your wife and sharing a meal with her on your wedding night. You want to yell the words out, but you press your lips shut and stare at him, still processing what is happening.

“As long as we maintain our boundaries, this will be a great union,” he announces almost like he is reassuring you. You feel anything but that.

You feel abandoned, yet again.

“You should eat now,” he says, standing up. “I will retire for the night.” Without sparing another glance at you, he leaves the room. For a long moment, you silently sit in your place, your fancy garment and jewellery suddenly becoming too heavy on your skin. Ignoring the sensation, you reach for the rice, nibbling on the grains with your chopsticks.

You do not understand why tears prick your eyes.

— 

The next morning, an unknown man waits for you as you step out of your chamber and put on your shoes, ready to leave for the palace.

Your husband had left early in the morning, and while the news hurt you slightly, it also left you with relief. After last night, you have not had enough time to process your emotions to face him.

The strange man bows as he sees you approaching. “Greetings, Lady Choi. I am San. As per General Choi’s orders, I shall accompany you from now on for your safety.” Stupefied, you blink at the man. His build and posture indicate that he is a military person, but you do not understand why your husband would have someone guard you.

“My husband put you up to this?” You raise a brow. “Why?”

“I am afraid I cannot say. It was his order.”

You narrow your eyes at him. “So, from now on, you will what? Follow me everywhere?”

“Yes. Whenever you need to go out, I shall accompany you.”

“Is someone trying to kill me?” You ask, point blank, blinking at him.

San makes a noise of surprise before an awkward laugh spills from his lips. “O-of course not, my lady.” You keep eyeing the strange man with suspicion as you start heading for the front door. “Alright then, let us leave.”

— 

You bump into your husband at the palace.

At noon, when the sun is high in the sky, you finish teaching the young girls. Then, you head to the library to cool off and see if the head librarian needs any help. With no new work for you, Librarian Kim serves you some tea and sweets, congratulating you on your marriage. On your way out, he gives you some dasik to take home and share with your husband.

The husband who seems to want to do nothing with you.

With gratitude, you take the sweets and head out of the library, done with your day's work at the palace. That is when you see him. Below the steps of the library building, he approaches, followed by two other men, all dressed in uniforms. Their movements are quick and determined, almost like they are on a military mission.

General Choi takes notice of you as he climbs the stairs. Flustered and oddly shy, your first instinct is to hide. With no place to do that, you stand your ground and bow, “My Lord—”

He walks past as if he did not see you.

You stand rooted to your spot, blinking at the ground.

What just happened?

He ignored you. He blatantly ignored you. His wife. There is no way he did not see you. He did. His eyes met yours, and he held your gaze before looking away.

Hurt and humiliated, you stand there for several long moments, the sun scorching your back. You are tempted to storm back into the library and demand why he did that, but you know better than that.

For one, there is always the danger of him chopping your head off. You heard he once cut off a man’s head just for looking at him too long.

The other issue is more personal. Walking in there would make you look desperate, especially in front of others. You are supposed to be a newlywed happy wife, not someone who chases after her husband when he ignores her in public. The thought makes you feel like pins prickling your heart.

Once more in your life, you are insignificant. You are the lesser one, the one who can be forgotten, overlooked.

With boulders forming in your heart, you head home.

— 

Your husband returned home late today as well.

You had your dinner long ago, and Jihye prepared your bed for you. However, you did not get under the covers. In the dimly lit space of your bedchamber, you have been sitting with your head on your knees, curled up in a corner and watching the candle burn.

No matter how hard you try, you fail to get past the incident earlier today. You simply cannot comprehend why your husband would ignore you like that.

Your curiosity gets the better of you. With a resolved breath, you step out of your room and walk into his bedchamber. You knock at his door. “My Lord, may I come in?”

A beat of silence. “Yes.”

Opening the doors, you find Seungcheol tying the knot of his undershirt. The material is thin and white, giving you a pretty decent glimpse of his silhouette. Flustered, you immediately lower your gaze and shake your head at yourself. 

You did not think this through. Of course, he would be in his sleepwear, like you.

Shit.

It takes you another second to realize you, too, are in your sleepwear. A thin white top over your underskirt. With the realization dawning on you, you cross your arms over your chest and look up at him, conflicted and embarrassed.

Like always, his face gives nothing away. In the calmest of tones, he questions, “Did you need something from me?”

“Uhm…well…” Once again, you get distracted by the visual of your husband. In the dimly lit room, he appears even more stunning, the light of the candle casting strange shadows on his figure, contouring his muscles underneath the thin fabric. With his long, black hair undone, some strands fall on his face, covering his eyes. Through the curtain of his hair, his odd eye shines exceptionally bright in the darkness, stealing your breath.

“I am sure the reason for your visit is not to stare at me, Lady Choi.” He states once more, and you finally snap out of your thoughts.

Closing the door behind you, you gather all your resolve and stand straight.  “My apologies. I wanted to talk to you.”

“I am all ears.” He says, not looking at you. He busies himself by placing his sword next to his mat and sitting down comfortably.

“Why did you ignore me today at the palace?” You get straight to the point. The man turns to look at you slowly, his eyes sharpening ever so slightly. Despite him sitting, you feel as if he is towering over you, and you cannot help but hold your breath, waiting for whatever is to come. Something flashes in his eyes, and once again, you do not know what it is. Rage? Annoyance? Amusement?

You have no clue.

“It seems that you are disappointed, Lady Choi.” He finally replies, his tone containing that tinge of amusement he has with you. Like you are a circus monkey whose action provides him with fleeting, insignificant pleasure. 

You wait for him to elaborate, but he does not, looking at you with a challenging stare. You hate how…diplomatic he is all the time. “Why did you do it?” You repeat, trying to appear as stern as possible, which is almost comical. In front of you is the man people call the grim reaper.

General Choi shifts his position, resting his arm on his knee before fixing his gaze back on you. His tone is quiet, serious. “Let me tell you something, Lady Choi. In public, we are not to acknowledge each other. Do you understand me?”

The ground has been snatched from beneath your feet. You fall into an endless pit, your heart crushing into tiny bits with each of his words. Why? Why would he say something like that?

“Why?” You don’t mask the hurt and desperation in your voice. He ignores you. “If that was all, you may leave now. I wish to get some rest.”

Tears brim in your eyes. Why does he treat you like this? What crime did you ever commit against him?

Your mouth hangs open, shocked and helpless at his attitude towards you. Defeated, you silently pad back to the door. Before you open it, however, you pause. Slowly, you turn back to him. “Why did you assign that man to follow me around?”

He does not look at you. “San is one of the few men I trust. He will keep you safe.”

He has this tendency to never answer your question directly. He dances around it, giving curt, memorized answers. It feels like you are talking to a wall, frustrating and pointless. The next words slip past your lips thoughtlessly and barely above a whisper. “Why do we not sleep in the same room?” That finally gets his attention. He slowly turns his head to look at you, his pupils wide with shock. Like, he cannot believe that you just said that. 

Right. Why did you say that out loud? You look away in embarrassment, cringing at your words.

“So…” he starts to get up. You step back, alarmed.

Why is he getting up? He will slice your head off for sure this time.

With the grace of a lion about to devour his prey, he inches closer to you, his eyes flashing almost unnaturally. You keep walking backwards until your back meets the door and there is no place left to go.

He stops a mere inch away from you, so close that your clothes brush, so close that you can see his chest underneath his nightshirt, so close that you can inhale the scent of soap on his skin. Your breath catches in your throat, and your eyes fall shut on their own.

“My wife wishes to sleep with me. Is that it?” His voice is heaven against your ears, deep, husky and warm, leaving your brain fumbling. You open your eyes to see him staring straight at you, and immediately, heat shoots up all through your body from your toes. 

“I…I didn’t…mean…” You stumble over your words, the sight of him so close to you, messing with your system.

He stares at you, his lips curling up in a smirk. “I am sure you have heard what they say about me.” He pauses. His hand reaches out towards your face, and you hold your breath in alarm and anticipation. With the faintest of touches, he drags his index finger against your jaw and down your neck. “I am sure you know how I am…in bed.” He whispers against your ear, and you can feel your heart physically drop as tingles shoot through your entire body.

At this point, you have forgotten how to breathe. 

“You could not handle me, Lady Choi.” He says and then, absolutely shocking you, leans closer to your neck. Tucking a stray piece of hair beneath your ears, he takes a long inhale of you and then slowly steps away from you.

You feel like you are on fire, beads of sweat gathering on your temples. Your mouth remains agape, processing what just happened as you stand pressed against the door, frozen like prey in shock.

“Good night, Lady Choi.” He says in the most nonchalant way possible, going back to bed. You manage to summon all your strength and rush out of his room, shutting the wooden panels loudly behind you. Outside, you gasp for air, clutching your chest, your heart racing like you just ran for your life. You stand outside the door for a long time, taking in deep breaths and trying to get your heart to calm down as foreign sensations flood through your veins, leaving behind an ache you have never felt before.

You want your husband, you realize. You want him to do all those filthy, animalistic things that you heard of…with you.

— 

You have accepted your new life. A married woman without a husband’s attention or acknowledgement.

In the last two weeks, a routine has fallen into place for you. You wake up, go to work, come home for lunch, spend the afternoon with Jihye lounging around before having dinner and going to bed. Throughout the day, setting eyes upon your husband is rare because he leaves with the sunrise and gets home after dinner. Most days, he has dinner in his chamber by himself, and on the rare occasions he is home early (twice), he shares it with you.

The freedom you thought an advantageous marriage would give you has not come. In fact, you feel more restricted than before. With San following you around like a hawk, you have lost interest in going outside to explore the neighbourhood. Jihye, too, has been weird lately. She vehemently opposes you going outside, especially to the market or other crowded areas and always runs your errands for you.

After a lot of thinking, you have come to a conclusion. Your husband has a mistress. Maybe, mistress is not the right word. If anything, you feel like the mistress in this relationship.

“I am sure he has someone he loves.” You hum, nodding to yourself. 

It is a Thursday afternoon in early spring, the warmth of the sun shining on you as you return home from an unusually long shift at the palace. A few steps behind you is San, ever present like a shadow, following you down a steep road to home.

With him around, you have started to voice your thoughts, no matter how crazy. There is nothing to hide from him after all. He sees it all firsthand, how his boss never spends time with you. 

You have another theory. San knows about the other woman. He has to, right? That is why General Choi employed him to guard you in the first place. He probably knows where your husband goes during his free time, and it is his job to make sure you never see him. 

General Choi seems to have bought off Jihye somehow, too. You find that absolutely bizarre, considering her long loyalty towards you. You are deeply hurt by her betrayal, and so, you have decided to shun her until she comes to you and explains what is going on.

That leaves you with San only.

“I’m right, no?” You turn around to take a glance at him. As usual, he looks helpless and awkward, almost like he is about to leave everything behind and run for the hills. You continue. “He has to have known her for a long, long time. However, I do not understand why he didn’t marry her. Is she not a nobleborn?”

You stop for a moment.

“Ah! She is someone from the brothel, probably, right?”

San continues looking at you helplessly, an awkward smile plastered on his face. You continue walking, nodding to yourself. “No wonder he told me not to expect anything from him. He also said that he fulfilled his duty by marrying me. No one will pester him now because he has the perfect cover.” You nod your head, impressed. “I have to give it to him. This is a good plan.”

The path down the cliff comes to an end, and you stop, admiring the sun slowly going lower in the western sky. The birds fly in the sky in groups, returning home as the sky changes colour, a deep tint of orange taking over the blue.

Is she pretty? You wonder to yourself. She must be. There must be something about her that keeps a man like him hooked. 

The thought pains you. More than it should.

You understand it. You really do, but what you don’t understand is why he married you. Why did he trap you into this marriage? The least he could have done was be honest with you instead of avoiding you like the plague.

The more you get to know this man, the more cowardly he seems. The thought brings an unironic smile to your face. The most feared man in the country, yet he refuses to communicate with his wife. He does not have the guts to speak the truth, which makes him nothing but a coward in your eyes.

“Let us stop by the market.” You announce, taking a different route. San rushes in front of you, alarmed. “Lady Choi, w-why?”

You stare at him, slightly annoyed. Why is he acting like this? Is General Choi supposed to be there now? With his lover? All the more reason why you must go.

You continue walking, ignoring San.

“My Lady, please. Tell me what you need and I shall get that for you after I escort you home.”

“San,” you abruptly stop and glare at him. “I shall tell you what I need right now. I need you to shut up and follow me quietly. Or, you can just leave and report to your boss that I am breaking protocol. Whatever fancies you.”

The man makes a pained sound, groaning almost like a wounded animal. However, you don’t wait for him, marching down the path with determination. Helplessly, he chases after you.

— 

The marketplace is less crowded than you expected. You heard there have been attacks by gangs in this area, so people are more reluctant to leave their houses, especially as evening approaches.

With the roads not as crowded as usual, it takes you only a couple of minutes to spot him. He stands out, as always, his broad shoulders and tall build catching your eye from far away. You observe him for a moment from afar, squinting your eyes to see what he is doing exactly.

He stands in front of a trinket shop, carefully going through the pieces laid out in front of him. 

Wow, is he shopping for something for his hidden lover? 

Bemused, you watch him, eyes scanning for a woman near him, only to find no one.

“My Lady, we should really get going. This area is not safe, and—” Ignoring San’s plea, you head straight towards where your husband stands.

“My Lord, what brings you here?” You chirp, standing right behind him. The man immediately turns around, his pupils blown wide in shock. You do not miss the way he hides something behind him. It takes a moment for him to register that it is you, and once he does, that grim look settles on his face. “What are you doing here?’’

San rushes next to you, “My Lord, I am so sorry—”

General Choi cuts him off with a raised hand and gives him a look of dismissal, which sends the young man scurrying away. Ignoring his question, you say. “It seems like you were finished with work early today.” You pointedly look at the shop behind him.

“Yes. I finished early today.” He states, expressionless. “Are you returning from the palace now?”

“Yes, the work at the library took longer than usual. Some records were accidentally destroyed, so we had to salvage them.”

“I see.” He nods. You wait, wondering if he has anything more to say. He keeps gazing at you silently, his odd eye hidden behind his hair. You have noticed that he always hides it in public. Why? To avoid detection? 

Finally, he speaks, his eyes narrow and his tone sharp. “You should not be here. I am sure you are aware of the looting and killing taking place in this area.”

You hate his tone. Frowning, you reply. “Thank you for your concern, My Lord. I was aware. I just wanted to explore—”

You are cut off.

The next sequence of events takes place exceptionally quickly. First, you see your husband’s gaze shift and focus on something behind you. The very next moment, he yanks you towards him, making a swift turn so that his body covers yours. You lose your footing from the harsh tug, gripping onto his arms with a yelp of surprise.

Something whizzes past you, sharp and quick, that makes you jerk and hold onto him tighter.

Gasps, yells and screams of people echo all around you. You blink, befuddled, staring at your husband, who holds you tightly against his body, looking behind him. Following his gaze, you find San chasing after a man who dashes away through the crowd at remarkably fast speed, shoving people and running over stalls on his way.

Your husband whips his head back to look at you, his eyes wide with alarm. “Are you okay? Look at me!” He shakes you, his grip on your arms fierce. Something wet touches your fingers. Slowly, your eyes trail to your right hand, which is grabbing General Choi’s bicep.

There is a tear on his sleeve, a couple of inches above your fingers and red liquid oozes out from the thin cut. You gasp, your breath escaping your lungs in a choked wheeze.

Finally, everything clicks.

Someone just shot an arrow at him. Who? An enemy? A gang member? An assassin?

“Oh…oh my god! My Lord!” You clutch onto his sleeve, panicking.

General Choi ignores your cry and forces you to look at him, tilting your chin upwards. “Are you hurt anywhere?”

Is he seriously worrying about you right now?

“I am fine.” You choke on a sob. “But my Lord, you are bleeding! What…what should I do?”

He rubs a gentle hand on your back, pulling you closer to him. “I am fine. It is nothing.” He assures, his eyes scanning the place carefully as if looking for someone. You panic. “My Lord, we need to go home. Come on. You are hurt!” You urge, tugging him with you, even though you cannot make him move an inch.

The man stands rooted to his spot, his eyes still scouring through the marketplace. Finally, he nods and pulls you into his arms, holding you protectively. “Let us go.”

— 

After your relentless nagging, you finally get your husband to sit still so that you can treat his wound.

“I told you, it is nothing serious.” He admonishes when you step into his bedchamber with a rag, a bowl of water, and some medicine. Ignoring him, you hurry closer to him, inspecting the wound.

You have never treated someone before, but your mother was a very good nurse. She helped a lot of people during the war with her vast knowledge of medicinal herbs. You remember watching her work for hours, and even though you never directly learned from her, you are confident you can do this right.

The memory of his blood seeping out and wetting your hands sends shivers down your spine, and you have to take a deep breath to get yourself to calm down. Your heart has been racing ever since, the adrenaline yet to wear off.

“You should take off your shirt.” You whisper, wetting the rag in the bowl of water. Your husband complies, slowly removing the garment and shrugging it off his shoulders. Your breath catches in your throat once you lay your eyes on his body.

It is not his muscular build but the plethora of scars littering his body. Small and big, they taint his chest and all the way down to his lower abdomen, and you cannot help but stare, wincing at the marks that look particularly nasty.

What has this man been through?

General Choi snatches the rag from your hands and starts treating his cut. Embarrassed, you protest, but he cuts you off. “I can do it myself.” His response, like always, is curt, but you ignore it, too distracted by his scars. The one on his left abdomen looks particularly ghastly, and you know for sure it was a deep stab wound. 

The amount of pain he must have been in…

The thought makes you shudder, and you bite your lip, holding your tears back.

“This is why I assigned someone to protect you.” His voice pulls you out of your thoughts. “I am sure he told you to return, but you insisted on going to the market.”

“Who was that man?” You cut him off, unable to prevent yourself from voicing your worries any longer. Why did they want to hurt him? 

His lips thin, and something flashes over his eyes, leaving you guessing. He pauses for a moment, looking at you impassively, almost like he knows a secret that you don’t. “They were probably from some gang. They have been causing havoc recently, as you know.”

You know it is a lie. It is blatant that he is hiding something from you, and you cannot help but sigh out loud, sagging onto the floor. You do not even have it in you to fight with him right now. You are just glad he is okay. The bleeding has stopped now, and as you watch him apply the herb on his cut, a small sigh of relief flows past your lips.

Finally, it feels like you can breathe.

Silently, you help him tie a clean rag around his bicep before wiping the residual herb from his fingers. “You should take a bath.” He keeps staring at your face as if he is trying to understand something.

“Are you sure you are okay?” he asks, his tone soft. His gaze, for the first time, appears to be almost tender, and for a moment, the concept of language evaporates from your mind.

You want to say a lot of things. You want to yell at him, scream at him to explain himself and cry in his arms. You are unable to do any of that. “I am fine,” you whisper, your voice small and shaky.

He keeps looking at you for a few more seconds before nodding and getting up. Just as he is about to exit the room, you call for him. “My Lord?” “Hm?” He turns around to look at you.

You pause, hesitating. “I know you brought something today. At the market…” you trail off, unsure why you are saying this. His body tenses, and he looks at you warily…like he has been caught. For a second, you pray that he comes clean, but he remains silent, waiting for you to continue.

You swallow a lump in your throat and look away. Your voice is wobbly when you speak. “You should wrap it. Put it in a nice box. Women love gifts that are nicely wrapped. The woman…whoever you bought it for…you should wrap it.”

You do not dare to meet his gaze, so you sit on the floor, staring at the bowl of water that is now tinted red from his blood. He does not reply but walks out the door, his footsteps padding softly over the wooden floors.

— 

That night, you lay in bed awake, replaying the event at the market over and over again in your head. And as you keep revisiting that moment, a shuddering realization dawns on you.

What if…what if…

The arrow wasn't meant for General Choi but for you?

The more you think about it, the more probable it seems. The arrow would have originally hit you if not for him moving you out of the way. The thought makes you bolt up from your bed, your heart racing as beads of sweat gather on your temples. Tossing the blanket away, you step out of your sleeping mat and start pacing around your room.

Today's events are a mystery to you. You have no enemies, and neither does your father. Hell, he has been out of politics ever since your brother died. You simply have no reason to have someone shoot an arrow at you in the middle of a marketplace.

If it were not for your husband, you would have died for sure.

Shit. Who would do that? 

Your mind starts spiraling to the point that your temples begin to throb. You press the spot with your fingers, trying to make the ache go away.

It doesn't.

Instead, paranoia starts settling in. Suddenly, the thought of being alone in your room frightens you so much that you feel a chill in your bones. Unable to tolerate the deafening silence and the darkness any longer, you step out of your chamber, taking tentative steps towards your husband's room. The hallway is dark except for one small lamp flickering at the end of the long corridor, an eerie quietness hanging heavy in the air as the whole house sleeps.

You come to stop in front of your husband's room, your hands hesitating to pull open the wooden panels. 

What are you doing here? Sneaking into your husband’s chamber in the middle of the night?

With the resolved exhale, you pull open the door. In the darkness, it takes a moment for you to spot your husband sleeping on his side, his long raven hair splayed messily over the mat.

You remain rooted in your spot outside the door, hesitating yet once again before gingerly making your way inside and quietly closing the panel behind you. The room would be pitch dark if not for the faint light of the lamp flickering outside, filtering in through the panel. You take a moment to let your eyes adjust to the visibility before placing yourself next to him. With his sword resting between the two of you, you silently lie down, gazing at the silhouette of his face in the darkness.

Your heart aches. He got hurt because of you. 

Why do you feel such a strong attraction towards this cold, stubborn man? Why does it hurt you so much to see him hurt? Most importantly, is this how he feels about his lover? Does her pain make him hurt like this as well? Is that why he refuses to be with you, unable to resist his heart's longing?

So many questions and no answer to soothe your wretched soul. 

You keep gazing at him, a strange sensation filling your heart. He is physically so close to you, right within your reach, yet it feels like he is a million miles away, tucked away in a place for which you have no key. At the same time, lying next to him like this, you feel oddly comfortable. With him next to you, the silence and the darkness of the night are bearable, no longer stealing your sleep.

With a heavy ache in your chest and tears in your eyes, you fall asleep, happy to be in the same space as your husband.

—

When you open your eyes next morning, the sun is high up in the sky and the light flooding into the room immediately tells you that you have slept way longer than you should have.

Shit. You missed work today.

All concerns of work, however, fly out the window when you register where you are. You fell asleep on the floor next to General Choi yesterday. Then why are you sleeping on his mat, his blanket tucked around you, and his pillow under your head? 

With a gasp, you sit up and look around you, double checking to make sure you are in the right place.

How did you get here? Did he tuck you in after waking up? How did you not wake up?

Your face flushes with heat, imagining him carrying you and putting you in his bed. No wonder you feel so well rested after a long time. You must have slept like a log throughout everything.

Did you snore? Did you drool? Did you say something weird in your sleep?

“Oh dear lord, help me!” You whine, putting your face in your hands, cringing at all the possible ways you might have embarrassed yourself. Once you are over the initial wave of embarrassment, you spot a trinket on top of the small wooden table by the mat.

Curious, you shuffle closer. It is a bineyo with a beautiful butterfly in pink and blue, exactly the one you had been looking for. With a gasp, you lean closer, mesmerized by the way it sparkles underneath the sunlight. Next to it sits a letter, face up.

Dear wife, 

I am sorry I did not wrap it. I was interrupted by someone before I could choose a box. I do not know how the misunderstanding came to be, but this was meant to be yours from the beginning, not any other woman’s. I hope you like it.

From, Your husband

Your hands cover your mouth in shock and absolute glee before clutching the letter and the hairpin to your chest. Tears brim your eyes, your heart melting like a caramel under the sun, warm and sweet.

It seems like you misunderstood his actions. Still, some things remain unclear.

“Jihye!” You yell. She rushes in a few moments later. “My lady, you are awake! Master said not to disturb you. He said he will let Head Court Lady Yeo know that you will not go to work today.”

Ignoring her words, you quickly motion for her to come closer to you and sit down. “You,” you narrow your eyes at her. “You have been hiding something from me.” She blinks, her gaze slowly lowering to the floor.

“What did General Choi tell you? He definitely told you something. That is why you have not been letting me out of the house by myself.”

She looks at you helplessly for a long moment before sighing. “Okay, I will tell you, my lady. But you have to promise me you will not tell Master. I gave him my word.” She winces.

What could it be? Eager, you scoot closer to her. “I will not. Now out with it.”

“On the first night of your marriage, he called me and asked about you. What you like to eat, what your favourite season is…things like that.”

Wow. Your heart races with each of her words.

“Then, he asked me what you were doing in the market that day. You know that noon a week before your wedding? When we bumped into him? I said that you were looking for a hairpin. He asked in detail about the hairpin, and I told him that you were looking for one with a butterfly. Then, he ordered me to keep you from going outside, especially to crowded areas, as much as possible. He said it is not safe for you. And he made me promise not to tell you.”

A lot of the blanks start filling up. He listened to her and got this hairpin for you. No wonder!

You keep finding yourself revisiting that moment in the market. The way he protected you. The worry in his eyes, the way his fingers gripped onto you, the way his voice was filled with worry when he asked you if you were ok. The realization that you may have misunderstood him greatly starts settling in your bones. 

Maybe there was no one else from the beginning. Maybe it was only you all along. Maybe everything he did was to protect you. But protect you from what? Did he know that someone was after you? Who? Why did he not tell you anything?

No matter, you shall set the record straight when he gets home today. You have caught a glimpse into your husband’s heart, and it turns out he is not as cruel as they say. Now, there is nothing strong enough to stop you. He has had his way until now, and now, it is your time.

“Did he say when he will return?” You ask Jihye, your heart racing.

“No, my lady.”

“No matter.” You smile. “I will wait for him.”

— 

The heavens seem to be on your side because your husband returns home right before sunset. As he takes a bath, you prepare in your room, getting dressed for the evening.

Jihye braids your hair for you before helping you put on your hanbok, a soft yellow jeogori with a pastel pink chima. 

Just as you are almost finished with your makeup, Head Servant Yang knocks at the door, letting you know that your husband has finished his bath. With a smile, you stand up and walk over to the mirror, smoothing your skirt.

“Jihye, how do I look?”

“Absolutely beautiful, my lady!” She squeals. “Master will not be able to resist you tonight!”

You throw a scandalized look at her before reaching for the hairpin your husband gave you. Gingerly placing it on your hair, you complete the look and twirl in front of the mirror. “Alright, let us go!”

You knock twice at your husband’s chamber.

“Come in.”

Exhaling a shaky breath, you open the door and find sitting on the floor, wearing a navy blue hanbok. A book sits open on his lap, which is discarded once he lays eyes upon you.

Silence.

You hold your breath, watching his eyes scan you top to bottom, before going up again and finally stopping at your hairpin. He looks awestruck and speechless—a look you have never seen on him, and you struggle to stifle a smile.

“May I come in?” You ask coquettishly. 

“Ah—yes, of course.” He blinks and sits up straight. With a smile, you walk into the room and sit in front of him, closer than you have ever been before. "How is your arm?” You ask, jutting your chin towards it. “Do you need me to apply some herbs?”

“No, it is fine. I changed the gauze after my bath.”

“Are you in any pain?”

“Thank you for your concern, Lady Choi, but I am well.” He sets the book aside. “What brings you to my chamber?”

You ignore his curt replies. “Thank you for the gift, my lord.” You smile, saccharine sweet. Titling your head, you show him the trinket nestled in your hair. “How do I look?”

“Hm?” He gapes at you, eyes wide, clearly taken aback by the question. “Uh…it suits you. You look lovely.”

You smile like a lovestruck fool. “Thank you, my Lord.”

Silence. He keeps looking at you like it is a staring competition. Realizing he will not be the first one to break the silence, you continue with a sigh, “I have some questions, my Lord. I hope you will answer them honestly.” His gaze shifts, something unreadable briefly flashing by his eyes. His hands on to rest on his knees, his back straightening as he takes a moment before subtly nodding his head.

“Is there someone trying to kill me?” Your gaze does not waver. General Choi’s lips press into a thin line, his thick brows forming a frown, a look of pure displeasure settling on his face.

You do not back down. “Yesterday, the arrow was meant for me, was it not? You knew someone was after me. That is why you assigned San to be with me. That is why you told Jihye not to let me go outside.”

Another beat of silence. “Yes.” He murmurs, his haunting gaze piercing yours.

You swallow. “Who is it? I do not understand…I do not have any enemies— “

“They are my enemies.” He cuts you off. “The arrow yesterday…yes, it was meant for you, but it was also meant for me. It was their warning to me.”

“What warning? Why are they after you?” You cry.

His gaze narrows. “That is private information. Only the King’s most trusted men are aware of it.” You look down, worriedly chewing on your lower lip. After a beat, you ask, “Is that why you ignored me in the palace that day?”

“Yes. I thought the less I interacted with you, the better.” He pauses, his gaze focusing on the lamp burning at his side. “I am sorry for putting you in danger, but rest assured, they will be dealt with.”

You are not really worried about losing your life. If anything, his being in danger scares you more. Odd, is it not?

“Why did you let me misunderstand, my Lord?” You ask softly.

“That was not my intention.”

“But it happened anyway.” You cannot hold back the bite in your voice. “From the first day of this marriage, I believed that you have someone else.”

He remains silent, looking almost guilty. It scares and infuriates you. “Tell me! Do you?”

“No,” his voice never loses its quiet composure. “I do not.”

“Then why did you lie?”

For the first time, you see his gaze soften. For once, it looks like he is not scowling but rather, he appears ashamed and helpless. The hidden frustration inside you reaches its tipping point. “You could have told me! You could have said that I was in danger instead of pushing me away like I disgust you and letting me think that you were seeing someone else!” 

You hear him exhale a breath. “How do you expect me to tell my young, newlywed wife that her life is in danger because of me, her husband?”

The guilt is raw and vivid in his voice, echoing throughout the room like a haunted cry. This new side of your husband knocks all the air out of your lungs, leaving you feeling helpless as you stare at him, tears pricking your eyes.

“My Lord—”

“I know I am not the best match for you. You got married to be free, but instead, this marriage became a trap for you. How could I tell you that? I believed it would be better to let you think all crazy things about me rather than taking away your freedom by scaring you. I apologize for my shortsightedness.” A lone tear rolls down your cheek. He is not the best match for you? What is he saying?

Unable to hold back any longer, you close the little distance between the two of you and leap into his arms, hugging him tightly. With your arms wrapped around his neck, you rest your face on his shoulder, your fingers tightly holding onto the fabric of his hanbok. “Please do not apologize, my Lord. I understand you.”

Against you, your husband’s entire body remains tense, his hands awkwardly raised into the air like he is too scared to touch you. You ignore his hesitation and hold onto him tightly, your heart breaking and healing simultaneously. The warmth and comfort of his body soothe all the anguish in your heart, making you never want to let him go.

Finally, his hands touch your back, his large palms holding the small of your back, softly patting you.

Loosening your arms around him, you take a peek at his face and find the most sincere look in his eyes, warm and kind, the complete opposite of how you have seen him until now. You truly believed he was beyond all emotions, cold and mechanical, but right now, as he holds you in his arms and gazes at you with so much reverence and softness, you can only think of him as this quiet, considerate man who is misunderstood greatly.

Something in you shifts. No longer afraid, you shift in his arms, positioning yourself better on his lap before kissing him.

You press your lips against his without thinking, pulling him closer by the lapels of his hanbok and holding your lips right there, against his, soft and warm. With your heart hammering in your chest, you stay there, testing the waters. Your husband remains frozen at first, almost like he is waiting for you to back out. Once sure that you will not, he reaches for you, gently cupping your cheek with his right hand to tilt your face. The kiss deepens just a tad bit, his lips pressing against you just hard enough. His touch on you is meticulous and guarded, like you are a wild animal he does not want to frighten. You know he is being gentle for your sake, so you take the lead, snaking an arm around his neck and kissing him the way he led you.

Slow, sweet and passionate.

It is everything you imagined and more, all your dreams coming true and giving you a taste of ecstasy. By the time your lips part from his, there is a ringing in your ears along with your heart galloping like a race horse and a strange, tingling sensation between your legs. You feel drunk on your husband’s kiss, your eyes involuntarily trailing to his lips that are now shining with saliva.

You want this man so much, body and soul.

Your husband’s fingers remain against your cheek, his thumb stroking your cheek, slow and tentative like you are the most precious porcelain. Mirroring his hand, your fingers cup his cheek, your thumb gently tracing the scar beneath his odd eye. The skin is harsh and bumpy under your touch, making your heart heavy. You want to kiss it, tell him that he is beautiful despite it, tell him that you feel his pain, but something shifts.

His gaze grows unfocused, something foreign flashing by in his eyes, like he has been woken back to reality. With a sudden noise, he clears his throat and retracts his hand from your face. The action pulls you out of your haze as well, making you suddenly hyper aware of the fact that you kissed him.

Holy shit. You kissed your husband. And he kissed you back. And it was amazing.

Clearing his throat once more, your husband looks away, carefully trying to put some distance between you and him. Flustered, you take the hint and stand up rather unceremoniously. As you take a step back, however, misfortune befalls.

The ghost of clumsiness yet again takes over your body, and you trip over your skirt. With a loud, unladylike yelp, you fall backwards, terrified but also anticipating the brutal hit to the floor.

It does not come. You do not fall on the ground because your husband saves you, reaching for your arm and tugging you back towards him just in time. Something else happens in the process. The ribbon of your jeogori comes off.

You realize that several moments later, too preoccupied with trying to calm your beating heart and processing what just happened. As you stay pressed against his body, your arms tightly holding onto his shoulders for balance, General Choi’s eyes skim over your face before fixing beneath your neck and on your exposed shoulder.

This time, something dark and carnal takes over his gaze, his eyes sharp and narrow, staring intently at your bare skin. Your heart beats so loudly you fear he can hear it, and for a moment, you are sure you will pass out from the intensity of his gaze and the swirl of emotions—desire and shame, surging within you.

Like before, he is the one who backs away, quietly clearing his throat and looking away. Embarrassed, you quickly fix your jeogori and clutch it tightly to your chest while also scrambling off his body.

“I—” you stammer, mortified to look at his face. “I will see you for d-dinner then, my Lord.” Picking up your skirt to avoid further accidents, you rush for the door, eager to be out of his sight.

His voice forces you to stop right at the door. “Why did you come to my room last night?”

You halt, processing his question. Then, with quick fingers, you tie your jeogori and carefully turn around. Your husband looks at you inquisitively. “Were…were you awake, my Lord?” You ask. He did not even sir when you came into the room.

In reply, he nods. You look around, trying to find the words. “I…was scared to be alone. I kept thinking of what happened at the market, and I do not know…” You trail off, embarrassed and worried about his reaction. He, however, keeps looking at you intently before shaking his head up and down in understanding.

“How did you know I came in? You did not even move a muscle. I thought you were asleep.”

“I smelled you.” He states, his face expressionless. You take a step back, alarmed. “Do I stink?”

He shakes his head. “No. I meant that I smelled roses. You smell like roses.”

Oh. “I see,” you mumble shyly, your fingers twiddling with the fabric of your skirt. He regards you quietly for a beat before murmuring. “You can sleep with me tonight as well, if you desire it.”

“Really?” You squeal, not hiding the excitement brimming in your voice. 

“Yes.”

“Thank you, my Lord!” You smile so big it hurts.

— 

After dinner, Headservant Yang sets the mattress for the two of you with a suggestive, happy smile on her face that makes you grin goofily. 

Once finished with your nightly routine and dressed for bed, you pad into your husband's chamber and find him already lying down, his eyes closed and his hands resting over his chest. One could think he was asleep, but you know better now. With wonder, you observe that the place of his sword has shifted and moved to his left, right next to his mat, now that yours occupies the space it took before.

“My Lord,” you ask softly, “shall I blow out the candle?”

“Yes.” He replies, not moving or opening his eyes. Carefully, you pad over to the study table and blow out the candle before finding your place on the mat. With the noise of the crickets humming outside, you lie on your mat, pulling the blanket up to your chin and staring at the ceiling. Your blood thrums in your veins, your brain too wired to fall asleep. The excitement of lying next to your husband keeps you awake.

Once your eyes adjust to the darkness, you take tentative peeks at him and find him in the same position as he originally was. Is he sleeping? You wish you could tell.

“My Lord?” You speak, quiet as a mouse.

Silence.

“Hm?” He hums.

“Why do you sleep with your sword next to you?”

“Force of habit, I suppose…from the war.”

You hum in acknowledgement, looking at him eagerly amid the darkness. After a short pause, you call for him again. “My Lord?”

“Yes.”

“Can I sleep with you from now on?”

Silence. Seconds pass by, but no answer comes, and you start to think that he has fallen asleep. Just then, he finally replies, his voice quiet and deep in the solitude of the night. “If you wish to.” You smile, happy and wide, even though he cannot see you. “Thank you, my Lord.”

Another short pause later, he murmurs. “Goodnight.” You take it as a sign that he does not wish to talk anymore, and with a nod, you shift and lie on your side, your right arm resting underneath your head.  “Goodnight, my Lord.” You whisper with a smile.

— 

You wake up just before sunrise. 

The spot next to you is empty, and with no sign of your husband, you step out of his bedchamber in search of him. It is a rest day, so you wonder where he is so early in the morning.

You find the man in the backyard, already dressed, quietly observing the flowers in the garden. “My Lord?” You call for him.

“Oh, good morning.” He acknowledges you with a small nod. “Why are you up so early?”

“I woke up and you were not there. Is everything okay?”

“Yes.” He assures. “You should sleep some more.” You pause, carefully observing him. In the soft morning light, the man looks different, more relaxed and homely, dressed in his hanbok and his long raven hair draped elegantly against his back.

How can you leave his majestic man just for a few more hours of sleep?

“My Lord?”

“Hm?”

“Let us go for a walk.”

— 

After quickly getting dressed, you and your husband go for a stroll, the early morning sun softly gleaming in the sky.

Your husband heads towards the nearby forest, which leads to a cliff offering a nice view of the town and the hilly background. He walks quietly with his hands behind him, his movements deliberately slow to accommodate your pace. With a soft smile that never leaves your lips, you walk alongside him, your heart thrumming happily.

Can this be called a date?

Without any words exchanged between the two of you, you navigate the path through the forest, your eyes skirting towards him every now and then. The silence between you is not awkward because you can see from his face that he is thinking deeply about something. So, you let him think and use the solitude to take peeks at his handsome face, memorizing the details of his visage.

By the time you reach the cliff, you are out of breath.

“Wow,” you wheeze out, panting for air as you rest with your palms on your knees. 

“Are you alright?” General Choi asks, peering down to see your face. “Yes,” you nod, trying to control your breathing. “It has been a while since I came up here. The view is magnificent.”

“It is.” He hums, looking over the cliff. “That last time I came here, I was a child.” You share, standing up and gazing at the view. It is truly still beautiful.

“Why so long ago?”

“What?” You blink, looking at your husband, who is regarding you with a curious tilt of his head.

“Uh…” you think. “My father…he was not fond of me going out much. Especially anywhere far, after my brother died. He liked to keep me within his sight.”

He keeps looking at you attentively, and you wonder what he is thinking. Is he judging you?

Needing to fill the silence, you ramble. “On top of that, I have always been clumsy. I’m sure you have figured that out by now. Once, when I was a child, I somehow broke my arm playing in the yard. My brother ran all the way to the physician’s office with me on his back. With him gone, my father thought it would be better for me to be within the house. For my safety and his mental peace.”

“It was suffocating, no? That is why you married me. For freedom.” Your husband observes. You nod, albeit shakily, thinking of your days back at your parents' home. The cold treatment of your father and the way you were never enough. Not enough to take away the pain of them losing their son.

In the silence, you take a moment to gather your thoughts before facing the man next to you and voicing a question you have always wanted to ask. “Why did you choose to marry me?”

He takes a moment to answer. 

“Because no one else wanted to. A lot of ministers tried to get me engaged to their daughters, but the girls refused when they saw me. Some even rejected just after hearing my name. They feared me.”

You find it ridiculous. “Why?” Your tone drips with bewilderment. “My reputation,” he shrugs. “My face does not help much, I suppose.”

“What do you mean?” You frown, leaning closer to him. He regards you in silence, as if the answer to that question is the most obvious thing in the world. “I am ugly.”

“What?” You gape at him, utterly befuddled. Does this man truly think that? His sharp eyes narrow on you, his brows knotting in confusion. “I do not know if you are making fun of me.”

“Why would I make fun of you?” You cry. This entire thing is ludicrous. “I simply find it absolutely enraging that you think so!”

He remains mute, watching you like you are an equation he needs to solve.

You take a tentative step closer to him, mumbling, “It is true that your reputation is scary. I also feared you for that in the beginning. I do not know if you are aware, but people say all types of crazy things about you.” You pause, inching even closer to him. With a few small inches between the two of you, you look up and meet his eyes, hoping to convey your sincerity. “But as I got to know you…I have realized there is nothing to fear. You are undoubtedly a cold man, my Lord, but you are also warm. Your heart is always in the right place. That alone is enough to make you the most beautiful man in the land.”

His face relaxes, and you can see how his gaze softens, the turbulent storms ever present in his eyes dissipating for a moment. 

In the back of your mind, one thought runs rampant. You want to kiss him. In the soft morning light, he looks as breathtaking as ever, his lips soft and kissable. Remembering the touch of his lips against yours last night, you muster the courage and lean up on your tippy toes, pressing a quick, chaste kiss on his lips. The man immediately leans back, a look of surprise on his face. Ignoring his reaction, you smile and step back, facing the view again. Your husband clears his throat before silently joining you in gazing at the view.

A while later, you voice out another thought. “My Lord, when you said not to expect anything from you, what did you mean?”

He takes a moment to answer. “I don’t know. Just do not expect anything from me. I cannot give you anything.”

Frowning, you face him. “But you have already given me so much.”

“I do not believe that.”

You sigh. The cranky man is returning. Hitching your skirt, you walk closer to him, determined. “What did you mean, my Lord? I cannot expect what?” He huffs out a frustrated breath. “Whatever a wife expects from her husband, I suppose.”

Your frown deepens. “What? Love? Attention? Devotion?”

“I will be devoted to you, but I cannot give you love.” His words are like a punch to the gut. “Why not?” You plead.

He hesitates. “I…just cannot.”

“You cannot or will not?”

His eyes, sharp and fiery, pierce right through you, and you see the truth in his eyes. You see the answer he refuses to utter. “Let us get back.” He announces, turning on his heel and dismissing you, starts marching down the path. You scoff, watching with an open mouth as he almost runs down the track to escape answering your question.

This stubborn, frustrating man.

— 

After breakfast, General Choi goes out to visit an old friend. With a sour mood, you shuffle through the house, watching as everyone remains busy with their work. You try to practice some needlework but fail to get far with that. As always, your hand at embroidery is embarrassingly bad. For two hours, you try to create a flower on a handkerchief, but when it turns out looking questionable, you drop the task.

You find San sitting outside on the porch, chatting animatedly with Headservant Yang. “My Lady, are you bored?” Headservant Yang asks upon seeing you walk over. With your shoulders slumped, you nod, pouting.

“General Choi will not be back for some time. Should we play a game then? San offers.

Your eyes shine. “Sure!”

— 

Your game of baduk with San lasts even after sunset. 

You keep playing match after match, your own competitive streak matching his. He does not go easy on you just because you are married to his General, and that makes it all the more fun. 

Your husband returns right before lunch and after observing the two of you for a mere minute, he leaves, locking himself in his study for the rest of the day. His disinterest irks you, and you decide to ignore him as well, honing all your attention towards the game. During different times, Headservant Yang and Jihye stop by between their work, watching you two play with rapt fascination.

The game only ends with you winning, long after the sky has gone dark. Cheers and yells erupt in the small crowd of servants gathered to watch the game. You grin cockily, finally standing up and stretching your legs. San accepts his defeat and takes his leave, not before you make him promise to join you another day for another match.

“Would you like to have your bath first or dinner, my Lady?” Headservant Yang asks. You ponder, still reeling from the high of winning. “Did my husband have dinner?”

“Yes, my Lady.” You sigh. “Well then, I will have my dinner now and then take my bath.”

— 

After your bath, you sit in your room with the mirror in front of you while Jihye combs your hair. “Today was a fun day, no, my Lady?” She asks.

“Yes,” you hum. “It is a shame General Choi did not join us.” “Indeed.”

“Where has he been all day?” “In his room, my Lady. He was studying.”

You resist the urge to roll your eyes. Your husband truly does not know how to have fun. Instead of spending a rest day with his wife, he would rather read and strategize and sulk by himself.

As if he could hear your thoughts, the man appears with a knock at your door and steps in a second later. Jihye excuses herself, leaving the two of you alone, the room suddenly buzzing with tension.

Your husband regards you with that same unreadable face, but something in you tells you that he is grumpier than usual. Still, you try to be civil. “Hello, my Lord.”

“Lady Choi. It was hard to catch sight of you all day.” 

Yes. He is annoyed about something. The subtle bite in his voice is unmissable. You finish combing the ends of your hair before setting the comb down. “My apologies about that. I was too immersed in the game of baduk.”

“Yes, I noticed.” He peers down at you, his eyes ethereally flashing in the soft lights of your chamber. “You seemed to quite enjoy your time with San.”

“He is an excellent player. He also mentioned that you used to play with him.” You supply, trying to understand what might be the cause of his annoyance.

“I don’t know about excellent.” He murmurs, looking away from you. “I taught him, true, but he is no match for me.”

You narrow your eyes. What is he implying? “I am sure he is not, my Lord.” You force a smile. 

“Yet, you chose to spend the entire day with him.” This time, he snaps, clear and offended. Your jaw hangs low, surprised at his pettiness. You stand up frowning. “You were away, my Lord.”

“Not the entire day. I returned long ago, but you were too busy playing with him till dinner time.” He grumbles, not meeting your eyes but staring at the lamp. Stunned, you gape at him, trying to understand where he is coming from.

Your heart flutters. Is it possible that he is jealous?

“My Lord,” you step closer to take a look at his face. “Are you…jealous?”

“Ha!” He scoffs, stepping away. “Why would I be jealous of that little punk?” he half yells, waving his hand dismissively like he is swatting away a bug.

Your spirits dampen, and annoyance starts to take over. You give him a saccharine sweet smile that is evidently fake. “Well then, there is nothing to worry about. Shall we head to bed?” He refuses to let the topic go. “You finally remembered me, no? Now that it is time to sleep?”

The thread holding you together snaps. With gritted teeth, you stare at him, trying your level best to keep your tone neutral. “Well, when your husband dismisses you at every chance he gets and tries to run from you at the mere mention of intimacy, a girl would naturally be upset and spend time elsewhere. I hope you pardon her for spending some time away from him.” You bow dramatically in apology, making sure that he understands it is sarcasm. 

“Wha—” He regards you, eyes wide and mouth agape, like he cannot believe the words coming from your lips. “You—” He seems to be at a loss for words.

You step past him, but he raises a finger at you. “So you prefer San over me? Is that what you are saying?”

You roll your eyes at his words. However, today there is an urge within you to push him to his limit. So, you whip your head back and glare at him. 

“Who knows?” You singsong. Your husband’s eyes only enlarge, the look of pure shock taking over his face, his mouth hanging open wider than before. “Maybe I do. Maybe I do prefer him over you. He spends time with me, after all. Despite today being a rest day, you stayed in your room all day when you could have joined us. So what if I prefer his company?” You add the last line for good measure, trying to appear as threatening as possible.

“Take that back,” he says, his tone quiet. The look on his face starts to shift towards something serious. 

You egg him on. “I won’t! In fact, from now on, I will spend more time with him. Who knows, he might give me all the love and attention you refuse.”

The man finally snaps. In the flash of an eye, he is right in front of you, his hand behind your neck pulling you so close to him that you feel his breath. All earlier pettiness and playfulness are gone. He looks like a raging beast, barely hanging on by a thread.

“Take that back. Tell me you do not mean it or I swear to God, I will chop his head off.” He grits, his voice shaking with anger and his grip on your skin tightening. His eyes are like two molten pools of lava, angry and bright, and he has never looked hotter.

Without wasting a second, you smash your lips with his, wrapping your arms around his neck to pull him closer and closer towards you. The force of your kiss is so strong that it knocks him back a few steps. However, he is quick to recover, meeting your lips with even more passion, a side of him completely new to you. Raw and unchained, he goes all in, devouring your lips like it is his salvation.

You don’t hold back either.

You let go of your body weight entirely, pushing him on the ground below you while never letting go of his lips. Your hands—his and yours—move frantically to claw at each other through the layers of fabric. With a huff, your husband finally removes his lips from yours, a long string of saliva connecting your lips to his. “If we continue…I cannot hold back.” He pants, his eyes wild and shining.

His words make you giddy with anticipation, molten hot pools of lava swirling in your belly.

“That is what I want,” you whisper, feeling the cold air against your swollen lips. “I do not want you to hold back.” Slowly, you snake your arms around his neck and you move closer to his face. With a mere inch between your lips, you murmur, “I want you to devour me, my Lord.”

Your husband makes a sound, a low, primal grunt that comes from the deepest part of his chest. He exhales sharply, determination swirling in his eyes as he finally lets go of all the restraint he had been practicing till now.

In a flash, he flips your positions, holding you against the ground, his large body looming over yours. Your breath catches in your throat with the view on top of you, and he has not even taken off his clothes yet. Desire thrums in your veins, making you curl your toes in anticipation.

“I will ruin you tonight.” That is a promise. His voice is laced with something dark, like he will thoroughly enjoy ruining you. Little does he know, you will enjoy it too.

“Please, my Lord.” You beg, all too eager to become his.

His eyes flash at your words, and immediately, his hands get to work. They move with ease, graceful yet quick, as he strips you off your garments. All too soon, you are left only in your underskirt, your bare chest exposed for his eyes to feast on. You have the urge to cover them, and as if your husband can read your mind, he grabs your hands and links your fingers with his, pinning them on top of your head.

“Do not hide from me,” he commands, his lips hovering over yours. You nod, jittery with need and anticipation. 

Once sure your hands will not move, he slowly traces his fingers from your jawbone to your neck and then your shoulder, before reaching for your braid. You shift and let him hold your hair, his fingers gently caressing over the long braided strands. His fingers trace over your daenggi before tugging on it sharply. Undone, the strip of cloth comes off as your hair starts to loosen from the braid.

“So beautiful.” He hums, holding a few strands of hair between his fingers. He places a soft kiss on them before reaching for your hands. With your daenggi, he ties your wrists together, making sure the knot will hold before placing your hands back where they were, arms stretched straight on top of your head.

“Be a good girl.” He whispers, his voice sultry, his gaze half lidded yet dangerous. Your heart hammers loudly in your chest as the reality of what is happening actually starts to settle in your bones.

You are half-naked, tied up and vulnerable underneath your husband. The man they call the Grim Reaper, the most merciless man in the land. Yet, you are not afraid.

You watch as he shifts, making himself comfortable between your spread legs. He lifts your underskirt, exposing your core, and despite the urge to close your legs, you cannot.

“So beautiful. It will be a treat to ruin you.” He hums, his eyes focused between your legs, a faint smirk playing on his lips. Without any warning, he slaps you between your legs, right on your sensitive flesh, the sharp whack echoing through the quietness of the night.

“Ah!” You cry, mortified and surprised. It stings but also unlocks a new sensation of pleasure within you. Your face heats up as you realize how much you enjoyed it, a deep and deprived sense of pleasure.

He slaps you again. “Do you like it? I can see you are getting wet.” He says, his flashing eyes set on your face.

You make a pathetic noise of agreement. “Answer me!” He commands, slapping you once more. A long, needy moan is ripped from your throat. You pant. “Y-yes, my Lord.”

Pleased, he smirks before leaning down to press kisses on your inner thighs. He moves slowly and deliberately, playing with you, nibbling on your skin with his teeth before giving it a soothing lick and making sure it is marked. When he sits back up, his eyes trace all over your face as if he is trying to remember every small detail about you. You do the same, peering at him through your lashes with bated breath, wishing you could pull him closer for another kiss.

You could spend your entire life kissing this man.

With the ease and grace of a panther that has trapped its prey, your husband moves, enveloping you with his body, his hair falling over you like a black curtain. Lying on top of you, one of his hands holds on to the nape of your neck while the other explores your body, teasingly moving down your waist and between your legs. His warm fingers trace your core, feeling the wetness gathered between your legs. Without losing eye contact, he plays with you, dipping his fingers inside, making you shiver and whimper and continues to smirk knowingly.

He pushes his index and middle finger inside you, just up to his knuckles and the intrusion have you shuddering, your core throbbing like it has its own heartbeat. A breathy moan tears from your lips, and he uses the opportunity to lean in and bite your lip softly. 

Dear god. You whimper. “Please.”

“What?” He mouths against your lips. “T-touch me,” you reply, chasing his lips to reconnect with yours.

You hear him scoff cockily. “I am touching you, wife.” His title for you makes you only more desperate. You whine, starting to writhe, “More.”

You feel him smile against your mouth, his fingers slipping all the way in. His lips trace your jaw, his nose pressed against your skin before trailing down your neck, while his fingers start moving in and out. Involuntarily, your hips writhe, chasing his fingers while he peppers your neck with kisses and bites before fixing on a particular spot beneath your ear that makes you whimper. Then, he uses his thumb to give you a flick, his dark eyes trained on your face as your pleasure amplifies. 

“Oh my god,” you shut your eyes closed, reveling in the feeling of his fingers inside you. He starts to pick up pace, moving the fingers in tandem, circling them inside you and giving your clit an occasional flick. You wrap your legs around his lower waist, crossing them over and pulling him even closer, a desperate attempt at trying to ease the growing ache. Inside you, his fingers move rapidly, making your body tense as you start climbing your high, the coil in your belly pulling tight. 

“My L-lord…” You pant, looking at him with pleading eyes, even though you are unsure what you are trying to say. “Say my name,” he commands, dark eyes trained on you.

You feel even hotter, the coil in your belly pulled impossibly tight. “S-Seungcheol.”

“That is right. Scream my name.” He orders, eyes hazy with a film of lust and possessiveness. As if teasing you, his thumb brushes over your clit ever so slightly, drawing out a shuddering whine from your lips that makes him chuckle quietly. The sound feels like magic to your ears, a drug to your system that heightens your pleasure. His teeth dig into the soft flesh of your neck, undoubtedly leaving a mark.

“P-please Seungcheol,” you heave, eyes closed shut, fingernails digging into your palms. Humming against your neck, he uses his fingers to rub an even deeper spot inside you as his thumb rubs your clit mercilessly. 

“Please!” You hiss, throwing your head back, your toes curling as you wail. “I… I cannot…”

“You are going to cum for me. Now,” his voice is a quiet order. 

He curls his fingers inside you one last time and flicks your clit hard with his thumb, sending you over the edge. Your release is a tidal wave of mind-breaking pleasure as your body goes tense, your hips arching off the bed, your mouth hanging open as a reaction to the overwhelming pleasure; your first orgasm. 

You experience a type of bliss you had no idea existed, and for a moment, your mind goes blank, your body lying taut and tense underneath his. The onslaught of pleasure leaves your vision blurry with unshed tears and your mind numb to everything as you slowly descend from the throes of heavenly bliss and register that your husband is sitting upright between your legs.

With his relentless gaze locked with yours, he slowly licks his fingers clean, his long pink tongue darting out to caress his digits as he hums, “This is the sweetest pussy I have ever had.”

The sight is more than erotic, and for a moment, you are scared you will die from a heart attack. You want this man. You need him all at once, in every way possible. There is an ache coming from the depths of your soul that only he can satisfy.

“Please…untie me. I want to touch you.” You beg, hoping he takes mercy. It has been torture keeping your hands off of him. Hearing your plea, he takes mercy and undoes the ribbon tying your wrists. Free, you immediately sit up and wrap yourself around him, pulling him close for a kiss. Vigorously, wantonly, you kiss him and taste yourself on his tongue, moaning and gripping onto his back, your fingers itching to touch his skin underneath his nightshirt. 

“Please take this off,” you breathe against his mouth. Your husband smiles, undoubtedly enjoying teasing you. “Why?”

“Because…I want to see you.” You whisper sweetly, looking at him through your lashes. The man obliges, letting his hands off you for a moment to take off his shirt.

The sight of his naked body renews the heat between your legs, a new wave of desire overcoming your system. You let yourself gawk at the expanse of the muscles on his chest and the bulky thickness of his arms, all littered with scars, strong and dependable. As he stares at your face for a reaction, you reach for him absentmindedly, dragging your index finger over a scar on his right bicep. It is long, old, and jagged, rough and bumpy to the touch. Without thinking, you lean towards his arm and softly press a kiss on the wound before slowly dragging your lips to his chest, where another scar has bloomed. “It must have hurt,” you whisper to yourself, pressing another kiss on the scar before meeting his eyes. “I want to see all of your scars, dear husband. And I want to kiss all of them. I want to kiss away your pain.”

Something flashes by his eyes, brief but vulnerable. He immediately snakes a strong around around your waist to pull you tight against him and seal his lips over yours in a possessive kiss.

With his lips tangled with yours, he carries you to the sleeping mat, setting you down gently. You sigh in satisfaction as your back meets the soft, warm quilt. 

Your husband quickly gets to work, taking off your underskirt in a sharp yank and ripping it in the process. Surprised and embarrassed, you squeak, trying to hide yourself from his gaze. With the lamp burning right on the desk next to the mat, he has a pretty clear view of your body.

“Your pants…” You whisper, tugging them as well, and Seungcheol chuckles. “So desperate, aren't we?”

“Please,” you beg, throwing him your best pleading eyes as your hands roam around his back, feeling the ridge and bump of his muscles. 

The man quickly takes off his pants, giving you the briefest glimpse of his cock. You barely get to see him as he leans down towards you again, his eyes locked with yours. He drags his palms up, cupping your breasts and squeezing them. A breathy sigh of pleasure falls from your lips as you automatically lean closer to his face, your lips chasing his. Seungcheol captures them in a soft, teasing kiss, his lips gently biting yours as you feel his cock brush against your thigh.

You shiver, goosebumps breaking out on your skin.

You are a ball of nerves right now, the idea of getting intimate with a man for the first time plaguing your mind with worry. Yet, at the same time, you are overcome with desire, need running through your veins.

This is scary yet perfect. Absolutely perfect.

Your husband attacks your neck, kissing and biting the skin while simultaneously playing with your breasts. You mewl, letting your head fall to one side to give him better access to your neck. He hums, the sound so deep and throaty you feel it in your core. His lips do not break contact with your skin, kissing and sucking your sensitive flesh until your whole body shakes like leaves in a tree. 

“Please…” You beg, digging your nails into his shoulder, your body unconsciously starting to grind against him, desperate to ease the throbbing ache between your legs. Seungcheol, finally satisfied with the red spot blooming on your neck, lets you go, peering down at you with his hypnotizing eyes.

“I teased you a lot, did I not, wife?” He hums, caressing your heated face with his knuckles. Drunk with desire, you nod, your half-lidded gaze transfixed. “Please, take me, my Lord.”

He tsks disapprovingly. As if to prove a point, he wraps his hand around your throat but does not apply any pressure. “My name.”

“Seungcheol.” You reply immediately.

“Good girl.” Seungcheol smirks, his eyes flashing with something dark as he leans back on his heels, taking a slow, good look at your body. Then, spreading your legs wider, he spits on his fingers and using it as a lubricant over his cock before lining up with your entrance.

“This will hurt at first.” He warns. You nod, one hand covering your face as you choose to look at the ceiling out of embarrassment.

“Ready?”

“Yes.”

“Look at me.” He demands, the tip of his cock brushing against your pussy lips, making you shiver and follow his command. “Keep your eyes on me. Watch me devour this tight cunt.”

You feel like someone set your face on fire. Face flushed with his crude words, you barely get to make a sound when Seungcheol thrusts himself inside you. Your head lolls forward with the impact as your hands immediately clutch his arm around your waist for support. 

“Ah!” You cry out, eyes squeezed shut as you feel a sharp sting between your legs. “Fuck,” Seungcheol hisses, his voice throaty as he remains half buried inside you. Pausing for a moment, he lets you adjust before pulling back and then thrusting back in. This time, he goes all the way in, and you swear you feel him in your stomach. With a loud, pathetic cry, you cling onto his body, your brain unable to keep up with all the different sensations. 

He builds a pace, pushing in and out of you in strong movements.

Your brain feels like mush as you fail to utter anything, your mouth simply hanging open to let out breathy pants as you close your eyes and feel every ridge of his cock move in and out of you, the initial pain of intrusion fizzling away. It is a blissful experience, a high you never want to come out of.

“Push out your hips a little,” he orders quietly, dark eyes set on you so intensely, you feel like he can see your soul.

Immediately, you comply, extending your waist towards him while keeping your upper back pressed to the mat. His hands hold your hip bone n a strong grip as he places a pillow under your ass and slides himself back inside you with a leisurely pace, the new angle making his length curve inside you. 

You start seeing stars.

“Oh my god,” you hiss, eyes squeezed shut. The back of your thighs rests over Seungcheol’s, your legs dangling around his waist, and your hands clenched around the sleeping mat as he starts to pick up pace. With each thrust, the force increases, the tip of his cock hitting your most sensitive spot, low groans falling from his lips to match your breathy moans. 

“I… I cannot…please” your whisper mindlessly, the words scattered and almost unintelligible due to your broken moans. “You want to come?” His voice is almost taunting as he leans closer to look at your face. “Well, that’s unfortunate. You do not come until I give you permission, wife.” Your husband warns, making you whine. 

The need to find your release only intensifies. You are so close you can almost taste the blissful release.

“P-Please,” You beg, wrapping your arms around his neck and digging your fingernails into his shoulder blades. “Say it louder. Scream my name. Who is fucking this tight pussy?’’ he grunts in your ears, his warm breath tickling your skin.

“Seungcheol!” The desperate yell is quick to leave your lips.

“Who will make you come?”

“You! Seungcheol!”

“That is right, wife. It is I, your husband.” He gives you a particularly harsh thrust. “Not San. Not any other man but me.”

“Y-yes. Please…” you sob. Gripping your chin, he forces you to look at him. “Who do you belong to?” His voice is as quiet as a winter night.

“You, my husband.” You manage to utter clearly amid his brutal thrusts. “Good girl,” he praises, nibbling on your jaw. One of his hands reaches below to touch your clit as he wastes no time rubbing the sensitive bundle of nerves with the pads of his finger, all the while continuing to thrust inside you earnestly.

“Seungcheol!” You scream, your entire body jolting.

Your reaction makes him smirk as he chases his own high, seconds away from erupting inside you. He places your clit between his thumb and index finger, giving you a particularly harsh rub followed by a pinch.

You are catapulted over the edge. Your vision goes white, your entire sweat-coated body twitching from the intensity of the pleasure. It only amplifies as you feel Seungcheol spill inside you, his warm release filling you up and dripping lazily out of you. 

You feel like you are floating from the bliss.

— 

Your husband’s hand strokes your back in repeated soothing motions while you bask in the afterglow of your passionate lovemaking. With him lying behind you on the mat, your bodies pressed together, you move from reality to dreamland every now and then, the smile never leaving your face as you savour his touch and warmth. 

“Are you asleep?” he softly asks, bringing his face closer to inspect you.

You make a noise and shake your head, too lazy to move. Your husband gently turns you so that you lie face to face.

“Are you in any pain?” You ask again, carefully looking at your face, his fingers brushing away the rowdy strands of hair from your face. You open your eyes and look at him with a gaze full of love. “I am perfect, husband. Thank you.”

He smiles when you address him by that name, a warm, gummy smile that shows his unbridled joy. The possessive madman from earlier has completely disappeared, replaced by a man eager to dote on his wife.

This is your first time seeing this side of your husband. 

He pulls you against his chest, holding you tight in his arms. “No, thank you, wife. Thank you for being mine.” You smile, nuzzling his bare chest. This is the safest and most comfortable you have ever felt, and you do not want to let go. Ever.

After a moment of pause, he whispers. “I know I lack a lot. I can be clueless sometimes. So from now on, I hope you share with me whatever is on your mind. All your wishes, hopes and dreams, your desires— everything. I promise I will make them come true.”

You are too tired to form a reply, your body growing heavier each second but still, you smile. You peacefully drift off.

— 

Seungcheol did not go to work today.

The news delights you when you hear it from Jihye as she helps you get dressed. Her eyes linger on your body, especially on your neck, where little marks have formed— evidence of your lovemaking. 

She looks half worried and half scandalized, and you wink at her playfully before stepping out of your chamber.  Your husband sits on the porch, fully dressed, basking in the sun with a book in his hand.

“Good morning, my Lord.” You whisper, feeling pathetically shy when you catch sight of him. He looks up, his eyes shining when they land on you. “Good morning, wife. How are you feeling?” Shyly, you walk over to him and sit down without leaving any space between the two of you. Fiddling with your skirt, you look away when you answer, “I am alright, my Lord.”

With a gentle grasp on your chin, he turns your face and forces you to look at him. “The truth.” He says quietly.

Truthfully, you are quite sore, and an ache has taken hold all over your body. However, you cannot complain. The ache is laced with pleasure, especially between your legs, reminding you of last night.

Your heart gallops in your chest as you look into his eyes. “I am a little sore,” you reply timidly. “But it is a good kind of sore, I promise.”

His eyes travel to your neck, eyeing the red marks visible on your skin. “I was too rough with you,” he murmurs, his tone laced with regret, his eyes focused on your neck. Quickly, you snap him out of it. “Not at all, my Lord.” You sling your arms with his, pulling him closer so that you can rest your face on his shoulder. “You were just perfect. I enjoyed it. A lot.” You whisper, face flushing.

Your husband keeps gazing at you like he does not believe you. Whipping your head around, you take a quick scan around the yard before pressing a sweet kiss on his lips and giggling like a child. A soft smile blooms on his lips, even though he tries to stifle it.

“You should smile more, my Lord. You look so handsome.”

“Why are you calling me that? You called me by my name last night.” His lips form a soft pout as he complains. You pause, “Well…last night was…”

“You shall call me Seungcheol from now on.” He announces. “I would like it even more if you gave me a nickname.”

Wide eyed, you look at him.

“Do you understand me, wife?”

“Yes, husband.” 

Happy with that for now, he does not pester you anymore. You rest your head on his shoulders, your hands intertwined, and watch the morning sky in silence.

“You asked me to share all my wishes with you last night.” You speak after a while, eyes focused somewhere distant. “Can I share one with you right now?”

“Of course,” he shifts so that his body faces you. 

Tilting your head up, you admire a white, fluffy cloud. “Ever since my brother died, I have only had one wish for my life. I wanted to live by the sea in a small house. In that house, there would be my husband and I, and we would spend the rest of our days there, away from all the noise and bleakness of this town.”

“That sounds lovely.” He murmurs. You nod before looking at him. “Do you think it would ever be possible for us?”

He remains silent. 

“Given the nature of your job, I understand. However, I need you to promise me one thing. You must take care of yourself. You must not get hurt, do you hear me? You have someone to come home to now. You must think about me and you must return home to me, do you understand?” Your hands grip his in an earnest hold. 

His free hand comes to rest on top of yours, and he gives you a reassuring squeeze, warm and soft. “Rest easy, wife. I shall come back to you. Always.”

A lone drop of tear strolls down your cheek, and he wipes it away with his thumb before pressing the softest, feather-like kiss on your forehead. After a moment's pause, you speak. “Now it is your turn to share something with me.”

He regards you with confusion. 

“Anything. A wish, a secret…” You stare at him with eagerness. He sighs softly, his eyes trained on his lap as he thinks about something. 

“Well…when I told you not to expect anything from me,” he begins, looking almost shy, his gaze soft and apologetic. “I was afraid. I wanted to keep you at an arm's length from the beginning because I was scared of losing you. I have lost everyone close to me, and the thought of going through something like that again terrifies me. Since I joined the military, I have kept myself detached from everyone because the less I cared, the better.”

Your heart aches for the man. With gentle fingers, you brush away the unruly strands of hair from his face and trace the scar next to his eye. “You will not lose me, husband. I am right here.” You promise.

He wraps his arms around you as if to test your words. You wrap yourself around him, basking in his embrace, your bodies melting into one. “Do not leave me.” He whispers, his voice raw and vulnerable.

“Never.”

— 

Seungcheol left for the palace early today. After two days of relaxation, a letter came for him last night from the palace, demanding his presence first thing in the morning.

At night, Seuncheol held you tight in his arms, soothing away your worries. He finally shared what has been going on in the palace and why there are assassins after him.

Turns out they are working for the Minister of Trade, who is strictly against the new reformations currently being done by the king, like an attempt to abolish the slavery system. Seungcheol has been the King’s number one ally and a powerful piece in the game, which is why they are after him. Removing him from the equation is as good as stripping the King of his powers. Minister Kim has done exceptionally well in covering up his tracks, which is why there is no solid proof against him, complicating this entire issue. He has been playing a cat-and-mouse game with the royal army for a while now. 

Your husband left even before you woke up, leaving a note for you promising he would be home for dinner.

The day slowly passes by with you going to the palace and coming home once your shift is over, always under the watchful eye of San. The mood in the palace has been tense today, different rumours about Minister Kim floating in the air and a sinking feeling forms in your gut. No matter how hard you try, you cannot shake off the feeling that something ominous is about to take place.

Your suspicion starts taking shape when dusk falls and Seungcheol does not return. It turns into terror and restlessness as night falls, and still, there is no sign of him. The supper grows cold, and you fall asleep upright, waiting for him, your husband, who never comes.

When you open your eyes again, you find Jihye sitting next to you, a worried look on her face. “What is it?” You immediately sit up straight. “My lady, it is past midnight. Master has not returned yet. Should we send someone to the palace to ask for him?” She asks.

Your fingers fist around your skirt, anxiety coursing through your veins like poison. “We should.” You whisper.

Just as you are following Jihye out of the room, you hear commotion; the voice of a servant and Headservant Yang. Running to the porch, you see Seungcheol entering the house, dressed in his military uniform, his sword in his hand.

He marches straight towards you and drags you into your bedchamber without any words. “My Lord, where have you been!” You cry, gripping his arm. “I have been waiting for you—”

“Listen to me carefully,” he cuts you off, his hands resting on your shoulders as he leans down to be at your eye level. His usual unbothered demeanour is gone, replaced by worry that you see in his eyes as vividly as daylight. 

Something must be wrong. Your heart starts racing.

“The Minister of Trade is planning to attack us here tonight. They will be here anytime, so I need to get you out of here.”

“Wha— How did you even find that out? Are you sure?”

“The royal army captured a member of his team yesterday. We tortured the information out of him. Look at me,” he urges you, his fingers gripping your shoulder even tighter. “Minister Kim knows we are onto him. He has gone into hiding. He will stop at nothing to get to me, to you, do you understand? He plans to go down and drag me with him.” You see the fear in his eyes. The unshakable, indestructible man suddenly appears different, and this change terrifies you. 

“I am scared.” You whisper.

“You have nothing to be scared of.” He pulls you in his arms, holding you tightly against his chest. “I am going to send you to a safe place. I need you to do as I say, okay?”

You nod shakily, your fingers holding onto his sleeve in a death grip.

“Pack your essentials. We will leave within thirty minutes. Ask Jihye to help you.” He says, pressing a kiss on your forehead before marching outside.

With your heart hammering in your chest, you get to work, moving your shaky limbs to pack a bag with the help of Jihye. Soon, you are ready, and Seungcheol wastes no time wrapping everything up. He places Headservant Yang and the other servant in another neighbor's house to make sure they are safe before setting out with you.

In the darkness of the night, you get onto his horse with his help, followed by him sitting behind you, his arms around you to hold onto the reins. Jihye and another male servant get on another horse, and finally, a royal soldier follows from behind.

A little to the south of the town, there is a long, dense forest which leads to a small, quaint village. There is an ancient shrine there, inhabited by monks, and that is where Seungcheol intends to get you by dawn.

The silence grows heavier and thicker as you tread into the forest; the only sound echoing around is the soft galloping of the horses. You shiver, more from dread than from the cold night air and Seungcheol notices it. “Hold the reins.” He orders quietly so that his hands are free. He takes off the muffler wrapped around his neck and gently puts it around yours.

“I asked you to pack the essentials, wife.” His tone is playful. “I think a muffler in this weather counts as an essential.” He teases, and you understand it is his attempt to soothe you. “I am sorry, my lord. You should keep it. You will catch a cold.” You murmur.

“Hush now,” he shushes you, taking back the reins. “You should lean on me and close your eyes. It will take a while for us to reach there.”

“No, it is okay.” You reply, eyes focused ahead on the dark, narrow road cutting through the forest. 

It is such a gloomy night. You cannot spot a single star in the sky, shrouded by clouds.

Time ticks by. The night grows darker. 

Your journey continues through the hour of the ox and into the hour of the tiger. Exhaustion takes over you, and unable to resist it any longer, you close your eyes and lean your head back, resting it against your husband’s shoulder. It is not an ideal condition to get some shut-eye, but somehow you doze off.

When your eyes reopen, you hear the loud sound of a horse neighing and its heavy galloping. Seungcheol holds you tighter, and with a sharp tug of the reins and a nudge of his heels, his horse leaps into a full sprint. You look around worriedly, scanning through the dense bushes surrounding you.

“Master! Did they find us already?” Servant Min cries from behind as his horse too picks up pace.

The sounds grow louder, and just as your body tenses up, fearing the worst, you see San pop up from inside the forest, his horse taking a lunge and joining you on the road. “General, you have to keep going!” He yells. “They are right behind us.”

Seungcheol’s horse sprints parallel to his.

“How did they catch up so quickly?”

“Minister Kim had his men spread out. They were hiding in a camp a few miles behind. I took care of them, but the messenger escaped. I’m sure the minister is on his way. You need to move fast. There might be more of his men hiding in the forest.”

Upon hearing his words, you notice the specks of red on his hanbok. Swallowing the lump in your throat, you look behind to see your husband’s face. His jaw is clenched tight. “We need to come up with a plan. If they find us, we cannot hold them off. I need to get my wife to safety.” He yells back.

It is as if a cactus is lodged in your throat. “W-what do you mean?” You cry, your face aghast. 

He does not reply to you.

“It will be daybreak soon, General! We should hide somewhere.” San suggests.

Just then, you notice a sudden, strange ball of light in the sky, a little towards your right. It takes a moment for you to register that it is a signal, an arrow of fire shot from behind you.

“There are assassins ahead of us. They now know we are headed that way.” Seungcheol hisses.

“I will take care of it.” San nods, wielding his sword and screaming at the horse, “Go!” The horse runs faster, impossibly so, almost flying forward.

“I need you to stay calm and follow my orders.” Your husband says to you. “Do you hear me?” You nod shakily, “Yes.”

In five minutes, you catch up to San, who has taken care of most of the assassins that sat ahead at the curve. As you sprint near, Seungcheol hands the reins to you and readies his bow and arrow, taking perfect shots at the rest of the assassins. Then, he smoothly gets off the horse, followed by the other soldier who has been accompanying you, their swords wielded as they fight one-on-one.

A little ahead of the curb, you stop the horse and so does Jihye and servant Min, watching the fight anxiously. The three men take multiple assassins at a time, making sure they do not get to you.

You chew on your lower lip, your hands fidgeting as you watch the fight unfold. You wish Seungcheol gave you an archery set. You know the basics because you practised regularly as a child with your brother. Even though after his death, you stopped it for a while, you did not completely let go, taking occasional lessons from the older nobleman in your neighbourhood who used to be a skillful archer once upon a time.

By the time the last member of the group has been killed, shades of blue have coated the sky. Seungcheol and his team run back to the horses, their clothes specked with blood.  “Come on, we need to leave,” he says, mounting the horse.

There is a sudden sound; a sharp whoosh like a strong gust of wind just flew by, followed by a soft thud.

It is an arrow.

It whizzes towards you, missing the mark and hitting the tree trunk a couple of inches to your left. Your heart stops. A few hundred meters from the way you came, a large group of armed men show up. It is Minister Kim’s convoy.

They have caught up to you.

At the center, leading them is the minister himself, dressed in iron like he is about to go to war. His eyes, black and empty, scour the dead bodies of his assassins lying on the ground in front of him before looking at your husband.

His thin lips curl up into an evil smile. “General! No point in running now! It’s time to see how good of a fighter you are!” He yells. 

You feel Seungcheol's body growing tenser with each passing second, his hand gripping your thigh in a bruising hold. You, too, are paralyzed with fear, unsure of what to do. Then, absolutely shocking you, Seungcheol does the thing you least expected him to do. He starts getting off the horse slowly, his eyes trained on Minister Kim.

“San, take my wife and go.” He speaks quietly to the younger man who hadn’t gotten on his horse yet. “My Lord, what are you—” You do not get to finish your sentence because the younger man has instantly climbed behind you and snatched the reins from your hands.

“Get them!” You hear a shout as you are swept away with lightning speed. San’s grip around your body is iron solid, holding the reins with his eyes focused ahead on climbing the steep, hilly road at the end of the forest.

“No, please! You need to be with him!” You cry, fighting against him as you look behind to see Seungcheol fighting the Minister’s men, accompanied by the other soldier. 

He can never outfight all those people.

“Have faith in him. He knows what he is doing.” San assures, kicking his heels so the horse runs faster. You hear sounds right behind you, and you turn to see an assassin on a horse, aiming his arrow at you. San takes notice of it and swerves right immediately to avoid it.

As calculated, it misses, but a second later, your horse neighs out loud, standing on its hind legs before dropping down on the ground, taking the two of you with it. The arrow was meant for the horse. It struck his leg, injuring him, leaving the animal on the ground, softly crying in pain.

San wastes no time getting up and wielding his sword to fight off the man and the others following behind him. Jihye and servant Min, who were right behind you, yell out, calling for you to get on their horse. Jihye extends her hand towards you, but you ignore her, bunching up your skirt and making a run towards the curb.

“My Lady, what are you doing?” San yells, fighting off the assassins. “Jihye, stop her!”

“My Lady, come back!”

Ignoring their cries, you pick up the bow and set of arrows dropped by the assassin and continue sprinting down the steep road.

Then, finding a safe distance and a place behind an oak tree, you spot your husband, his movements sharp and precise as he takes down one man after the other. You watch as the minister slowly walks towards him, his sword dragging on the ground, leaving behind a threatening trail. Due to him wearing the armored plates, you know it is pointless to shoot at him, so you load your bow and aim at the assassins and start shooting.

The first one grazes past the man you aim at. Not discouraged, you continue, and the second one hits the target. 

Your husband looks in your direction immediately when the assassin drops dead, his eyes going from confusion to worry the moment he spots you. He does not have the time to do anything about it, as he has to fight the never-ending men.

And you are slightly grateful for that. Right now, he does not have the chance to come to you and force you away, giving you the chance to help him from afar. You continue loading arrows and shooting, missing some but hitting most, well aware of the fact that the Minister has spotted you.

From behind, you hear Jihye coming towards you, her exhausted pleas echoing down the path. “Jihye, I need more arrows!” You yell as you come down to your last two. “There should be some on the road back there!”

By now, most of the assassins have been taken care of, and the remainder are being fought by the soldier accompanying your husband. Minister Kim has approached Seunghceol as they engage in a heated sword fight, the minister swinging his sword like a madman, his growls echoing in the air. Your eyes scan around the place, thinking of finding a way to help Seungcheol, when San finally catches up to you, followed by Jihye, who did not get the arrows you asked for.

“My Lady, enough!” he yells. “You cannot be here! The road has been cleared—”

“We need to help him!” you yell back. “I cannot leave him here for—” You do not get to finish your sentence.

An arrow hits Seungcheol, piercing through the skin right below his right shoulder, on the top of his chest.

“No!” You scream, watching him stumble back for a moment. Your eyes fly through the scene, spotting an archer hidden inside the forest a little ahead towards your right. As you load your bow to take a shot at him, San finally comes to his senses, flying down the road to help Seungcheol.

You take the shot.

The arrow hits the hidden archer right in the chest, making him tumble backwards, disappearing out of sight. Then, you dash down the road, not scared of anything anymore, Jihye following you as your shadow.

San stands no match to Minister Kim, easily overpowered and tossed aside by his brute strength. He has the eyes of a madman, hell bent on getting to Seungcheol, discarding everything in his way like little bugs.

“I told you, you scarred lunatic!” He screams, charging at your husband. “I will slice your head off your neck and then do the same to your wife!”

He swings his sword around, charging for Seungcheol with all his might. Seungcheol blocks him with his sword, but the force of the attack forces him to fall to his knees. Minister Kim takes the opportunity to knock him off his feet with a kick. Seungcheol falls on the ground on his back, and in the split second, the minister raises his sword towards the sky before bringing it down sideways on his chest.

“Seungcheol!” You yell at the top of your lungs. “General!” San yells, coming from behind and tackling Minister Kim to the ground before he can fully swing his sword across. His helmet falls off from the force of San's attack. With your heart thundering in your ears, you point the remaining arrow at him.

It is like your body is not yours anymore. With zero hesitation, you take the shot while he is still pinned to the ground, struggling to get free, and the arrow hits the bullseye, right in the center of his forehead. 

His body slumps to the ground.

Pushing him away, San holds your husband’s lifeless body, his eyes slowly falling shut as he yells his name. Jihye and servant Min run past you, calling their master.

The bow drops from your hand.

You stand there, watching the ground go red underneath your husband’s body, your fingers gripping his muffler around your neck. 

—

Seungcheol receives his initial treatment in the shrine you were originally supposed to visit.

Once the news of the attack reached the capital, upon the king’s orders, the royal physician Yoon came to treat Seungcheol. He and his assistants crowded the room, tending to your husband’s injury with medicine and wrapping the area with gauze as he lay motionless on the mat.

You stood just outside the room, gazing at your sleeping husband, who looked nothing like his usual self—pale and frail, his body littered with little cuts. 

Why won’t he wake up? You miss his eyes. You miss his slow, unravelling gaze on you, his crimson, fiery eye that can almost cut through stone with a simple gaze. Where is that man?

Physician Yoon said he is in a deep sleep. They call it a vegetative state. The injury was quite lethal; the wound just a few centimetres away from damaging his heart. He said that the worst is over, and his pulse is stable now.

But he won’t wake up. He remains unresponsive, and it is unclear how long it will take for him to regain consciousness. 

“I see,” was all you said, standing motionless in your spot, gazing at your comatose husband.

A couple of days later, the King sent a royal convoy to move Seungcheol back to his house from the shrine. You had no complaints, wanting your husband to rest comfortably in his own house rather than a shrine. After a long journey, you reached home in the afternoon, greeted by Headservant Yang, who looked as devastated as you. After making sure your husband was okay, physician Yoon left, leaving you anticipating yet another sleepless night. 

It is nighttime now, and you sit still next to your sleeping husband. Headservant Yang peeks into the room, begging you to have some food. You ignore her, sitting quietly and observing your husband. The small lamp in the bedchamber casts warm shadows on his face, his sharp features appearing softer and weaker. 

He looks oddly at peace. You do not cry. You force a smile.

Leaning closer to him, you glide a gentle hand down his face and whisper, “You can rest. You have had a tough life, my dear. You can rest as long as you need, but you have to come back to me.”

You will pray to every god out there. You will visit every shrine, give unlimited offerings, and pray that your husband returns to you. You will do everything in your power to see him open his eyes. It is truly a shame you do not have much power in your hands.

Sometime later, your exhausted body falls into deep slumber, riddled with nightmares. Your husband lies in a pool of blood, and he does not wake up.

— 

The next morning, your father comes to see you. You do not move from your spot next to your husband to greet him as San leads him into the room before excusing himself.

He sits next to you, watching his son-in-law with small, worried eyes, muttering words of regret and concern. You hardly hear them, too busy patting Seungcheol’s face and arms with a damp cloth. Physician Yoon left a while ago after checking up on him and said that there is no progress. The king’s personal messenger came with him as well as the Head Eunuch, praying for Seungcheol and assuring to provide help in any way they can.

You couldn't care less about them. You sent them off, handing the letter you wrote for the king in the messenger’s hand before asking San to see them out.

“My daughter, you should eat something. You have to take care of yourself so that you can take care of him.” Your father urges.

You finish wiping your husband’s body in silence before setting the rag down and clasping his hand in yours. They are calloused but warm, and you silently send a prayer of gratitude to the heavens. He is alive. He is still here.

Tracing over his bruised knuckles with your fingertips, you whisper, “You know, Father, I have been lonely for a long time. After orabeoni died, I thought that was it. It could not get worse, but then Mother died. And I…I hated that I was alive. Because in that house, I was dead. I was dead while still being alive.”

You exhale a shaky breath, pulling Seungcheol’s hand closer to inspect it. You need to apply ointment on his knuckles.

“There was no colour, no joy, no celebration in that house. You were there but also not there. You never saw me. I was not enough, not after losing someone as precious as orabeoni. I felt so guilty. It should have been me, not him—that is all I could think of. I thought my entire life would be miserable like that, which is why I was so eager to marry this man.”

Another heavy sigh whooshes out of your lungs.

“Father, this man…people fear him. They say all sorts of weird things about him. But he is the kindest, warmest man I know. He kept his heart locked and hidden from the world, but he is so precious. He is gentle and kind, and he loves me. He loves me so dearly, Father, and I love him. How could I go on without him?”

And finally, the tears fall. Big droplets of water roll down your cheek as you fall on the ground, clutching onto your husband’s hand and sobbing into the floor, loud and broken.

Your father’s hand comes to rest on your shoulder rather unsurely, softly patting you as you keep crying, the tears that never came till now gushing out like a river with a broken dam. Your broken heart continues to shatter into even smaller pieces, and you cannot help but wonder what if he never wakes up again. Maybe you are doomed to be lonely.

The thought makes you cry some more. After a while, once you have managed to calm down, you sit up and wipe your tears.

“I…I did not know you felt that way.” Your father whispers, his voice ridden with guilt. “I…I never meant to hurt you. I am sorry—”

“I don’t want your apology right now, Father. I want you to pray for him.” You cut him off.

“I will. Of course I will.” He says, his eyes shining with unshed tears and guilt. “And when he is back on his feet, I will come visit you and I will accept your apology then.” You murmur, your gaze trained on your husband.

“Of course. Have faith, my dear. He will be awake soon.” Your father assures, his voice unstable. You hum absentmindedly.

If Seungcheol does not wake up, you do not know what you will do.

— 

The wind is particularly chilly this morning.

It has been a fortnight since Seungcheol fell into his comatose state, and he is just as before. Every day, Physician Yoon comes to check on him and then leaves while handing you some herbs to apply to his wound.

You have accepted this as your life now. Waking up every morning with a prayer that all the previous days were a long, gruesome nightmare, but then feeling grateful to see him still breathing, warm and alive.

After completing your daily prayer and offerings at the temple, you walk home in slow steps, the fatigue slowly creeping into your bones. The past week has been hard on you, and it looks like your body to starting to give up. You have not been eating properly, spending all your waking hours beside Seungcheol, tending to his comatose body or crying at the altar of the temple.

You cannot give up. Seungcheol is yet to awake.

Just as you come in front of your house, you find a small stray cat sitting comfortably in the sun. With a small, exhausted smile, you walk closer and crouch down, running your fingers through its shaggy fur. It looks dirty and disheveled, and you wonder where it is from.

You should probably bring it inside and give it some milk to eat. Judging by how comfortably it sits and basks in the sun, you are doubtful you will be able to get it inside your house.

“Would you like something to eat?” You whisper, gently scratching between its ears. The cat meows rather boredly, closing its eyes and resting its head on the ground after a quick swish of its tail.

Right then, a servant bursts out of the front door, looking like he saw a ghost. He looks back and forth down the road before finally spotting you on the ground. The wide-eyed, frazzled look on his face makes your blood run ice cold, and you immediately stand up.

“What is it?”

“My lady…Master is awake.”

You are free falling. You fall and fall, all the limbs of your body finally giving up after a week of war. For a long moment, you stand there, stuck in a daze. You don’t dare to breathe, afraid you would wake up and realize it was a dream.

“I will go get Physician Yoon. Please go inside, my lady.” The servant says before rushing down the street. You struggle to move. The stray cat at your feet has got up due to the commotion and is now strolling into the house.

With your heart racing in your chest, you slowly follow it, your legs shaky due to the nerves.

Seungcheol is awake. He is finally awake. 

You hear lots of voices, especially Headservant Yang’s, as she scolds and cries loudly. With a lump lodged in your throat, you keep on walking until you spot the door to his bedchamber. You catch a glimpse of your husband sitting up, and for some reason unknown to you, you immediately hide behind a nearby wall.

You are too scared to see him. Too overwhelmed, too afraid.

You thought of this. You dreamed of the day he would wake and look at you, and now that it is here, you do not know what to do. It feels unreal.

You are angry at him. You are also grateful. Angry for getting hurt. Grateful for waking up.

A sob bursts out of your throat, and you start wailing, unable to hold back the tears any longer. With your palms clasped over your mouth, you cry so hard that it becomes hard to breathe. The sobs wrack your body, knocking the air out of your lungs and leaving behind only pain.

The pain of almost losing him. The pain of seeing him lie there almost lifeless, day after day.

A hand on your shoulder startles you, and you find Jihye standing next to you. Her eyes are misty as she wraps an arm around your heaving body and rubs your arms soothingly. “It is alright, my lady. Please do not cry. He is looking for you.”

Her words make you cry some more before you manage to wipe your tears and snot. It is pretty futile because they do not stop completely. With shaky legs, you move from your hiding spot and continue towards his chamber, your heart pounding loudly in your ears.

Seungcheol spots you immediately, his posture straightening as he sees you arriving. But you do not meet his eye. 

You cannot bring yourself to. If you look at him, you will start crying once more, right in the middle of the yard, in front of all the servants. 

Headservant Yang and others start moving away as they see you approaching, giving you privacy. You cross the porch, your eyes still trained on the wooden floor of his bedchamber, your hands slightly shaking.

Finally, you step inside and shut the door behind you. Then, your eyes slowly travel to his.

He is definitely paler and thinner than before, but you see life in his eyes. You see the spark and the shine that have always been present in them, and right at that moment, you are sure he will be alright.

Thank god.

He looks up at you, his eyes brimming with longing and guilt. His usual plump red lip shaded in a pale pink colour. His face littered with little cuts that are still healing, yet he has never looked more handsome.

And you have never been happier to see him.

You want to scream. You want to yell at him and tell him how much you love him, but you cannot speak. Tears and sobs threaten to overflow once more, so you stand there like a statue and keep staring at your husband, repeating in your head that he is alive and well. 

Until your knees finally give out. 

You kneel in front of him and wrap your arms around his neck, careful to avoid his left chest and leaning your weight more on the right.  Breathing him in, you hold him as tightly as possible, wishing you could merge yourself into him, wishing you could lock him away and protect him for the rest of his life.

Your tears wet his bare shoulders, your fingers tightly gripping onto the muscles on his back, clutching him on for dear life. It feels as if you let him go— if your grip loosens ever so slightly, you will lose him forever.

It takes a long moment for you to realize how your body is shaking due to your sobs and tearful hiccups, only when your husband's warm hands wrap around you, patting your back like you are a small, wounded animal.

“It is okay, my dear. Everything is okay,” he soothes in the softest voice, and when you hear him, another violent sob slips past your throat while you cling to him and cry in the crook of his neck.

You want to stop, but the tears are endless, a mixture of pain and relief. Gingerly, Seungcheol pulls you away from him to take a look at your face, which is puffy and tear-stained. With his thumbs, he wipes your tears away, murmuring, “Hush, now. It pains me to see you cry like this.”

You want to reply, but the lump in your throat is still heavy, and you know if you try to utter something, only sobs will come out, so you remain silent, raking your eyes over his body before settling on the wound on his chest.

“I am alright, I promise.” He assures you once he sees your gaze. “I feel well-rested, in fact.”

You are glad to hear that.

Wiping the remaining tears and snot rather unceremoniously with your sleeve, you get up on your feet to leave the room, but he tugs on your wrist, pulling you back down and into his arms this time.

“Where are you going?”

“To get you some herbal tea.” You reply, your voice meek and scratchy. Your husband locks his arms around you. “Headservant Yang will do that. I need you to stay here. I have missed you.”

Your lower lip trembles, but you will yourself not to cry again. Instead, you whisper, “I have missed you as well. I have missed you so much, you have no idea, Seungcheol.”

He shifts, peering at your face with a surprised look. “You called me by my name.”

“I have been calling your name for the past week.” You murmur, staring at your lap.

He maneuvers your body with gentle, effortless hands so that he can see you fully. “You know, you look like the one who has been comatose for a week. What is this I am seeing? When was the last time you had a proper meal?” He frowns, his eyes trained on you like a hawk as he squints at your face.

You look away, murmuring, “I have been busy nursing a sick man.”

He scoffs. “Not busy enough to eat. You look like a ghost, my wife. I am genuinely worried about you.”

You do not meet his gaze. With an exasperated sigh, he gently tilts your face up by the chin. “Look at me.” He softly commands you. You do as you are told, finding his eyes set on you, those beautiful, mesmerizing eyes that you missed so deeply. 

Your husband’s face inches closer to press a soft kiss on your forehead. It is not quick; he holds his lips pressed right in the middle of your forehead, slightly above your brow, like he is trying to leave an imprint. You close your eyes and lean closer, savouring the feel of his lips against your skin.

Oh, how you longed for this.

“I love you.”

You must have heard wrong. You stop breathing, your body going tense for a moment. Seungcheol leans back, one of his hands wrapped around your neck, his thumb stroking your cheek while the other cups the back of your head, angling your face just slightly upwards and in line with his gaze.

“I love you.” He repeats—his words slow, heavy, deliberate.

You feel faint. It is hard for you to find words, and while you continue gaping at him with parted lips and shining eyes, he continues, “I was scared I would not be able to say this to you. As I lay on the ground and saw you standing there, this was all I could think of. I was angry at myself for never telling you how much I love you.”

“Oh Seungcheol…” your lips tremble. You wrap your arms around his neck, making yourself at home by placing your head under his chin, feeling his hard muscles against your body.

“I love you, dear wife. I love you more than life itself. More than I could ever express.” You hug him tighter. “I love you, too. I love you so much, Seungcheol. You are my whole world.”

“I know.” He murmurs. “I knew the moment you came back towards me. Which you should not have done, by the way. You put yourself in danger.” He loosens his hold on you to catch a glimpse of your face, his gaze admonishing. “I am still mad at you for doing that, but you look miserable enough, so I will let you off.”

You only smile.

“Also, when were you going to tell me what an amazing archer you are? How come I did not know that?”

You look away sheepishly, biting your lip. “You never asked.”

He laughs, the sound sweet and throaty. His arms wrap around you in a tight, protective hold once again, and you close your eyes, savouring the rhythm of his heartbeat next to your ear. As you bask in his warmth, you announce, “You are not going back to the military. I am not letting you go.” Detangling himself from you, your husband regards you with an amused look, like he cannot believe you. “Oh, really?”

“I am serious.” You huff with a frown. “You are not going back. You have fought enough battles for a lifetime. Now it is time for you to rest.”

“Hm. And what if His Majesty disapproves?” His tone is playful.

“I do not care. I already wrote him a letter, saying that once you woke up, you would not resume your duties.”

Amazed, your husband watches you, his eyes twinkling with pride. “I cannot believe you did that.” You ignore him. “Promise me. Promise me you will not go back to the military.”

He remains silent, watching you calmly, and you start getting anxious, expecting the worst. Just as you start thinking of different ways to force him to stay, he says, “I will not, I promise. I was not going to go any way. That was the first decision I made when I opened my eyes. I got another chance at life with you. I plan on using it very well.”

Your heart soars. You grin, a full-on smile sweeping over your face after a long time. Pressing a soft, chaste kiss on his lips, you whisper, “Can we go live by the sea now?” His eyes shine with love. “Yes, we can.”

You couldn't be happier. Your heart couldn't be fuller. It is pure delight when you think of a future with this man, away from all the noise and the troubles that have been plaguing your life until now.

He can be safe now. He can rest.

Unconsciously, your thumb traces the scar next to his eye, feeling the bumpy skin underneath your finger. The scar now looks like a tree branch that extends into even smaller branches containing little flowers.

You lean forward and press a kiss on it. 

“I am just glad you will not get hurt anymore. You have already been through so much.” You whisper, your sad gaze trailing over all the marks on his skin, old and new, before settling on his left chest. You gingerly place your hand over the gauze, remembering how long and deep the gash was.

It will scar for sure. Probably the biggest scar on his body, and it will be because he was protecting you. A shaky breath parts from your lips as you are momentarily transported back in time; him lying motionless on the ground that was turning red. As if your husband can read your thoughts, he gently tilts your chin up and forces you to meet his eyes.

“My dear, I am alright. Look at me.”

“This will scar. You will be in much pain as it heals. Because of me.”

“Don't say that.” He holds you against his chest, his fingers wrapping tightly around your limbs. “You are the only one who loves my scars. Because of you, I now love them too. I would not have changed a single thing if I had the chance. You know why? Because every one of the scars in my body led me to you. And this one?” He places a hand over yours, which is resting on his chest.

“This one tied me to you forever. I earned you. I earned your forever through this. So I think this is the most beautiful.”

A lone tear strolls down your cheek. “Oh, Seungcheol,” you choke over a sob, tilting your face up to capture his lips in a kiss.

His arms engulf you completely, his lips taking over yours, his tongue moving inside your mouth like he has been starving for this.

It is breathless, passionate, and gentle at the same time, conveying all the feelings and emotions the two of you could never put into words. 

It is beautiful, like the scars on his body, leaving behind a trace of love.

For a special epilogue, head over to my Patreon. Click here to see the preview!

© startlightxsvt 2025 | All Rights Reserved. Do not copy, translate, adapt, or repurpose any of my works.

A/N 2: First of all, I want to thank you for reading till the end. Next, I just want to say that this fic has been one of my dream projects. Is it the best? Maybe not but did I have the most fun writing it? Hell yes! It was originally supposed to be a bit longer but I cut some parts out, mainly because I was worried this app wouldn't let me post the entire thing easily. Sure enough, it said that there were too many blocks on my post, so I had to stitch together a lot of passages even though they were separate at first. So, I'm sorry if the flow gets weird in some places.

On a different note, I will also be posting this on AO3 once I have opened my account (I am still waiting for their invitation mail), so once I have made my account, I will link it here. Do support me over there! Finally, I just want to take a moment to thank you all for your support. I am really excited to hear from you guys about this fic, so please do send an ask!

That's it from me for now. For my next fic, I will be returning with something short and lighthearted. Stay happy and healthy, y'all! <33

[starlightxsvt]

Scars Leave a Beautiful Trace | c.sc

synopsis ➳ ❝an arranged marriage with the man the entire land is afraid of. the man with a crimson eye. they call him the grim reaper. cold, ruthless, unforgiving. yet you are drawn to him, curious to see the man hiding behind the cold, hard exterior. and the man behind is hauntingly beautiful but your forever with him is not promised.❞ pairing ➳ husband general!seungcheol/ x wife noblewoman!reader genre ➳ historical romance (joseon era), angst, pining, smut. wc ➳ 25.4k + 1040 (patreon) warnings ➳ blood, mentions of war, scars, minor character death, attachment issues, arranged marriage, mentions of cheating, severe injury, miscommunication. cheol is an ass in the first half, reader is lowkey a simp, jealousy, big dicc cheol, bondage, virgin sex, rough, unprotected sex, fingering, teasing, edging, dirty talking, praise kink. a/n: this is a work of fiction, so take this with a grain of salt. it will be historically inaccurate, so my apologies beforehand. (also, surprise?? posting it a day early hehe)

glossary:

Jangot – Veil-like cloak for women

Binyeo – Decorative hairpin

Yakgwa – Honey-ginger cookie

Jeonbok – Traditional sleeveless vest for men

Dasik – Pressed tea cookie

Jeogori – Upper garment or jacket

Chima – Skirt worn by women

Baduk – Strategy board game (Go)

Daenggi – Ribbon for braids

Hour of the Ox – 1:00–3:00 AM

Hour of the Tiger – 3:00–5:00 AM

Orabeoni – Respectful term for older brother

+82 some miracle

only listen to my general

“Daughter, this is General Choi Seungcheol, your betrothed. Greet him properly,” your father commands softly, his eyes trained on you.

Your breath stutters in your chest.

Whether from the loaded tension in the air, the silence of the room or your future husband’s penetrating eyes on you, you are unsure. 

His eyes…

You saw them once, a long, long time ago, and you remember them in explicit detail because they are heterochromatic. His right iris is red, a shade of fiery crimson that is scary but also hypnotizing—a stark contrast to his left iris, which is pure black. 

You wish it were only his eyes that were lethal. Unfortunately for you, it is his presence itself. It is the way he silently sits there, poised and alert, holding his sword in his right hand and softly drumming his left index finger on his knee, as if telling you to hurry up. It is the way his face remains unreadable, a porcelain white canvas containing a pair of eyes fiercer than a mountain lion's, a sharp nose that is slightly crooked on the left, and pink lips that are pressed in a thin line. The most daunting of it all, the scar on the right side of his face, just below his eye and on top of his cheekbone. It is no more than a couple of inches long, but the gash looks deep, even after it has healed and imagining the pain behind that curse rakes shivers down your spine. 

Finally, you snap out of your reverie.

With a shaky exhale, you bow down and speak as humbly as possible. “Please accept my greetings, my lord. It is a pleasure to meet you.”

— 

Choi Seungcheol is well known throughout the kingdom, highly feared and revered. In fact, many hold him in the same regard as the king, which is not unfair or surprising. He is the Minister of War and the General of the royal military, the right-hand man of the King and his most trusted subject. Since his boyhood, he demonstrated excellent swordsmanship, and paired with his keen intellect and faultless war strategies, he quickly rose through the ranks and became the King's favourite. His name spread far and wide after he brought victory to the nation in two consecutive wars. He attended the first one when he was only eighteen, and he became infamous for that.

That war with the nearby enemy nation was extremely brutal, as it took away the lives of many of the best men in the military. When Seungcheol returned to the capital with the enemy General’s head in his hands, he was a changed man who had altered the course of history. Bloodied, beaten and bruised, he sported the deep scar on his face, fresh and bleeding. 

Rumours spread from there. Though he brought the nation victory, the townspeople gossiped about everything from his scar, his crimson eye, to his temper, claiming that he was a madman or possessed by an evil spirit. 

You have heard a few things from your father, too. He has agreed that the war changed the man, rightfully so. As the state minister, your father saw firsthand how brutal and merciless the war was till the last moment. So much so that he stepped down from his position afterwards.

He lost his son in the war, after all. Your older brother, whom you vaguely remember because you were only eight at that time. 

Nothing was the same after his passing. Your father lost his spark, your mother became quiet and indifferent, and the house fell into a deathly silence that felt haunted. The silence still lingers, fourteen years later. 

It has been a long time, so long that sometimes you feel like those days never existed. Yet, you remember them vividly: the pain of your mother’s death four years after your brothers, the remaining light dissipating from your father's eyes and the house falling into a perpetuating state of darkness, a place where everyone remained silent, from the slaves to the master. A place that never truly was illuminated, even during the brightest days of summer. A place that you had to call home but wasn’t your home. It was a graveyard where you floated through, watching the world outside bathe and shine with colours when the second war was won, when the king became the father of a boy, when the economy flourished. Seasons passed and years went by, yet your house never celebrated a holiday or a special occasion. 

You saw your father survive each day, haunted by his past and unaware of the present. Every day, he would see students from morning till noon, fulfilling his duties as a scholar before retiring to his room and staying there till the next morning.

The only time you saw some life in him was three years ago, when he called you one day in his chamber to announce that you would get married to Choi Seungcheol once he returned from his three-year trip to another country. Choi Seungcheol, the General of the Royal Military. The man with heterochromatic eyes, who came to your brother’s funeral years ago.

That’s how you have remembered him. The man with two different colored eyes, who stood in the rain with a grim expression on his face as they lowered your brother into the ground.

Over the years, you have heard notorious things about him. He has gained an infamous reputation among the townspeople. Many people believe that he is insane and that he murders people for fun. Word goes around that he is a womanizer, a man without a heart, a man who did not spare his own brother and executed him for treason.

You don’t know how much of this is true.

It all might be true; he just might be the devil living in a human body, but funnily enough, you do not care.

You will do anything to get out of this house. Living here for the past fourteen years has been like being buried alive. You are breathing, yet you don’t feel alive—you don’t remember the last time you felt that way, if ever.

And if a diabolical, insane man is your ticket out of this grave, you will take it. You will accept it with open arms and a smile on your face.

— 

The marketplace is crowded.

You gently tread through the throng of people, holding your jangot over your head as you eye the stalls leisurely, nothing in particular catching your attention. 

“My lady,” Jihye whispers, walking alongside you. “You have been circling the market for the past half an hour. What are you even looking for?”

A dejected sigh flows past your lips. 

Last time you came to the market, a pretty flower binyeo caught your eye. You had not received your salary yet at that time, and so, you could not purchase the piece. You had aimed to buy that binyeo today, but now that you've received your pay, it's no longer available. You have been scouring the market ever since, looking for something similar, but there is none.

“You know what, let us buy some yakgwa and head home,” you say, looking for a snack shop. Jihye smiles, her eyes flickering excitedly at your mention of buying sweets.

A few feet ahead of you, you spot a sweet shop. Instead of focusing on the plethora of sweets laid out, your gaze travels to the right, stopping on two men standing by that shop, their backs facing you.

Something about the tall, broad man dressed in black makes you stop in your tracks. Particularly, his long ebony hair feels oddly familiar to you. 

The man shifts a little, and you catch the slightest glimpse of his side profile through the busy street. Immediately, you squeak and hide behind a nearby stall.

It is General Choi, your husband-to-be.

“My lady, what is wrong?” Jihye hovers around you worriedly. Without looking away from the man, you dig into the sleeve of your hanbok, fishing out some coins and handing them to Jihye. 

“Here. Go buy as much yakgwa as you want.” You murmur, pushing her towards the shop while you get more comfortable in your hiding spot.

You don’t even know why you are hiding. You did not do anything wrong, and you surely have no reason to spy on your future husband in the middle of a busy marketplace.

Still, you continue observing him converse with the other gentleman. His stance is poised and powerful as always, and dressed head to toe in his signature black military clothes, he looks like death itself. Haunting but hypnotizing; which would explain why you cannot look away. 

And then, suddenly, he turns around, locking his eyes with you straight, as if he knew exactly where you were hiding. 

With a gasp of mortification and terror, you immediately whip your head away and bump into a passerby. Bowing your head in an apology, you let the woman pass through before tentatively turning your head back to the street.

Choi Seungcheol stands right behind you.

“Ah!” You yelp, taken aback and stumble a few steps behind. He reaches out immediately and grabs your elbow in a flash, saving you from the fall.

Flushed and breathless, you gape at him like a fish out of water.

He has the usual grim and unamused look on his face, peering down at you almost like he is judging you. His hair is tied up in a half bun, and his bangs frame half of his face, covering his odd eye and the scar. It is a shame, you find yourself thinking as you observe the rest of his face, counting the moles on his pale skin.

It is when he lets you go that you realize he had been holding onto you all this time, and you stood there like a statue.

How unladylike!

First, he catches you spying on him, and now— 

“My apologies, my Lord.” You immediately take several steps back, putting a safe distance between the two of you. Full of shame, you keep your head low as you murmur, “I was simply startled to see you.”

“It seems that you were spying on me.” His voice is smooth and rich, calm and authoritative. “No!” You gasp. “I was just…um…looking. I thought you…ah…looked somewhat familiar…”

He cocks a thick brow in amusement, the faintest smirk creeping up on his lips. 

What are you even saying?

Cringing at your own words, you press your lips shut and scowl at the ground, cursing the heavens for your predicament.

“You are not at the palace today?” He asks. You welcome the change of topic with great relief.

"No, my Lord. I asked for a break from my duties this week as I am preparing for the wedding.”

With no mother or close female relatives, it is up to you to prepare your wedding. 

Generally, you do not like skipping work. It has been two months since you secured a job at the palace after a lot of struggle. Your father was not very happy with the idea of you working, especially in the palace, but he ultimately gave in. 

You work as a teacher to the children under the head court lady of the palace, teaching them how to read and write while they train to be future court ladies. Sometimes you also work as a bookkeeper for the royal library, but that is something you do voluntarily and out of your love for reading. The pay is not very much, but it gives you a sense of freedom and identity, something you struggled to find for the last twenty-two years.

“Head Court Lady Yeo speaks very highly of you.” General Choi states. You do not understand whether he meant it positively or negatively, given his flat tone. Confused, you chuckle awkwardly. “It is a pleasure to work under her guidance. She is very patient and—”

Suddenly, Seungcheol reaches out to you, grabbing you by the arm and harshly tugging you towards him. Completely oblivious as to what is happening, you bump into his chest as his arms snake around you, protectively holding your body next to his.

Less than half a second later, a man riding a horse whooshes by, yelling out apologies to all the people for his rowdy horse. Dear Lord, you were about to be trampled by a horse if not for him.

“Are you alright?” 

His voice makes you look up at him, wide-eyed and panting. It takes a moment for you to realize that he is holding you against his chest, his warm hand resting on your shoulder in a protective grip while your hands rest on his shoulders, gripping the fabric of his jeonbok for support.

With your heart pounding loudly in your ears, it takes you yet another moment to remember how inappropriate this is, the way you are pressed against him. In a flash, you free yourself from his hold and shuffle back, murmuring a mortified apology. At the same time, you hate how much you miss his touch on you.

How odd.

“My lady, are you alright!” Jihye comes running down the street, a packet of confectionery in her hands. 

“Y-yes, I am okay. Let us get going.” You announce, immediately turning away from General Choi, desperate to escape this mortifying situation.

“Hold on.” The deep baritone of his voice steals a breath from your lips. Your body instinctively listens to his command, and you carefully look behind to see him picking up your jangot, which you probably dropped earlier and were about to leave without.

Once more, you cringe at your clumsiness as you watch him brush off the dirt before extending the material towards you. With shaky hands, you reach for it. “Thank you, my Lord. I wish you a pleasant day.”

The next second, you rush out of the marketplace as if the grim reaper himself were chasing after you. Behind you, Jihye struggles to keep up, but you couldn't care less, hiding your face in embarrassment.

That night, under the blanket, you lie wide awake. The memory of General Choi’s hand on your body and his chest pressed against yours keeps repeating in your head in a loop. A foreign, warm sensation pools in your belly, and you find yourself shamefully fantasizing about your future husband, forsaking slumber.

—

You got married today. 

According to the elders of the town, it is one of the most important days of your life, yet it felt like every other—quick and ordinary. Probably because the groom was barely there.

During noon, he came in to fulfil the basic rituals before marching out, leaving a note for you with Jihye. The work in the palace is too demanding, so he must go. He would see you tonight at his place. That was all he said.

Hours later, night has fallen and you are now in his home.

You sit alone in a chamber prepared especially for you. His servants made sure you were comfortable, helping you bathe and prepare for the first night with your husband before leaving you alone to sit with your thoughts and hear the hum of the crickets in the nearby forest.

You declined their offer to serve you dinner. It is only appropriate to wait for your husband and share the first meal together. 

Adorned in fine silk and pretty ribbons, you sit and wait for your husband to come, watching the flame of the candle dancing and melting away the wax. 

You are nervous. It is your first night with your husband. You, who has never even looked at a man for a second too long. You are now married to one of the most feared men in the kingdom. You have heard people talk about his ruthlessness in bed. Apparently, the girls in the brothel talk about it all the time, especially when he visits. Jihye said that whoever spends the night with him needs an entire day to recover.

“Lady Choi,” Head Servant Yang suddenly calls your name before opening the door. “Master has arrived. He is taking a bath currently.”

You snap out of the thoughts of bedding your husband and give her a shy smile. “Could you please set the table then?”

“Of course.” The elderly woman bows and walks out of the room, arranging for dinner to be set in your chamber.

Ten minutes after the dinner is served, General Choi walks into the room. Fresh out of the bath, he is dressed in his nightwear and his hair is tied up in a neat bun, giving you an uninterrupted view of his face. Once again, you find yourself hypnotised by his heterochromatic eyes.

“You did not have dinner?” He asks, sitting down in front of you. His movement is as graceful as always, silent yet stealthy. His posture is upright, the muscles of his shoulders taught as he sits and regards you with careful eyes.

“I was waiting for you, my Lord.” You reply meekly.

“You should not have,” he states, his tone almost condescending. “I am sure Head Servant Yang informed you that I return from work late most days.”

“Today is a special day, is it not?” You find yourself speaking boldly. Your words are firm like the gaze in your eyes, and for a long moment, the chamber is plunged into suffocating silence.

General Choi keeps looking down at you, his gaze as intimidating as ever, and you half expect him to draw his sword from its sheath and slice your head off. Instead, his lips curl upwards, and a noise of amusement leaves his throat. 

“Lady Choi, you seem upset.” He states, his voice half challenging and half something you cannot pinpoint. Sarcasm? Threat?

Unsure how to reply to that, you bite your lip and stare at the food laid out in front of you. All your appetite is gone now.

“Let me tell you something, Lady Choi.” Your husband leans closer to you over the table. Something about the way he utters your title forces you to meet his gaze. Like always, the fierce look in his eyes steals away your breath.

The man is hauntingly beautiful.

“I am certain you have some expectations from this marriage, and I cannot hold that against you. However, let me inform you now, I will not be able to fulfil your expectations, whatever they may be. So, I suggest you completely let go of your expectations, for your own good.”

What? You are sure no woman in Joseon’s history ever had to hear these words on her wedding night.

“My Lord, I do not understand.”

He does not bother clarifying his words. Instead, the look in his eyes shifts, his gaze sharpening on you. Lazily, he pours himself a drink from the pitcher and chugs it down.

“I know what this marriage means to you.”

You hold your breath and watch him, alarmed. He smirks. “It means freedom. It is your way out of that house. So, let this marriage be just that. A way out for you and a duty obliged for me.”

Well, consummating the marriage is also a duty. So is spending time with your wife and sharing a meal with her on your wedding night. You want to yell the words out, but you press your lips shut and stare at him, still processing what is happening.

“As long as we maintain our boundaries, this will be a great union,” he announces almost like he is reassuring you. You feel anything but that.

You feel abandoned, yet again.

“You should eat now,” he says, standing up. “I will retire for the night.” Without sparing another glance at you, he leaves the room. For a long moment, you silently sit in your place, your fancy garment and jewellery suddenly becoming too heavy on your skin. Ignoring the sensation, you reach for the rice, nibbling on the grains with your chopsticks.

You do not understand why tears prick your eyes.

— 

The next morning, an unknown man waits for you as you step out of your chamber and put on your shoes, ready to leave for the palace.

Your husband had left early in the morning, and while the news hurt you slightly, it also left you with relief. After last night, you have not had enough time to process your emotions to face him.

The strange man bows as he sees you approaching. “Greetings, Lady Choi. I am San. As per General Choi’s orders, I shall accompany you from now on for your safety.” Stupefied, you blink at the man. His build and posture indicate that he is a military person, but you do not understand why your husband would have someone guard you.

“My husband put you up to this?” You raise a brow. “Why?”

“I am afraid I cannot say. It was his order.”

You narrow your eyes at him. “So, from now on, you will what? Follow me everywhere?”

“Yes. Whenever you need to go out, I shall accompany you.”

“Is someone trying to kill me?” You ask, point blank, blinking at him.

San makes a noise of surprise before an awkward laugh spills from his lips. “O-of course not, my lady.” You keep eyeing the strange man with suspicion as you start heading for the front door. “Alright then, let us leave.”

— 

You bump into your husband at the palace.

At noon, when the sun is high in the sky, you finish teaching the young girls. Then, you head to the library to cool off and see if the head librarian needs any help. With no new work for you, Librarian Kim serves you some tea and sweets, congratulating you on your marriage. On your way out, he gives you some dasik to take home and share with your husband.

The husband who seems to want to do nothing with you.

With gratitude, you take the sweets and head out of the library, done with your day's work at the palace. That is when you see him. Below the steps of the library building, he approaches, followed by two other men, all dressed in uniforms. Their movements are quick and determined, almost like they are on a military mission.

General Choi takes notice of you as he climbs the stairs. Flustered and oddly shy, your first instinct is to hide. With no place to do that, you stand your ground and bow, “My Lord—”

He walks past as if he did not see you.

You stand rooted to your spot, blinking at the ground.

What just happened?

He ignored you. He blatantly ignored you. His wife. There is no way he did not see you. He did. His eyes met yours, and he held your gaze before looking away.

Hurt and humiliated, you stand there for several long moments, the sun scorching your back. You are tempted to storm back into the library and demand why he did that, but you know better than that.

For one, there is always the danger of him chopping your head off. You heard he once cut off a man’s head just for looking at him too long.

The other issue is more personal. Walking in there would make you look desperate, especially in front of others. You are supposed to be a newlywed happy wife, not someone who chases after her husband when he ignores her in public. The thought makes you feel like pins prickling your heart.

Once more in your life, you are insignificant. You are the lesser one, the one who can be forgotten, overlooked.

With boulders forming in your heart, you head home.

— 

Your husband returned home late today as well.

You had your dinner long ago, and Jihye prepared your bed for you. However, you did not get under the covers. In the dimly lit space of your bedchamber, you have been sitting with your head on your knees, curled up in a corner and watching the candle burn.

No matter how hard you try, you fail to get past the incident earlier today. You simply cannot comprehend why your husband would ignore you like that.

Your curiosity gets the better of you. With a resolved breath, you step out of your room and walk into his bedchamber. You knock at his door. “My Lord, may I come in?”

A beat of silence. “Yes.”

Opening the doors, you find Seungcheol tying the knot of his undershirt. The material is thin and white, giving you a pretty decent glimpse of his silhouette. Flustered, you immediately lower your gaze and shake your head at yourself. 

You did not think this through. Of course, he would be in his sleepwear, like you.

Shit.

It takes you another second to realize you, too, are in your sleepwear. A thin white top over your underskirt. With the realization dawning on you, you cross your arms over your chest and look up at him, conflicted and embarrassed.

Like always, his face gives nothing away. In the calmest of tones, he questions, “Did you need something from me?”

“Uhm…well…” Once again, you get distracted by the visual of your husband. In the dimly lit room, he appears even more stunning, the light of the candle casting strange shadows on his figure, contouring his muscles underneath the thin fabric. With his long, black hair undone, some strands fall on his face, covering his eyes. Through the curtain of his hair, his odd eye shines exceptionally bright in the darkness, stealing your breath.

“I am sure the reason for your visit is not to stare at me, Lady Choi.” He states once more, and you finally snap out of your thoughts.

Closing the door behind you, you gather all your resolve and stand straight.  “My apologies. I wanted to talk to you.”

“I am all ears.” He says, not looking at you. He busies himself by placing his sword next to his mat and sitting down comfortably.

“Why did you ignore me today at the palace?” You get straight to the point. The man turns to look at you slowly, his eyes sharpening ever so slightly. Despite him sitting, you feel as if he is towering over you, and you cannot help but hold your breath, waiting for whatever is to come. Something flashes in his eyes, and once again, you do not know what it is. Rage? Annoyance? Amusement?

You have no clue.

“It seems that you are disappointed, Lady Choi.” He finally replies, his tone containing that tinge of amusement he has with you. Like you are a circus monkey whose action provides him with fleeting, insignificant pleasure. 

You wait for him to elaborate, but he does not, looking at you with a challenging stare. You hate how…diplomatic he is all the time. “Why did you do it?” You repeat, trying to appear as stern as possible, which is almost comical. In front of you is the man people call the grim reaper.

General Choi shifts his position, resting his arm on his knee before fixing his gaze back on you. His tone is quiet, serious. “Let me tell you something, Lady Choi. In public, we are not to acknowledge each other. Do you understand me?”

The ground has been snatched from beneath your feet. You fall into an endless pit, your heart crushing into tiny bits with each of his words. Why? Why would he say something like that?

“Why?” You don’t mask the hurt and desperation in your voice. He ignores you. “If that was all, you may leave now. I wish to get some rest.”

Tears brim in your eyes. Why does he treat you like this? What crime did you ever commit against him?

Your mouth hangs open, shocked and helpless at his attitude towards you. Defeated, you silently pad back to the door. Before you open it, however, you pause. Slowly, you turn back to him. “Why did you assign that man to follow me around?”

He does not look at you. “San is one of the few men I trust. He will keep you safe.”

He has this tendency to never answer your question directly. He dances around it, giving curt, memorized answers. It feels like you are talking to a wall, frustrating and pointless. The next words slip past your lips thoughtlessly and barely above a whisper. “Why do we not sleep in the same room?” That finally gets his attention. He slowly turns his head to look at you, his pupils wide with shock. Like, he cannot believe that you just said that. 

Right. Why did you say that out loud? You look away in embarrassment, cringing at your words.

“So…” he starts to get up. You step back, alarmed.

Why is he getting up? He will slice your head off for sure this time.

With the grace of a lion about to devour his prey, he inches closer to you, his eyes flashing almost unnaturally. You keep walking backwards until your back meets the door and there is no place left to go.

He stops a mere inch away from you, so close that your clothes brush, so close that you can see his chest underneath his nightshirt, so close that you can inhale the scent of soap on his skin. Your breath catches in your throat, and your eyes fall shut on their own.

“My wife wishes to sleep with me. Is that it?” His voice is heaven against your ears, deep, husky and warm, leaving your brain fumbling. You open your eyes to see him staring straight at you, and immediately, heat shoots up all through your body from your toes. 

“I…I didn’t…mean…” You stumble over your words, the sight of him so close to you, messing with your system.

He stares at you, his lips curling up in a smirk. “I am sure you have heard what they say about me.” He pauses. His hand reaches out towards your face, and you hold your breath in alarm and anticipation. With the faintest of touches, he drags his index finger against your jaw and down your neck. “I am sure you know how I am…in bed.” He whispers against your ear, and you can feel your heart physically drop as tingles shoot through your entire body.

At this point, you have forgotten how to breathe. 

“You could not handle me, Lady Choi.” He says and then, absolutely shocking you, leans closer to your neck. Tucking a stray piece of hair beneath your ears, he takes a long inhale of you and then slowly steps away from you.

You feel like you are on fire, beads of sweat gathering on your temples. Your mouth remains agape, processing what just happened as you stand pressed against the door, frozen like prey in shock.

“Good night, Lady Choi.” He says in the most nonchalant way possible, going back to bed. You manage to summon all your strength and rush out of his room, shutting the wooden panels loudly behind you. Outside, you gasp for air, clutching your chest, your heart racing like you just ran for your life. You stand outside the door for a long time, taking in deep breaths and trying to get your heart to calm down as foreign sensations flood through your veins, leaving behind an ache you have never felt before.

You want your husband, you realize. You want him to do all those filthy, animalistic things that you heard of…with you.

— 

You have accepted your new life. A married woman without a husband’s attention or acknowledgement.

In the last two weeks, a routine has fallen into place for you. You wake up, go to work, come home for lunch, spend the afternoon with Jihye lounging around before having dinner and going to bed. Throughout the day, setting eyes upon your husband is rare because he leaves with the sunrise and gets home after dinner. Most days, he has dinner in his chamber by himself, and on the rare occasions he is home early (twice), he shares it with you.

The freedom you thought an advantageous marriage would give you has not come. In fact, you feel more restricted than before. With San following you around like a hawk, you have lost interest in going outside to explore the neighbourhood. Jihye, too, has been weird lately. She vehemently opposes you going outside, especially to the market or other crowded areas and always runs your errands for you.

After a lot of thinking, you have come to a conclusion. Your husband has a mistress. Maybe, mistress is not the right word. If anything, you feel like the mistress in this relationship.

“I am sure he has someone he loves.” You hum, nodding to yourself. 

It is a Thursday afternoon in early spring, the warmth of the sun shining on you as you return home from an unusually long shift at the palace. A few steps behind you is San, ever present like a shadow, following you down a steep road to home.

With him around, you have started to voice your thoughts, no matter how crazy. There is nothing to hide from him after all. He sees it all firsthand, how his boss never spends time with you. 

You have another theory. San knows about the other woman. He has to, right? That is why General Choi employed him to guard you in the first place. He probably knows where your husband goes during his free time, and it is his job to make sure you never see him. 

General Choi seems to have bought off Jihye somehow, too. You find that absolutely bizarre, considering her long loyalty towards you. You are deeply hurt by her betrayal, and so, you have decided to shun her until she comes to you and explains what is going on.

That leaves you with San only.

“I’m right, no?” You turn around to take a glance at him. As usual, he looks helpless and awkward, almost like he is about to leave everything behind and run for the hills. You continue. “He has to have known her for a long, long time. However, I do not understand why he didn’t marry her. Is she not a nobleborn?”

You stop for a moment.

“Ah! She is someone from the brothel, probably, right?”

San continues looking at you helplessly, an awkward smile plastered on his face. You continue walking, nodding to yourself. “No wonder he told me not to expect anything from him. He also said that he fulfilled his duty by marrying me. No one will pester him now because he has the perfect cover.” You nod your head, impressed. “I have to give it to him. This is a good plan.”

The path down the cliff comes to an end, and you stop, admiring the sun slowly going lower in the western sky. The birds fly in the sky in groups, returning home as the sky changes colour, a deep tint of orange taking over the blue.

Is she pretty? You wonder to yourself. She must be. There must be something about her that keeps a man like him hooked. 

The thought pains you. More than it should.

You understand it. You really do, but what you don’t understand is why he married you. Why did he trap you into this marriage? The least he could have done was be honest with you instead of avoiding you like the plague.

The more you get to know this man, the more cowardly he seems. The thought brings an unironic smile to your face. The most feared man in the country, yet he refuses to communicate with his wife. He does not have the guts to speak the truth, which makes him nothing but a coward in your eyes.

“Let us stop by the market.” You announce, taking a different route. San rushes in front of you, alarmed. “Lady Choi, w-why?”

You stare at him, slightly annoyed. Why is he acting like this? Is General Choi supposed to be there now? With his lover? All the more reason why you must go.

You continue walking, ignoring San.

“My Lady, please. Tell me what you need and I shall get that for you after I escort you home.”

“San,” you abruptly stop and glare at him. “I shall tell you what I need right now. I need you to shut up and follow me quietly. Or, you can just leave and report to your boss that I am breaking protocol. Whatever fancies you.”

The man makes a pained sound, groaning almost like a wounded animal. However, you don’t wait for him, marching down the path with determination. Helplessly, he chases after you.

— 

The marketplace is less crowded than you expected. You heard there have been attacks by gangs in this area, so people are more reluctant to leave their houses, especially as evening approaches.

With the roads not as crowded as usual, it takes you only a couple of minutes to spot him. He stands out, as always, his broad shoulders and tall build catching your eye from far away. You observe him for a moment from afar, squinting your eyes to see what he is doing exactly.

He stands in front of a trinket shop, carefully going through the pieces laid out in front of him. 

Wow, is he shopping for something for his hidden lover? 

Bemused, you watch him, eyes scanning for a woman near him, only to find no one.

“My Lady, we should really get going. This area is not safe, and—” Ignoring San’s plea, you head straight towards where your husband stands.

“My Lord, what brings you here?” You chirp, standing right behind him. The man immediately turns around, his pupils blown wide in shock. You do not miss the way he hides something behind him. It takes a moment for him to register that it is you, and once he does, that grim look settles on his face. “What are you doing here?’’

San rushes next to you, “My Lord, I am so sorry—”

General Choi cuts him off with a raised hand and gives him a look of dismissal, which sends the young man scurrying away. Ignoring his question, you say. “It seems like you were finished with work early today.” You pointedly look at the shop behind him.

“Yes. I finished early today.” He states, expressionless. “Are you returning from the palace now?”

“Yes, the work at the library took longer than usual. Some records were accidentally destroyed, so we had to salvage them.”

“I see.” He nods. You wait, wondering if he has anything more to say. He keeps gazing at you silently, his odd eye hidden behind his hair. You have noticed that he always hides it in public. Why? To avoid detection? 

Finally, he speaks, his eyes narrow and his tone sharp. “You should not be here. I am sure you are aware of the looting and killing taking place in this area.”

You hate his tone. Frowning, you reply. “Thank you for your concern, My Lord. I was aware. I just wanted to explore—”

You are cut off.

The next sequence of events takes place exceptionally quickly. First, you see your husband’s gaze shift and focus on something behind you. The very next moment, he yanks you towards him, making a swift turn so that his body covers yours. You lose your footing from the harsh tug, gripping onto his arms with a yelp of surprise.

Something whizzes past you, sharp and quick, that makes you jerk and hold onto him tighter.

Gasps, yells and screams of people echo all around you. You blink, befuddled, staring at your husband, who holds you tightly against his body, looking behind him. Following his gaze, you find San chasing after a man who dashes away through the crowd at remarkably fast speed, shoving people and running over stalls on his way.

Your husband whips his head back to look at you, his eyes wide with alarm. “Are you okay? Look at me!” He shakes you, his grip on your arms fierce. Something wet touches your fingers. Slowly, your eyes trail to your right hand, which is grabbing General Choi’s bicep.

There is a tear on his sleeve, a couple of inches above your fingers and red liquid oozes out from the thin cut. You gasp, your breath escaping your lungs in a choked wheeze.

Finally, everything clicks.

Someone just shot an arrow at him. Who? An enemy? A gang member? An assassin?

“Oh…oh my god! My Lord!” You clutch onto his sleeve, panicking.

General Choi ignores your cry and forces you to look at him, tilting your chin upwards. “Are you hurt anywhere?”

Is he seriously worrying about you right now?

“I am fine.” You choke on a sob. “But my Lord, you are bleeding! What…what should I do?”

He rubs a gentle hand on your back, pulling you closer to him. “I am fine. It is nothing.” He assures, his eyes scanning the place carefully as if looking for someone. You panic. “My Lord, we need to go home. Come on. You are hurt!” You urge, tugging him with you, even though you cannot make him move an inch.

The man stands rooted to his spot, his eyes still scouring through the marketplace. Finally, he nods and pulls you into his arms, holding you protectively. “Let us go.”

— 

After your relentless nagging, you finally get your husband to sit still so that you can treat his wound.

“I told you, it is nothing serious.” He admonishes when you step into his bedchamber with a rag, a bowl of water, and some medicine. Ignoring him, you hurry closer to him, inspecting the wound.

You have never treated someone before, but your mother was a very good nurse. She helped a lot of people during the war with her vast knowledge of medicinal herbs. You remember watching her work for hours, and even though you never directly learned from her, you are confident you can do this right.

The memory of his blood seeping out and wetting your hands sends shivers down your spine, and you have to take a deep breath to get yourself to calm down. Your heart has been racing ever since, the adrenaline yet to wear off.

“You should take off your shirt.” You whisper, wetting the rag in the bowl of water. Your husband complies, slowly removing the garment and shrugging it off his shoulders. Your breath catches in your throat once you lay your eyes on his body.

It is not his muscular build but the plethora of scars littering his body. Small and big, they taint his chest and all the way down to his lower abdomen, and you cannot help but stare, wincing at the marks that look particularly nasty.

What has this man been through?

General Choi snatches the rag from your hands and starts treating his cut. Embarrassed, you protest, but he cuts you off. “I can do it myself.” His response, like always, is curt, but you ignore it, too distracted by his scars. The one on his left abdomen looks particularly ghastly, and you know for sure it was a deep stab wound. 

The amount of pain he must have been in…

The thought makes you shudder, and you bite your lip, holding your tears back.

“This is why I assigned someone to protect you.” His voice pulls you out of your thoughts. “I am sure he told you to return, but you insisted on going to the market.”

“Who was that man?” You cut him off, unable to prevent yourself from voicing your worries any longer. Why did they want to hurt him? 

His lips thin, and something flashes over his eyes, leaving you guessing. He pauses for a moment, looking at you impassively, almost like he knows a secret that you don’t. “They were probably from some gang. They have been causing havoc recently, as you know.”

You know it is a lie. It is blatant that he is hiding something from you, and you cannot help but sigh out loud, sagging onto the floor. You do not even have it in you to fight with him right now. You are just glad he is okay. The bleeding has stopped now, and as you watch him apply the herb on his cut, a small sigh of relief flows past your lips.

Finally, it feels like you can breathe.

Silently, you help him tie a clean rag around his bicep before wiping the residual herb from his fingers. “You should take a bath.” He keeps staring at your face as if he is trying to understand something.

“Are you sure you are okay?” he asks, his tone soft. His gaze, for the first time, appears to be almost tender, and for a moment, the concept of language evaporates from your mind.

You want to say a lot of things. You want to yell at him, scream at him to explain himself and cry in his arms. You are unable to do any of that. “I am fine,” you whisper, your voice small and shaky.

He keeps looking at you for a few more seconds before nodding and getting up. Just as he is about to exit the room, you call for him. “My Lord?” “Hm?” He turns around to look at you.

You pause, hesitating. “I know you brought something today. At the market…” you trail off, unsure why you are saying this. His body tenses, and he looks at you warily…like he has been caught. For a second, you pray that he comes clean, but he remains silent, waiting for you to continue.

You swallow a lump in your throat and look away. Your voice is wobbly when you speak. “You should wrap it. Put it in a nice box. Women love gifts that are nicely wrapped. The woman…whoever you bought it for…you should wrap it.”

You do not dare to meet his gaze, so you sit on the floor, staring at the bowl of water that is now tinted red from his blood. He does not reply but walks out the door, his footsteps padding softly over the wooden floors.

— 

That night, you lay in bed awake, replaying the event at the market over and over again in your head. And as you keep revisiting that moment, a shuddering realization dawns on you.

What if…what if…

The arrow wasn't meant for General Choi but for you?

The more you think about it, the more probable it seems. The arrow would have originally hit you if not for him moving you out of the way. The thought makes you bolt up from your bed, your heart racing as beads of sweat gather on your temples. Tossing the blanket away, you step out of your sleeping mat and start pacing around your room.

Today's events are a mystery to you. You have no enemies, and neither does your father. Hell, he has been out of politics ever since your brother died. You simply have no reason to have someone shoot an arrow at you in the middle of a marketplace.

If it were not for your husband, you would have died for sure.

Shit. Who would do that? 

Your mind starts spiraling to the point that your temples begin to throb. You press the spot with your fingers, trying to make the ache go away.

It doesn't.

Instead, paranoia starts settling in. Suddenly, the thought of being alone in your room frightens you so much that you feel a chill in your bones. Unable to tolerate the deafening silence and the darkness any longer, you step out of your chamber, taking tentative steps towards your husband's room. The hallway is dark except for one small lamp flickering at the end of the long corridor, an eerie quietness hanging heavy in the air as the whole house sleeps.

You come to stop in front of your husband's room, your hands hesitating to pull open the wooden panels. 

What are you doing here? Sneaking into your husband’s chamber in the middle of the night?

With the resolved exhale, you pull open the door. In the darkness, it takes a moment for you to spot your husband sleeping on his side, his long raven hair splayed messily over the mat.

You remain rooted in your spot outside the door, hesitating yet once again before gingerly making your way inside and quietly closing the panel behind you. The room would be pitch dark if not for the faint light of the lamp flickering outside, filtering in through the panel. You take a moment to let your eyes adjust to the visibility before placing yourself next to him. With his sword resting between the two of you, you silently lie down, gazing at the silhouette of his face in the darkness.

Your heart aches. He got hurt because of you. 

Why do you feel such a strong attraction towards this cold, stubborn man? Why does it hurt you so much to see him hurt? Most importantly, is this how he feels about his lover? Does her pain make him hurt like this as well? Is that why he refuses to be with you, unable to resist his heart's longing?

So many questions and no answer to soothe your wretched soul. 

You keep gazing at him, a strange sensation filling your heart. He is physically so close to you, right within your reach, yet it feels like he is a million miles away, tucked away in a place for which you have no key. At the same time, lying next to him like this, you feel oddly comfortable. With him next to you, the silence and the darkness of the night are bearable, no longer stealing your sleep.

With a heavy ache in your chest and tears in your eyes, you fall asleep, happy to be in the same space as your husband.

—

When you open your eyes next morning, the sun is high up in the sky and the light flooding into the room immediately tells you that you have slept way longer than you should have.

Shit. You missed work today.

All concerns of work, however, fly out the window when you register where you are. You fell asleep on the floor next to General Choi yesterday. Then why are you sleeping on his mat, his blanket tucked around you, and his pillow under your head? 

With a gasp, you sit up and look around you, double checking to make sure you are in the right place.

How did you get here? Did he tuck you in after waking up? How did you not wake up?

Your face flushes with heat, imagining him carrying you and putting you in his bed. No wonder you feel so well rested after a long time. You must have slept like a log throughout everything.

Did you snore? Did you drool? Did you say something weird in your sleep?

“Oh dear lord, help me!” You whine, putting your face in your hands, cringing at all the possible ways you might have embarrassed yourself. Once you are over the initial wave of embarrassment, you spot a trinket on top of the small wooden table by the mat.

Curious, you shuffle closer. It is a bineyo with a beautiful butterfly in pink and blue, exactly the one you had been looking for. With a gasp, you lean closer, mesmerized by the way it sparkles underneath the sunlight. Next to it sits a letter, face up.

Dear wife, 

I am sorry I did not wrap it. I was interrupted by someone before I could choose a box. I do not know how the misunderstanding came to be, but this was meant to be yours from the beginning, not any other woman’s. I hope you like it.

From, Your husband

Your hands cover your mouth in shock and absolute glee before clutching the letter and the hairpin to your chest. Tears brim your eyes, your heart melting like a caramel under the sun, warm and sweet.

It seems like you misunderstood his actions. Still, some things remain unclear.

“Jihye!” You yell. She rushes in a few moments later. “My lady, you are awake! Master said not to disturb you. He said he will let Head Court Lady Yeo know that you will not go to work today.”

Ignoring her words, you quickly motion for her to come closer to you and sit down. “You,” you narrow your eyes at her. “You have been hiding something from me.” She blinks, her gaze slowly lowering to the floor.

“What did General Choi tell you? He definitely told you something. That is why you have not been letting me out of the house by myself.”

She looks at you helplessly for a long moment before sighing. “Okay, I will tell you, my lady. But you have to promise me you will not tell Master. I gave him my word.” She winces.

What could it be? Eager, you scoot closer to her. “I will not. Now out with it.”

“On the first night of your marriage, he called me and asked about you. What you like to eat, what your favourite season is…things like that.”

Wow. Your heart races with each of her words.

“Then, he asked me what you were doing in the market that day. You know that noon a week before your wedding? When we bumped into him? I said that you were looking for a hairpin. He asked in detail about the hairpin, and I told him that you were looking for one with a butterfly. Then, he ordered me to keep you from going outside, especially to crowded areas, as much as possible. He said it is not safe for you. And he made me promise not to tell you.”

A lot of the blanks start filling up. He listened to her and got this hairpin for you. No wonder!

You keep finding yourself revisiting that moment in the market. The way he protected you. The worry in his eyes, the way his fingers gripped onto you, the way his voice was filled with worry when he asked you if you were ok. The realization that you may have misunderstood him greatly starts settling in your bones. 

Maybe there was no one else from the beginning. Maybe it was only you all along. Maybe everything he did was to protect you. But protect you from what? Did he know that someone was after you? Who? Why did he not tell you anything?

No matter, you shall set the record straight when he gets home today. You have caught a glimpse into your husband’s heart, and it turns out he is not as cruel as they say. Now, there is nothing strong enough to stop you. He has had his way until now, and now, it is your time.

“Did he say when he will return?” You ask Jihye, your heart racing.

“No, my lady.”

“No matter.” You smile. “I will wait for him.”

— 

The heavens seem to be on your side because your husband returns home right before sunset. As he takes a bath, you prepare in your room, getting dressed for the evening.

Jihye braids your hair for you before helping you put on your hanbok, a soft yellow jeogori with a pastel pink chima. 

Just as you are almost finished with your makeup, Head Servant Yang knocks at the door, letting you know that your husband has finished his bath. With a smile, you stand up and walk over to the mirror, smoothing your skirt.

“Jihye, how do I look?”

“Absolutely beautiful, my lady!” She squeals. “Master will not be able to resist you tonight!”

You throw a scandalized look at her before reaching for the hairpin your husband gave you. Gingerly placing it on your hair, you complete the look and twirl in front of the mirror. “Alright, let us go!”

You knock twice at your husband’s chamber.

“Come in.”

Exhaling a shaky breath, you open the door and find sitting on the floor, wearing a navy blue hanbok. A book sits open on his lap, which is discarded once he lays eyes upon you.

Silence.

You hold your breath, watching his eyes scan you top to bottom, before going up again and finally stopping at your hairpin. He looks awestruck and speechless—a look you have never seen on him, and you struggle to stifle a smile.

“May I come in?” You ask coquettishly. 

“Ah—yes, of course.” He blinks and sits up straight. With a smile, you walk into the room and sit in front of him, closer than you have ever been before. "How is your arm?” You ask, jutting your chin towards it. “Do you need me to apply some herbs?”

“No, it is fine. I changed the gauze after my bath.”

“Are you in any pain?”

“Thank you for your concern, Lady Choi, but I am well.” He sets the book aside. “What brings you to my chamber?”

You ignore his curt replies. “Thank you for the gift, my lord.” You smile, saccharine sweet. Titling your head, you show him the trinket nestled in your hair. “How do I look?”

“Hm?” He gapes at you, eyes wide, clearly taken aback by the question. “Uh…it suits you. You look lovely.”

You smile like a lovestruck fool. “Thank you, my Lord.”

Silence. He keeps looking at you like it is a staring competition. Realizing he will not be the first one to break the silence, you continue with a sigh, “I have some questions, my Lord. I hope you will answer them honestly.” His gaze shifts, something unreadable briefly flashing by his eyes. His hands on to rest on his knees, his back straightening as he takes a moment before subtly nodding his head.

“Is there someone trying to kill me?” Your gaze does not waver. General Choi’s lips press into a thin line, his thick brows forming a frown, a look of pure displeasure settling on his face.

You do not back down. “Yesterday, the arrow was meant for me, was it not? You knew someone was after me. That is why you assigned San to be with me. That is why you told Jihye not to let me go outside.”

Another beat of silence. “Yes.” He murmurs, his haunting gaze piercing yours.

You swallow. “Who is it? I do not understand…I do not have any enemies— “

“They are my enemies.” He cuts you off. “The arrow yesterday…yes, it was meant for you, but it was also meant for me. It was their warning to me.”

“What warning? Why are they after you?” You cry.

His gaze narrows. “That is private information. Only the King’s most trusted men are aware of it.” You look down, worriedly chewing on your lower lip. After a beat, you ask, “Is that why you ignored me in the palace that day?”

“Yes. I thought the less I interacted with you, the better.” He pauses, his gaze focusing on the lamp burning at his side. “I am sorry for putting you in danger, but rest assured, they will be dealt with.”

You are not really worried about losing your life. If anything, his being in danger scares you more. Odd, is it not?

“Why did you let me misunderstand, my Lord?” You ask softly.

“That was not my intention.”

“But it happened anyway.” You cannot hold back the bite in your voice. “From the first day of this marriage, I believed that you have someone else.”

He remains silent, looking almost guilty. It scares and infuriates you. “Tell me! Do you?”

“No,” his voice never loses its quiet composure. “I do not.”

“Then why did you lie?”

For the first time, you see his gaze soften. For once, it looks like he is not scowling but rather, he appears ashamed and helpless. The hidden frustration inside you reaches its tipping point. “You could have told me! You could have said that I was in danger instead of pushing me away like I disgust you and letting me think that you were seeing someone else!” 

You hear him exhale a breath. “How do you expect me to tell my young, newlywed wife that her life is in danger because of me, her husband?”

The guilt is raw and vivid in his voice, echoing throughout the room like a haunted cry. This new side of your husband knocks all the air out of your lungs, leaving you feeling helpless as you stare at him, tears pricking your eyes.

“My Lord—”

“I know I am not the best match for you. You got married to be free, but instead, this marriage became a trap for you. How could I tell you that? I believed it would be better to let you think all crazy things about me rather than taking away your freedom by scaring you. I apologize for my shortsightedness.” A lone tear rolls down your cheek. He is not the best match for you? What is he saying?

Unable to hold back any longer, you close the little distance between the two of you and leap into his arms, hugging him tightly. With your arms wrapped around his neck, you rest your face on his shoulder, your fingers tightly holding onto the fabric of his hanbok. “Please do not apologize, my Lord. I understand you.”

Against you, your husband’s entire body remains tense, his hands awkwardly raised into the air like he is too scared to touch you. You ignore his hesitation and hold onto him tightly, your heart breaking and healing simultaneously. The warmth and comfort of his body soothe all the anguish in your heart, making you never want to let him go.

Finally, his hands touch your back, his large palms holding the small of your back, softly patting you.

Loosening your arms around him, you take a peek at his face and find the most sincere look in his eyes, warm and kind, the complete opposite of how you have seen him until now. You truly believed he was beyond all emotions, cold and mechanical, but right now, as he holds you in his arms and gazes at you with so much reverence and softness, you can only think of him as this quiet, considerate man who is misunderstood greatly.

Something in you shifts. No longer afraid, you shift in his arms, positioning yourself better on his lap before kissing him.

You press your lips against his without thinking, pulling him closer by the lapels of his hanbok and holding your lips right there, against his, soft and warm. With your heart hammering in your chest, you stay there, testing the waters. Your husband remains frozen at first, almost like he is waiting for you to back out. Once sure that you will not, he reaches for you, gently cupping your cheek with his right hand to tilt your face. The kiss deepens just a tad bit, his lips pressing against you just hard enough. His touch on you is meticulous and guarded, like you are a wild animal he does not want to frighten. You know he is being gentle for your sake, so you take the lead, snaking an arm around his neck and kissing him the way he led you.

Slow, sweet and passionate.

It is everything you imagined and more, all your dreams coming true and giving you a taste of ecstasy. By the time your lips part from his, there is a ringing in your ears along with your heart galloping like a race horse and a strange, tingling sensation between your legs. You feel drunk on your husband’s kiss, your eyes involuntarily trailing to his lips that are now shining with saliva.

You want this man so much, body and soul.

Your husband’s fingers remain against your cheek, his thumb stroking your cheek, slow and tentative like you are the most precious porcelain. Mirroring his hand, your fingers cup his cheek, your thumb gently tracing the scar beneath his odd eye. The skin is harsh and bumpy under your touch, making your heart heavy. You want to kiss it, tell him that he is beautiful despite it, tell him that you feel his pain, but something shifts.

His gaze grows unfocused, something foreign flashing by in his eyes, like he has been woken back to reality. With a sudden noise, he clears his throat and retracts his hand from your face. The action pulls you out of your haze as well, making you suddenly hyper aware of the fact that you kissed him.

Holy shit. You kissed your husband. And he kissed you back. And it was amazing.

Clearing his throat once more, your husband looks away, carefully trying to put some distance between you and him. Flustered, you take the hint and stand up rather unceremoniously. As you take a step back, however, misfortune befalls.

The ghost of clumsiness yet again takes over your body, and you trip over your skirt. With a loud, unladylike yelp, you fall backwards, terrified but also anticipating the brutal hit to the floor.

It does not come. You do not fall on the ground because your husband saves you, reaching for your arm and tugging you back towards him just in time. Something else happens in the process. The ribbon of your jeogori comes off.

You realize that several moments later, too preoccupied with trying to calm your beating heart and processing what just happened. As you stay pressed against his body, your arms tightly holding onto his shoulders for balance, General Choi’s eyes skim over your face before fixing beneath your neck and on your exposed shoulder.

This time, something dark and carnal takes over his gaze, his eyes sharp and narrow, staring intently at your bare skin. Your heart beats so loudly you fear he can hear it, and for a moment, you are sure you will pass out from the intensity of his gaze and the swirl of emotions—desire and shame, surging within you.

Like before, he is the one who backs away, quietly clearing his throat and looking away. Embarrassed, you quickly fix your jeogori and clutch it tightly to your chest while also scrambling off his body.

“I—” you stammer, mortified to look at his face. “I will see you for d-dinner then, my Lord.” Picking up your skirt to avoid further accidents, you rush for the door, eager to be out of his sight.

His voice forces you to stop right at the door. “Why did you come to my room last night?”

You halt, processing his question. Then, with quick fingers, you tie your jeogori and carefully turn around. Your husband looks at you inquisitively. “Were…were you awake, my Lord?” You ask. He did not even sir when you came into the room.

In reply, he nods. You look around, trying to find the words. “I…was scared to be alone. I kept thinking of what happened at the market, and I do not know…” You trail off, embarrassed and worried about his reaction. He, however, keeps looking at you intently before shaking his head up and down in understanding.

“How did you know I came in? You did not even move a muscle. I thought you were asleep.”

“I smelled you.” He states, his face expressionless. You take a step back, alarmed. “Do I stink?”

He shakes his head. “No. I meant that I smelled roses. You smell like roses.”

Oh. “I see,” you mumble shyly, your fingers twiddling with the fabric of your skirt. He regards you quietly for a beat before murmuring. “You can sleep with me tonight as well, if you desire it.”

“Really?” You squeal, not hiding the excitement brimming in your voice. 

“Yes.”

“Thank you, my Lord!” You smile so big it hurts.

— 

After dinner, Headservant Yang sets the mattress for the two of you with a suggestive, happy smile on her face that makes you grin goofily. 

Once finished with your nightly routine and dressed for bed, you pad into your husband's chamber and find him already lying down, his eyes closed and his hands resting over his chest. One could think he was asleep, but you know better now. With wonder, you observe that the place of his sword has shifted and moved to his left, right next to his mat, now that yours occupies the space it took before.

“My Lord,” you ask softly, “shall I blow out the candle?”

“Yes.” He replies, not moving or opening his eyes. Carefully, you pad over to the study table and blow out the candle before finding your place on the mat. With the noise of the crickets humming outside, you lie on your mat, pulling the blanket up to your chin and staring at the ceiling. Your blood thrums in your veins, your brain too wired to fall asleep. The excitement of lying next to your husband keeps you awake.

Once your eyes adjust to the darkness, you take tentative peeks at him and find him in the same position as he originally was. Is he sleeping? You wish you could tell.

“My Lord?” You speak, quiet as a mouse.

Silence.

“Hm?” He hums.

“Why do you sleep with your sword next to you?”

“Force of habit, I suppose…from the war.”

You hum in acknowledgement, looking at him eagerly amid the darkness. After a short pause, you call for him again. “My Lord?”

“Yes.”

“Can I sleep with you from now on?”

Silence. Seconds pass by, but no answer comes, and you start to think that he has fallen asleep. Just then, he finally replies, his voice quiet and deep in the solitude of the night. “If you wish to.” You smile, happy and wide, even though he cannot see you. “Thank you, my Lord.”

Another short pause later, he murmurs. “Goodnight.” You take it as a sign that he does not wish to talk anymore, and with a nod, you shift and lie on your side, your right arm resting underneath your head.  “Goodnight, my Lord.” You whisper with a smile.

— 

You wake up just before sunrise. 

The spot next to you is empty, and with no sign of your husband, you step out of his bedchamber in search of him. It is a rest day, so you wonder where he is so early in the morning.

You find the man in the backyard, already dressed, quietly observing the flowers in the garden. “My Lord?” You call for him.

“Oh, good morning.” He acknowledges you with a small nod. “Why are you up so early?”

“I woke up and you were not there. Is everything okay?”

“Yes.” He assures. “You should sleep some more.” You pause, carefully observing him. In the soft morning light, the man looks different, more relaxed and homely, dressed in his hanbok and his long raven hair draped elegantly against his back.

How can you leave his majestic man just for a few more hours of sleep?

“My Lord?”

“Hm?”

“Let us go for a walk.”

— 

After quickly getting dressed, you and your husband go for a stroll, the early morning sun softly gleaming in the sky.

Your husband heads towards the nearby forest, which leads to a cliff offering a nice view of the town and the hilly background. He walks quietly with his hands behind him, his movements deliberately slow to accommodate your pace. With a soft smile that never leaves your lips, you walk alongside him, your heart thrumming happily.

Can this be called a date?

Without any words exchanged between the two of you, you navigate the path through the forest, your eyes skirting towards him every now and then. The silence between you is not awkward because you can see from his face that he is thinking deeply about something. So, you let him think and use the solitude to take peeks at his handsome face, memorizing the details of his visage.

By the time you reach the cliff, you are out of breath.

“Wow,” you wheeze out, panting for air as you rest with your palms on your knees. 

“Are you alright?” General Choi asks, peering down to see your face. “Yes,” you nod, trying to control your breathing. “It has been a while since I came up here. The view is magnificent.”

“It is.” He hums, looking over the cliff. “That last time I came here, I was a child.” You share, standing up and gazing at the view. It is truly still beautiful.

“Why so long ago?”

“What?” You blink, looking at your husband, who is regarding you with a curious tilt of his head.

“Uh…” you think. “My father…he was not fond of me going out much. Especially anywhere far, after my brother died. He liked to keep me within his sight.”

He keeps looking at you attentively, and you wonder what he is thinking. Is he judging you?

Needing to fill the silence, you ramble. “On top of that, I have always been clumsy. I’m sure you have figured that out by now. Once, when I was a child, I somehow broke my arm playing in the yard. My brother ran all the way to the physician’s office with me on his back. With him gone, my father thought it would be better for me to be within the house. For my safety and his mental peace.”

“It was suffocating, no? That is why you married me. For freedom.” Your husband observes. You nod, albeit shakily, thinking of your days back at your parents' home. The cold treatment of your father and the way you were never enough. Not enough to take away the pain of them losing their son.

In the silence, you take a moment to gather your thoughts before facing the man next to you and voicing a question you have always wanted to ask. “Why did you choose to marry me?”

He takes a moment to answer. 

“Because no one else wanted to. A lot of ministers tried to get me engaged to their daughters, but the girls refused when they saw me. Some even rejected just after hearing my name. They feared me.”

You find it ridiculous. “Why?” Your tone drips with bewilderment. “My reputation,” he shrugs. “My face does not help much, I suppose.”

“What do you mean?” You frown, leaning closer to him. He regards you in silence, as if the answer to that question is the most obvious thing in the world. “I am ugly.”

“What?” You gape at him, utterly befuddled. Does this man truly think that? His sharp eyes narrow on you, his brows knotting in confusion. “I do not know if you are making fun of me.”

“Why would I make fun of you?” You cry. This entire thing is ludicrous. “I simply find it absolutely enraging that you think so!”

He remains mute, watching you like you are an equation he needs to solve.

You take a tentative step closer to him, mumbling, “It is true that your reputation is scary. I also feared you for that in the beginning. I do not know if you are aware, but people say all types of crazy things about you.” You pause, inching even closer to him. With a few small inches between the two of you, you look up and meet his eyes, hoping to convey your sincerity. “But as I got to know you…I have realized there is nothing to fear. You are undoubtedly a cold man, my Lord, but you are also warm. Your heart is always in the right place. That alone is enough to make you the most beautiful man in the land.”

His face relaxes, and you can see how his gaze softens, the turbulent storms ever present in his eyes dissipating for a moment. 

In the back of your mind, one thought runs rampant. You want to kiss him. In the soft morning light, he looks as breathtaking as ever, his lips soft and kissable. Remembering the touch of his lips against yours last night, you muster the courage and lean up on your tippy toes, pressing a quick, chaste kiss on his lips. The man immediately leans back, a look of surprise on his face. Ignoring his reaction, you smile and step back, facing the view again. Your husband clears his throat before silently joining you in gazing at the view.

A while later, you voice out another thought. “My Lord, when you said not to expect anything from you, what did you mean?”

He takes a moment to answer. “I don’t know. Just do not expect anything from me. I cannot give you anything.”

Frowning, you face him. “But you have already given me so much.”

“I do not believe that.”

You sigh. The cranky man is returning. Hitching your skirt, you walk closer to him, determined. “What did you mean, my Lord? I cannot expect what?” He huffs out a frustrated breath. “Whatever a wife expects from her husband, I suppose.”

Your frown deepens. “What? Love? Attention? Devotion?”

“I will be devoted to you, but I cannot give you love.” His words are like a punch to the gut. “Why not?” You plead.

He hesitates. “I…just cannot.”

“You cannot or will not?”

His eyes, sharp and fiery, pierce right through you, and you see the truth in his eyes. You see the answer he refuses to utter. “Let us get back.” He announces, turning on his heel and dismissing you, starts marching down the path. You scoff, watching with an open mouth as he almost runs down the track to escape answering your question.

This stubborn, frustrating man.

— 

After breakfast, General Choi goes out to visit an old friend. With a sour mood, you shuffle through the house, watching as everyone remains busy with their work. You try to practice some needlework but fail to get far with that. As always, your hand at embroidery is embarrassingly bad. For two hours, you try to create a flower on a handkerchief, but when it turns out looking questionable, you drop the task.

You find San sitting outside on the porch, chatting animatedly with Headservant Yang. “My Lady, are you bored?” Headservant Yang asks upon seeing you walk over. With your shoulders slumped, you nod, pouting.

“General Choi will not be back for some time. Should we play a game then? San offers.

Your eyes shine. “Sure!”

— 

Your game of baduk with San lasts even after sunset. 

You keep playing match after match, your own competitive streak matching his. He does not go easy on you just because you are married to his General, and that makes it all the more fun. 

Your husband returns right before lunch and after observing the two of you for a mere minute, he leaves, locking himself in his study for the rest of the day. His disinterest irks you, and you decide to ignore him as well, honing all your attention towards the game. During different times, Headservant Yang and Jihye stop by between their work, watching you two play with rapt fascination.

The game only ends with you winning, long after the sky has gone dark. Cheers and yells erupt in the small crowd of servants gathered to watch the game. You grin cockily, finally standing up and stretching your legs. San accepts his defeat and takes his leave, not before you make him promise to join you another day for another match.

“Would you like to have your bath first or dinner, my Lady?” Headservant Yang asks. You ponder, still reeling from the high of winning. “Did my husband have dinner?”

“Yes, my Lady.” You sigh. “Well then, I will have my dinner now and then take my bath.”

— 

After your bath, you sit in your room with the mirror in front of you while Jihye combs your hair. “Today was a fun day, no, my Lady?” She asks.

“Yes,” you hum. “It is a shame General Choi did not join us.” “Indeed.”

“Where has he been all day?” “In his room, my Lady. He was studying.”

You resist the urge to roll your eyes. Your husband truly does not know how to have fun. Instead of spending a rest day with his wife, he would rather read and strategize and sulk by himself.

As if he could hear your thoughts, the man appears with a knock at your door and steps in a second later. Jihye excuses herself, leaving the two of you alone, the room suddenly buzzing with tension.

Your husband regards you with that same unreadable face, but something in you tells you that he is grumpier than usual. Still, you try to be civil. “Hello, my Lord.”

“Lady Choi. It was hard to catch sight of you all day.” 

Yes. He is annoyed about something. The subtle bite in his voice is unmissable. You finish combing the ends of your hair before setting the comb down. “My apologies about that. I was too immersed in the game of baduk.”

“Yes, I noticed.” He peers down at you, his eyes ethereally flashing in the soft lights of your chamber. “You seemed to quite enjoy your time with San.”

“He is an excellent player. He also mentioned that you used to play with him.” You supply, trying to understand what might be the cause of his annoyance.

“I don’t know about excellent.” He murmurs, looking away from you. “I taught him, true, but he is no match for me.”

You narrow your eyes. What is he implying? “I am sure he is not, my Lord.” You force a smile. 

“Yet, you chose to spend the entire day with him.” This time, he snaps, clear and offended. Your jaw hangs low, surprised at his pettiness. You stand up frowning. “You were away, my Lord.”

“Not the entire day. I returned long ago, but you were too busy playing with him till dinner time.” He grumbles, not meeting your eyes but staring at the lamp. Stunned, you gape at him, trying to understand where he is coming from.

Your heart flutters. Is it possible that he is jealous?

“My Lord,” you step closer to take a look at his face. “Are you…jealous?”

“Ha!” He scoffs, stepping away. “Why would I be jealous of that little punk?” he half yells, waving his hand dismissively like he is swatting away a bug.

Your spirits dampen, and annoyance starts to take over. You give him a saccharine sweet smile that is evidently fake. “Well then, there is nothing to worry about. Shall we head to bed?” He refuses to let the topic go. “You finally remembered me, no? Now that it is time to sleep?”

The thread holding you together snaps. With gritted teeth, you stare at him, trying your level best to keep your tone neutral. “Well, when your husband dismisses you at every chance he gets and tries to run from you at the mere mention of intimacy, a girl would naturally be upset and spend time elsewhere. I hope you pardon her for spending some time away from him.” You bow dramatically in apology, making sure that he understands it is sarcasm. 

“Wha—” He regards you, eyes wide and mouth agape, like he cannot believe the words coming from your lips. “You—” He seems to be at a loss for words.

You step past him, but he raises a finger at you. “So you prefer San over me? Is that what you are saying?”

You roll your eyes at his words. However, today there is an urge within you to push him to his limit. So, you whip your head back and glare at him. 

“Who knows?” You singsong. Your husband’s eyes only enlarge, the look of pure shock taking over his face, his mouth hanging open wider than before. “Maybe I do. Maybe I do prefer him over you. He spends time with me, after all. Despite today being a rest day, you stayed in your room all day when you could have joined us. So what if I prefer his company?” You add the last line for good measure, trying to appear as threatening as possible.

“Take that back,” he says, his tone quiet. The look on his face starts to shift towards something serious. 

You egg him on. “I won’t! In fact, from now on, I will spend more time with him. Who knows, he might give me all the love and attention you refuse.”

The man finally snaps. In the flash of an eye, he is right in front of you, his hand behind your neck pulling you so close to him that you feel his breath. All earlier pettiness and playfulness are gone. He looks like a raging beast, barely hanging on by a thread.

“Take that back. Tell me you do not mean it or I swear to God, I will chop his head off.” He grits, his voice shaking with anger and his grip on your skin tightening. His eyes are like two molten pools of lava, angry and bright, and he has never looked hotter.

Without wasting a second, you smash your lips with his, wrapping your arms around his neck to pull him closer and closer towards you. The force of your kiss is so strong that it knocks him back a few steps. However, he is quick to recover, meeting your lips with even more passion, a side of him completely new to you. Raw and unchained, he goes all in, devouring your lips like it is his salvation.

You don’t hold back either.

You let go of your body weight entirely, pushing him on the ground below you while never letting go of his lips. Your hands—his and yours—move frantically to claw at each other through the layers of fabric. With a huff, your husband finally removes his lips from yours, a long string of saliva connecting your lips to his. “If we continue…I cannot hold back.” He pants, his eyes wild and shining.

His words make you giddy with anticipation, molten hot pools of lava swirling in your belly.

“That is what I want,” you whisper, feeling the cold air against your swollen lips. “I do not want you to hold back.” Slowly, you snake your arms around his neck and you move closer to his face. With a mere inch between your lips, you murmur, “I want you to devour me, my Lord.”

Your husband makes a sound, a low, primal grunt that comes from the deepest part of his chest. He exhales sharply, determination swirling in his eyes as he finally lets go of all the restraint he had been practicing till now.

In a flash, he flips your positions, holding you against the ground, his large body looming over yours. Your breath catches in your throat with the view on top of you, and he has not even taken off his clothes yet. Desire thrums in your veins, making you curl your toes in anticipation.

“I will ruin you tonight.” That is a promise. His voice is laced with something dark, like he will thoroughly enjoy ruining you. Little does he know, you will enjoy it too.

“Please, my Lord.” You beg, all too eager to become his.

His eyes flash at your words, and immediately, his hands get to work. They move with ease, graceful yet quick, as he strips you off your garments. All too soon, you are left only in your underskirt, your bare chest exposed for his eyes to feast on. You have the urge to cover them, and as if your husband can read your mind, he grabs your hands and links your fingers with his, pinning them on top of your head.

“Do not hide from me,” he commands, his lips hovering over yours. You nod, jittery with need and anticipation. 

Once sure your hands will not move, he slowly traces his fingers from your jawbone to your neck and then your shoulder, before reaching for your braid. You shift and let him hold your hair, his fingers gently caressing over the long braided strands. His fingers trace over your daenggi before tugging on it sharply. Undone, the strip of cloth comes off as your hair starts to loosen from the braid.

“So beautiful.” He hums, holding a few strands of hair between his fingers. He places a soft kiss on them before reaching for your hands. With your daenggi, he ties your wrists together, making sure the knot will hold before placing your hands back where they were, arms stretched straight on top of your head.

“Be a good girl.” He whispers, his voice sultry, his gaze half lidded yet dangerous. Your heart hammers loudly in your chest as the reality of what is happening actually starts to settle in your bones.

You are half-naked, tied up and vulnerable underneath your husband. The man they call the Grim Reaper, the most merciless man in the land. Yet, you are not afraid.

You watch as he shifts, making himself comfortable between your spread legs. He lifts your underskirt, exposing your core, and despite the urge to close your legs, you cannot.

“So beautiful. It will be a treat to ruin you.” He hums, his eyes focused between your legs, a faint smirk playing on his lips. Without any warning, he slaps you between your legs, right on your sensitive flesh, the sharp whack echoing through the quietness of the night.

“Ah!” You cry, mortified and surprised. It stings but also unlocks a new sensation of pleasure within you. Your face heats up as you realize how much you enjoyed it, a deep and deprived sense of pleasure.

He slaps you again. “Do you like it? I can see you are getting wet.” He says, his flashing eyes set on your face.

You make a pathetic noise of agreement. “Answer me!” He commands, slapping you once more. A long, needy moan is ripped from your throat. You pant. “Y-yes, my Lord.”

Pleased, he smirks before leaning down to press kisses on your inner thighs. He moves slowly and deliberately, playing with you, nibbling on your skin with his teeth before giving it a soothing lick and making sure it is marked. When he sits back up, his eyes trace all over your face as if he is trying to remember every small detail about you. You do the same, peering at him through your lashes with bated breath, wishing you could pull him closer for another kiss.

You could spend your entire life kissing this man.

With the ease and grace of a panther that has trapped its prey, your husband moves, enveloping you with his body, his hair falling over you like a black curtain. Lying on top of you, one of his hands holds on to the nape of your neck while the other explores your body, teasingly moving down your waist and between your legs. His warm fingers trace your core, feeling the wetness gathered between your legs. Without losing eye contact, he plays with you, dipping his fingers inside, making you shiver and whimper and continues to smirk knowingly.

He pushes his index and middle finger inside you, just up to his knuckles and the intrusion have you shuddering, your core throbbing like it has its own heartbeat. A breathy moan tears from your lips, and he uses the opportunity to lean in and bite your lip softly. 

Dear god. You whimper. “Please.”

“What?” He mouths against your lips. “T-touch me,” you reply, chasing his lips to reconnect with yours.

You hear him scoff cockily. “I am touching you, wife.” His title for you makes you only more desperate. You whine, starting to writhe, “More.”

You feel him smile against your mouth, his fingers slipping all the way in. His lips trace your jaw, his nose pressed against your skin before trailing down your neck, while his fingers start moving in and out. Involuntarily, your hips writhe, chasing his fingers while he peppers your neck with kisses and bites before fixing on a particular spot beneath your ear that makes you whimper. Then, he uses his thumb to give you a flick, his dark eyes trained on your face as your pleasure amplifies. 

“Oh my god,” you shut your eyes closed, reveling in the feeling of his fingers inside you. He starts to pick up pace, moving the fingers in tandem, circling them inside you and giving your clit an occasional flick. You wrap your legs around his lower waist, crossing them over and pulling him even closer, a desperate attempt at trying to ease the growing ache. Inside you, his fingers move rapidly, making your body tense as you start climbing your high, the coil in your belly pulling tight. 

“My L-lord…” You pant, looking at him with pleading eyes, even though you are unsure what you are trying to say. “Say my name,” he commands, dark eyes trained on you.

You feel even hotter, the coil in your belly pulled impossibly tight. “S-Seungcheol.”

“That is right. Scream my name.” He orders, eyes hazy with a film of lust and possessiveness. As if teasing you, his thumb brushes over your clit ever so slightly, drawing out a shuddering whine from your lips that makes him chuckle quietly. The sound feels like magic to your ears, a drug to your system that heightens your pleasure. His teeth dig into the soft flesh of your neck, undoubtedly leaving a mark.

“P-please Seungcheol,” you heave, eyes closed shut, fingernails digging into your palms. Humming against your neck, he uses his fingers to rub an even deeper spot inside you as his thumb rubs your clit mercilessly. 

“Please!” You hiss, throwing your head back, your toes curling as you wail. “I… I cannot…”

“You are going to cum for me. Now,” his voice is a quiet order. 

He curls his fingers inside you one last time and flicks your clit hard with his thumb, sending you over the edge. Your release is a tidal wave of mind-breaking pleasure as your body goes tense, your hips arching off the bed, your mouth hanging open as a reaction to the overwhelming pleasure; your first orgasm. 

You experience a type of bliss you had no idea existed, and for a moment, your mind goes blank, your body lying taut and tense underneath his. The onslaught of pleasure leaves your vision blurry with unshed tears and your mind numb to everything as you slowly descend from the throes of heavenly bliss and register that your husband is sitting upright between your legs.

With his relentless gaze locked with yours, he slowly licks his fingers clean, his long pink tongue darting out to caress his digits as he hums, “This is the sweetest pussy I have ever had.”

The sight is more than erotic, and for a moment, you are scared you will die from a heart attack. You want this man. You need him all at once, in every way possible. There is an ache coming from the depths of your soul that only he can satisfy.

“Please…untie me. I want to touch you.” You beg, hoping he takes mercy. It has been torture keeping your hands off of him. Hearing your plea, he takes mercy and undoes the ribbon tying your wrists. Free, you immediately sit up and wrap yourself around him, pulling him close for a kiss. Vigorously, wantonly, you kiss him and taste yourself on his tongue, moaning and gripping onto his back, your fingers itching to touch his skin underneath his nightshirt. 

“Please take this off,” you breathe against his mouth. Your husband smiles, undoubtedly enjoying teasing you. “Why?”

“Because…I want to see you.” You whisper sweetly, looking at him through your lashes. The man obliges, letting his hands off you for a moment to take off his shirt.

The sight of his naked body renews the heat between your legs, a new wave of desire overcoming your system. You let yourself gawk at the expanse of the muscles on his chest and the bulky thickness of his arms, all littered with scars, strong and dependable. As he stares at your face for a reaction, you reach for him absentmindedly, dragging your index finger over a scar on his right bicep. It is long, old, and jagged, rough and bumpy to the touch. Without thinking, you lean towards his arm and softly press a kiss on the wound before slowly dragging your lips to his chest, where another scar has bloomed. “It must have hurt,” you whisper to yourself, pressing another kiss on the scar before meeting his eyes. “I want to see all of your scars, dear husband. And I want to kiss all of them. I want to kiss away your pain.”

Something flashes by his eyes, brief but vulnerable. He immediately snakes a strong around around your waist to pull you tight against him and seal his lips over yours in a possessive kiss.

With his lips tangled with yours, he carries you to the sleeping mat, setting you down gently. You sigh in satisfaction as your back meets the soft, warm quilt. 

Your husband quickly gets to work, taking off your underskirt in a sharp yank and ripping it in the process. Surprised and embarrassed, you squeak, trying to hide yourself from his gaze. With the lamp burning right on the desk next to the mat, he has a pretty clear view of your body.

“Your pants…” You whisper, tugging them as well, and Seungcheol chuckles. “So desperate, aren't we?”

“Please,” you beg, throwing him your best pleading eyes as your hands roam around his back, feeling the ridge and bump of his muscles. 

The man quickly takes off his pants, giving you the briefest glimpse of his cock. You barely get to see him as he leans down towards you again, his eyes locked with yours. He drags his palms up, cupping your breasts and squeezing them. A breathy sigh of pleasure falls from your lips as you automatically lean closer to his face, your lips chasing his. Seungcheol captures them in a soft, teasing kiss, his lips gently biting yours as you feel his cock brush against your thigh.

You shiver, goosebumps breaking out on your skin.

You are a ball of nerves right now, the idea of getting intimate with a man for the first time plaguing your mind with worry. Yet, at the same time, you are overcome with desire, need running through your veins.

This is scary yet perfect. Absolutely perfect.

Your husband attacks your neck, kissing and biting the skin while simultaneously playing with your breasts. You mewl, letting your head fall to one side to give him better access to your neck. He hums, the sound so deep and throaty you feel it in your core. His lips do not break contact with your skin, kissing and sucking your sensitive flesh until your whole body shakes like leaves in a tree. 

“Please…” You beg, digging your nails into his shoulder, your body unconsciously starting to grind against him, desperate to ease the throbbing ache between your legs. Seungcheol, finally satisfied with the red spot blooming on your neck, lets you go, peering down at you with his hypnotizing eyes.

“I teased you a lot, did I not, wife?” He hums, caressing your heated face with his knuckles. Drunk with desire, you nod, your half-lidded gaze transfixed. “Please, take me, my Lord.”

He tsks disapprovingly. As if to prove a point, he wraps his hand around your throat but does not apply any pressure. “My name.”

“Seungcheol.” You reply immediately.

“Good girl.” Seungcheol smirks, his eyes flashing with something dark as he leans back on his heels, taking a slow, good look at your body. Then, spreading your legs wider, he spits on his fingers and using it as a lubricant over his cock before lining up with your entrance.

“This will hurt at first.” He warns. You nod, one hand covering your face as you choose to look at the ceiling out of embarrassment.

“Ready?”

“Yes.”

“Look at me.” He demands, the tip of his cock brushing against your pussy lips, making you shiver and follow his command. “Keep your eyes on me. Watch me devour this tight cunt.”

You feel like someone set your face on fire. Face flushed with his crude words, you barely get to make a sound when Seungcheol thrusts himself inside you. Your head lolls forward with the impact as your hands immediately clutch his arm around your waist for support. 

“Ah!” You cry out, eyes squeezed shut as you feel a sharp sting between your legs. “Fuck,” Seungcheol hisses, his voice throaty as he remains half buried inside you. Pausing for a moment, he lets you adjust before pulling back and then thrusting back in. This time, he goes all the way in, and you swear you feel him in your stomach. With a loud, pathetic cry, you cling onto his body, your brain unable to keep up with all the different sensations. 

He builds a pace, pushing in and out of you in strong movements.

Your brain feels like mush as you fail to utter anything, your mouth simply hanging open to let out breathy pants as you close your eyes and feel every ridge of his cock move in and out of you, the initial pain of intrusion fizzling away. It is a blissful experience, a high you never want to come out of.

“Push out your hips a little,” he orders quietly, dark eyes set on you so intensely, you feel like he can see your soul.

Immediately, you comply, extending your waist towards him while keeping your upper back pressed to the mat. His hands hold your hip bone n a strong grip as he places a pillow under your ass and slides himself back inside you with a leisurely pace, the new angle making his length curve inside you. 

You start seeing stars.

“Oh my god,” you hiss, eyes squeezed shut. The back of your thighs rests over Seungcheol’s, your legs dangling around his waist, and your hands clenched around the sleeping mat as he starts to pick up pace. With each thrust, the force increases, the tip of his cock hitting your most sensitive spot, low groans falling from his lips to match your breathy moans. 

“I… I cannot…please” your whisper mindlessly, the words scattered and almost unintelligible due to your broken moans. “You want to come?” His voice is almost taunting as he leans closer to look at your face. “Well, that’s unfortunate. You do not come until I give you permission, wife.” Your husband warns, making you whine. 

The need to find your release only intensifies. You are so close you can almost taste the blissful release.

“P-Please,” You beg, wrapping your arms around his neck and digging your fingernails into his shoulder blades. “Say it louder. Scream my name. Who is fucking this tight pussy?’’ he grunts in your ears, his warm breath tickling your skin.

“Seungcheol!” The desperate yell is quick to leave your lips.

“Who will make you come?”

“You! Seungcheol!”

“That is right, wife. It is I, your husband.” He gives you a particularly harsh thrust. “Not San. Not any other man but me.”

“Y-yes. Please…” you sob. Gripping your chin, he forces you to look at him. “Who do you belong to?” His voice is as quiet as a winter night.

“You, my husband.” You manage to utter clearly amid his brutal thrusts. “Good girl,” he praises, nibbling on your jaw. One of his hands reaches below to touch your clit as he wastes no time rubbing the sensitive bundle of nerves with the pads of his finger, all the while continuing to thrust inside you earnestly.

“Seungcheol!” You scream, your entire body jolting.

Your reaction makes him smirk as he chases his own high, seconds away from erupting inside you. He places your clit between his thumb and index finger, giving you a particularly harsh rub followed by a pinch.

You are catapulted over the edge. Your vision goes white, your entire sweat-coated body twitching from the intensity of the pleasure. It only amplifies as you feel Seungcheol spill inside you, his warm release filling you up and dripping lazily out of you. 

You feel like you are floating from the bliss.

— 

Your husband’s hand strokes your back in repeated soothing motions while you bask in the afterglow of your passionate lovemaking. With him lying behind you on the mat, your bodies pressed together, you move from reality to dreamland every now and then, the smile never leaving your face as you savour his touch and warmth. 

“Are you asleep?” he softly asks, bringing his face closer to inspect you.

You make a noise and shake your head, too lazy to move. Your husband gently turns you so that you lie face to face.

“Are you in any pain?” You ask again, carefully looking at your face, his fingers brushing away the rowdy strands of hair from your face. You open your eyes and look at him with a gaze full of love. “I am perfect, husband. Thank you.”

He smiles when you address him by that name, a warm, gummy smile that shows his unbridled joy. The possessive madman from earlier has completely disappeared, replaced by a man eager to dote on his wife.

This is your first time seeing this side of your husband. 

He pulls you against his chest, holding you tight in his arms. “No, thank you, wife. Thank you for being mine.” You smile, nuzzling his bare chest. This is the safest and most comfortable you have ever felt, and you do not want to let go. Ever.

After a moment of pause, he whispers. “I know I lack a lot. I can be clueless sometimes. So from now on, I hope you share with me whatever is on your mind. All your wishes, hopes and dreams, your desires— everything. I promise I will make them come true.”

You are too tired to form a reply, your body growing heavier each second but still, you smile. You peacefully drift off.

— 

Seungcheol did not go to work today.

The news delights you when you hear it from Jihye as she helps you get dressed. Her eyes linger on your body, especially on your neck, where little marks have formed— evidence of your lovemaking. 

She looks half worried and half scandalized, and you wink at her playfully before stepping out of your chamber.  Your husband sits on the porch, fully dressed, basking in the sun with a book in his hand.

“Good morning, my Lord.” You whisper, feeling pathetically shy when you catch sight of him. He looks up, his eyes shining when they land on you. “Good morning, wife. How are you feeling?” Shyly, you walk over to him and sit down without leaving any space between the two of you. Fiddling with your skirt, you look away when you answer, “I am alright, my Lord.”

With a gentle grasp on your chin, he turns your face and forces you to look at him. “The truth.” He says quietly.

Truthfully, you are quite sore, and an ache has taken hold all over your body. However, you cannot complain. The ache is laced with pleasure, especially between your legs, reminding you of last night.

Your heart gallops in your chest as you look into his eyes. “I am a little sore,” you reply timidly. “But it is a good kind of sore, I promise.”

His eyes travel to your neck, eyeing the red marks visible on your skin. “I was too rough with you,” he murmurs, his tone laced with regret, his eyes focused on your neck. Quickly, you snap him out of it. “Not at all, my Lord.” You sling your arms with his, pulling him closer so that you can rest your face on his shoulder. “You were just perfect. I enjoyed it. A lot.” You whisper, face flushing.

Your husband keeps gazing at you like he does not believe you. Whipping your head around, you take a quick scan around the yard before pressing a sweet kiss on his lips and giggling like a child. A soft smile blooms on his lips, even though he tries to stifle it.

“You should smile more, my Lord. You look so handsome.”

“Why are you calling me that? You called me by my name last night.” His lips form a soft pout as he complains. You pause, “Well…last night was…”

“You shall call me Seungcheol from now on.” He announces. “I would like it even more if you gave me a nickname.”

Wide eyed, you look at him.

“Do you understand me, wife?”

“Yes, husband.” 

Happy with that for now, he does not pester you anymore. You rest your head on his shoulders, your hands intertwined, and watch the morning sky in silence.

“You asked me to share all my wishes with you last night.” You speak after a while, eyes focused somewhere distant. “Can I share one with you right now?”

“Of course,” he shifts so that his body faces you. 

Tilting your head up, you admire a white, fluffy cloud. “Ever since my brother died, I have only had one wish for my life. I wanted to live by the sea in a small house. In that house, there would be my husband and I, and we would spend the rest of our days there, away from all the noise and bleakness of this town.”

“That sounds lovely.” He murmurs. You nod before looking at him. “Do you think it would ever be possible for us?”

He remains silent. 

“Given the nature of your job, I understand. However, I need you to promise me one thing. You must take care of yourself. You must not get hurt, do you hear me? You have someone to come home to now. You must think about me and you must return home to me, do you understand?” Your hands grip his in an earnest hold. 

His free hand comes to rest on top of yours, and he gives you a reassuring squeeze, warm and soft. “Rest easy, wife. I shall come back to you. Always.”

A lone drop of tear strolls down your cheek, and he wipes it away with his thumb before pressing the softest, feather-like kiss on your forehead. After a moment's pause, you speak. “Now it is your turn to share something with me.”

He regards you with confusion. 

“Anything. A wish, a secret…” You stare at him with eagerness. He sighs softly, his eyes trained on his lap as he thinks about something. 

“Well…when I told you not to expect anything from me,” he begins, looking almost shy, his gaze soft and apologetic. “I was afraid. I wanted to keep you at an arm's length from the beginning because I was scared of losing you. I have lost everyone close to me, and the thought of going through something like that again terrifies me. Since I joined the military, I have kept myself detached from everyone because the less I cared, the better.”

Your heart aches for the man. With gentle fingers, you brush away the unruly strands of hair from his face and trace the scar next to his eye. “You will not lose me, husband. I am right here.” You promise.

He wraps his arms around you as if to test your words. You wrap yourself around him, basking in his embrace, your bodies melting into one. “Do not leave me.” He whispers, his voice raw and vulnerable.

“Never.”

— 

Seungcheol left for the palace early today. After two days of relaxation, a letter came for him last night from the palace, demanding his presence first thing in the morning.

At night, Seuncheol held you tight in his arms, soothing away your worries. He finally shared what has been going on in the palace and why there are assassins after him.

Turns out they are working for the Minister of Trade, who is strictly against the new reformations currently being done by the king, like an attempt to abolish the slavery system. Seungcheol has been the King’s number one ally and a powerful piece in the game, which is why they are after him. Removing him from the equation is as good as stripping the King of his powers. Minister Kim has done exceptionally well in covering up his tracks, which is why there is no solid proof against him, complicating this entire issue. He has been playing a cat-and-mouse game with the royal army for a while now. 

Your husband left even before you woke up, leaving a note for you promising he would be home for dinner.

The day slowly passes by with you going to the palace and coming home once your shift is over, always under the watchful eye of San. The mood in the palace has been tense today, different rumours about Minister Kim floating in the air and a sinking feeling forms in your gut. No matter how hard you try, you cannot shake off the feeling that something ominous is about to take place.

Your suspicion starts taking shape when dusk falls and Seungcheol does not return. It turns into terror and restlessness as night falls, and still, there is no sign of him. The supper grows cold, and you fall asleep upright, waiting for him, your husband, who never comes.

When you open your eyes again, you find Jihye sitting next to you, a worried look on her face. “What is it?” You immediately sit up straight. “My lady, it is past midnight. Master has not returned yet. Should we send someone to the palace to ask for him?” She asks.

Your fingers fist around your skirt, anxiety coursing through your veins like poison. “We should.” You whisper.

Just as you are following Jihye out of the room, you hear commotion; the voice of a servant and Headservant Yang. Running to the porch, you see Seungcheol entering the house, dressed in his military uniform, his sword in his hand.

He marches straight towards you and drags you into your bedchamber without any words. “My Lord, where have you been!” You cry, gripping his arm. “I have been waiting for you—”

“Listen to me carefully,” he cuts you off, his hands resting on your shoulders as he leans down to be at your eye level. His usual unbothered demeanour is gone, replaced by worry that you see in his eyes as vividly as daylight. 

Something must be wrong. Your heart starts racing.

“The Minister of Trade is planning to attack us here tonight. They will be here anytime, so I need to get you out of here.”

“Wha— How did you even find that out? Are you sure?”

“The royal army captured a member of his team yesterday. We tortured the information out of him. Look at me,” he urges you, his fingers gripping your shoulder even tighter. “Minister Kim knows we are onto him. He has gone into hiding. He will stop at nothing to get to me, to you, do you understand? He plans to go down and drag me with him.” You see the fear in his eyes. The unshakable, indestructible man suddenly appears different, and this change terrifies you. 

“I am scared.” You whisper.

“You have nothing to be scared of.” He pulls you in his arms, holding you tightly against his chest. “I am going to send you to a safe place. I need you to do as I say, okay?”

You nod shakily, your fingers holding onto his sleeve in a death grip.

“Pack your essentials. We will leave within thirty minutes. Ask Jihye to help you.” He says, pressing a kiss on your forehead before marching outside.

With your heart hammering in your chest, you get to work, moving your shaky limbs to pack a bag with the help of Jihye. Soon, you are ready, and Seungcheol wastes no time wrapping everything up. He places Headservant Yang and the other servant in another neighbor's house to make sure they are safe before setting out with you.

In the darkness of the night, you get onto his horse with his help, followed by him sitting behind you, his arms around you to hold onto the reins. Jihye and another male servant get on another horse, and finally, a royal soldier follows from behind.

A little to the south of the town, there is a long, dense forest which leads to a small, quaint village. There is an ancient shrine there, inhabited by monks, and that is where Seungcheol intends to get you by dawn.

The silence grows heavier and thicker as you tread into the forest; the only sound echoing around is the soft galloping of the horses. You shiver, more from dread than from the cold night air and Seungcheol notices it. “Hold the reins.” He orders quietly so that his hands are free. He takes off the muffler wrapped around his neck and gently puts it around yours.

“I asked you to pack the essentials, wife.” His tone is playful. “I think a muffler in this weather counts as an essential.” He teases, and you understand it is his attempt to soothe you. “I am sorry, my lord. You should keep it. You will catch a cold.” You murmur.

“Hush now,” he shushes you, taking back the reins. “You should lean on me and close your eyes. It will take a while for us to reach there.”

“No, it is okay.” You reply, eyes focused ahead on the dark, narrow road cutting through the forest. 

It is such a gloomy night. You cannot spot a single star in the sky, shrouded by clouds.

Time ticks by. The night grows darker. 

Your journey continues through the hour of the ox and into the hour of the tiger. Exhaustion takes over you, and unable to resist it any longer, you close your eyes and lean your head back, resting it against your husband’s shoulder. It is not an ideal condition to get some shut-eye, but somehow you doze off.

When your eyes reopen, you hear the loud sound of a horse neighing and its heavy galloping. Seungcheol holds you tighter, and with a sharp tug of the reins and a nudge of his heels, his horse leaps into a full sprint. You look around worriedly, scanning through the dense bushes surrounding you.

“Master! Did they find us already?” Servant Min cries from behind as his horse too picks up pace.

The sounds grow louder, and just as your body tenses up, fearing the worst, you see San pop up from inside the forest, his horse taking a lunge and joining you on the road. “General, you have to keep going!” He yells. “They are right behind us.”

Seungcheol’s horse sprints parallel to his.

“How did they catch up so quickly?”

“Minister Kim had his men spread out. They were hiding in a camp a few miles behind. I took care of them, but the messenger escaped. I’m sure the minister is on his way. You need to move fast. There might be more of his men hiding in the forest.”

Upon hearing his words, you notice the specks of red on his hanbok. Swallowing the lump in your throat, you look behind to see your husband’s face. His jaw is clenched tight. “We need to come up with a plan. If they find us, we cannot hold them off. I need to get my wife to safety.” He yells back.

It is as if a cactus is lodged in your throat. “W-what do you mean?” You cry, your face aghast. 

He does not reply to you.

“It will be daybreak soon, General! We should hide somewhere.” San suggests.

Just then, you notice a sudden, strange ball of light in the sky, a little towards your right. It takes a moment for you to register that it is a signal, an arrow of fire shot from behind you.

“There are assassins ahead of us. They now know we are headed that way.” Seungcheol hisses.

“I will take care of it.” San nods, wielding his sword and screaming at the horse, “Go!” The horse runs faster, impossibly so, almost flying forward.

“I need you to stay calm and follow my orders.” Your husband says to you. “Do you hear me?” You nod shakily, “Yes.”

In five minutes, you catch up to San, who has taken care of most of the assassins that sat ahead at the curve. As you sprint near, Seungcheol hands the reins to you and readies his bow and arrow, taking perfect shots at the rest of the assassins. Then, he smoothly gets off the horse, followed by the other soldier who has been accompanying you, their swords wielded as they fight one-on-one.

A little ahead of the curb, you stop the horse and so does Jihye and servant Min, watching the fight anxiously. The three men take multiple assassins at a time, making sure they do not get to you.

You chew on your lower lip, your hands fidgeting as you watch the fight unfold. You wish Seungcheol gave you an archery set. You know the basics because you practised regularly as a child with your brother. Even though after his death, you stopped it for a while, you did not completely let go, taking occasional lessons from the older nobleman in your neighbourhood who used to be a skillful archer once upon a time.

By the time the last member of the group has been killed, shades of blue have coated the sky. Seungcheol and his team run back to the horses, their clothes specked with blood.  “Come on, we need to leave,” he says, mounting the horse.

There is a sudden sound; a sharp whoosh like a strong gust of wind just flew by, followed by a soft thud.

It is an arrow.

It whizzes towards you, missing the mark and hitting the tree trunk a couple of inches to your left. Your heart stops. A few hundred meters from the way you came, a large group of armed men show up. It is Minister Kim’s convoy.

They have caught up to you.

At the center, leading them is the minister himself, dressed in iron like he is about to go to war. His eyes, black and empty, scour the dead bodies of his assassins lying on the ground in front of him before looking at your husband.

His thin lips curl up into an evil smile. “General! No point in running now! It’s time to see how good of a fighter you are!” He yells. 

You feel Seungcheol's body growing tenser with each passing second, his hand gripping your thigh in a bruising hold. You, too, are paralyzed with fear, unsure of what to do. Then, absolutely shocking you, Seungcheol does the thing you least expected him to do. He starts getting off the horse slowly, his eyes trained on Minister Kim.

“San, take my wife and go.” He speaks quietly to the younger man who hadn’t gotten on his horse yet. “My Lord, what are you—” You do not get to finish your sentence because the younger man has instantly climbed behind you and snatched the reins from your hands.

“Get them!” You hear a shout as you are swept away with lightning speed. San’s grip around your body is iron solid, holding the reins with his eyes focused ahead on climbing the steep, hilly road at the end of the forest.

“No, please! You need to be with him!” You cry, fighting against him as you look behind to see Seungcheol fighting the Minister’s men, accompanied by the other soldier. 

He can never outfight all those people.

“Have faith in him. He knows what he is doing.” San assures, kicking his heels so the horse runs faster. You hear sounds right behind you, and you turn to see an assassin on a horse, aiming his arrow at you. San takes notice of it and swerves right immediately to avoid it.

As calculated, it misses, but a second later, your horse neighs out loud, standing on its hind legs before dropping down on the ground, taking the two of you with it. The arrow was meant for the horse. It struck his leg, injuring him, leaving the animal on the ground, softly crying in pain.

San wastes no time getting up and wielding his sword to fight off the man and the others following behind him. Jihye and servant Min, who were right behind you, yell out, calling for you to get on their horse. Jihye extends her hand towards you, but you ignore her, bunching up your skirt and making a run towards the curb.

“My Lady, what are you doing?” San yells, fighting off the assassins. “Jihye, stop her!”

“My Lady, come back!”

Ignoring their cries, you pick up the bow and set of arrows dropped by the assassin and continue sprinting down the steep road.

Then, finding a safe distance and a place behind an oak tree, you spot your husband, his movements sharp and precise as he takes down one man after the other. You watch as the minister slowly walks towards him, his sword dragging on the ground, leaving behind a threatening trail. Due to him wearing the armored plates, you know it is pointless to shoot at him, so you load your bow and aim at the assassins and start shooting.

The first one grazes past the man you aim at. Not discouraged, you continue, and the second one hits the target. 

Your husband looks in your direction immediately when the assassin drops dead, his eyes going from confusion to worry the moment he spots you. He does not have the time to do anything about it, as he has to fight the never-ending men.

And you are slightly grateful for that. Right now, he does not have the chance to come to you and force you away, giving you the chance to help him from afar. You continue loading arrows and shooting, missing some but hitting most, well aware of the fact that the Minister has spotted you.

From behind, you hear Jihye coming towards you, her exhausted pleas echoing down the path. “Jihye, I need more arrows!” You yell as you come down to your last two. “There should be some on the road back there!”

By now, most of the assassins have been taken care of, and the remainder are being fought by the soldier accompanying your husband. Minister Kim has approached Seunghceol as they engage in a heated sword fight, the minister swinging his sword like a madman, his growls echoing in the air. Your eyes scan around the place, thinking of finding a way to help Seungcheol, when San finally catches up to you, followed by Jihye, who did not get the arrows you asked for.

“My Lady, enough!” he yells. “You cannot be here! The road has been cleared—”

“We need to help him!” you yell back. “I cannot leave him here for—” You do not get to finish your sentence.

An arrow hits Seungcheol, piercing through the skin right below his right shoulder, on the top of his chest.

“No!” You scream, watching him stumble back for a moment. Your eyes fly through the scene, spotting an archer hidden inside the forest a little ahead towards your right. As you load your bow to take a shot at him, San finally comes to his senses, flying down the road to help Seungcheol.

You take the shot.

The arrow hits the hidden archer right in the chest, making him tumble backwards, disappearing out of sight. Then, you dash down the road, not scared of anything anymore, Jihye following you as your shadow.

San stands no match to Minister Kim, easily overpowered and tossed aside by his brute strength. He has the eyes of a madman, hell bent on getting to Seungcheol, discarding everything in his way like little bugs.

“I told you, you scarred lunatic!” He screams, charging at your husband. “I will slice your head off your neck and then do the same to your wife!”

He swings his sword around, charging for Seungcheol with all his might. Seungcheol blocks him with his sword, but the force of the attack forces him to fall to his knees. Minister Kim takes the opportunity to knock him off his feet with a kick. Seungcheol falls on the ground on his back, and in the split second, the minister raises his sword towards the sky before bringing it down sideways on his chest.

“Seungcheol!” You yell at the top of your lungs. “General!” San yells, coming from behind and tackling Minister Kim to the ground before he can fully swing his sword across. His helmet falls off from the force of San's attack. With your heart thundering in your ears, you point the remaining arrow at him.

It is like your body is not yours anymore. With zero hesitation, you take the shot while he is still pinned to the ground, struggling to get free, and the arrow hits the bullseye, right in the center of his forehead. 

His body slumps to the ground.

Pushing him away, San holds your husband’s lifeless body, his eyes slowly falling shut as he yells his name. Jihye and servant Min run past you, calling their master.

The bow drops from your hand.

You stand there, watching the ground go red underneath your husband’s body, your fingers gripping his muffler around your neck. 

—

Seungcheol receives his initial treatment in the shrine you were originally supposed to visit.

Once the news of the attack reached the capital, upon the king’s orders, the royal physician Yoon came to treat Seungcheol. He and his assistants crowded the room, tending to your husband’s injury with medicine and wrapping the area with gauze as he lay motionless on the mat.

You stood just outside the room, gazing at your sleeping husband, who looked nothing like his usual self—pale and frail, his body littered with little cuts. 

Why won’t he wake up? You miss his eyes. You miss his slow, unravelling gaze on you, his crimson, fiery eye that can almost cut through stone with a simple gaze. Where is that man?

Physician Yoon said he is in a deep sleep. They call it a vegetative state. The injury was quite lethal; the wound just a few centimetres away from damaging his heart. He said that the worst is over, and his pulse is stable now.

But he won’t wake up. He remains unresponsive, and it is unclear how long it will take for him to regain consciousness. 

“I see,” was all you said, standing motionless in your spot, gazing at your comatose husband.

A couple of days later, the King sent a royal convoy to move Seungcheol back to his house from the shrine. You had no complaints, wanting your husband to rest comfortably in his own house rather than a shrine. After a long journey, you reached home in the afternoon, greeted by Headservant Yang, who looked as devastated as you. After making sure your husband was okay, physician Yoon left, leaving you anticipating yet another sleepless night. 

It is nighttime now, and you sit still next to your sleeping husband. Headservant Yang peeks into the room, begging you to have some food. You ignore her, sitting quietly and observing your husband. The small lamp in the bedchamber casts warm shadows on his face, his sharp features appearing softer and weaker. 

He looks oddly at peace. You do not cry. You force a smile.

Leaning closer to him, you glide a gentle hand down his face and whisper, “You can rest. You have had a tough life, my dear. You can rest as long as you need, but you have to come back to me.”

You will pray to every god out there. You will visit every shrine, give unlimited offerings, and pray that your husband returns to you. You will do everything in your power to see him open his eyes. It is truly a shame you do not have much power in your hands.

Sometime later, your exhausted body falls into deep slumber, riddled with nightmares. Your husband lies in a pool of blood, and he does not wake up.

— 

The next morning, your father comes to see you. You do not move from your spot next to your husband to greet him as San leads him into the room before excusing himself.

He sits next to you, watching his son-in-law with small, worried eyes, muttering words of regret and concern. You hardly hear them, too busy patting Seungcheol’s face and arms with a damp cloth. Physician Yoon left a while ago after checking up on him and said that there is no progress. The king’s personal messenger came with him as well as the Head Eunuch, praying for Seungcheol and assuring to provide help in any way they can.

You couldn't care less about them. You sent them off, handing the letter you wrote for the king in the messenger’s hand before asking San to see them out.

“My daughter, you should eat something. You have to take care of yourself so that you can take care of him.” Your father urges.

You finish wiping your husband’s body in silence before setting the rag down and clasping his hand in yours. They are calloused but warm, and you silently send a prayer of gratitude to the heavens. He is alive. He is still here.

Tracing over his bruised knuckles with your fingertips, you whisper, “You know, Father, I have been lonely for a long time. After orabeoni died, I thought that was it. It could not get worse, but then Mother died. And I…I hated that I was alive. Because in that house, I was dead. I was dead while still being alive.”

You exhale a shaky breath, pulling Seungcheol’s hand closer to inspect it. You need to apply ointment on his knuckles.

“There was no colour, no joy, no celebration in that house. You were there but also not there. You never saw me. I was not enough, not after losing someone as precious as orabeoni. I felt so guilty. It should have been me, not him—that is all I could think of. I thought my entire life would be miserable like that, which is why I was so eager to marry this man.”

Another heavy sigh whooshes out of your lungs.

“Father, this man…people fear him. They say all sorts of weird things about him. But he is the kindest, warmest man I know. He kept his heart locked and hidden from the world, but he is so precious. He is gentle and kind, and he loves me. He loves me so dearly, Father, and I love him. How could I go on without him?”

And finally, the tears fall. Big droplets of water roll down your cheek as you fall on the ground, clutching onto your husband’s hand and sobbing into the floor, loud and broken.

Your father’s hand comes to rest on your shoulder rather unsurely, softly patting you as you keep crying, the tears that never came till now gushing out like a river with a broken dam. Your broken heart continues to shatter into even smaller pieces, and you cannot help but wonder what if he never wakes up again. Maybe you are doomed to be lonely.

The thought makes you cry some more. After a while, once you have managed to calm down, you sit up and wipe your tears.

“I…I did not know you felt that way.” Your father whispers, his voice ridden with guilt. “I…I never meant to hurt you. I am sorry—”

“I don’t want your apology right now, Father. I want you to pray for him.” You cut him off.

“I will. Of course I will.” He says, his eyes shining with unshed tears and guilt. “And when he is back on his feet, I will come visit you and I will accept your apology then.” You murmur, your gaze trained on your husband.

“Of course. Have faith, my dear. He will be awake soon.” Your father assures, his voice unstable. You hum absentmindedly.

If Seungcheol does not wake up, you do not know what you will do.

— 

The wind is particularly chilly this morning.

It has been a fortnight since Seungcheol fell into his comatose state, and he is just as before. Every day, Physician Yoon comes to check on him and then leaves while handing you some herbs to apply to his wound.

You have accepted this as your life now. Waking up every morning with a prayer that all the previous days were a long, gruesome nightmare, but then feeling grateful to see him still breathing, warm and alive.

After completing your daily prayer and offerings at the temple, you walk home in slow steps, the fatigue slowly creeping into your bones. The past week has been hard on you, and it looks like your body to starting to give up. You have not been eating properly, spending all your waking hours beside Seungcheol, tending to his comatose body or crying at the altar of the temple.

You cannot give up. Seungcheol is yet to awake.

Just as you come in front of your house, you find a small stray cat sitting comfortably in the sun. With a small, exhausted smile, you walk closer and crouch down, running your fingers through its shaggy fur. It looks dirty and disheveled, and you wonder where it is from.

You should probably bring it inside and give it some milk to eat. Judging by how comfortably it sits and basks in the sun, you are doubtful you will be able to get it inside your house.

“Would you like something to eat?” You whisper, gently scratching between its ears. The cat meows rather boredly, closing its eyes and resting its head on the ground after a quick swish of its tail.

Right then, a servant bursts out of the front door, looking like he saw a ghost. He looks back and forth down the road before finally spotting you on the ground. The wide-eyed, frazzled look on his face makes your blood run ice cold, and you immediately stand up.

“What is it?”

“My lady…Master is awake.”

You are free falling. You fall and fall, all the limbs of your body finally giving up after a week of war. For a long moment, you stand there, stuck in a daze. You don’t dare to breathe, afraid you would wake up and realize it was a dream.

“I will go get Physician Yoon. Please go inside, my lady.” The servant says before rushing down the street. You struggle to move. The stray cat at your feet has got up due to the commotion and is now strolling into the house.

With your heart racing in your chest, you slowly follow it, your legs shaky due to the nerves.

Seungcheol is awake. He is finally awake. 

You hear lots of voices, especially Headservant Yang’s, as she scolds and cries loudly. With a lump lodged in your throat, you keep on walking until you spot the door to his bedchamber. You catch a glimpse of your husband sitting up, and for some reason unknown to you, you immediately hide behind a nearby wall.

You are too scared to see him. Too overwhelmed, too afraid.

You thought of this. You dreamed of the day he would wake and look at you, and now that it is here, you do not know what to do. It feels unreal.

You are angry at him. You are also grateful. Angry for getting hurt. Grateful for waking up.

A sob bursts out of your throat, and you start wailing, unable to hold back the tears any longer. With your palms clasped over your mouth, you cry so hard that it becomes hard to breathe. The sobs wrack your body, knocking the air out of your lungs and leaving behind only pain.

The pain of almost losing him. The pain of seeing him lie there almost lifeless, day after day.

A hand on your shoulder startles you, and you find Jihye standing next to you. Her eyes are misty as she wraps an arm around your heaving body and rubs your arms soothingly. “It is alright, my lady. Please do not cry. He is looking for you.”

Her words make you cry some more before you manage to wipe your tears and snot. It is pretty futile because they do not stop completely. With shaky legs, you move from your hiding spot and continue towards his chamber, your heart pounding loudly in your ears.

Seungcheol spots you immediately, his posture straightening as he sees you arriving. But you do not meet his eye. 

You cannot bring yourself to. If you look at him, you will start crying once more, right in the middle of the yard, in front of all the servants. 

Headservant Yang and others start moving away as they see you approaching, giving you privacy. You cross the porch, your eyes still trained on the wooden floor of his bedchamber, your hands slightly shaking.

Finally, you step inside and shut the door behind you. Then, your eyes slowly travel to his.

He is definitely paler and thinner than before, but you see life in his eyes. You see the spark and the shine that have always been present in them, and right at that moment, you are sure he will be alright.

Thank god.

He looks up at you, his eyes brimming with longing and guilt. His usual plump red lip shaded in a pale pink colour. His face littered with little cuts that are still healing, yet he has never looked more handsome.

And you have never been happier to see him.

You want to scream. You want to yell at him and tell him how much you love him, but you cannot speak. Tears and sobs threaten to overflow once more, so you stand there like a statue and keep staring at your husband, repeating in your head that he is alive and well. 

Until your knees finally give out. 

You kneel in front of him and wrap your arms around his neck, careful to avoid his left chest and leaning your weight more on the right.  Breathing him in, you hold him as tightly as possible, wishing you could merge yourself into him, wishing you could lock him away and protect him for the rest of his life.

Your tears wet his bare shoulders, your fingers tightly gripping onto the muscles on his back, clutching him on for dear life. It feels as if you let him go— if your grip loosens ever so slightly, you will lose him forever.

It takes a long moment for you to realize how your body is shaking due to your sobs and tearful hiccups, only when your husband's warm hands wrap around you, patting your back like you are a small, wounded animal.

“It is okay, my dear. Everything is okay,” he soothes in the softest voice, and when you hear him, another violent sob slips past your throat while you cling to him and cry in the crook of his neck.

You want to stop, but the tears are endless, a mixture of pain and relief. Gingerly, Seungcheol pulls you away from him to take a look at your face, which is puffy and tear-stained. With his thumbs, he wipes your tears away, murmuring, “Hush, now. It pains me to see you cry like this.”

You want to reply, but the lump in your throat is still heavy, and you know if you try to utter something, only sobs will come out, so you remain silent, raking your eyes over his body before settling on the wound on his chest.

“I am alright, I promise.” He assures you once he sees your gaze. “I feel well-rested, in fact.”

You are glad to hear that.

Wiping the remaining tears and snot rather unceremoniously with your sleeve, you get up on your feet to leave the room, but he tugs on your wrist, pulling you back down and into his arms this time.

“Where are you going?”

“To get you some herbal tea.” You reply, your voice meek and scratchy. Your husband locks his arms around you. “Headservant Yang will do that. I need you to stay here. I have missed you.”

Your lower lip trembles, but you will yourself not to cry again. Instead, you whisper, “I have missed you as well. I have missed you so much, you have no idea, Seungcheol.”

He shifts, peering at your face with a surprised look. “You called me by my name.”

“I have been calling your name for the past week.” You murmur, staring at your lap.

He maneuvers your body with gentle, effortless hands so that he can see you fully. “You know, you look like the one who has been comatose for a week. What is this I am seeing? When was the last time you had a proper meal?” He frowns, his eyes trained on you like a hawk as he squints at your face.

You look away, murmuring, “I have been busy nursing a sick man.”

He scoffs. “Not busy enough to eat. You look like a ghost, my wife. I am genuinely worried about you.”

You do not meet his gaze. With an exasperated sigh, he gently tilts your face up by the chin. “Look at me.” He softly commands you. You do as you are told, finding his eyes set on you, those beautiful, mesmerizing eyes that you missed so deeply. 

Your husband’s face inches closer to press a soft kiss on your forehead. It is not quick; he holds his lips pressed right in the middle of your forehead, slightly above your brow, like he is trying to leave an imprint. You close your eyes and lean closer, savouring the feel of his lips against your skin.

Oh, how you longed for this.

“I love you.”

You must have heard wrong. You stop breathing, your body going tense for a moment. Seungcheol leans back, one of his hands wrapped around your neck, his thumb stroking your cheek while the other cups the back of your head, angling your face just slightly upwards and in line with his gaze.

“I love you.” He repeats—his words slow, heavy, deliberate.

You feel faint. It is hard for you to find words, and while you continue gaping at him with parted lips and shining eyes, he continues, “I was scared I would not be able to say this to you. As I lay on the ground and saw you standing there, this was all I could think of. I was angry at myself for never telling you how much I love you.”

“Oh Seungcheol…” your lips tremble. You wrap your arms around his neck, making yourself at home by placing your head under his chin, feeling his hard muscles against your body.

“I love you, dear wife. I love you more than life itself. More than I could ever express.” You hug him tighter. “I love you, too. I love you so much, Seungcheol. You are my whole world.”

“I know.” He murmurs. “I knew the moment you came back towards me. Which you should not have done, by the way. You put yourself in danger.” He loosens his hold on you to catch a glimpse of your face, his gaze admonishing. “I am still mad at you for doing that, but you look miserable enough, so I will let you off.”

You only smile.

“Also, when were you going to tell me what an amazing archer you are? How come I did not know that?”

You look away sheepishly, biting your lip. “You never asked.”

He laughs, the sound sweet and throaty. His arms wrap around you in a tight, protective hold once again, and you close your eyes, savouring the rhythm of his heartbeat next to your ear. As you bask in his warmth, you announce, “You are not going back to the military. I am not letting you go.” Detangling himself from you, your husband regards you with an amused look, like he cannot believe you. “Oh, really?”

“I am serious.” You huff with a frown. “You are not going back. You have fought enough battles for a lifetime. Now it is time for you to rest.”

“Hm. And what if His Majesty disapproves?” His tone is playful.

“I do not care. I already wrote him a letter, saying that once you woke up, you would not resume your duties.”

Amazed, your husband watches you, his eyes twinkling with pride. “I cannot believe you did that.” You ignore him. “Promise me. Promise me you will not go back to the military.”

He remains silent, watching you calmly, and you start getting anxious, expecting the worst. Just as you start thinking of different ways to force him to stay, he says, “I will not, I promise. I was not going to go any way. That was the first decision I made when I opened my eyes. I got another chance at life with you. I plan on using it very well.”

Your heart soars. You grin, a full-on smile sweeping over your face after a long time. Pressing a soft, chaste kiss on his lips, you whisper, “Can we go live by the sea now?” His eyes shine with love. “Yes, we can.”

You couldn't be happier. Your heart couldn't be fuller. It is pure delight when you think of a future with this man, away from all the noise and the troubles that have been plaguing your life until now.

He can be safe now. He can rest.

Unconsciously, your thumb traces the scar next to his eye, feeling the bumpy skin underneath your finger. The scar now looks like a tree branch that extends into even smaller branches containing little flowers.

You lean forward and press a kiss on it. 

“I am just glad you will not get hurt anymore. You have already been through so much.” You whisper, your sad gaze trailing over all the marks on his skin, old and new, before settling on his left chest. You gingerly place your hand over the gauze, remembering how long and deep the gash was.

It will scar for sure. Probably the biggest scar on his body, and it will be because he was protecting you. A shaky breath parts from your lips as you are momentarily transported back in time; him lying motionless on the ground that was turning red. As if your husband can read your thoughts, he gently tilts your chin up and forces you to meet his eyes.

“My dear, I am alright. Look at me.”

“This will scar. You will be in much pain as it heals. Because of me.”

“Don't say that.” He holds you against his chest, his fingers wrapping tightly around your limbs. “You are the only one who loves my scars. Because of you, I now love them too. I would not have changed a single thing if I had the chance. You know why? Because every one of the scars in my body led me to you. And this one?” He places a hand over yours, which is resting on his chest.

“This one tied me to you forever. I earned you. I earned your forever through this. So I think this is the most beautiful.”

A lone tear strolls down your cheek. “Oh, Seungcheol,” you choke over a sob, tilting your face up to capture his lips in a kiss.

His arms engulf you completely, his lips taking over yours, his tongue moving inside your mouth like he has been starving for this.

It is breathless, passionate, and gentle at the same time, conveying all the feelings and emotions the two of you could never put into words. 

It is beautiful, like the scars on his body, leaving behind a trace of love.

For a special epilogue, head over to my Patreon. Click here to see the preview!

© startlightxsvt 2025 | All Rights Reserved. Do not copy, translate, adapt, or repurpose any of my works.

A/N 2: First of all, I want to thank you for reading till the end. Next, I just want to say that this fic has been one of my dream projects. Is it the best? Maybe not but did I have the most fun writing it? Hell yes! It was originally supposed to be a bit longer but I cut some parts out, mainly because I was worried this app wouldn't let me post the entire thing easily. Sure enough, it said that there were too many blocks on my post, so I had to stitch together a lot of passages even though they were separate at first. So, I'm sorry if the flow gets weird in some places.

On a different note, I will also be posting this on AO3 once I have opened my account (I am still waiting for their invitation mail), so once I have made my account, I will link it here. Do support me over there! Finally, I just want to take a moment to thank you all for your support. I am really excited to hear from you guys about this fic, so please do send an ask!

That's it from me for now. For my next fic, I will be returning with something short and lighthearted. Stay happy and healthy, y'all! <33