The courtyard is calm.
Their three-year-old son plays at imitating his father with a small wooden sword, while the nurse rocks the swaddled baby girl.
Yi Sun-sin watches from afar, standing in the shadow of the pavilion, arms crossed.
His face remains stern, but his eyes follow every movement of his son.
The baby lets out a cry.
He steps forward, imposing, and the nurse bows deeply.
He takes the child into his arms. His grip is firm, almost awkward, yet he holds her with an unusual focus — as if she were a sacred relic.
His son approaches timidly.
— "Father… look!"
The boy lifts his wooden sword.
— "I'll be strong like you."
Yi Sun-sin looks at him for a moment, then nods.
— "Then start by holding your weapon straight. A man who bends loses everything."
The boy straightens proudly, and the nurse hides a small smile.
The wife, seated nearby, watches in silence.
For the first time, she sees them together — the stern father, the eager son, the sleeping daughter against her chest.
A family, forged in harshness.
She draws a deep breath. Her heart beats fast.
— "My husband… there is something you must know."
He turns toward her, expression unreadable.
She continues, her voice soft and composed:
— "I carry another child. The little one is only months old… yet another grows within me."
Silence falls.
Yi fixes her with his dark gaze, features frozen.
He gently returns the baby to the nurse's arms, then walks toward his wife.
He leans down, his shadow covering her face. His voice falls — low and cold:
— "You are stronger than I thought. Three children in so short a time… you fulfill your role better than anyone."
She lowers her eyes, torn between pride and weariness.
— "Is that all I am, then? A vessel for heirs?"
He says nothing.
His hand rests on her shoulder — heavy, firm. Not tender, yet not fleeting either.
Too long to be mere formality.
His voice, still deep but roughened, breaks the silence:
— "You are the one who carries my name beyond me."
He straightens at once, regaining his rigidity.
— "Rest. The future of the clan lies in your hands."
He walks away, his steps echoing through the courtyard.
She closes her eyes, a silent tear sliding down her cheek.
Her heart aches, yet her lips form a faint, bitter smile:
He does not love her — not with words.
But now, she knows he sees her.