Ha Ran rounded the corner of the mansion and stoped before the great front doors. For a moment, she only stared at the brass nameplate above them — Moon. Eighteen years since she'd last stood here.
She licked her lips, released a shaky breath, and knocked.
The door opened to reveal a familiar face — her wet nurse.
"Aunt Dal Rae!" Ha Ran exclaimed, eyes bright with sudden joy.
The woman blinked, taking in Ha Ran's worn, male travel clothes. Then recognition softened her features.
"Ha Ran-ah?"
Ha Ran ran into her arms, clutching her tightly.
"Oh, how I've missed you. I'm so happy you're still here."
"I never left," the woman said with a watery smile. "When Yu Na no longer needed a nurse, I became the head maid. But—what are you doing here? We heard no word. I never thought you'd come back."
"Well..." Ha Ran laughed nervously. "If I'd sent word, Father might have forbidden it. So I just came."
"Come in, come in!"
Ha Ran stepped inside. The garden had changed — the courtyard now stretched east of the front lawn, and a young cherry blossom bloomed unseasonably in the autumn chill. Everything was neater, newer than she remembered. Even the roof was renovated into a newer and trendy style.
They stepped up to the steps and took off their shoes. She followed her old nurse down the polished hall to her father's chambers.
Dal Rae nervously looked at Ha Ran. "Master Moon," the woman announced finally, her voice trembling, "you have a visitor. Ha Ran has come home."
Footsteps. Then the door slid open.
Eighteen years had etched lines by his cheeks, lips, and eyes, and streaked his hair with white. His eyes, though, were still the same — cold, distant — the same eyes he held when he sent her away to the countryside. They hadn't held warmth since the day he sent her away.
Dal Rae's lips trembled, unable to say who the visitor was. But Master Moon stared at the woman before him and noticed the features that reminded him of his deceased concubine.
"Ha Ran?" he asked, studying her manly disguise.
"Father, it's me." She knelt onto the floor, her knees hitting the wood too hard, and bowed deeply.
When she rose, the horror on his face stung worse than a slap.
"You dare come here unannounced?" His voice was low, but it cut like a blade.
"Father... I came after hearing of Yu Na's betrothal to the Crown Prince. I hoped to resolve—"
"Resolve what?" His tone sharpened. "You think you understand this family after eighteen years away?"
But you were the one who kicked me out, she thought.
Ha Ran instead said out loud, "I meant no offense. I only wish to protect our reputation. The Crown Prince's less than reputable character has become the talk of the capital, and—"
"Enough!" His fist trembled. "The King himself granted this honor. And you, dressed as a shabby man, dare lecture me? You come into my home and dare speak ill of the Crown Prince and the king?"
"Please, Father. People already whisper of Yu Na's tarnished reputation and the Crown Prince's deadly one. Whispers of the king's favoritism for our family will soon follow. If Yu Na and the Crown Prince have never met—"
"Silence! You've grown more insolent than ever. First the stolen palace documents, and now this."
The words hit like stones. She had been nine — a child — when that mistake cost her everything.
"Father?" A soft voice broke the air.
Ha Ran turned. Yu Na stood there, radiant and cautious. Ha Ran's older half-sister was always the vision of beauty ever since they were young, and she only grew into it.
"Yu Na-unni," Ha Ran said, bowing low. "It's me."
Yu Na blinked, confusion flickering. "Ha... Ran? Why are you dressed like a man?"
"It's easier to travel that way," she replied quickly.
"Father, why is she here?" Yu Na asked, touching her lips in feigned distress.
"Your sister believes your engagement troubles the family," he said bitterly.
Yu Na hesitated, then smiled faintly. "Perhaps it's for the best, Father. We meet the King tomorrow to confirm the betrothal. Let her come with us."
Ha Ran stayed bowed, afraid to breathe, unsure of what decision her father would make.
Her father was silent for a long time.
"Father," Yu Na coaxed, "you know the King uses this marriage to bind the Crown Prince. Rumors about me—"
"Hush."
Ha Ran lifted her head. "I can help. Perhaps we can persuade the Crown Prince to—"
"No." His tone turned final, weary. "Neither of you will say a word tomorrow. That is the end of it."
"You'll let me go see the king?" Ha Ran asked, perking up to look at her frowning father.
"You've already shown your face and come into our home. Everyone has loose lips." He groaned. "Don't dress like this tomorrow, and keep your mouth shut."
He turned and left.
Yu Na sighed dramatically, making small whimpering noises as if she were silently sobbing.
Ha Ran rose to look at her sister. "If you don't want this marriage," Ha Ran said softly, "I can help you."
"Help me?" Yu Na dabbed at invisible tears. "How?"
"Trust me. We're family. I want to protect you — to protect us."
Yu Na smiled sweetly. "How good of you, little sister." She turned, her dress whispering against the floor as she left.
Ha Ran stood there, lost in thought, until her Dal Rae, who'd been watching from afar, approached.
"Ha Ran-ah..."
"Auntie, I'm fine," Ha Ran said with forced cheer. "Let's get some food. Just show me where I'm to stay, I'll handle my own room, don't worry."
"But—"
"Really. I can take care of myself. Let the servants tend to Yu Na and Father. I'll even help with dinner — I wouldn't want to trouble you more than I already have."
-------
In the vast silence of the throne room, Young Hoon knelt before his father. No servants or ministers. No guards. Only the echoes of each breath between them.
The king sat dressed in gold silks as he always donned. Young Hoon, in his usual dark, princely attire, kept his head bowed and his eyes fixed upon the polished floor.
"Father," he said quietly, "this betrothal has become the talk of the streets. The people twist Lady Yu Na's name into mockery. The Minister of War's own standing will crumble if her reputation falls—and with it, the people's trust in your council."
A faint, knowing smile touched the king's lips. He leaned against the armrest, fingers curling under his chin lazily as if he were watching an entertaining show.
"Do you think I care for their reputation?" His voice slithered through the air, measured and cold. "Do you even know why I want this marriage to happen?"
Young Hoon's teeth sank into his cheek, the metallic taste of restraint on his tongue.
The king rose. Each footstep fell with deliberate weight, echoing off each step and wall alike. His gaze, unblinking, locked upon his son like a hawk watching a wounded hare.
When he stopped before Young Hoon, his shoes filled the prince's lowered vision.
"You, my son," the king said softly, "are necessary to me. There are tasks for which no one else will suffice in the duties. You already share a history with the Minister of War, do you not?"
He bent low, his breath grazing Young Hoon's ear.
"After all… you killed his concubine to teach him a lesson. A lesson I taught you. Betrayal must always be answered."
Young Hoon's jaw tightened, memory striking like a blade. Eighteen years ago... he was still just a child at only thirteen years old. A sword too heavy in his hands. The woman's eyes, wide with terror, pleading for mercy. His own eyes unwilling to look away, no matter what he tried to tell himself. His own heartbeat thrashing louder than the king's command.
The king straightened, towering once more, his expression unreadable.
"The Minister of War rests in my right hand," he said, holding up his palm. "You, in my left. Together, you make balance—and obedience."
He turned back toward the throne.
"Leave. You will meet your betrothed tomorrow."
For a long breath, Young Hoon stayed bowed, regaining his lost composure. When he finally spoke, his voice was calm, but hollow.
"Yes, Your Majesty."
He rose without lifting his eyes and walked away, each step a battle not to lash out, for the king wouldn't just ask for his obedience, but the people's.