Seorin was taken on a normal night.
The shop smelled like dried roots and rain. She was cutting licorice when three men came in. Palace clothes. Clean boots. Too calm. People like that never brought good news.
They said she was needed as a servant. That was all.
Her master did not argue. He only slipped a small pouch into her hand while bowing. Inside were herbs and one thin needle. Things she knew how to use.
Seorin followed the men without looking back. She already knew how this ended for most girls.
The palace was loud and quiet at the same time. Too many people. Too many rules. She was sent to the kitchens, cutting vegetables until her fingers hurt. She kept her head down. She listened.
On the fifth day, a cook fell into the soup.
Everyone panicked.
Seorin smelled the pot and knew something was wrong.