The morning after the wedding was unexpectedly quiet. The footsteps of the servants echoed softly across the floor, and the gentle rustle of the plum blossoms beyond the wall echoed. I poured water into a small teacup and drank. The feel of the teacup in my hand felt strangely unfamiliar. Or perhaps it was the familiarity that made me pause.
The day before my wedding in my previous life, I sat there clutching a teacup with both hands. My face was visibly pale. My heart felt like it was about to burst, yet I drank my tea in silence. That memory suddenly came flooding back to me. It was so similar to the teacup before me.
"Madam, I will bring the prize soon."
One of the servants spoke cautiously. I nodded, and she bowed deeply and stepped back. Placing the teacup filled with water on the windowsill, I slowly collected my thoughts. Perhaps death wasn't an accident.
On that day in my previous life, my body rapidly cooled. Cold sweat ran down my spine, and my lips became dry and cracked. Amidst a sensation I couldn't tell if it was a weakness or a sign of illness, I quietly passed away. No one said anything unusual. Everyone simply dismissed it as a sign of weakness, a sign of illness.
But now, I find that death strange. I came back with memories and faced the same situation again.
The table setting the day after the wedding was formal. The food from the Confucian family was lined up on the table, and even as the servants busily brought and left, I remained silent. In fact, Ha-min's silent absence held even more significance. He hadn't intended to come this morning. It had been that way in his past life, and it's the same now.
Ha-min left the room before dawn, facing me, and never returned.
"...You are truly polite, Your Majesty."
He muttered to himself, picking up his teacup. It was the same on our first night. He came to me under the pretext of courtesy, but there was no sincerity. His eyes were curious, but there was no affection. But the difference between his past life and now was clear. He could no longer ignore me. He couldn't trail off or avert his gaze. Unfamiliarity breeds discomfort, and discomfort breeds suspicion. And suspicion ultimately causes him to stop looking.
-
After returning from dinner, I asked the servant to hand me a small box. It was a wedding gift from a Confucian family I'd received immediately after my previous marriage. Back then, I simply dismissed it as a bonus, but things were different now. A small, neat wooden box. Opening the lid, I found a handkerchief with elegant embroidery, a pair of hairpins, and a dark brown bottle. I took it out and quietly unscrewed the lid. A familiar scent. It was faint, but it resembled the one from my previous life.
"...This isn't medicine."
I knew the taste spreading through my mouth. It was subtly bitter, too refined to be medicinal. No one said anything, but I knew. This wasn't just any tonic. It was similar to the feeling that had made my body feel heavier. I quietly closed the bottle again and called for a servant.
"Take this medicine out of my room and move it somewhere else."
She didn't ask why. She just bowed her head and walked away. I covered the box again and sat quietly for a moment. I still don't know who intended what. But the important thing was that I was no longer being fooled.
Now I am a self-protective person. And that was the first courtesy I chose in this life.
-
It wasn't until the afternoon that Ha Min's face finally came into view. I sat on the floor, slowly threading a needle. Each thread stretching across the silk seemed to hold my heart. I had no intention of completing the pattern. I simply wanted to hold the needle. The door opened, and familiar footsteps approached. I didn't look up. I knew who it was just by the weight of the footsteps.
"Sewing looks fun."
He spoke first, his tone polite as always. His words were carefully filled with admiration. I smiled quietly. Silence sometimes reveals more than words.
"When your mind is busy, your fingers will also become busy."
I threw away my words and raised my head. Yu Ha-min was standing before me. His face looked even more refined today. His hair was neatly tied in a topknot, and he wore a calm blue robe. Even the sunlight falling on his shoulders illuminated him.
"Madam, you've been talking a lot lately, you know, it's not ordinary."
"...Is that so?"
I quietly cut the thread. I folded the cloth in my hand neatly, placed it on my lap, and looked at him.
“I wonder if it’s because the young master is trying to look at it in an unusual way.”
A brief silence. He didn't take his eyes off me. His gaze was now tinged with suspicion and wariness. It was a gaze I'd never received in my past life.
"I'm sorry I can't have breakfast with you. I have an early appointment."
There was no further comment. I simply nodded.
"If that is your example, Master, I will not ask any more questions."
His words were neither cold nor warm. They simply reflected my own calm state of mind. I was determined not to miss the words I'd been unable to say in my past life. He didn't sit down. He hesitated for a moment, then stopped at the edge of the porch, his gaze fixed on it. Between us, there was only a ray of sunlight and a folded piece of sewing cloth. It felt close yet distant.
"What does your wife think of this marriage?"
It was an unexpected question. I raised my eyebrows slightly and answered lightly, but clearly.
"You said this marriage was a punishment. I... just felt that those words were very heavy."
His eyes wavered just a little. He stared at me for a long moment, as if trying to discern the meaning of his words. I didn't look away.
"Is that something that happened in the past?"
He didn't answer. Instead, he took a short breath. The sound of his breath was louder than his words. After a long silence, he spoke softly.
"It's just... my wife now is different from before. That keeps bothering me."
I tilted my head. I cautiously looked into his eyes. His words were honest. But there was still a distinct sense of distance within them.
"Does the word 'it's difficult' mean that it's uncomfortable?"
He didn't answer right away. He lowered his gaze for a moment, then raised it again. Finally, he shook his head.
"It's difficult to explain, just saying it's uncomfortable."
I continued, lightly folding the sewing cloth.
"If you've become someone who clouds your mind, that's enough."
He said nothing. He wasn't as calm as before, nor was he as indifferent. But his wariness and hesitation were still evident. I quietly stood up. I walked to the edge of the porch and spoke briefly.
"It seems that the young master still has the door of his heart locked. However, waiting is also a virtue of a woman."
Ha-min watched me from behind without responding. Only the gaze I felt behind my back told me he hadn't completely pushed me away. "I'll wait, my lord." Ha-min flinched slightly at those words, but I left without even looking.
The corners of his lips slightly raised at the slight trembling.