MOSC 18

Neither Confucius’s teachings, nor the principles of the sages, nor loyalty to the country, were of any use in that moment.

A sticky, dark emotion he never knew existed seemed to be consuming and rotting his mind.

She was a woman like wine.

One who made him forget any and all agony.

Her gaze eventually fell to the floor. Her shoulders were hunched, and her fingertips were trembling.

And yet, she still remained in that spot.

She did not run away.

Just the sight of her standing still was enough to make Wigyeom feel like he was going insane.

In all his life, Wigyeom had never once failed to control his emotions.

His anger, his stubbornness, his convictions—he himself was always in control of them.

But in front of her alone, his emotions kept going astray on their own.

It was already clear who he had held on the first night.

The princess was a mere pretense. The place he had visited that night was not the main wife’s chambers.

He had chosen this court lady.

And he already knew that it had been a mistake, that from that moment on he had begun to let go of the reins of reason.

The number of times Wigyeom visited On was gradually increasing.

Especially on nights like tonight, when everything felt futile.

Even he could not tell whether it was because of carnal desire, or because of the unknowable atmosphere she exuded.

Wigyeom knew he had to send away the woman, who had similarly just been used by the royal family, as soon as possible.

Since she was a skilled court lady, she would live well anywhere.

Perhaps in a better place than the Shim family, perhaps in a much freer place. If things had gone as they should have, she was a woman who would have flown away freely as if spreading her wings.

Since she had neat handwriting, he could arrange for her to work transcribing letters at the Seosacheong. If not that, he could be considerate and let her spend the rest of her life comfortably handling silk in the Chimbang, which oversaw embroidery.

…Whatever she did, it would be better than the fate of staying in the Shim family and preserving a life like a candle in the wind.

Wigyeom had also heard many times that the wedding night court lady of the previous generation, and the one before that, had died young in unforeseen misfortunes.

However, every time he thought about having to send her away, his heart burned.

Then where would he release this fleeting sense of futility?

If you leave like that, what about me?

When she was in front of him, everything he had built up was shaken.

The scholarship he had believed in, the path he had walked, the convictions he had upheld. Because of that woman’s existence, everything about Wigyeom was collapsing.

…To think that such a desire existed within him.

Moreover, Wigyeom always had to fight with the self-loathing he felt for feeling such things.

Today, too, Wigyeom, defeated, reached out his hand toward the woman.

Her wrist was wrapped in his grasp. He could feel the court lady, who knew what was coming, tremble.

On reflexively avoided him. Like someone burned by fire, she instinctively raised her hand in a hurry to cover something, but it was too late. Before her reflexively extended fingers could reach, his gaze had already captured the distinct marks left behind.

The nape of her neck.

On the slender curve, distinct marks were imprinted, uneven red marks blooming like an engraved seal.

“Ah….”

“……”

They were the marks he had made a few days ago when he had held her.

What had been faintly remaining on her skin now entered his eyes as clearly imprinted evidence.

In that moment, a sensation rising up his throat pressed down on his mind.

A sense of satisfaction, like the taste of iron being chewed on the tip of his tongue, choked his throat.

It felt as if a beast that had been asleep for a long time was slowly raising its body.

The way she tried to cover his marks with her hand, the way she held her breath, desperately conscious of him, her attitude of shrinking back as if it were a secret that must not be discovered, strangely grated on his nerves. At the same time, it stimulated his lust.

What was it that she had to cover? As if it should not remain on her body, as if it were a scar that had to be hidden, as if it were something that could be erased.

That was unpleasant and unbearable.

“That sound, I do not want to hear it.”

Wigyeom’s voice burst out.

It was a sharp, low, dark, and rough voice, as if scraping metal.

“Yes…?”

On raised her trembling gaze, her hands clenched.

“I said I do not want to hear it.”

“I-I apologize. I was rude so late at night.”

On’s voice came out trembling.

The lute, a small instrument that could be held in one’s arms, was the only hobby she had.

A soundbox made of yellow wood, a sturdy soundboard carved from paulownia wood, five strings fastened with black silk, an instrument that produced a clear and bright sound when plucked with the fingertips.

Playing the instrument was the smallest freedom On had as a court lady.

The only moment when she could pluck the strings with her fingertips and imagine a world other than this one.

But even more than that, the lute held her memories and recollections.

Before her family was exterminated, when she was raised as the child of a powerful family, she had learned the lute.

Unlike other young ladies who learned it merely for simple etiquette and culture, her fingertips had a natural talent. On’s parents often praised her skill.

The oldest sensation remaining in her fingertips.

The only thing that did not fade in her memory.

When she plucked the strings, the faces of her deceased parents came to mind, and the voice of her younger sibling, who had disappeared without a trace, brushed past her ears.

The lute was the only means by which she could recall the things she had lost.

However.

“From now on, I forbid playing the lute in this house.”

Wigyeom said, cutting her off coldly.

Her fingertips trembled. On was confused.

This was a difficult time for On as well.

From the day she was given the name of the wedding night court lady, she did not even know what her own existence meant.

She was kicked out of the palace where she had lived, and there was no one in the Shim family who accepted her.

The servants of the Shim family openly disliked her, and Princess Bonghwa consistently maintained an attitude of a mere onlooker.

Uncomfortable gazes followed her wherever she stayed. Every word she spoke seemed to remind her that she was an unnecessary existence.

…But most of all, the man who held onto her and would not let go was the most confusing.

He did not seem to have any intention of letting her go.

Every time the moment to send her away approached, the man sought her out even more roughly.

‘What on earth does he want from me?’

On unconsciously gripped the lute.

However, Wigyeom roughly snatched the lute from her hand.

On hastily reached out, but due to the natural difference in strength, the lute slipped from her fingertips.

His fingertips brushed over the wood.

A carved letter caught his eye.

‘Hwi.’

A single-line name.

It was the name of a man he did not know.

In that moment, a heavy emotion erupted from within Wigyeom.

He did not even know what it was.

It was just that an unpleasantness that felt like his chest was tightening, and a tingling sensation that brushed past his fingertips, enveloped him.

The soundbox of the lute was pressed firmly in his hand. The tips of his fingers fumbled over the wood.

Seeing Wigyeom’s expression change, On unknowingly took a breath.

“Although you are the wedding night court lady, you are my person. And yet you dare to hold an object engraved with another man’s name in my house, in front of me?”

On was bewildered.

“No, that is not it….”

“Is that name so deeply engraved in your memory? Is it something you cannot forget? Or perhaps….”

The man suddenly shut his mouth at his own pettiness.

He had realized that all of this was an excuse.

An excuse to pressure this woman, to take her once more.

“It is not like that….”

“Whoever you belong to, whoever you have lived embracing, you must know the fact that you ultimately cannot escape from my side. Can you dare to deny that what is engraved on your skin originated from my fingertips?”

Thwack.

The lute fell to the floor, and the sound of the instrument’s metal strings vibrating rang out destructively.

Wigyeom knew that he was being unreasonable.

But strangely, whenever he was in front of her, his reason collapsed. The restraint called self-control became loose like a mere pretense, and his emotions distorted on their own.

Every time she tried to escape his grasp, every time it was revealed that the memories she harbored were unrelated to him, an unbearable unpleasantness and an unfamiliar obsession tore at his heart.

“Come here. Try to run away if you can. No, as long as your body remembers me, even that will not be easy now.”

One corner of Wigyeom’s mouth curled up in a bitter, self-mocking way.

On gasped in fright. But before she could resist, Wigyeom pulled On towards him.

She flinched and tried to turn her body, but his grip was too strong to resist.

The lamp in the room swayed. On’s toes slid across the silk.

She was dragged into the bedroom of the detached building just like that.

*

Back to the present.

The Princess’s Palace.

The second day after the wedding ceremony.

As the sound of birdsong announcing the morning rang out, On unconsciously opened her eyes.

She had a strange dream.

‘…What kind of dream was that.’

The moment she realized it was a dream, the sensation became even more vivid.

On blinked her eyelids hazily.