MOSC 19

It was strange. The dream felt like an ominous premonition, a misaligned emotion, and it reminded her of something irreversible.

And yet, it was not bad.

Rather, an unknowable fondness pressed down on a corner of her heart.

As is always the case when waking from a dream, she could not remember any of the content.

It only seemed that she had been endlessly afraid. But at the same time, it was regrettable. The sensation of something precious having been shattered swept coolly over her chest.

‘What was it that I felt so regretful about?’

A feeling as if something was out of place.

On tried to come to her senses, mulling over the last emotion she had felt.

It was just a dream. She just had to forget it.

The moment she thought that, the peony folding screen came into view.

“Ah….”

As soon as she remembered that this was not the detached building, On’s temples throbbed with pain.

Inside the silk bedding, On’s entire body was drenched in sweat. It was not just because this was the inner chamber of the princess’s palace, where the warm ondol floor was constantly heated even in the dead of winter.

On sensed a subtle presence.

As an aura of silence hung heavily in the room, it did not take long for her to realize that there was a gaze that had been watching her, counting her breaths, for a long time.

It was Wigyeom.

The moment she discovered the source of the sweltering heat, On’s heart sank.

The man had been holding her all along.

A silhouette not consumed by the darkness, features chiseled like the sharp corner of a rock, he was leaning his body slightly, cupping his chin with one hand, and looking down at her calmly as if he had been waiting for a long time.

His gaze was simple yet dark, and his silence was heavy and deep. A thin film of darkness, like a membrane, enveloped his body, but even within it, his piercing gaze never once blurred.

It was neither a gaze of lust anticipating coquetry, nor a vulgar desire coveting only the flesh.

And yet, for some reason, On thought that she could not move an inch.

In that moment, a low and firm voice quietly fell.

“Did you have a bad dream?”

On swallowed. She could not answer easily. Fortunately, the man did not seem to have spoken expecting a reply and slowly reached his hand toward her.

“It is a nightmare. Forget it all.”

His eyes, which were soothingly embracing On who had woken from sleep, sank low.

…Wigyeom had heard all of On’s sleep-talking.

The faintly uttered words, the last syllable formed by her lips as she wandered on the border between the unconscious and conscious.

“Hwi.”

He knew now.

That it was not the name of the man she had cherished.

That what she missed was not a past love, but a time to which she could not return and her lost blood relative.

It was the most solid center that had formed her life, and the last thread she had tried to hold onto somehow.

‘It was the name of your missing younger brother, was it not?’

The moment he had pressed her, that expression she had made as she flinched, the way her fingertips had tried not to let go of the lute, it was now clear to Wigyeom what it all meant.

‘I misunderstood.’

He could not make the same mistake twice.

But he could not let her go either. He would understand her.

He would accept her pain and longing for her family.

And he would not let her go from his hands.

In fact, Wigyeom had already taken measures, ordering the registrar to compare the household registers and dispatching a secret royal inspector to search for On’s lost younger brother. He had also instructed assassins and spies renowned in the martial world to be bought over to cross borders and gather rumors.

However, he was only silent because the time was not yet right.

Wigyeom lightened the mood with a gentle voice.

“You have made me lonely, wife.”

He pulled On into an embrace, drawing her slender waist in tightly.

…In one way or another, I will completely captivate this woman’s soul, and make it so that she cannot even approach her unhappy past life.

“I was waiting for you to wake up.”

On’s body flinched at the man’s heavy voice, which sounded uncharacteristically like a whine.

His large hand grasped On’s right breast and gently rolled it in his palm. The delicate, jade-like hands that seemed to have only been used for turning the pages of books for his entire life were incomparably bold at times like this.

“Heu-eut….”

On let out a moan on her own and wriggled her bottom to escape from the man who was embracing her from behind.

She was completely awake now.

‘T-This isn’t right.’

She had been absentmindedly repeating the same thought about ten thousand times since the first day of the wedding.

However, there was no way she could escape. Instead, her waist was grabbed and pressed down. She tried to avoid him, but as if being grafted under the covers, the man pressed his groin tightly against her bottom from behind. The monstrously erect pillar stimulated the flesh of her inner, folded thigh.

On was horrified.

Will the day ever come when that monstrosity wilts?

He had clearly not been satisfied even after fulfilling his desires all night long.

At the same time, goosebumps rose on the nape of On’s neck and sweat pooled in her navel. On felt betrayed by her own body, which was beginning to heat up between her legs even though she knew what was coming.

Last night, On had not only been tormented by Wigyeom. The man had also taught the court lady, whose fate was to live and die as a flower in the nine-fold palace, the joy of being a woman.

The only problem was that it was too much.

‘Is this really right….’

On bit her lip.

Her head, which had sworn loyalty to the princess, and her body, which had learned pleasure from the man, were acting separately.

“Your Highness the Princess.”

Unaware of On’s troubles, Wigyeom called her in a playful voice while kissing the nape of her damp neck.

On thought with a surge of emotion inside her.

‘Venerable Avalokiteshvara Bodhisattva. Why do you give me such a trial?’

She wished someone would please explain to this gentleman that she was not Princess Bonghwa.

Of course, all of this was like a play that Wigyeom had already designed.

On, who had no way of knowing the circumstances, was the pitiable protagonist of the stage that Wigyeom had entirely set up.

On twisted her body again to escape from Wigyeom’s embrace. Unexpectedly, she felt Wigyeom allow her to turn her body. That meant he had been holding her so tightly she could not breathe since the morning.

Thanks to that, she was able to capture Wigyeom, who had been embracing her from behind, in her line of sight.

After hesitating for a long while, On called him in a timid voice.

“E-Excuse me….”

Of course, there was no need to call him to get his attention.

After all, Wigyeom’s gaze had been fixed on On as if nailed there for a while now.

…And with the persistent eyes of a wild dog about to tear into freshly caught meat.

As soon as she met his heated eyes, which clearly wanted something, On’s stomach flared with heat.

His handsome appearance was breathtaking no matter how many times she saw it. His well-defined eyes and nose. Her mouth twitched at the sight of his jawline, which looked as if it had been drawn with a brush.

Even in this situation, a sharp pain shot through her heart.

‘He is extremely harmful.’

On thought.

Why was he born with a face like that, and why was he tearing a perfectly fine court lady’s heart to shreds?

On sincerely thought that Sim Wigyeom’s beautiful-man trap was a snare that tested the limits of humanity.

“What is it, wife.”

Wigyeom called to On in a low voice.

His eyelashes, longer and fuller than a woman’s, blinked, and his ink-black eyes, like the darkest night, stared intently at On.

‘Begone, evil spirits.’

I must not fall for that appearance.

On had to chant inwardly as if performing an exorcism.

“Your Highness the Princess.”

Just as On was losing her mind from the untimely attack of his appearance, Wigyeom called her again in a low voice.

“…My princess.”

My own princess.

Sim Wigyeom’s gaze as he looked down at On contained an indescribable depth. At those words, On’s nipple, which was being crushed in his palm, stood erect, and goosebumps rose on her skin.

‘He called me princess again…’

Every time he called her princess, On felt a subtle vibration in her lower abdomen, as if a night fog was settling in.

In truth, Wigyeom never called On by a title like Your Highness the Princess, except when he was speaking in a joking tone.

Of course, there were a few exceptional cases where he deliberately called her princess.

Whenever On tried to escape from him, even a little, Wigyeom would intentionally use the title ‘princess’.

This was to make her go along with his tune, even if it meant evoking On’s guilt.

Wigyeom knew On’s character better than anyone.

Just as she had maintained her fidelity and loyalty to her husband, it was the same for the master she served.

‘She will pretend to go along with this charade, if only to prevent harm from coming to the princess.’

Wigyeom’s eyes, which were gently looking down at such an On, sank deep.

She was so lovely it was poignant.

Of course, On had not yet noticed that fact.

“Speak. I am listening.”

Wigyeom propped himself up on one arm, leaning his upper body languidly.

On’s gaze was naturally drawn to Wigyeom’s broad chest muscles.

It was getting worse and worse.

In that moment, On felt a strong urge to slap her own cheek to come to her senses. It was a moment when she desperately needed a needle to prick her thigh.

‘…That is a Buddha statue.’

On eventually began to brainwash herself by quietly chanting under her breath.

‘Maha Prajna Paramita Heart Sutra…’

She chanted so earnestly that in an instant her whole body was drenched in sweat as if she were sitting before the Buddha.

‘That is not the man who bit, sucked, and licked my body for the past few days, but a Buddha statue to which I make wishes.’

Cold sweat trickled down On’s temples.

It seemed that On had realized why the Buddha statues at the temple were all so slender and had such fine figures.

‘Walking the deep Prajna Paramita…’

These were days where mental cultivation happened on its own.