Tae So was halfway through the threshold when something caught the corner of his eye. He paused, raised a hand, and murmured, "Wait," just as Woong reached to close the door. The younger man halted, peering over his shoulder. Tae So turned back into the room, his gaze settling on a corner where a modest clay pot sat - one he was certain hadn't been there before if he remembered correctly.
From the pot, a single plant rose, graceful, green, and crowned with a delicate bloom. A camellia. Its deep red petals were unfurled in quiet defiance, vibrant against the otherwise austere room. Tae So's brow creased.
"Did you put that there?" he asked, voice low and tight.
Woong followed his gaze. "No, sir," he replied, just as puzzled.
Tae So didn't press further. He turned again, letting the question linger in the air unanswered, and stepped out into the corridor. But he stopped almost immediately.
There, walking toward him with the quiet elegance of a procession, was So Ah.
She was a vision - composed, deliberate, distant. Draped in soft silks that whispered against the floor, she moved with the serene authority of someone who never needed to raise her voice. For a moment, Tae So thought she would glide right past him. That would be in keeping with their unspoken agreement: silence was easier than conversation, and distance was safer than truth.
He shifted slightly, intending to step aside.
But So Ah stopped directly in front of him.
The space between them narrowed, not by distance but by the memories that pulsed in the silence. Tae So inhaled without meaning to, and the scent of her perfume curled into him like smoke, bright, citrusy, touched with sweet orange and something softer underneath.
It was a lovely scent. Familiar. Carefully chosen.
But Tae So's jaw tightened.
He would rather leave than keep breathing it in.
"You haven't visited my father, why?" So Ah demanded.
Tae So looked around and was a bit relieved to see that no one else was around because So Ah wasn't talking in a low voice. Woong already knew how the madam of the house doesn't respect him but he doesn't want anybody else to know that.
To give them the privacy to talk Woong bowed and quickly walked away standing at a safe distance.
After seeing that it was all clear, Tae So turned to So Ah and narrowed his eyes. Because he had a lot to do so it skipped his mind once again to go and see Kim Ji Hwan, the man that had to just keep his nose in his family business. He could always see him at court and it wasn't necessarily for him to visit and maybe it was time for him to even stand on his feet and stand up to him. Apart from marrying his daughter he didn't receive any benefits from him and he had never even ask for his help.
"I'll see him in court," Tae So said quickly, his voice calm but clipped. It was the easiest way to cut the conversation short - polite enough to avoid a direct clash, yet firm enough to stop her from arguing further. Or so he hoped.
So Ah's eyes widened, her disbelief swift and sharp. "Court?" she repeated. "You know my father barely attends sessions anymore. The King granted him exemption, he only appears when matters are truly urgent or when he has a report to deliver." Her tone was accusing, threaded with disbelief, like she couldn't decide if Tae So was naïve or simply dismissive.
Tae So didn't rise to it. "Okay," he muttered, already shifting his weight like someone preparing to leave. "I have somewhere to be."
His words were firm, final. He hoped she would take the hint. Their conversations weren't really conversations anyway. They were matches struck too close to dry parchment, waiting to catch fire.
So Ah exhaled sharply, a sigh full of frustration. "So that's it? Now that we've finally started talking, this is how you want to end it?"
Tae So didn't flinch. "The discussion is over."
But So Ah stepped closer, her voice rising, cracking at the edges. "No. I have things to say, Tae So. Why did you change my son's classes without informing me? Why am I the last to know what happens in my own house?"
Tae So's gaze was steady, but his silence spoke volumes. So Ah took it as permission to go further.
"And why," she continued, voice trembling with fury, "did you bring another woman into my home? Disguised as a musician, no less. She is your lover, isn't she?"
Her words hung in the air like smoke after a fire - bitter, thick, impossible to ignore.
Tae So's eyes widened, a flicker of confusion crossing his face. So Ah had never shown the slightest interest in his affairs before - indifference had always been her weapon of choice. Her sudden outrage now caught him off guard.
He could guess the real reason behind it. Min was a poor woman, unrefined by noble standards, someone So Ah would never approve of not because of jealousy, but because she considered such people beneath their station. Even so, Tae So had no intention of defending the accusation. There was nothing between him and Min... not in the way So Ah imagined.
He wouldn't even look at Min that way. Not anymore. His thoughts were already consumed by someone else, someone whose presence haunted him so completely.
He held his tongue, choosing silence over defense.
"Tae Hyun is my son too," Tae So said, his voice steady but edged with authority. "And as the head of this household, I have every right to adjust his classes as I see fit. It's for his future, so he can focus, stay disciplined."
So Ah folded her arms, lips pressed into a tight line. Her silence was louder than any protest.
"And the dirty woman?" she asked finally, her voice cool but sharp enough to draw blood.
Tae So hesitated.
He could feel the words catching in his throat. He couldn't tell her the truth - that it was a random woman they came across on their journey and the Prime Minister had handed her to him because it was convenient that way. That alone would have been enough for So Ah to storm down the halls and have Min thrown out immediately.
"She's someone I hired," he said slowly, choosing each word with care, "to teach Yoon Ji."
So Ah arched a brow.
"You know as well as I do," Tae So continued, "that finding someone skilled in the pipa isn't easy. Yoon Ji showed an interest, and I thought it would be good for her to learn something rare... something refined."
There was a pause. He watched her eyes, searching for any sign of belief or fury.
He wasn't lying. Not entirely. But he knew So Ah could sense there was more beneath the surface. And if she dug too deep, the balance in the house, already fragile might shatter completely.
"Why would Yoon Ji even want to play..."
"Father!"
Tae So turned at the sound of his daughter's voice, startled. He didn't expect his daughter to call out to him, since their dinner that didn't go so well, he felt she had been avoiding him.
Yoon Ji was approaching with an unmistakable glow of excitement, her steps light, her smile radiant, as if she couldn't reach him fast enough. She dipped into a graceful bow when she stopped before him, her eyes shining with mischief and pride.
He almost laughed out loud with relief that she interrupted them. Her lovely parent.
"I've decided," she said brightly, "To start my lessons in learning of how to play the pipa."
Tae So blinked. His heart leapt. Could the timing be more perfect? He nearly reached for the heavens in gratitude.
So Ah, standing nearby, gave her daughter a long, unreadable look.
Yoon Ji turned to her. "Mother, it's rare to see you with Father. Did I interrupt something?"
"No, my baby," So Ah replied, her voice calm and polished, like always. "I was just leaving. When you're finished, I'd like you to read me some verses from the new poetry collection I bought."
She didn't wait for a response. She turned, robes brushing the stone path behind her, and walked away with the quiet dignity she wore like armor.
Tae So watched her go, then looked at his daughter. "The pipa?" he asked, still stunned. "Why?" he could still remember how the thought of even learning irritated her days ago she left dinner halfway through.
"I heard Song Yeon is learning," Yoon Ji said with a playful laugh. "So I figured I should too."
Tae So stood there for a moment, utterly still. And then a slow, satisfied smile spread across his face.
Of course. This was it, the perfect excuse. His daughter, a nobleman's child, suddenly expressing an interest in traditional court music was more than just a passing whim; it was an opportunity. Now, he had a legitimate reason to go to the Prime Minister's residence, an entirely respectable pretext that would raise no suspicion. And if, by chance, the Prime Minister happened to be away like Woong told them, no one would question Tae So's presence. After all, he was simply a father supporting his daughter's education. It wouldn't appear strange. It wouldn't provoke whispers.
More importantly, it gave him time. Time to linger, to observe. Time to uncover the truth about the woman with the pipa if she was truly the one who had unsettled his thoughts and stirred something he had long since buried. He would learn her name, her origin, perhaps even her purpose. The music was the path but the mystery, the woman behind the strings, was the destination.
And Yoon Ji, without even knowing, had cleared the way.
"That's a wonderful idea," he said, resting a hand gently on her shoulder. "Truly. Song Yeon found herself a great teacher... I hear she's even better than Min."
He paused as he noticed the change in Yoon Ji's expression. Her bright smile dimmed, her eyes shifting downward.
"Min is very talented too," Tae So added quickly, softening his voice when he realised he just implied that he wasn't able to find the best teacher of his daughter. "But this woman... she's different. That's why I think we should visit the Prime Minister's house together. Perhaps you'll learn a thing or two."
Yoon Ji wrinkled her nose, a pout tugging at her lips. "But that'll make me look weak, Father," she complained, her tone laced with wounded pride. "Like I'm just copying her. I can't let Song Yeon outshine me. I have to be better."
Tae So blinked, caught off guard. "Better?" he echoed, genuinely confused. "Why does it matter?"
With a dramatic sigh, Yoon Ji threw her hands up, exasperated. "Ugh, never mind! I forgot you never understand these things."
She turned sharply, her frustration trailing behind her like the soft flutter of her silken sleeves. There was a deliberate slowness in her steps, almost a limp, as if even standing near him had become too much to bear. The emotional distance between them stretched further than the physical.
"No, no wait," Tae So called out, taking a few steps after her, urgency creeping into his voice. "I do understand. Truly. Let's just... go and see her teacher. It's a smart move."
Yoon Ji paused, only slightly, her back still to him.
He needed something more, something that would resonate with her pride and ambition.
"To win," he said, choosing his words carefully, "you have to keep your enemies close. Study them. Learn their every strength... and flaw."
He wasn't sure it was the wisest thing to say. It certainly wasn't what a good father should say. But at that moment, he only needed it to sound clever and convincing.
"Isn't that irritating and unwise to keep enemies close?"
Tae So had never thought about that but to be honest he would rather stay far away from his enemy than forming a good bond with then just to learn and have their weakness over them.
"It is a smart move, that made me survive to this day." Tae So shrugged weakly.
Yoon Ji tilted her head ever so slightly, considering. A thoughtful silence followed before she finally turned halfway toward him, eyes gleaming with a spark of triumph.
"Let's go to the Prime Minister's house," she said, chin lifted.
Perfect.
Tae So's lips curled into a wide grin, one he couldn't contain. The heavens had handed him a golden thread, an excuse born of pride and rivalry and his own daughter had unknowingly woven it into the perfect path forward.