Her heart pounded.
His voice still echoed in the silence: "Lay with me."
She didn't answer.
She didn't have to.
She was already bare beneath the flickering candlelight, and he…King Hyunsu…watched her with quiet hunger, restrained like only a man born to command could manage.
He moved toward her, slowly, deliberately. She expected him to seize her, to take what he had summoned her for.
But he didn't.
Not right away.
Instead, he reached for her hand and brought it to his chest, pressing it just above his heart. She could feel it beating…low, steady, powerful.
"You feel that?" he murmured.
Yeonhwa nodded.
"Then remember it. You'll be the only one tonight who does."
He pulled her gently toward the silk bedding. She followed.
There were no declarations.
No poetry. No empty comfort.
Only hands. Breath. Flesh.
The moment unfolded not like romance, but like ritual.
He kissed her throat without tenderness, but without cruelty. When he laid her down, it was not to ask…but to claim.
Yet even as his weight settled over her, Yeonhwa noticed something unspoken. His gaze softened in flickers. His touch, though firm, never crossed into violence. He didn't speak much. Just watched her.
As though he needed her reaction to remind himself he was still human.
When he entered her, she gasped…and for a brief moment, he paused, his brow furrowing as though something about her made him hesitate.
Then he moved. And there was no pause again.
His breath was hot against her ear.
"You belong to me tonight."
And for that night, she did.
When she woke, it was to silence.
The king was gone.
The bedding was still warm, but the weight of his body had vanished. Only the faint scent of his skin remained, along with the ache in her limbs.
She sat up slowly, clutching the silk to her chest, her hair tangled and lips still parted.
The door slid open.
Mistress Choi entered without fanfare. Her expression was a mask.
"He has gone to council," she said briskly. "You are to be returned."
Yeonhwa blinked. "Returned?"
"To the court of maidens. You may be summoned again at His Majesty's will. Dress. I will wait."
She obeyed silently.
The silk robes felt heavier now, and somehow thinner, like they no longer belonged to her.
Mistress Choi said nothing more as they walked the winding halls of the palace. The guards bowed as they passed. A few whispered, their glances sharp, but none dared speak aloud.
When they reached the outer court, the sun was already rising, pink against the white stone of the palace.
Mistress Choi stopped outside the maidens' gate. "He has taken interest. That alone can make or break a life."
Yeonhwa hesitated. "Does it usually… break them?"
Mistress Choi gave nothing away.
"That depends on how long the king remains interested."
Then she turned and left.
As soon as Yeonhwa stepped inside, the shift in the air was instant.
Silence. All eyes turned to her.
Mira gasped and ran forward. "Yeonhwa! Where were you?"
"She didn't sleep in the chamber," another girl whispered.
"She was summoned," came another voice.
"No veil…"
"No shoes…"
Yeonhwa didn't speak. She crossed the court with quiet dignity, heading straight for the dormitory chambers.
But the whispers followed.
"She's favored."
"He must've chosen her."
"She must've seduced him."
"I heard she was crying when she came out."
"She looks smug."
"She looks like a courtesan."
Yeonhwa sat on her mat, spine straight, gaze steady. She didn't respond. But her silence only fed the flames.
By the time breakfast was served, two of the girls refused to eat at her table. One poured water too close to her cushion, murmuring "Oops" with a crooked smile.
Lady Sunae watched from across the court, arms folded.
Later that morning, during etiquette drills, Yeonhwa performed every motion flawlessly. Her bows were precise. Her posture elegant. When Master Bo called on her to demonstrate a formal greeting, she executed it with regal grace.
And that was the final blow.
"She's showing off now," one girl muttered.
"She thinks she's better than us."
"She thinks she's already queen."
It wasn't until dusk that the confrontation happened.
In the grooming chamber, as the girls braided their hair and washed the day's sweat from their skin, Mira and Yeonhwa sat quietly by the far basin.
Then Lady Sunae entered.
"She's not even that beautiful," she said loudly, brushing her hair with unnecessary vigor.
Another girl chimed in. "Probably just an easy lay."
"She won't last a month."
"She'll be forgotten by next festival."
Yeonhwa turned slowly, meeting Sunae's eyes across the basin.
"I did not ask for His Majesty's summons," she said, voice calm but cutting. "And I do not control his memory."
Sunae smirked. "But you certainly enjoyed controlling his bed."
Gasps echoed.
Mira stood up. "That's enough!"
"No, let her speak," Yeonhwa said coolly. She rose to her feet, her robe immaculate, her hair still slightly damp from her wash. "Say what you want, Lady Sunae. But your anger says more than I ever could."
Sunae's smile faltered.
Yeonhwa stepped closer.
"You hate me because he didn't choose you."
Silence.
"Say it."
Sunae looked away, jaw clenched.
Mira exhaled sharply. "Let's go."
They walked out together, leaving the chamber like it was a battlefield they'd won.
But Yeonhwa knew better.
This was only the beginning.