The garden behind the estate had been devoured by time.
What was once a manicured landscape no doubt filled with blooming magnolias and winding stone paths was now overrun by ivy and wildflowers, as if nature had claimed back what human hands had once tamed.
Ethan stood on the cracked veranda with his arms crossed, a mug of black coffee cooling in his hand.
He'd slept no more than four hours. Even that had been filled with restless dreams flashes of silk, candlelight, and the sound of a woman's soft laughter that didn't belong to this century.
He hadn't imagined it. The letter was real. Lady Seo-yun was real.
And something about her silence tugged at him in a way no merger or market crash ever had.
He took a sip of coffee, grimaced at the bitterness, and pulled out his phone. A name blinked across the top of his notes app:
Dr. Hana Park – Historian (Gyeongju National University)
Recommended by Jihoon. Top of her class. Fluent in classical Korean, Chinese, and several dead dialects he couldn't even pronounce.
Most importantly she had a reputation for discretion.
He tapped Call.
The line connected on the second ring.
"Hello?" Her voice was clear, with just enough warmth to soften the academic edge.
"Dr. Park, this is Ethan Han."
There was a pause. "Mr. Han yes. I heard from your assistant. You're restoring the Han estate?"
"That's the official line," he said. "Unofficially, I found something I can't explain. I need help translating it."
Another pause. "What kind of something?"
"A letter," he replied. "Dated 1844. Written by Lady Seo-yun."
Her breath caught. "She's a legend in local circles. Rumors say she had a lover who vanished with her. Some believe she was murdered and buried beneath the estate."
Ethan raised an eyebrow. "That's dramatic."
"She lived in a dramatic era," Hana replied. "What exactly do you want from me?"
He appreciated her directness. No flattery. No flirtation. Just facts.
"I need you to read through everything I found. Letters. Artifacts. Journals, if there are more. I'll pay you whatever your hourly rate is double it, actually."
Another beat of silence.
"I'm not motivated by money, Mr. Han."
That surprised him.
"Then what are you motivated by?"
"The truth," she said simply. "If Lady Seo-yun had something to say before she disappeared, I want to hear it."
For a second, Ethan thought of the portrait. The eyes that didn't just look at him, but through him.
"Good," he said. "Come today."
"I'll be there in two hours."
---
Two hours later, Hana Park stood at the gates of the estate in a simple beige blouse, black slacks, and sneakers speckled with dust. A crossbody satchel hung at her side, filled with notebooks and an old tablet.
She wasn't what Ethan had pictured.
No pretentious aura. No oversized glasses. Just focus. Curiosity. And an expression that said she was more interested in the architecture than the man who owned it.
"I didn't think this place still existed," she murmured, looking up at the tiled roof. "It's like stepping into a different century."
Ethan stepped aside and opened the gate. "Come in."
The walk to the study was quiet, except for the crunch of gravel beneath their feet.
"You inherited this?" she asked casually.
"My grandfather bought it decades ago. Never renovated it. It was one of those things he kept for no reason except sentiment."
"Sometimes history waits for the right person to wake it up," Hana said without looking at him.
Ethan wasn't sure what to make of that.
He led her into the study.
The air, though dusted since yesterday, still carried that weight of the past. The painting loomed above the hearth, and Hana stopped short when she saw it.
"Wow," she whispered. "Is that… her?"
Ethan nodded. "Lady Seo-yun."
"She's beautiful," Hana said softly, stepping closer. "But sad."
"Exactly what I thought."
She glanced at him. "You don't seem like the type to be swayed by portraits."
"I'm not."
She raised an eyebrow. "Then why did you call me?"
Ethan reached into the drawer of the antique desk and pulled out the sealed envelope he'd found tucked behind the portrait frame early that morning.
"I found another one," he said, handing it over.
Hana held the letter delicately, reverently. Her fingers traced the faded ink, the elegant calligraphy of a noblewoman's hand.
"April 17, 1844," she read aloud. "Three days after the last one you mentioned."
"She was still here?" Ethan asked.
"Possibly," Hana said, setting down her bag and pulling out a soft-bristled brush. "If this isn't a forgery, and I doubt it is, we may be dealing with the last written record of her before she vanished."
Ethan leaned against the desk, arms crossed. "Read it to me."
Hana opened the envelope carefully and began translating aloud.
---
"My dearest J.,
Tonight, the stars have grown cruel. I see our reflection in the lake and know that soon, I must shatter it to save you. They have discovered our correspondence. My father suspects. The walls listen. Even the wind has become an enemy.
If I disappear before we reach our plan, know this: I did not leave because I stopped loving you. I left because my love was too loud for this silent world.
Forever yours,
Seo-yun"
---
The room fell quiet after she finished.
Ethan stared at the floor, his jaw tense.
"She loved someone who wasn't allowed to love her back," Hana said quietly. "A servant, maybe. Or someone from a rival family. Either way, she knew the consequences."
"I want to know what happened to her."
Hana tilted her head. "Why do you care?"
He met her gaze. "Because I think she died with a story no one bothered to hear. And I don't like unfinished stories."
Something flickered in Hana's eyes approval, maybe. Or understanding.
She nodded. "Then let's listen."
---
They spent the next few hours cataloging the remaining artifacts. Ethan didn't hover. He simply watched her work how she handled the items like they were sacred, how her brows furrowed in concentration, how she muttered to herself when something didn't make sense.
He liked the quiet determination in her.
By the time the sky turned gold through the windows, Hana stood up and stretched.
"I'll need to stay longer," she said. "There's too much to translate in one day."
"I'll arrange a guest room."
"I wasn't asking for one," she said, though her tone softened a second later. "But… thank you."
Their eyes met.
There was a long silence one that wasn't awkward, but full of something unspoken.
"You believe in love like that?" Ethan asked suddenly.
Hana blinked. "What kind?"
"The kind you'd risk everything for. Even your life."
She thought for a moment. "I believe love like that exists. But most people are too afraid to follow it."
"And you?"
"I don't know yet," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "But maybe… maybe this story will teach me."
For the first time in a long time, Ethan felt something stir. Something real.
Something dangerous.
Something that felt like the very beginning of something forbidden.