The garden is still covered in dew. The flowers quiver under the morning breeze. She walks slowly, supported by a servant who tries to hold her back. Her pale hand brushes the branches of a willow; her breath is short. She has not yet regained her strength, but after so many days confined, she longs to feel the fresh air.
Suddenly, a shadow rises. Yi Sun-sin steps out from the pavilion, his dark gaze locking onto her. The servant immediately bows, terrified. Yi's voice cuts sharply through the calm:
— "Who gave you permission to come out? You're still weak. You could fall."
She lowers her head, but does not retreat.
— "I only wished to walk a little… to feel the wind, to see the light. Please, do not forbid me."
He approaches, tall and imposing, his eyes stern. His hand lifts, as if to seize her and lead her back inside—but it stops midway. His gaze lingers on her pale face, her trembling lips. A heavy silence falls.
She takes a breath, her lips quivering though her voice stays steady:
— "Yi Sun-sin… I know you never wished for me, nor for tenderness. But despite your coldness… I love you."
The moment freezes. Her breath quickens; her fingers clutch the fabric of her robe.
Silence shatters like steel. His expression hardens, his body rigid. His lips part, yet no sound escapes.
He turns his eyes away, fists clenched. Then he murmurs, his voice deep, lower than a whisper:
— "You're a fool… to love a man made of iron."
He turns, as if to leave, but his hand stops upon her shoulder—heavy, firm, yet not harsh. He holds her for a second, his dark gaze locked with hers.
— "If you truly love me despite everything… then live. That's all I ask."
He releases her shoulder and walks back toward the pavilion, his steps cold and measured. She remains still, her heart tight but her breath stronger. For the first time, she has dared to speak the unspeakable—and he, without admitting it, has not rejected her words.