Night has fallen. The pavilion lies silent. Their children sleep, tended by the servants.
She, still a little frail, walks alone through the courtyard, her slender figure outlined beneath the moon.
Yi Sun-sin watches her from the threshold. The mind of a general never rests—always calculating battles, seas, maps. Yet tonight, it is her words that echo again and again: "Despite your coldness… I love you."
He moves forward. His shadow envelops her. She turns, startled.
— "My husband?"
He gazes at her in silence. So small, so delicate, and yet… three times she has brushed against death to bear his heirs. Three times she has risen again. More courage than he ever thought possible.
He steps closer, slowly, his heavy tread resonating against the stone. Without a word, he pulls her into his arms.
Arms once made to wield sword and banner now close around her. It is an awkward embrace—firm, almost rough… but it is the first time he has held her.
She freezes for an instant, breath caught. Then her hands tremble against his tunic, and tears slip down silently.
— "You… you heard me."
His low voice falls into her hair:
— "Too many times."
He closes his eyes briefly, holding her as if defying death itself to take her from him again.
Then he draws back slightly, his stern mask returning.
— "Don't expect me to repeat it."
But within his arms, she has felt what his words will never confess: behind the rock, a man guards her.