Night draped the palace in a soft, bluish glow.
Dinner had ended, and the entire harem finally quieted, each courtyard sinking into its own shadows.
Shumin stepped out of her room, clutching the small medicine pouch she prepared earlier.
Her heart was beating faster than it should not because she was afraid, but because tonight… tonight she refused to fail.
Her steps were light as she walked along the covered corridor, careful not to wake anyone.
"The malnourished people … I cannot disappoint them," she thought.
But somewhere deeper in her chest…
'will he come? Will he actually keep his promise?'
The memory of last night unexpectedly warmed her cheeks:
the masked man, his deep ...
"What should I call you?" she had asked.
His pause, the slight hesitation, the unreadable eyes behind the mask.
"Whatever you want."
She pressed her lips together, embarrassed at how her heart had fluttered.
She reached the small garden behind her courtyard — the silent pickup point she had chosen.
Lanterns glowed dimly, shadows playing between the rocks and trees.
Shu Yan's footsteps faded behind her as she took a different path, pretending she was taking a nighttime stroll.
Now alone, she whispered to herself:
"I hope he… doesn't forget."
A soft crunch of gravel answered.
Shumin froze.
Her breath stalled.
Someone was standing near the old camphor tree — tall, still, half-swallowed by darkness.
A gentle breeze tugged at his cloak.
Even masked, she recognized his presence instantly.
Her lips curled unconsciously.
"You came," she whispered, stepping closer.
The masked man turned his head slightly.
"Of course."
Something in his tone made warmth rush through her chest — like she mattered, even if just a little.
She held out the small bundle of notes she prepared.
"Then… let's go... "
The masked man didn't take the notes immediately.
Instead, he looked at her for a long moment — longer than yesterday — as if trying to read the emotions she so desperately hid.
Her heart thumped.
"…You seem happy today," he murmured.
Shumin blinked.
Happy?
Because of the pendant?
Because someone gave her something without asking anything?
Because he remembered to come tonight?
No… no, that was embarrassing to admit.
So she turned away slightly, eyes softening but pretending to be proud.
"It's nothing… just— just a tiny secret."
He huffed a quiet laugh under his mask.
"Is that so?"
"Yes!" she insisted and marched ahead, chin up.
But her cheeks were pink all the way to her ears.
-------
Behind her, he followed silently—
but in his heart, a strange tightness formed.
Why… does her happiness affect me?
And why… does it bother me that she keeps a secret?
---------
Shumin led the way through the small side gate she memorized earlier.
The palace guards rotated at this hour, leaving a tiny gap in their pattern — something she discovered after spending two nights pretending to admire the moon while actually counting guard steps.
Tonight, it felt thrilling.
Terrifying.
Exciting.
But most of all
she wasn't alone.
The masked man walked behind her at a steady pace.
Not too close, not too far.
Like a shadow that existed only for her.
His presence made her breathe a little easier.
As they slipped out of the palace grounds, the air changed — cooler, freer.
The night road stretched ahead, lined with lanterns and half-closed shops.
Far off, she could already smell the charcoal smoke of the late-night porridge stalls.
Shumin tightened her grip on the medicine pouch
"Um…" she began, trying to sound casual. "About the pendant…"
He stopped walking for half a second.
Shumin continued softly, eyes lowered.
"In my… previous life, I never really got gifts. Not real ones. So I… I was surprised. And grateful."
She quickly added before he misunderstood:
"But that doesn't mean you can bribe me! In future"
His footsteps resumed, closer now.
"So you're saying," he said, voice quiet, "you valued it?"
Her ears burned.
"…I didn't say that."
"You did."
"I did not!"
He made a small sound — almost like a laugh but too restrained.
That sound alone made her want to hide her face.
---
They reached the darker part of the market by a old carriage ...
the alleys where the lanterns grew scarce and the cold seeped into the stones.
Shumin inhaled deeply.
The smell of damp roofs and smoke always brought her back to reality — the hungry, the forgotten, the ones she refused to let suffer.
She turned to him.
"Tonight we'll divide roles," she said, slipping into her responsible tone.
"I talk to them. You handle the heavy bags."
(She brought bags full of foods before came here from night food market)
"Are you ordering me?" he asked.
She blinked innocently.
"Of course not. I'm… strongly suggesting."
He exhaled through his nose, like someone who had lost an argument before it even began.
"…Very well."
She gave a tiny victory smile and started distributing the food bags.
It was going perfectly—
Until she looked back.
And saw the masked man staring at her.
Not at her face.
Not at the pendant she still hadn't put away.
But at her hands.
"Why do you look like that?" she asked.
He didn't answer immediately.
His voice, when it came, was low and conflicted.
"You shouldn't be the one doing all this."
She tilted her head.
"But if I don't, then who will?"
He fell silent.
The kind of silence that made her chest tighten strangely.
------
If only she knew
That behind that mask, the king himself was fighting emotions he had no right to feel.
Responsibility.
Guilt.
And something dangerously close to admiration.
He turned away first, as if afraid she'd see too much.
--------
As she worked beside him, handing out warm food, checking on a child's fever, wrapping a cloth around an old woman's wrist…
she could feel his gaze occasionally drift toward her.
Not in a rude way.
Not in a possessive way.
But like someone watching something precious he didn't know how to protect.
Every time she caught his eye, he looked away quickly, pretending he didn't.
Shumin's heart, annoyingly, reacted each time.
'Why does he… look at me like that?'
She bit her lip, trying to steady her breath.
Maybe she was imagining.
Maybe she was reading too much into a masked stranger.
Maybe tonight was simply too quiet, too cold…
But still—
Her heart whispered something she didn't dare say aloud:
I'm glad he came.
---
The market grew colder as the night deepened, and the narrow alleys turned almost silent.
Shumin had finished handing out most of the food, and the masked man stayed close—too close sometimes—like a quiet wall between her and the dark corners.
She didn't mind.
(Actually, she minded too much.)
A Sudden Noise
Just when she bent to tie a bandage around an old man's wrist—
CRACK.
Somewhere behind the empty shop stall, something snapped.
Shumin straightened immediately.
The masked man stepped in front of her without thinking.
"Stay behind me."
His voice was low, command-like, not leaving any room for argument.
She opened her mouth to whisper back—
But then she saw shadows moving.
Three figures.
Dirty faces.
Messy hair.
Eyes full of hunger and anger.
One spat on the ground.
"Rich people playing saints now? You fed us so now we should bow?"
Shumin stepped forward instinctively.
"No, no—it's not like that. I'm only trying t—"
He cut her off sharply.
"Trying to pretend you care? Where were you when the king cut our grain? When children starved?"
Shumin froze.
She exchanged a quick glance with the masked man.
He stiffened — guilt tightening his shoulders in a way she didn't understand.
The men walked closer.
Shu Min whispered, "Let me talk—"
"I said stay behind me."
He pushed her slightly back with one arm.
The movement was gentle.
Too gentle for a stranger.
Too protective for a masked nobody.
Before she could react, one of the men lifted a wooden stick and swung—
Straight toward her.
"Look out!"
The masked man grabbed her waist and spun them both away.
They stumbled—
Her feet slipped—
And she fell—
Right against his chest.
Just like a ridiculous, cliché drama scene.
Except she wasn't laughing.
Her heart nearly jumped out of her throat.
Her hands were on him.
His arms were around her.
For a moment too long.
The attacker growled, "Tch! They moved—"
The masked man slowly set her on her feet.
Then he turned to the three men.
His voice dropped to something cold.
Deadly cold.
"You touched her."
The men suddenly hesitated.
Shumin tugged his sleeve.
"Stop. They're scared—hungry—don't fight them."
But he didn't move.
His jaw tightened so hard she thought it might break.
He wasn't angry for himself.
He was angry because she almost got hurt.
Her chest tightened unexpectedly.
"Please," she whispered. "Let me talk."
That one word — please — made him freeze.
Then… slowly… he stepped back, allowing her to move forward.
The men stared warily.
Shumin took a deep breath.
"I didn't come to judge you. I came because I saw your children… your elders… you're suffering. And someone is doing this behind everyone's back."
Her voice shook but didn't break.
"I swear I'll— we'll try to find the truth."
They didn't bow.
They didn't thank her.
But their angry breathing eased.
One of them muttered, "If you're lying, miss… we'll remember."
Then they vanished into the shadows.
Shumin turned to the masked man.
His hand was still clenched tightly—because when he'd grabbed her waist earlier, he hadn't fully released the tension.
Her cheeks heated.
"Y-You could've let me handle it. I wasn't scared."
He looked at her like she had grown two heads.
"You almost got hit."
"But I didn't!"
"Because I moved you."
"Still!"
He stared.
She stared.
Finally he sighed and murmured, almost too quietly to hear:
"…Don't get hurt in front of me again."
Her breath caught.
Why did that sound…
…dangerously close to concern?
She forced a laugh.
"Well, then don't let me fall!"
"You fell because—"
She poked his arm.
He froze like she'd stabbed him with a sword.
"Stop scolding me. I get it, okay? Thank you for… saving me."
He looked away quickly.
"…It was nothing."
"It wasn't nothing."
"…I said it was."
She rolled her eyes.
He truly had zero idea how to accept gratitude.
-------
As they walked back toward the palace, Shumin noticed him keep a half-step behind her.
He was watching her.
Not in a creepy way.
More like he was making sure she didn't trip again.
He spoke suddenly.
"When will we come again?"
She blinked.
"You want to come again?"
He seemed startled by his own question.
"…I can assist. If needed."
Shumin smiled softly.
"Tomorrow night. Same time."
He nodded, heartbeat visibly stiff under his mask.
She wanted to tease him but—
Her chest felt warm.
Warm in a way that made walking difficult.