MW 7

“What do you mean?”

A surprised Hae Jinya opened her eyes wide.

“There’s no time to explain in detail right now. But if anything happens, come find me in the south. I’ll help you, anytime.”

Nam Jebyuk handed her a small wooden plaque carved with the name of his village and his own name. Jinya was touched by his concern but also troubled. The place he lived was far to the south—far enough that she couldn’t just up and go on a whim.

He must just want to show how much he cares.

That’s what Hae Jinya thought.

“Yes, Uncle. If I need to, I’ll come find you.”

“Good.”

Nam Jebyuk quickly wrapped up the conversation and turned away. He had spotted Yeon Woohee approaching from the other side of the garden. Woohee gave a slight nod of greeting to Nam Jebyuk. After he left the courtyard, Woohee walked over to Hae Jinya.

“What were you talking about? Out here, in a place with no one else around.”

“I was just saying goodbye to him in advance. He’s leaving early tomorrow morning.”

Jinya replied. Woohee’s eyes landed on the wooden tag in her hand.

“He left you an address?”

“Yes. In case I ever want to write to him.”

Jinya lied smoothly. She didn’t want to spark any unnecessary misunderstandings.

“A letter, huh.”

Woohee’s lips curled into a crooked smile.

“I hope you weren’t thinking of running away the moment we got married.”

“Of course not.”

Jinya’s lips went a little pale. Woohee’s gaze traveled from her lips to her neck—and to the necklace hanging there. A clear gemstone shimmered against her chest.

“That’s the necklace your former husband gave you when you were married to him, isn’t it?”

Jinya flinched at Woohee’s words.

“How did you know?”

She asked, a bit startled. She had never once mentioned the necklace to him.

“I was at the wedding too, you know.”

Woohee remembered the day Hae Jinya first arrived at this estate. The courtyard was packed with people. As a small child, he’d peeked through the adults’ legs to catch glimpses of the wedding. The first thing he saw was the edge of a red cloth. A moment later, he realized it was the hem of a skirt.

The long train of her wedding robe dragged softly over the gravel-covered ground.

Woohee had wondered what lay at the end of that red cloth. So he weaved through the legs and gaps until he reached the front row. There, he saw a young bride in ceremonial robes. She looked so young, even the faint makeup on her face seemed awkward.

Back then, Woohee had only been five years old. But even at that age, he was sure he’d never see a woman more beautiful for the rest of his life. The bride shimmered with radiance, but her eyes were shadowed with darkness.

Woohee had stared straight into her eyes. Her gaze occasionally brushed past Seon Jubyeol, but mostly stayed lowered. She never once looked at Woohee, but he was captivated by those eyes. The darkness within them resembled the night sky—a deep, lonely sky he often stared at alone from the annex.

Seon Jubyeol had placed a necklace around her neck. The transparent gemstone caught the light and sparkled.

That same necklace was now gleaming at Hae Jinya’s neck.

“You don’t usually wear it.”

Woohee’s voice was low and heavy. And he was right—she rarely did. That was why she had thought he wouldn’t recognize it.

“Today is his last day in this house.”

Jinya finally opened her mouth.

“I never wore it after the wedding, not even once.”

She knew it, too. Even if she wore it now, it’s not like the late Seon Jubyeol could see it.

But mourning was often about doing meaningless things, even when you knew they were meaningless.

“I only intended to wear it until the day we send off his coffin. Once he leaves, there’ll be no reason to wear it again.”

Instead of answering, Woohee lightly grasped the necklace. He gazed down at the gemstone in silence.

“It seems my lady is confused about who her husband is.”

“No, I know that very well.”

Jinya lowered her gaze. If it had been before their wedding night, maybe it would be different—but now, Hae Jinya was Woohee’s wife. She clutched the edge of her sleeve nervously.

“But I lived with Lord Jubyeol as family for a long time. I’m simply mourning a family member.”

Jinya believed that Woohee would understand. After all, anyone who was human understood the sorrow of parting. And Seon Jubyeol must have been an important figure to Woohee as well.

Hearing her words, Woohee’s lips twisted faintly. His dark gaze slid from her eyes down to the gemstone again. Wherever his gaze passed, it felt as if frost settled in its wake.

“You told me yourself before. Marriage is something you do with only one person.”

Woohee clenched the gemstone tightly—like he might shatter it at any moment.

“And right now, I am that one person.”

Woohee spoke, and Jinya realized she had been foolish to hope. Did Woohee truly not understand her grief? He was acting as if he had no concept of this perfectly natural emotion.

As Woohee said, she was now betrothed to him. Even keeping a gift from another man could be seen as disloyalty.

But what if that man had been her husband for sixteen years—what if he had still been her husband until just a few days ago? Would it still be a betrayal?

“Do as you please,” Jinya replied weakly.

“Do as I please? Is that how you truly feel?” Woohee asked, a hint of sarcasm in his tone. Jinya didn’t respond.

“Isn’t it that you actually want to scream at me? To say, ‘Go ahead, do whatever you want’?”

His words unsettled her, but she tried not to show it. When she remained silent, Woohee muttered under his breath:

“You’ve become a doll who doesn’t even know how to get angry or argue.”

He was still holding her necklace. Jinya flinched, thinking he might tear it from her neck and hurl it away. It struck her more clearly than ever: her new husband was a very different man from Seon Jubyeol.

The kind, gentle man was gone. Her new husband was rougher. Colder.

“Do you really believe I’ve committed a betrayal? If so, are you going to punish me now?” Jinya asked without meeting his eyes.

In Surobuyeo, it wasn’t uncommon for a husband to punish a wife for wrongdoing—especially in noble families, where maintaining dignity was paramount. Aristocratic men were used to ruling and disciplining, and that extended to their wives.

“Your former husband never once punished you, did he?” Woohee said, unexpectedly invoking Seon Jubyeol.

Seon Jubyeol had always emphasized the equality of marriage, and he’d never once disciplined her.

But Woohee didn’t see it that way. Seon Jubyeol hadn’t needed to punish her. Jinya had always been his from the start—always obedient to his word.

Jinya didn’t argue.

It was true—Seon Jubyeol had smiled at her. After she came to this house, she grew up bright and cheerful, a laughing little girl with nothing lacking in her life. Her childhood had been rich and full.

Her teenage years, too, had likely been spent wrapped in fine silk and her husband’s affection.

Even if Woohee had always been a shadow stretching behind her.

“Your former husband never taught you how to be angry or how to rebel,” Woohee said, his voice laced with quiet criticism.

His words sparked a strange discomfort in her.

“He never made me angry,” she said. “And he never forced anything on me that made me want to rebel.”

“Yes,” Woohee said. “And so you grew like a gentle orchid.”

As if that were something shameful.

Jinya didn’t understand what Woohee was criticizing. Wasn’t her husband’s gentleness a virtue? Wasn’t a harmonious marriage something to be proud of?

Even if now, all of that had crumbled to dust.

“You knew,” Woohee said, “that being a good wife to him would bring you peace and comfort. That’s why you followed him.”

Jinya looked up at him quietly.

“Is that such a bad thing? Who in this world would choose a thorny path on purpose?” she said, her voice calm and clear.

Woohee’s lips twisted slightly.

You don’t realize it, do you? That very choice of yours dragged you deeper into hell.

“I won’t punish you either,” Woohee finally said, his gaze sharp and unwavering as it locked onto hers.

“Instead, I’ll give you something else.”

“What…?” Jinya asked, her face pale with fear.

He didn’t answer.

Then, suddenly, he let go of the necklace he had been holding all this time. He didn’t break it. He didn’t throw it away.

Jinya barely had time to feel relieved when he said,

“Take it off.”

Ah. So it was that.

Jinya understood his demand. As her new husband, Woohee had every right to ask her to remove a necklace given by Seon Jubyeol. Emotionally, it was difficult—but she had no intention of fighting with him over it.

She moved her hands behind her neck to unfasten it when—

“No. Leave the necklace on.”

Woohee’s voice was calm.

“…What?”

Jinya slowly lowered her arms, confused.

“But earlier you said to take it off…”

“I wasn’t referring to the necklace,” Woohee said.

“I meant your clothes.”