Chorae squinted, looking closer—not at his body, but past it, into the flicker of what lay beneath. His aura was dim in a way that wasn't dim. Not sick. Not dying. Just... wrong.
His life force didn't hum like most people's.
It didn't flow.
It flickered.
"It doesn't look like it's hurting him..." she thought.
"But—he probably doesn't get much sleep, does he?"
She didn't understand it.
Not fully.
He felt too solid to be dead, but too silent to be fully alive.
Her eyes narrowed. Her voice stayed quiet.
'What the hell are you, Mr. Nice Body...'
Halmoni would lose her gourd if she saw this.
---
Chorae bowed quickly and slipped out of his quarters before he could say another word.
She didn't look back.
Didn't explain.
Didn't ask.
Because she wasn't sure what he was—
Or why the vision had shown that.
The last time she'd seen a vision, she was barely old enough to walk.
She remembered it like a dream she wasn't supposed to have—
A cradle of cold stars, a broken lullaby, and the quiet certainty that her parents would never come back.
She was right.
And now, years later, the visions had returned.
But this one… wasn't about her.
At least, she didn't think so.
And that terrified her more than she'd admit.
"I will avoid that man for the time being," she thought.
---
Chorae stood half-slouched beside the stone basin, lost in thought, her fingers absently dunking a rag into lukewarm water she had no intention of using.
She hadn't slept.
Her mind still clung to flashes of snow, spirit-fire, and a man whose pulse flickered like a dying candle.
"That wasn't a normal vision," she thought.
"And he's not a normal man."
Still, none of that explained why he smelled like sandalwood, blood, and insomnia.
"Tch. I should've licked him. That might've told me more."
A sharp whisper broke her train of thought.
"...I heard it was the Queen. They say she cursed Lady Hae."
Another maid, huddled near the laundry pavilion, hissed back.
"Shhh! Don't say it too loud! The Queen might be out of favor, but she's still the Queen."
"She hasn't shared a room with the King in years. Everyone knows it. She's just a title now."
"She's thirty-six. Twenty years and no heir. And now Lady Hae is pregnant and—what happens? Blood, fevers, and hauntings?"
"Sounds like a curse to me."
Chorae's ears perked.
Her head tilted.
She didn't even pretend to work anymore.
> "A wife cursing her husband's side chick?"
"Now that's the kind of woman I need to meet."
She smirked to herself, already imagining what a queen like that must look like. Sharp bones. Sharper tongue. The kind of woman who crushed peaches in her hand instead of eating them.
Then—
"Chorae!"
She blinked.
Maeun appeared beside her, arms crossed and eyebrows raised.
"You've been staring at wet sheets for ten minutes. You fall asleep with your eyes open now?"
Chorae gave her a half-smile.
"Nope. Just making plans."
Maeun sighed. "Oh no. That usually involves rope, garlic, or grave dirt. Which is it this time?"
Chorae leaned closer, lowering her voice with theatrical glee.
"I'm going to meet the Queen."
Maeun nearly dropped her laundry.
"I—what?! You?! Why?!"
"Because any woman smart enough to possibly curse her competition from a distance deserves my attention."
Maeun looked around and whispered, "You can't say things like that! If the Queen's attendants hear—"
Chorae grinned.
"Then maybe they'll take me straight to her."
---
Maeun stared at Chorae like she'd just announced she wanted to kiss a ghost.
" Are you trying to get executed?"
Chorae hummed, tapping her chin.
"If I do it fast enough, maybe they won't catch me."
Maeun grabbed her arm. "I'm serious! You don't just wander into the Queen's presence! There are protocols. Guards. Rules!"
Chorae blinked at her.
"That's right… you've been in the palace longer than me."
Her tone turned casual. Dangerous.
"So you should know exactly where she stays."
Maeun froze.
Her grip on Chorae's sleeve loosened.
"…The Queen," she said slowly, "is the head of Water Palace Hall."
Silence stretched.
Chorae paused mid-step.
"She's here? Wait—she's our head?"
Maeun nodded.
"She was sent here years ago. After she failed to give the King a child. They say Water Palace is where consorts and wives go to be forgotten."
Chorae blinked. Slowly.
Then:
"So she's the top dog of a ghost wing filled with rejected women?"
Her eyes lit up.
"That means she's crazy, right?"
Maeun hissed, "Chorae!"
"No, no—I mean it in a good way. Like 'I've-seen-death-and-now-I-only-wear-silk-and-sip-poisoned-wine' kind of crazy. The powerful kind."
Maeun rubbed her face with both hands.
"Please don't go near her."
"How could I not?" Chorae whispered, grinning.
"She sounds like my kind of person."
---
Chorae's grin widened, dangerous and sweet as rotten fruit.
"Say…" she drawled, "will you help me meet this Queen?"
Maeun's soul visibly left her body for a moment.
"Absolutely not."
Chorae raised a brow. "So you're saying… yes."
"No."
"Because it sounded like yes."
"Chorae."
Chorae leaned in, eyes gleaming.
"Come on, Maeun. What's the worst that could happen?"
Maeun gave her a look.
"You get thrown into the royal dungeon, exorcised by a half-blind monk, and fed lotus petals until your soul leaves your nose."
Chorae considered this.
"Hmm. Sounds like a Tuesday."
Maeun groaned and turned away, muttering, "Why do I even talk to you?"
"Because I make your life interesting," Chorae called after her.
"No, you make my afterlife feel closer."
Chorae twirled a strand of hair around her finger.
"So that's a yes?"
Maeun stopped walking, sighed loudly, and looked up at the sky like she was begging the ancestors for strength.
Then finally:
"...Fine. I'll tell you where the Queen takes her walks. But if anyone asks—"
"I seduced it out of you?"
"You were sleepwalking and cursed me with hallucinations."
Chorae saluted her.
"A true friend."
Maeun muttered, "A true accomplice to my doom."
---
Chorae crept through the eastern walkway of Water Palace Hall, hugging the shadow of the carved balustrade. Moonlight slipped through the lattice windows like strips of spilled milk. She squinted, trying to recall Maeun's whispered instructions,
"The Queen walks the south corridor before sunrise. She likes the quiet. And washout for the koi pond."
Chorae immediately stepped too close to the koi pond.
Splash.
She winced.
"Whoops."
She tiptoed around a pillar, rounded the corner—
—and slammed directly into a warm, silk-draped chest.
"Ahh!"
A strangled yelp broke the silence.
Yi Seungho, Chief Royal Secretary, flailed backward like he'd been struck by lightning, tripped over his own feet—
—and landed with an undignified thump on the stone floor.
Chorae stared down at him, unimpressed.
"...Are you some overgrown girl?"
Seungho scrambled upright, face burning.
"You—! What are you doing here?!"
"Sightseeing," she said flatly. "What about you? Moonlight ballet?"
"None of your business."
"Exactly," she said sweetly. "So stay out of mine."
Before he could fire back—
A voice, soft and precise, cut through the air like silk against a blade:
"Is this your idea of stealth, Secretary Yi?"
They both froze.
From the far end of the corridor, framed in moonlight and shadows, stood a woman in white and indigo silk. She did not walk—she glided. Her hair, midnight-black and brushed to a soft gleam, spilled over her shoulders like water. Her face was arrestingly symmetrical: high cheekbones, pale skin with the faintest tint of rose, and lips painted like a falling petal.
Her eyes—dark as onyx, unwavering—carried twenty years of silence and unspoken war. She was none other than Queen Yun Seryeon.
She looked no older than twenty-five.
But she was thirty-six.
And she was breathtaking.
Yi Seungho bowed low with immediate formality.
"Your Majesty."
Chorae didn't move. Couldn't.
Her thoughts scrambled.
Is this the woman the king pushed aside?
My goodness—she doesn't even look her age!
She looks like she could steal your throne, your soul, and your best tea set in one glance.
The Queen tilted her head ever so slightly as she looked at Chorae.
"I don't recall summoning you."
Her voice was soft—but it carried like the low hum of thunder before a storm.
Chorae dropped into a deep bow. Her face stayed down, but her mouth couldn't help it,
"I just came to admire your legendary aura, Your Majesty."
A pause.
"And maybe ask if you've been cursing pregnant women lately."
Yi Seungho's head snapped toward her in horror.
The Queen stared.
Then—smiled.
Not cruel. Not pleased.
Just… entertained.
"Interesting," she murmured. "Rise, girl. I would like to hear what else you've heard."
Chorae looked up slowly.
Oh no, she thought.
I think I like her already.
The Queen turned to Chorae fully now, her gaze neither kind nor cold—just… interested.
"You have sharp eyes," she said. "And a sharper tongue."
A pause. Then, She said,
"I've been surrounded by liars for twenty years. I would like a fool for once."
Chorae blinked. "I—I'm not a fool."
The Queen's lips curved faintly.
"No. You're worse. You're honest."
She turned away with the effortless grace of a woman who had already outlived her own scandal.
"Walk with me."