Jua’s mind swirled in a fog of half-formed images, fragments of a past she had tried for years to forget. The faces, the voices, the silence—everything came rushing back with the intensity of a storm. The last one she remembered was his face. Damhos. That cruel, unyielding gaze. It had etched itself into her memory.

She stirred in her bed, the soft voice of the assistant maid speaking in Japanese pulling her from the remnants of her dream. Blinking against the light, Jua tried to disentangle the nightmare from reality. She tried to speak, but her throat wouldnt work. Her body remembered the past better than her voice did . Everytime she dreamt the same dream ,her body would react in a tense frenzy .The memory came unbidden—the man who had destroyed her family and the young man they had welcomed into their home years ago. They were not the same.

She remembered the first time She saw him. Her father had brought home a young boy no older than fourteen, thin and weak, his body lacking strenght ,he's posture uncertain .Jua had been watching from the balcony, hidden in the shadows when their eyes met .His gaze was dull, almost empty but there was warmth underneath it. A small, almost invisible warmth. She hid behind her father whenever he was around.Avoiding he's glance , they had never properly looked at each other or exchanged in a single conversation. But that day—the dreadful day—She met his eyes.Cruelty was all she saw. That memory has never left her. It scratched at her mind, always there.

She was supposed to be dead Years ago, but when she opened her eyes she was left in a physician’s room. Sick. Weak. Barely alive.Her right hand amputated. It all didn't make sense to her.The old man had cared for her then. Fed her, watched her and made sure she survived. And then he handed her over. A middle-aged couple. “Friends,” he said. “They’ll take care of you.” For a while, they did. Their home was warm. Safe. But it didn’t last.

Thieves came. Violence came. Death came. They killed the couple. Left her alive. Not because It mattered—because she could be sold. She was taken to a human auction. People staring. Mouths hungry. The fear was solid, a weight her young body couldn’t bear. And then she appeared—a girl, no older than her. She decided to buy her. Her eyes were steady. Determined. She wanted to trust her, even if only a little.

And now she was here, in a strange room, with this calm maid speaking in a language she didnt fully understand. 

---

Jua got up from her bed, the soft voice of the maid speaking in Japanese rushing her.

“Koyuki-san! You must hurry. The young lady is waiting. She will be displeased if you are late.”

Jua’s hands froze as she picked up her kimono. “Y-Yes… I’m coming,” she stammered.

“Now!” the maid urged, glancing nervously toward the corridor. “Go, quickly!”

Jua took a deep breath, straightening her posture, and nodded. “Hai… I will attend her immediately.”

The maid gave a final impatient glance before retreating. “Good. Move swiftly. She does not like to wait.”

She dressed quickly in her maid kimono, neat and muted in color, tying the sash with care. The apron was crisp, hair pulled back tightly so it wouldn’t interfere with her work. Her small room was simple, but comfortable enough—a neatly made bed, a low table, and a sliding door that let in a pale morning light. She exhaled shortly before stepping into the corridor.

As she drew closer to her room , a sharp crash echoed through the corridor. Glass breaking. Jua's heart leapt, and she rushed toward the noise. Sliding open the door, she froze at the scene before her.

In the middle of the room stood the young lady, her long hair trailing to the floor, kimono worn loosely ,revealing a hint of her chest. Before her, a maid lay injured, blood streaking from a wound on their head.

The lady’s gaze snapped to jua. A smile curved her lips, serene but sharp.

“Koyuki-san,” she said softly, “you’re finally here.”

Jua lowered her eyes, replying briefly, “Yes, my lady.”

The lady glanced at the injured maid. “Leave us,” she said gently, and the maid hurried out.

Then the lady reached out, taking juas’s hand and guiding her toward a dressing area: a low table stacked with jewelry and makeup, a chair positioned neatly beside it.

“My lady,” jua asked softly, hesitant, “are you… in a bad mood today?”

The lady laughed softly, a teasing sound. “I suppose it was obvious, wasn’t it?” She paused, tilting her head as if weighing her next words. “Don’t worry about the mess—I’ll have someone clean it. You don’t need to do it.”

She stayed silent. Since the day she had been sold to this woman, she had expected cruelty. What followed, however, was unusual kindness, the kind she had never anticipated.

“Do my hair for me,” the lady said, settling into the chair gracefully.

“Hai, okyaku-sama,” Jua replied, her voice careful and respectful, the Japanese honorific slipping naturally off her tongue.

As she worked, twisting and smoothing the long strands, the young lady hummed softly, her eyes distant.

“You know, Koyuki-san… I’ve always been curious about Korea. Its culture, its language… the people. There’s so much history with Japan. Sometimes it fascinates me, sometimes it frustrates me.”

Her fingers stilled for a moment then continued with their Work. “It… it is complicated, my lady,” she said softly. “But both countries have beauty. The traditions, the arts… the food.”

The lady leaned closer, eyes gleaming. “Yes. I’ve read about the Hanbok, the palaces you've told me about… the stories of resilience. And Japan, of course, has its elegance. I wonder what it would feel like to walk the streets of Seoul, then Kyoto, in one day.”

Jua's cheeks warmed. “Perhaps… one day, my lady.”

The young lady laughed again, soft and teasing. “Perhaps,” she echoed, settling back into the chair as Jua continued to braid her hair, the morning light spilling across the room.

 

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