The afternoon sun poured through the latticed windows, spilling soft gold over the polished floors. Yoo Jua moved quietly through the corridor, the damp towel slung over her arm.The air smelled faintly of ink and burning cedar.
Jua walked with her head bowed, her hands still wet from the washing basin. The towel was warm in her grip — the kind of warmth that fades if you hold it too long.
She was heading toward the washroom when she noticed a door slightly ajar, just enough to let out a voice.Out of habit, she stepped closer to close it. Her fingers were just brushing the edge of the sliding panel when a voice cut through the stillness..
A man’s voice. Low and Unfamilar
“What was she called again?”
Her fingers stopped midair.
“Koyuki,” another voice said — higher, amused. “That’s what the young lady calls her.”
A pause. Then a dry laugh.
“She’ll be useful,” the man said. His tone was low, practical — the way a merchant might talk about the quality of a blade
Useful.Jua froze. The towel slipped from her hands, landing softly on the floorboards.
The sound was small, but it felt like thunder in her chest. Her name — no, the one they’d given her — still echoed in her ears.
She stepped back. One step. Two. The corridor pulsed with her heartbeat.
Useful.
Like an object. Like a thing you use and throw away.
She didn’t realize she was shaking until she reached her room.
---
That night, her candle burned too bright, too close. The wax ran down her fingers. She didn’t flinch.
Her journal lay open before her, the pages breathing with ink.
They said I would be safe here.
But safety that belongs to others is just another kind of leash.
Her handwriting faltered at the edges of her name. Yoo Jua.
Koyuki
No, not here. She struck it through and replaced it with the name she now lived under.
She wrote until the candle burned low, the ink bleeding through the paper like veins
---
When she woke, the candle was gone — and someone was sitting at the edge of her futon.The crimson silk catching the morning light first. Then the faint, floral scent.
The young lady was sitting on the edge of her bed. Her posture perfect, smile soft and cutting.
In her hands — the journal.
Jua’s breath vanished.
She almost fell trying to reach it, her feet tangling in her sheets.
She had snattched the book away “ forgive me,” she stammered, bowing low enough that her forehead touched the floor. “ I did't mean- I was careless ”
The young lady smiled faintly, not offended, just curious.
“So polite,” she said, touching a strand of jua's hair“. You don’t need to tremble so much, Koyuki.”
She looked down at the book, her fingers now brushing the edge.
“You write beautifully,” she murmured. “But…”
“So much sorrow for someone so young.”
Jua clutched the book tighter
She didn’t answer.
“That man you write about…” The woman’s tone softened, almost coaxing. “He’s the one who killed your family, isn’t he?”
Jua’s body locked. Her breath caught in her throat.
How much did she read?
“If you must hate him,” the woman continued, her gaze still fixed on the page, “I suppose I would too. After all…”
Jua’s voice cracked. “Pardon?”
The young lady looked up. Smiled. It was the kind of smile that could slice silk.
“I heard General Kang Damho led a massacre once. A noble family accused of treason. The young lady’s name was Jua.”
She tilted her head slightly, eyes meeting Jua’s.
“That must be you.”
The silence stretched between them.
The room tilted. Jua felt herself floating — detached from her body, her heartbeat echoing far away.
Finally, the young lady rose, smoothing her sleeves. “If memories press too close,” she says, almost to herself, “people find… ways to put them down.”
“so If you ever feel like… balancing what was done to you,” she said, voice light but deliberate, “come to me"
She paused by the door.
“I believe you know the meaning behind my words” she whispered in a smile
The door slid shut.
The scent of plum blossoms lingered long after she was gone.
---
It was a habit for the young lady to be in her room abruptly some days. Jua would wake up to the lady's gaze studying her in a way that made her aware, but today she wasn't expecting such events.
Her hands were shaking when she sat back down.
The journal lay heavy in her lap, tainted now — no longer just words, but evidence.
She had speculated for some time now that the lady knew something about her but now it became clear what exactly it was.
She knows.
She knows who I am.
The offer burned in her ears. Revenge. The word tasted like iron.
Maybe hatred was all she had left that still felt like hers.
---
By midday, she was back at her chores — head bowed,
The laundry courtyard steamed with heat, the air thick with sweat and gossip. Jua bent over her work, fingers raw from scrubbing.
“Koyuki,” someone sneered behind her. “Our little lady’s pet”
Laughter rippled through the air.
She kept her head down.
Another reached for her arm. “Show us that fancy bow again, eh?”
She pulled back
A hand landed on her shoulder. Rough. Too familiar.
Something inside her snapped.
“Don’t,” she said, softly.
He laughed. “What, you’ll cry to the lady about it?”
Her hand moved faster than her fear.
She reached into her apron and pressed something sharp and dry against his wrist — a brittle shard of blisterroot she had tucked there days ago.
His skin blistered within seconds, the burn hissing as it met sweat.
He screamed.Jerking away,skin already blistering
She didn’t flinch
“Touch me again,” she said, her voice even, cold, terrifyingly calm. “And the next herb won’t stop at your hand.”
Silence.
The others stepped back faces pale
She bowed stiffly , turned away, picked up her basket, and walked off —leaving them there in stunned silence
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