Evelyn did not know how long Ye Run Chu’s body had gone without a proper bath. That alone was enough to make her scrub with near-religious devotion. The wooden bathing tub was large, carved from dark cedar and filled with steaming water steeped in herbs.

At first, she had been almost afraid to touch the body she now inhabited, this unfamiliar weight, these unfamiliar limbs, but practicality won out quickly. Dirt was dirt, regardless of whose skin it clung to.

She dunked her head under the water, and the moment her hair soaked through, the illusion shattered. What had once been stiff, tangled, and matted black loosened immediately, strands separating like ink dissolving in water. She dragged her fingers through it and felt grime peel away from her scalp. The water clouded almost instantly.

“…Oh,” Evelyn muttered. She scrubbed harder. Mud lifted from her arms and shoulders in thin gray ribbons. The skin beneath emerged pale, too pale, that you can now see a visible marked here and there with faint yellowed bruises along the ribs and forearms.

Old injuries. Poorly healed. The kind that came from being shoved into walls, tripped in alleys, or kicked for existing in the wrong place. A typical body of someone who had lived on the streets.

This young man had been through a lot. And now Evelyn soul occupies his body.

I wonder what happened to him.

The thought lingered, until Kayla’s face flashed through her mind.

Evelyn’s jaw clenched.

What am I even thinking? If Ye Run Chu were to return to his body, Kayla would be left alone in this world. I can’t let that happen. Don’t think about him. No. Away. Away. I will not concern myself with this.

Whatever had happened to him no longer mattered. Right now, her younger sister mattered more than anything else.

Evelyn paused only briefly before continuing to wash. She worked methodically, cleaning every inch, until the heaviness she hadn’t even realized she was carrying slowly dissolved. By the time she rinsed her hair for the third time, the bathwater had turned a deeply suspicious shade of brown.

She stared at it.

“…This body really was living like a stray dog.”

At that moment, the door slid open.

“Here it is. Use the scented soap while we—” Kayla’s voice cut off abruptly.

The wooden tray in her hands slipped from her grasp and clattered to the floor, soap scattering everywhere.

She had spent nearly thirty minutes searching through cabinets, shelves, and chests, convinced the palace servants had hidden the bathing supplies in their usual, infuriating places.

When she finally returned to the bathing room and stopped beside the folding screen, steam curled lazily into her face, thick with herbal fragrance.

Her eyes lifted, and her mind promptly stopped functioning.

The person seated in the wooden tub turned slightly at the sound of her presence. Water slid down smooth shoulders. Damp hair clung loosely to a long, elegant neck.

Her elder sister.

No.

Her elder brother.

Kayla froze so completely that even her breathing stalled.

The disbelief on her face was so blatant that Evelyn noticed immediately. She frowned, unease creeping in as she shifted.

“What?” Evelyn asked, her voice echoed softly against tile and wood.

“Why are you looking at me like that?”

Kayla didn’t answer. Instead, she rushed forward and seize Evelyn’s face with both hands.

“...Hey!” Evelyn yelped, cheeks squished mercilessly as Kayla tilted her head left, then right, then slightly up.

“W-What’s wrong?” Evelyn mumbled.

“You’re holding my face too tight.”

“This… this won’t do,” Kayla muttered, panic seeping through her words.

“…What won’t do?” Evelyn demanded.

Kayla released her abruptly and spun on her heel, bolting out of the bathing room. Moments later, she returned, slightly breathless, hauling an ancient bronze-framed mirror nearly as tall as her torso.

She planted herself in front of the tub and lifted it.

“Look,” Kayla said.

Evelyn glanced down, only to freeze. Steam softened the reflection, but it could not hide the truth. Porcelain-pale skin caught the lamplight, smooth and luminous as though it absorbed light instead of reflecting it.

A long, graceful neck flowed into narrow shoulders, lending the figure an elegance that felt almost unreal. Auburn hair, auburn, not black, fell loose and damp around his face, strands like spilled silk.

The features staring back at her were fine-boned and exquisitely sculpted. Sharp yet delicate. Masculine, but undeniably beautiful. Softly tinted lips rested in a composed line, unreadable.

But it was the eyes. Narrow, elegant, framed by long lashes. Calm, and penetrating. The kind of gaze that could dismantle someone without ever raising its voice.

Evelyn’s fingers tightened against the edge of the tub.

“This…” she whispered.

“…Is that me?”

Kayla nodded stiffly.

Reflected in the mirror was a breathtaking young man. And inside that body lived Evelyn’s soul.

Later, after she had been wrapped in a robe and forcibly seated in an exquisitely carved wooden chair, Evelyn still hadn’t fully recovered. She stared ahead, unfocused, as though the world had become slightly unreal.

Just this morning, she had woken up as a beggar.

She distinctly remembered black hair. A grimy face. Nothing remarkable.

But dirt hid many sins, and apparently… many miracles.

How could a beggar look like this?

Not handsome, beautiful. Peerlessly so. More beautiful than she had ever been as a woman. The kind of beauty that invited trouble by merely existing.

What kind of background did Ye Run Chu have?

And why did his skin feel so soft to touch?

Earlier, while wiping herself dry, she had genuinely wondered whether this body was made of cotton instead of flesh.

Did this man even have bones?

Evelyn thought it through, and ended up chuckling to herself.

Of course he did. Otherwise, walking would’ve been an impressive illusion.

“This won’t do!”

Kayla’s voice snapped her out of her thoughts.

Evelyn glance up to see her pacing the room, biting her right thumb, a habit she’d had since childhood whenever anxiety took hold.

“Pacing won’t help,” she said mildly, reaching for the bowl of boiled peanuts on the table, set alongside a few sweets and warm tea the servants had quietly prepared earlier. She cracked one open and tossed it into her mouth.

“Just calm down.”

Kayla stopped and stared at her. Seeing how calm she was while she herself was so worked up only made her irritated. She plopped down opposite Evelyn, arms crossed tightly.

“The hardest part, getting you into the palace is over,” Kayla muttered.

“But now we have another problem.”

Evelyn hummed in response.

“Just this morning you complained about me becoming a princess in this country,” Kayla continued, voice rising.

“But what about you? You’re supposed to be a beggar. Is there even a beggar who looks like that?”

She gestured wildly.

“You look like some immortal who accidentally descended to the mortal realm and forgot to disguise himself. If you step outside like this, you’ll get harassed before you even leave this residence! Worse, what if someone important notices you? What if the emperor sees you and decides to keep you here? Make you his… his concubine, like in those historical drama series I used to watch?” Her voice wavered, spiraling.

“Don’t you see how serious this is? I, I can’t. I can’t be left alone again. If that happens, I’d rather die—”

“Hey.” Evelyn snapped a peanut shell cleanly between her fingers.

“Take a grip,” she said lightly, though her eyes had sharpened.

“Why do you always jump straight from problem to death? Is that your special talent now?”

She leaned back in the chair, utterly relaxed, one leg crossing over the other as if this were all a mildly entertaining conversation.

“Listen,” she continued, tone turning lazy but certain.

“I’m not going anywhere. No emperor, no immortal, no random lunatic with wandering eyes is taking me away.”

She flicked the empty shell aside and smiled, crooked, confident, unbothered.

“Whatever terrifying drama you’re staging inside that anxious head of yours? It’s not happening. I won’t let it.”

Kayla just stared at her, listening, though her expression remained tense and worried.

“Besides, there’s always a solution,” Evelyn went on, unfazed.

Kayla glared at her.

“Then what’s yours?”

Evelyn tapped her chin thoughtfully.

“I’ll wear a veil,” she said at last, tone casual, as if proposing nothing more serious than changing clothes.

“You can tell everyone I’m hiding a disfiguring scar. People stop asking questions once they think looking at you might traumatize them. Earlier it wasn’t visible because my face was covered in filth. Problem solved.”

Kayla stared at her.

“…You’re serious?”

“Completely.” Evelyn continued chewing, unbothered.

“Isn’t that what historical dramas always do when someone needs to become mysterious? Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten.”

Silence stretched between them. Then Kayla let out a sharp, disbelieving laugh, half incredulous, half helpless.

“…You really are unbelievable,” she muttered.

Evelyn grinned, entirely unapologetic.

“What can I say?” she said lightly.

“We’re siblings, after all.”

Kayla clicked her tongue, but she didn’t deny it. For the first time since entering the palace, the chamber no longer felt like a cage. It felt like a battlefield they were standing on together.