The banquet hall shimmered with gold and candlelight, a palace transformed into a paradise fit to celebrate the birth of a king.
Long tables were laid with opulent silk runners, and dishes of the finest cuisine were being brought out one after another—each more elaborate than the last. Nobles whispered behind fluttering fans, their richly embroidered robes rustling as they settled into their designated places.
Suddenly, the booming voice of the guard echoed through the wide chamber, silencing the murmurs.
“Announcing the arrival of His Majesty, the King, and the royal family!”
A hush fell over the room like a veil. Everyone, from ministers to high-ranking generals and court ladies, rose from their seats and bowed deeply.
A procession of royalty entered the hall with dignified grace. The King, dressed in full regalia, was followed by the Queen Dowager, the Queen Consort, the Crown Prince, and the Princess—each step they took punctuated with power and tradition.
The King raised his hand. “As the ruler of this great nation, I thank each and every one of you for being here today to celebrate my birthday,” he said with a warm but authoritative voice. “And tonight, we shall be entertained by the most talented young ladies of our realm. Let us be merry and enjoy what the evening brings.”
The audience clapped politely, and the performances began. One by one, young women stepped forward to present their talents—some playing the gayageum, others reciting poetry, or performing graceful fan dances. The crowd watched with appreciation, but none stirred the soul.
Until it was Min Yewon’s turn.
The room shifted. Anticipation bloomed like a sudden storm. As Yewon walked toward the center of the grand hall, the soft click of her shoes against the marble floor echoed with elegance. A veil of sheer silk covered half of her face, allowing only her expressive eyes and soft pink lips to show.
Her pale pink hanbok, light as cherry blossoms in spring, fluttered gently in the breeze that crept through the open palace doors. She moved like poetry, calm yet sorrowful.
Soft, melancholic music began to play. She lifted her arms, long strands of white silk trailing from her hands, and started to sway. Her movements were slow and fluid, like a flower dancing through a storm. Then, she began to sing.
“Before my eyes start to overflow with tears
Without saying a word, just go back
The place you should be isn’t here by my side
Because I’m a girl, because I’m a girl…
Even though I want to hold on…”
Her voice was like a whisper from the heavens—gentle, melodic, filled with aching emotion. The hall, so alive a moment ago, had now fallen silent. No one dared move. Even the flickering candle flames seemed to still in reverence.
Tears welled in the eyes of many in the audience. Even the Dowager Queen discreetly dabbed the corner of her eye with a silk handkerchief.
“My heart which was cut from where love passed me by
When is this scar supposed to heal over?
One drop, two drops
With my tears, I will erase you
Until one day… my tears dry up…”
Yewon’s voice cracked ever so slightly on the last note. That tiny imperfection made the performance more powerful—more human. She bowed gracefully as the final note lingered in the air like a sigh.
And then the applause came. Thundering and unanimous.
It shook the chamber like a tidal wave. Some nobles were moved to tears. Even the Queen Consort stood and clapped, her face visibly touched. And at the far end of the hall, the Crown Prince watched her in silence—his expression unreadable, except for the deep sadness in his eyes.
As the night drew to a close, the final verdict was announced. “Among the seven preliminary candidates,” said the Queen Consort, rising from her seat, “three young ladies have emerged as the top performers. They will proceed to the final selection.”
The court held its breath.
“First, Lady Min Yewon—the daughter of the Right State Councilor.”
“Second, Lady Kim Eun Ji—the daughter of the First Minister of War.”
“Third, Lady Kang Seo-Jung—the daughter of the Minister of Literary Affairs.”
The names were etched into the hearts of every person present. But all eyes returned again and again to Min Yewon. Even those who had doubted her now whispered of her grace and strength.
The three candidates were allowed to return to their homes before the final selection. Yewon stepped out of the palace, her heart heavy. Her father stood by the gate, looking proud and expectant, as the other officials surrounded him. But before she could reach him, a firm, familiar grip took hold of her wrist from behind.
She gasped, instantly recognizing the warmth of that touch. “Do Jeon?!” she whispered, turning around, her face draining of color. Her voice trembled. “What are you doing here?! You shouldn’t be seen—what if someone—”
But his eyes silenced her. They were brimming with sadness, yet unafraid.
“I missed you,” he said quietly. “It’s been too long since I last saw your face and heard your voice.” He reached for her hand, brushing his thumb against her knuckles. “We’re lovers, Yewon. Do you think I’d let this night pass without seeing you, even if it cost me everything?”
Her breath hitched. She stepped forward and embraced him tightly, burying her face in his chest. Her body shook with silent sobs.
“I’m so sorry, Do Jeon. But this… this will be the last time we’ll ever see each other.”
Do Jeon closed his eyes, forcing a broken smile. “I know.”
He cupped her face gently. “That’s why I came. To say goodbye.”
Her lips quivered. “If I don’t go through with this, they’ll hurt you. They’ll destroy everything you are, everything you love. I can’t let that happen to you. I won’t.”
“I’d rather face death than a life without you,” he whispered. “But… I won’t stop you. Just promise me you’ll live—even if it’s not with me.”
A silence fell between them, heavy and suffocating.
Then, Do Jeon leaned closer, his voice shaking: “Can I ask you for one last favor?”
“…What is it?” she asked, her voice barely audible.
“A kiss,” he said.
Her eyes met his, already filled with tears. She reached for his face, tracing the lines she knew so well—the curve of his jaw, the warmth of his cheek.
And then, without another word, their lips met in a kiss that was soft, mournful, and desperate. Tears streamed freely from both their eyes, falling between them like rain.
It was a farewell.
Unbeknownst to them, someone was watching.
From the shadows of a nearby pavilion, a pair of raven-black eyes burned with fury and betrayal.
The Crown Prince had seen everything.
YOU ARE READING
𝗧𝗛𝗘 𝗞𝗜𝗡𝗚'𝗦 𝗪𝗜𝗙𝗘 (CURRENTLY EDITING)
Historical Fiction𝑨 𝒔𝒕𝒐𝒓𝒚 𝒂𝒃𝒐𝒖𝒕 𝒂 𝑸𝒖𝒆𝒆𝒏 𝑪𝒐𝒏𝒔𝒐𝒓𝒕 𝒅𝒖𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝑱𝒐𝒔𝒆𝒐𝒏 𝑬𝒓𝒂.
