❝ 𝘊𝘭𝘪𝘤𝘩𝘦𝘴 𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘵𝘳𝘢𝘨𝘪𝘤𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘺 𝘧𝘶𝘯𝘯𝘺, 𝘢𝘳𝘦𝘯'𝘵 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘺? ❞
Where Han Yeonha wants to mind her own business while playing the role of the quiet second lead but the other characters can't help but want to meddle with the story.
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The King was drunk out of his mind again. He did that quite often, to cope with the burden of the throne. To cope with the fact that most of his⏤their actions were not their own, as portrayed in the illustrated book.
He had retired to his chambers early and she did not have any patients for the remainder of the day. It seemed like a miracle. Perhaps if she dressed quickly, she would be able to attend the last few hours of the harvest festival.
She had hurried home, hoping to find Haru lounging in the veranda. He did that quite frequently these days. Stare quietly at the night sky, either moping or contemplating. She thought he needed space. Perhaps he was still going through the process of boyhood or perhaps he was troubled as to why he said and did things he did not want to.
Haru wasn't there, however. The house was dark and quiet.
Ignoring the sting in her chest, for he was absent a lot nowadays and she missed him, the woman dressed into a set of pretty rouge coloured robes. It was a present from the seamstress for curing her son of an ailment.
It felt silly, putting on the silk. She rarely, if not never, wore anything but her plain white or black hanbok. Jung, her apprentice, offhandedly commented that her attire was fit for mourning.
Untying her hair, she debated whether or not to put the one ornamental hairpin that she owned to use. Her mother had been very fond of doing up her hair in different styles. Unfortunately, the woman had passed due to an illness before she could teach any of it to her. She didn't have any handmaidens to help her either. It wasn't that she couldn't afford to. It was only that...she didn't see any need for employing them.
Ah, well, since she couldn't do up her hair like the ladies in the kingdom with their fancy jewelry, the young healer simply pinned some of it back.
The sun had long set when she left. The crowd had dwindled by the time she got to the town square. She delightedly looked up at the different coloured lanterns, the painted masks hung on the walls, and the special merchandise the street vendors were selling.
After wandering around for some time, she approached a small stall out of curiosity. On display were cowries and seashells of varying sizes. The peddler welcomed her with a beaming face.
"Madam Han! How may I serve you today?"
She hesitantly picked up a shell, roughly the size of her palm, and examined it. Her eyes shone with wonder, "I didn't know shells came in such proportions."
"Oh, if this surprises you, you should see some of the corals they were selling before. Pity you missed them by a few moments." Before she could ask what exactly 'corals' were, the man continued, "You may keep the seashell, madam. I can see how taken you are with it. If you place it against your ear, you can hear the sea as well!"
