Chapter 10
Marrying Juan was, naturally, the most practical option. It would secure her mother’s safety, ensure the household servants’ well-being, and Juan’s feelings for her remained unchanged.
In truth, Juan probably couldn’t do much to protect his own family. In that situation, he had been exceedingly fortunate simply to request His Majesty’s permission to take her in. He could have easily ignored a woman he had not yet married for his own survival. But understanding this with the mind did little to calm the ache in the heart.
“Don’t even think about taking a concubine. If you do, I won’t let you off easy. I’ll catch you like a rat.”
“Of course. I will never take a concubine. My eyes will only be for you, for the rest of my life. I promise it. Where else could I find a woman as beautiful as you, so that I would turn my eyes away?”
“What if a woman more beautiful than me appears?”
“That can’t be true.”
“No, just say it. It could happen.”
“I truly believe in you, Sohwa. In my eyes, you are the only beautiful thing in the world.”
“Huh… right. I guess I’ll have to endure that for the rest of my life?”
In the past, she had worried about Juan taking concubines, but she had never imagined that she herself might become one. Did Juan’s wife, the princess, even know? That her husband intended to take another woman as a concubine… Did she grant her permission at all?
Juan explained that he had requested permission from His Majesty, but he didn’t mention his wife. Perhaps she had been informed, or perhaps not. Regardless, what woman in the world would be happy with her husband taking a concubine? Asking would have been pointless.
“Sohwa, marry Lord Juan… My beautiful daughter, my precious daughter… You mustn’t live in misery. You must be happy…”
Her mother couldn’t hold on much longer. A few days after that day, she passed, leaving a final message urging Sohwa to marry Juan. Normally, bodies were taken by Doya soldiers to the crematorium for disposal, but thanks to Juan, Sohwa was able to hold a proper funeral for her mother.
“I… don’t know, Juan…”
“Do you hate being a second wife? Can’t you look at me and make a decision? You know full well that you are the only one I truly love.”
“I know. I know you had no choice. I was angry at first, I cursed and railed, but now… I’m grateful. Yet I wonder if it’s right for me to put myself in the position I so hated.”
“You’re alone now. How will you survive? I can help you financially, but it seems strange to continue supporting a woman who isn’t even my wife.”
“Yes. My labor will soon end, but I have nowhere to go… So please, find a place for me to serve as a household slave.”
“What?”
“It would be disrespectful to your wife if I worked in your household. So, if you have relatives or acquaintances, I can serve there. While I work, I’ll figure out how to live independently. For your kindness in not forgetting me, for visiting me, for helping me… I will repay you.”
Though she had vowed to stand on her own, she still lacked the strength. Sohwa decided to take time to plan her future. Juan visited periodically, urging her to reconsider, but her resolve never wavered. Eventually, Juan accepted her decision.
Summer passed, autumn faded, and winter came. Her long years of labor finally ended. Sohwa and her family moved to her uncle Jin Pyeong-seok’s home in Juan, where she earned wages doing laundry and odd jobs. Occasionally, at the market, she saw women in silk and ornate jewelry. The thought, I used to be like that, brought a pang of melancholy, yet she tried not to dwell on it.
You who live in the winter fields,
Are you waiting for spring?
You who live in the winter fields,
Are you waiting for flowers?
Spring is tied up, I have to go,
Flowers cannot come, I must go see them.
One day, Sohwa heard a familiar melody drifting from the streets. A vendor was humming the same song she had once heard under the zelkova tree.
“Sir, may I ask? What song is that?”
“Huh, this song? You don’t know it? Then I guess you’re from Muyeon.”
“Yes?”
“This is a song from the Hanya region. A song of our Taoist priests.”
It felt strange. It was the first time she had heard the melody, yet she recognized it as Taoist. She felt comforted by it. That man… must have been Doyagun, the same one who had been in Sari Village.
Even though it was a Taoist song, she didn’t dislike it. By now, she had lived in the Toya Kingdom for two years and had come to understand why the rebellion had erupted in Hanya. Between Muyeon and Toya, there was no absolute perpetrator or victim. She hated him for destroying her world, but she understood why he had done so.
Sohwa climbed Sari Village Hill for the first time in a long while. She recalled her moment of decision beneath the zelkova tree—the day she had vowed not to become Juan’s concubine and to take charge of her own life.
You who live in the winter fields… do you wait for spring?
You who live in the winter fields… do you wait for flowers…
She sat beneath the zelkova tree where the man had sung, attempting to hum the tune herself, though she could barely recall the lyrics.
Suddenly, a rustle in the grass caught her attention.
“Hey, honey. What are you doing here alone?”
Two men from Muyeon approached with leering grins. Thanks to the Doya Army, thugs usually couldn’t roam freely—but now, the nightmare of Sari Village’s red-light district surged back. Sohwa turned to flee, but the men quickly blocked her path.
“Where are you going? Didn’t you wait here to sing for us Westerners? Let’s have some fun together.”
“No! I’m leaving. Step aside!”
“Look at that face… isn’t it really pretty?”
“No woman can have two husbands. We’ll be your husbands today, so come on.”
Sohwa’s hands trembled as she drew her silver sword. After years as a slave, she always carried it for protection.
“Yes, you bastards! Step back! Touch me and I’ll stab you!”
“Oh my, scary. But what can we do? We can’t win at that level.”
The men drew long, sharp kitchen knives from their belts—far larger than her small silver blade. Two burly men against one woman, wielding a single dagger against two knives… there was no way she could win. There was only one solution.
Pale with fear, Sohwa backed up before finally turning to run. But the men were faster. Soon, they seized her by the hair and forced her face-down into the dirt. She swung her arms wildly, striking one of the men across the face with her dagger.
“Ugh! This crazy woman…!”
As one man raised his knife in anger, he froze mid-motion. A monstrous scream erupted, and he was flung into a wooden post, pinned like an animal.
“What… what?!”
The remaining two men spun in shock. Sohwa scrambled to her feet, seeing three Doya soldiers clad in black uniforms.
“Filthy vermin. I’ll make sure your… lower parts are useless,” one said, extending their hand. The men screamed in pain and collapsed, unconscious.
“Are you alright?”
One soldier approached the still-trembling Sohwa. She was astonished not only by the near attack and sudden rescue, but by what came next—
“My, my. You were really scared, weren’t you?”
The three Doya soldiers weren’t men at all—they were women. Until this moment, Sohwa had never realized. In Muyeon, women never wore military uniforms, and all the Doya soldiers she had seen were men. Perhaps she had mistaken female soldiers in passing, but these three were unmistakably women, with voices and faces that left no doubt.
