Chapter 09
Spring was warmer than winter, but the longer days meant the sun lingered late in the sky, stretching the work hours. Sohwa rose quickly, urgency driving her forward. Her mother, Lady Baekhwa, remained in the tent, and worry gnawed at her heart.
Her mother’s condition had worsened. She could no longer rise from her bedding. Losing her husband and eldest son at once, and not knowing whether her second son survived, had deepened her mental anguish. Her illness had only grown heavier with grief.
Sohwa’s chest tightened.
When she reached the tent, out of breath, her eyes fell on something that made her stop short—silk shoes, neatly placed at the entrance. The very shoes she had embroidered with her own hands and gifted to Juan. Heart pounding, she rushed inside.
“Lord! Lord!”
There, across from Lady Baekhwa, sat Juan—the man of her dreams. He looked as immaculate as ever, clean, composed, and alive. The mere fact that he was alive seemed a miracle, yet here he was, standing in front of her. For a fleeting moment, Sohwa worried about herself. How shabby did she look? How badly did she smell, having had no proper chance to wash?
“Digestion.”
Juan embraced her tightly. Sohwa’s cheeks flushed, embarrassed by her own appearance, yet Juan’s calm presence reassured her.
“Sohwa… our Sohwa… I’m glad you’re alive. I’m sorry it took me so long to come.”
“No… no. It’s okay. You’re here, and that’s all that matters… But what happened? What’s going on?”
“My family swore allegiance to the Emperor of Toya. Many nobles, not just us, saved their lives that way. I wish your family had done the same… I wonder how you felt about it.”
“I see… but it’s a relief to see you safe.”
“Yeah. Now, Sohwa, your suffering is over. Let’s leave this place.”
“Really? You can take me out?”
“Of course. Just marry me, and you can leave.”
Juan took her hand in his, and for a moment, Sohwa’s heart leapt at the thought of reclaiming her life.
“…Juan… but why is your hair tied like that? And… that ring on your hand?”
Her joy faltered. Juan’s hair was styled differently, and a ring adorned his left ring finger. In Muyeon tradition, exchanged hair ties symbolized affection, and a ring on the left hand marked a lifelong partner. The implications were clear.
“What…? You… are married? To someone else?”
“Sohwa, listen to me.”
“Married?”
“Yes…”
Those words hit her like a hammer. Her world tilted beneath her feet. Her fiancée—her Juan—had married another.
“I had no choice. To survive, to prevent the ruin of our family, I had to marry the second princess.”
“….”
“I spoke to Your Majesty. I promised to protect a woman for life. Her family had been purged and confined to a village. How could I stand by? I begged the Emperor to let me take responsibility. And by His mercy, I was allowed to take you as my second wife.”
Sohwa’s head spun. How could she understand a man who had promised to love her, yet now bound himself to another?
“So… your wedding at the palace was your marriage to another woman? And now… you want me to be your concubine?”
“Digestion.”
Her mother’s calm voice broke through. Coughing slightly, Lady Baekhwa continued.
“Is there any other way? Right now, we survive by forced labor. Once it’s over, we’ll be abandoned. How will we make a living if we can’t do anything? We’ll wander from house to house, begging, becoming slaves, maybe even selling ourselves. A woman needs a man to protect her. It’s a miracle Lord Juan came for you. Marry him, and you—and I, and everyone in our household—can survive.”
“…Mother… how can you say that? Is life really just this?”
Sohwa’s voice trembled with outrage.
“That’s not how it works… No! I’ll die alone if it means everyone else lives! You want to live comfortably even if it means selling your daughter as a concubine?”
“Sohwa! How dare you speak to your mother like that!”
“Let go! I won’t marry him! You traitor!”
Sohwa stormed from the tent, running up the hill in Sari Village, finally collapsing at the foot of a massive zelkova tree. Hiding behind it, she wept bitterly, unashamed and unaware of disturbing the figure resting nearby.
“This is the result of waiting too long… They say women are like fields and should only accept their husband’s seed—but is it right for men to sow wherever they please? Are women alone to uphold chastity and virtue?”
The fact that Juan had married for survival—out of necessity—didn’t soften her grief. He had pledged to spend his life with another. That thought burned in her chest.
“He’s already married. His seed has been sown in another field. No matter how much he loves me, I am only a concubine. I’ve stolen the princess’s husband. I can never be at peace… My child will bear the label of a concubine’s child. If I cannot be a good mother, then I will not be a mother at all…”
Sohwa buried her face in her knees, crying harder than she ever had in Sari Village. Even the horrors of the red-light district hadn’t elicited cries so raw. This sorrow—the surrender of love—was indescribable.
“You who live in the winter fields… do you wait for spring? You who live in the winter fields… do you wait for flowers…?”
A voice began to sing from the other side of the tree. A man’s voice, tender and mournful.
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 see them.
Spring, don’t cry. I will come to you.
I will fly like snowflakes, fall like spring rain.
Flower, don’t cry. I will come to you.
Fly like snowflakes and hide in the sun…
Sohwa couldn’t tell if the song was meant to comfort her or if the man sang because he, too, wanted to cry. Yet strangely, she felt soothed. Spring wasn’t something to wait for—it was something one went to find. My spring is something I will seek.
“Madam!”
Kkotbun and Pandong came running, frantic.
“Are you trying to die on us?! I’ve already lost, and yet you risk everything? It’s dangerous! What if those madmen harm you?”
Sohwa rose, listening to the echo of the singing, and peeked beyond the zelkova tree. The man had already walked down the hill, leaving only the shadow of his retreating back.
“…I won’t marry Juan.”
Watching the retreating figure, Sohwa resolved once more. She would no longer wait foolishly for someone else to rescue her.
“I will survive on my own.”
Her life would no longer belong to anyone but herself.
