Chapter 1
It was just past the start of winter, yet the air was bitterly cold, as if midwinter had already arrived.
“Miss, it’s time to come in now.”
The voice of Dongsu’s mother echoed from the house. Heeyeon, curious about what task she would be assigned today, casually opened the door.
Every breath she exhaled formed a cloud of white mist. She stared at it for a moment, then rolled up her sleeves.
“Today, make sure to wash these vegetables thoroughly.”
Before her, Dongsu’s mother placed a mountain of dried vegetables. It was hardly the kind of task a servant would demand from the young lady of the house—but she was no ordinary servant. She was the trusted aide of the family matriarch. In this household, her word was effectively the matriarch’s command.
“Understood.”
Could there even be a task Heeyeon could refuse in this house? She nodded with a blank expression.
Dongsu’s mother warned her that there might be stones mixed in with the vegetables and that she would need to wash them at least ten times. Then she left.
“This is unfair! In this cold weather, she wants me to wash with icy water?”
Gopdan, the maid standing beside her, stomped her feet in worry.
“It’s fine. If there’s work to do, it has to be done.”
“But it’s so cold…”
Gopdan knew all too well where Heeyeon stood in the household hierarchy, and she dared not complain further.
After all, the entire household knew that the eldest daughter of Vice Minister Jeong Jae-hyeon—who held the ultimate power in the family—was notoriously harsh.
“Alright, let’s get started. If we don’t, we won’t finish before lunch.”
Heeyeon said briskly and seated herself before the mountain of dried vegetables.
Twenty years ago, Madam Hyo of the Sim clan gave birth to twins. The Jeong family, desperate for a son, suffered a heartbreaking loss when the boy died, leaving only Heeyeon alive. That marked the beginning of her misfortune.
“A cursed child who took the precious hand meant to continue the family line…”
Heeyeon grew up under her grandmother’s hatred and her mother’s neglect. After Madam Hyo’s womb closed following her first childbirth, the mistreatment intensified—too heavy a burden for the young Heeyeon to bear.
“Mother, please tell me what I’ve done wrong so I can fix it.”
Mustering all her courage, Heeyeon asked, trembling under Madam Hyo’s icy gaze. But she received a cold, almost mocking reply.
“Can you bring back your dead brother?”
“W-What…?”
“If you cannot die in his place, then any effort you make is in vain.”
The memory pierced her, chilling her to the bone as she worked with the icy water. But Gopdan, ever resourceful, returned with a bucket of warm water.
“Miss, use this to warm your hands while you work.”
Heeyeon’s chest tightened at the gesture. In this household, no one ever gave her such kindness. Only Gopdan, her devoted maid, had the courage and heart to care for her.
Just as she began to warm her frozen hands, the sound of approaching footsteps caught her attention.
“What are you doing?”
Minseo appeared with an innocent smile, eyeing Heeyeon’s red, chilled hands. Gopdan stiffened in anxiety, fearing that the young lady might suffer frostbite.
Minseo was the daughter of Madam Park, a concubine of the matriarch. Her arrival marked yet another complication for Heeyeon. Now seventeen, Minseo knew of Heeyeon’s misfortune but still approached with a bright smile, leaving chaos in her wake.
“I’m washing the vegetables,” Heeyeon replied plainly.
“That looks fun! Can I help?”
Despite seeing Heeyeon struggle to thaw her frozen hands, Minseo insisted. This was her way—pretending to help while actually causing trouble.
“Are you sure you want to?” Heeyeon asked, her calm eyes studying the girl. She knew Minseo would never take no for an answer. Behind that innocent face hid a cunning venom.
“Yes, I want to!”
Minseo hurried over and began stirring the vegetables recklessly, dropping some onto the dirt floor.
“Oh no! I dropped them!”
Heeyeon had anticipated this. She did not flinch but continued washing the now-dirtied vegetables.
Frustrated at not getting the reaction she wanted, Minseo overturned the warm water Gopdan had brought, splashing it across the floor. Steam rose in the freezing air, filling the room.
“Oh dear! What do we do now?”
Gopdan’s eyes filled with distress. There was no way to fetch more warm water in the freezing weather.
From behind came a sharp voice.
“What is going on?”
The matriarch had arrived, drawn by the commotion. Minseo’s timing may not have been accidental.
“I’m sorry.” Heeyeon bowed deeply. Whatever she said would be met with scolding, so this was the best she could do.
The matriarch’s sharp eyes and words cut through her heart as always.
“Useless child.”
Twenty years of hearing those words did not make them any easier. Heeyeon pressed her hands into her lap and lowered her head.
“Forgive me,” she whispered again. The matriarch, dissatisfied, turned away and left.
“Miss, are you alright? I didn’t mean for this to happen,” Minseo said, pretending concern as she followed the matriarch.
In truth, the matriarch had no affection for Minseo, a concubine’s daughter. Yet her disdain for Heeyeon was so severe that she overlooked Minseo’s mischief entirely.
Gopdan’s soft sobs reminded Heeyeon that she was not alone.
“There’s no need to cry over this,” she said firmly, resuming her work. Cold water stung her hands, but the pain was nothing compared to the ache in her heart.
Four days later, a mysterious monk arrived, claiming to be travelling to attain enlightenment. His white hair tied back and long beard gave him a peculiar appearance; his piercing gaze roamed the household.
The matriarch, who honoured Buddha and ancestral spirits, often offered alms to such visitors. But this monk spoke unusually.
“Is there misfortune in this household?”
The matriarch narrowed her eyes. The family’s decline was already evident; the Jeong lineage was on the brink of ending.
“You can sense it?” she asked sceptically.
The monk smiled faintly, as if privy to secrets beyond ordinary knowledge.
“There is a curse. An evil presence blocks prosperity from entering this home.”
The matriarch could not argue—she had long suspected the same.
“Is there a solution?”
The monk smiled again, more confidently.
“If you offer this evil to the gods as a sacrifice, balance will be restored.”
“Even if the evil is… living?”
“If it is a living sacrifice, the gods will be more pleased, will they not?”
A strange, intense gaze passed between them, and the air itself seemed to hold its breath.
