Chapter 5: Regression
“Young Lady, please don’t move.”
The murmuring voices rang sharply in Seolyun’s ears.
“Oh dear, the rouge will smudge.”
She could vividly feel the light touch of paper brushing against her lips before pulling away. The rich scent of pomegranate tickled her nose, almost overwhelming. As the soft, fluttering fabric draped over her head brushed against her cheeks, Seolyun slowly opened her eyes.
“Where is this…?”
The burning sensation that had once scorched her throat still lingered, yet now a soft brush made of pheasant feathers traced gently along her neckline. In her widened field of vision, maids bustled about in all directions.
“…Yangyang?”
Through the vivid red fabric, as crimson as blood, a familiar face appeared. Without realizing it, Seolyun murmured the maid’s name.
“Yes, Young Lady. I’m here. Please bear with it just a little longer.”
How are you…
Seolyun tilted her head slightly, murmuring in confusion.
“Y-you… You died two years ago, didn’t you?”
Yangyang had eloped in the dead of night with a servant after their eyes met. In the end, she was killed by an assassin sent by Madam Cho. To set an example for the other servants, even their corpses had been dragged back to the Sacheon Tang Clan. Madam Cho had often scolded Seolyun for being too soft and familiar with her attendants.
Yet that very maid now stood before her, smiling brightly.
“Pardon?”
The maid’s round eyes sparkled as she burst into laughter at Seolyun’s words, all the while deftly smoothing the wrinkles in her skirt.
“Our Young Lady must have had a dream.”
“A dream?”
“Why would I die? I must live long and see your wedding today, and later take care of the child you’ll have.”
The loyal maid who had been by Seolyun’s side since birth sniffled, seemingly overcome with emotion.
Is this really a dream?
But everything felt too real—the decorations, the familiar structure of the room, even the maids’ breathing was clear. Seolyun raised her hand and touched her head.
“Oh dear, we spent two hours styling your hair. If you keep touching it, it’ll fall apart.”
“A mirror. Someone bring me a mirror.”
The sensation at her fingertips was unmistakably real.
A dream? No. Something this horrifying couldn’t happen even in a dream.
Even when she dug her nails into her clenched fist, nothing changed. At her command, one of the maids hurried over with a palm-sized mirror from the table.
“You don’t even need to look—you’re the most beautiful in the world today.”
Thinking Seolyun was simply being sensitive as a bride-to-be, the maid tried her best to reassure her.
“If people said a celestial maiden had reincarnated, everyone would believe it.”
Seolyun looked at her reflection—herself, wearing a red bridal veil—and froze stiff.
“It would be better if I rested for a moment.”
The maids hesitated, unsure of what to do. Yangyang, anxious, carefully spoke up.
“But, Young Lady, the guests are waiting, and your makeup isn’t finished yet. At this rate, we might miss the auspicious hour.”
“Half a shichen… no, even the time it takes an incense stick to burn. I want to be alone.”
Reaching out through the sleeve of her red wedding robe, she grabbed Yangyang’s wrist. Feeling the trembling in Seolyun’s hand, Yangyang signaled the other maids with her eyes.
“The time of one incense stick. We’ll come back then.”
With a worried look, Yangyang lingered until the very end before leaving. The door slowly closed, and silence fell in an instant.
The moment the room grew quiet, Seolyun tore off her veil.
“Ha… ha…”
Her pale face, drained of all color, gasped for breath.
She had clearly died—strangled by silk. How could she ever forget that suffocating sensation?
Chaeryeong’s laughter as she struggled desperately…
The memory of clutching a shard from a fallen teapot and slashing Du Hanpyeong’s hand…
“I remember… He climbed on top of me, cursing like a street thug after being injured. I scratched him until my nails tore off… and then I lost consciousness. So I didn’t die…?”
All the memories surged at once, leaving her dizzy. Looking at her reflection—the red lips stained with rouge, the hairpin set with Namhae pearls—her eyes reddened.
Her hands were still unscarred.
No deep wounds, no blackened tips from medicinal herbs.
No blisters from poison experiments.
No bruises from poisoned needles while crafting hidden weapons.
All of it… gone.
Tap. Tap.
Resting her chin on her arm, Seolyun tapped the table with her other hand. After coldly organizing her thoughts, she arrived at a single conclusion.
“I’ve regressed… to three years ago. The day of my wedding with Du Hanpyeong.”
The 8th year of Emperor Choryeong.
A bitter smile curled her lips.
“Of all days… it had to be the day I marry him.”
Had the incense already burned through? The door creaked open, and a figure appeared behind her.
As someone gently wrapped an arm around her shoulders and brushed their cheek against hers affectionately, Seolyun startled and leapt to her feet.
“There’s no need to be surprised. It’s me, A-yun.”
“……”
“Your husband.”
Du Hanpyeong stood before her.
At the sight of him, her breath caught in her throat. Seeing her pale face, he reached out and gently patted her back.
“You—!”
She almost screamed but quickly covered her mouth. The memory of being strangled by silk surged back, her heart pounding uncontrollably. A ringing filled her ears, and her vision spun as if she might faint at any moment.
“Don’t be upset, A-yun. I was worried you might be nervous, just like me, so I came to see you.”
Though it was forbidden for the groom to see the bride’s bare face before removing her veil that night, Du Hanpyeong merely smiled at her.
“You’re truly beautiful. Just as I imagined. I can’t believe you’re becoming my wife—it feels like a dream.”
“It feels like a dream… to me as well, Hanpyeong.”
A chance for revenge… has come.
Seolyun could never forgive the man who poisoned her with her own creations and had an affair with her half-sister, even fathering a child.
She had been nothing but naïve.
There had been so much she wanted to do—so much she needed to do.
Rather than being trapped in Sacheon, she had wanted to travel the world and study every kind of poison. Above all, she had been so focused on becoming the head of the family that she neglected herself.
“I’m fine. You should go now. The elders of the Tang Clan must be looking for you.”
Seolyun found his behavior almost laughable.
A man who prided himself on etiquette, acting like a noble scholar…
Yet here he was, breaking wedding customs to visit her. The hypocrisy made her want to scoff. Once, the self-contradictory Du Hanpyeong had been someone she relied on.
Thinking she was simply shy, he nodded obediently and brushed back the loose strands of hair near her ear.
“I hope you understand how hard it is for me to wait. Then, I’ll see you at the ceremony in one shichen.”
His hand, smooth like that of a scholar, came close to her cheek.
At that moment, something caught her eye—her gaze sharpened instantly. Grabbing his hand as he turned to leave, she demanded,
“This… what happened to it?”
As she had been strangled, she had gripped a shard of a broken teapot and slashed the back of his right hand. Even though she had returned three years into the past, a long vertical wound remained on his hand.
And it looked recent.
“Ah, this?”
Like a snake, he extended his tongue and licked the wound, acting unconcerned.
“Early this morning, around the Hour of the Rabbit, I was drinking tea to clear my mind while reading. I dropped the cup, and strangely, the teapot fell onto my hand as I tried to pick it up. Consider it a misfortune averted—our future will surely be smooth.”
Despite his casual explanation, Seolyun examined the wound carefully under the light. Since he had only applied a hemostatic powder without properly bandaging it, the swollen area was clearly visible.
“You should treat it properly. You know I have good medicine.”
With practiced ease, she selected a vial from a small box. Then, gripping his shoulders, she forced him into a chair and generously applied the ointment.
The cool sensation made Du Hanpyeong smile in satisfaction.
“With you taking care of me like this, A-yun, it already feels healed.”
“…That’s good.”
But instead of a healing salve, she had applied something that would worsen and inflame the wound.
That injury must never disappear.
Not until her revenge was complete.
