Yoon Ji walked carefully, mindful not to twist her injured foot again. Every step was measured, deliberate. As she lifted her head, her gaze swept over the area and she noticed them immediately: guards, too many of them, and an unusual number of servants stationed like statues, standing at attention. Her brow twitched in quiet amusement. No one needed to tell her this was Tae Hyun's doing. It had his signature all over it, his silent commands, his habit of making sure to show up as the most important person.
She turned her head slightly and caught sight of her father.
Tae So was smiling warmly, eyes crinkling at the edges, his face etched with a kind of pride only fathers wore when they looked at their daughters. He had never once raised his voice at either of them - neither her nor Tae Hyun - and perhaps that was why he turned a blind eye to the servants and guards Tae Hyun brought with him. They likely followed Tae Hyun, treating him as the young master, eager to stay in the good graces of the head of the house who doted on his children.
With a sigh barely audible, Yoon Ji began to ascend the stone steps to the pavilion, each one taken with quiet grace despite the dull ache in her foot. At the top, her father stepped forward, arms open in welcome.
"Tae Yoon Ji," he said, his voice full of gentle affection, "come, sit here."
He gestured to the seat beside Tae Hyun. Without protest, Yoon Ji moved toward it and carefully lowered herself down, arranging her skirts neatly as she did. Once she was seated, Tae So returned to his place with a quiet nod of satisfaction.
"Welcome, Father," she greeted with a small smile. "I hope the journey back wasn't too tiring."
"Not at all, my beautiful daughter," he replied, beaming as he began to fill her plate with an array of carefully prepared dishes. "I made sure they cooked this meal especially for you, to help restore your vitality and heal that foot of yours. I heard you fell. Tell me, how are you feeling?"
She watched as her plate filled to the brim with delicacies, the warm steam rising in delicate wisps. Picking up her chopsticks, she answered softly, "It's getting better. Our family physician has already tended to it."
"Very good." Tae So nodded approvingly, then paused. "I would be pleased if you could find it in your heart to forgive your handmaiden and your guard."
Yoon Ji hesitated, her smile faltering for the first time. She understood her father's concern, he had always been thoughtful about those who served them. But she hadn't decided yet. The injury had disrupted more than just her footing. She likely wouldn't be able to return to her dance rehearsals for days, maybe longer. And that.. not the pain, but the interruption was what truly troubled her. Every time she tried to focus on reading or studying, her foot throbbed faintly, pulling her back into the discomfort. The idea that she might not dance as fluidly again gnawed at her heart more than she would admit.
She exhaled softly and gave a small, noncommittal nod. "Hmmm."
When she was younger, she would have replaced them without a second thought - servants, guards, even tutors, anyone who failed to meet her expectations. But Bu-ran had proven herself more than competent. Her handmaiden had been attentive, and rarely missed anything. Kang Mu, her guard, was distant kin to Woong, her father's trusted personal guard. He seemed to have been trained under the same exacting discipline. His quiet loyalty had become something of a comfort, even if he was partly responsible for her fall. Replacing them now would create unnecessary complications, and despite her hurt, she didn't want to admit that she had grown attached to their excellent service.
"If I have to change my guard," she said at last, pouting slightly like a child seeking attention, "then I want Woong."
The corner of her lips lifted in a playful smirk. It was a small joke just enough to lighten the air and she knew her father would catch it. Tae So chuckled under his breath, eyes twinkling as he looked from her to Tae Hyun and back again. Moments like this reminded him that, no matter how poised Yoon Ji had become, she was still his daughter, strong-willed, clever, and occasionally, deliciously mischievous.
"Oh, sister... do you really think I'd allow that?" Tae Hyun said, wiping the corner of his mouth with the back of his hand. "If Woong is going to accompany anyone, it should be me. Obviously."
He said it with such seriousness that Yoon Ji and Tae So couldn't help but burst into soft laughter. Tae Hyun paused, eyes flicking between the two of them, a puzzled frown knitting his brows.
"What?" he asked, genuinely confused.
"You missed the joke, little brother," Yoon Ji said with a smirk, shaking her head as she reached for her tea.
"Woong's loyalty is earned, not claimed." Tae So added.
Tae Hyun raised a brow, still trying to piece it together, but Tae So had already turned his attention back to his food, chuckling under his breath. The scent of grilled fish, honey-glazed roots, and peppered chicken filled the air, warm and comforting beneath the high pavilion ceiling.
Outside, the late afternoon breeze stirred the crimson curtains and rustled the leaves of the old plum tree nearby. The sounds of the estate servants moving quietly, water trickling from a distant fountain faded into the background as a soft, familiar question broke the silence.
"So," Tae So began, his voice calm and thoughtful, "how are the preparations going? For your entrance into the palace."
Yoon Ji dabbed the corner of her lips with a silk cloth before responding.
"They're going well," she said. "But you know I have to work twice as hard because of your position."
She met his gaze directly, her tone steady but laced with unspoken pressure. "Not that I'm saying it's a bad position, on the contrary. You've carved a name for yourself in court and gathered more wealth than some minor kingdoms. I'm proud of that. But your shadow is wide, Father. And I must shine within it."
Tae So smiled faintly, understanding her completely. Yoon Ji was not only beautiful and poised but also painfully aware of how power moved behind silken screens. Her status as a future concubine possibly even Queen was not merely because of her character. It was a transaction: beauty for influence, grace for alliance. Her family's wealth, her grandfather's legendary political service, and her father's current standing made her a desirable candidate.
The royal coffers were overflowing, yes but power had a hunger that wealth could still feed.
"I know my daughter is capable of anything," Tae So said, his voice proud but laced with warmth. "Yoon Ji, you are destined for greatness. But when you enter the palace, remember challenges will come, from directions you least expect. If ever it becomes too much... if your spirit grows weary... say the word. I will bring you home and find a suitor worthy of you."
Yoon Ji's lips twitched into a faint smile that didn't reach her eyes. She appreciated his concern, but he would never understand. Her father was a gentle man, thoughtful and generous. But perhaps her mother was right: he had all the tools of a powerbroker, yet lacked the ruthlessness to use them. He preferred to build a sanctuary for his children rather than an empire for himself.
She stirred her tea slowly. "Okay," she murmured, half-heartedly.
Then, shifting the conversation, she asked, "Why isn't Mother here?"
Tae So placed a tender slice of beef into her bowl. "Your mother is busy," he replied vaguely. "There's no need to worry about that. Eat more, my dear."
Then, almost as an afterthought, he turned to Woong, who had been standing silently like a shadow. "Call Min."
Woong gave a silent nod and disappeared down the steps. A few moments later, Min arrived graceful as ever, cradling her pipa. She bowed low and moved with elegance to the far corner of the pavilion. As she settled down on the woven mat, the air seemed to shift, as if the day itself paused to listen.
She plucked the first string.
The sound that followed was soft and slow like the beginning of rainfall on a quiet lake. Each note shimmered, floating through the space like drifting petals. The melody rose gently, as if whispering stories from a faraway time: of love blooming in the shadows, of aching silence, of longing that never found voice.
Her fingers moved with quiet mastery, the rhythm ebbing and flowing like the sea. There were moments when the music quickened, light and playful, like wind through bamboo and then softened again into a soothing lull, wrapping the listeners in invisible silk.
Yoon Ji closed her eyes briefly, letting the sound calm the restlessness in her chest. Even Tae Hyun, who was always moving or speaking, sat perfectly still.
When the final note faded into the warm air, Tae So opened his eyes and turned to his daughter. "What do you think?" he asked.
Before Yoon Ji could reply, Tae Hyun blinked in surprise and blurted out, "Do we now have a music player during dinner? When did this start?"
Tae So laughed. "You always say you want the best in life. Music at dinner is the mark of refined taste."
Yoon Ji gave her brother a teasing glance. "Try not to look too amazed. We've had musicians before probably when you were a baby. You just never noticed because you were too busy chewing then."
Tae Hyun scowled in mock offense, but the warmth in the pavilion had returned, light laughter still lingering in the air like fading music until their father's voice gently cut through it.
"She's here to teach you how to play the pipa."
The atmosphere stilled. Yoon Ji's hand froze mid-motion, her gaze snapping up to her father.
"What?" she asked, blinking. Her brows furrowed as she tried to decide if she'd heard him correctly.
Tae So smiled as if he'd just offered her a lovely surprise. "Min," he said, nodding toward the woman still holding her pipa in the corner. "She'll be teaching you."
Yoon Ji's heart sank a little. Of course. Of course, he would do something like this, something well-meaning and impulsive, without so much as asking.
"Pipa?" she repeated slowly, as if the word itself had been misplaced in the conversation. "Why would I learn to play the pipa?"
Tae So tilted his head slightly, his voice still calm. "Because it sounds beautiful," he said. "Didn't you hear how moving it was?"
Yoon Ji's eyes flicked toward Min, who sat poised like a quiet sculpture in the shadows. It wasn't the musician's fault, but the sight of her suddenly felt intrusive, unwelcome. She turned back to her father.
"You don't even know what I study, do you?" she asked, her voice quiet but firm. "I've never played the pipa before, Father. That was the first time I even saw one up close. I play the haegeum. That's what I've trained in. That's what I've mastered."
Tae So blinked, surprised by her reaction but still gentle. "Yes, I know, but wouldn't it be better to learn something else as well? Something… elegant. Something softer."
There it was, that unspoken suggestion that haegeum, with its sharp and soulful cry, might not suit the image of a palace concubine. That she should trade the voice of her instrument for one more dainty, more palatable. Something that pleased the ear but said nothing too loudly.
Yoon Ji put her chopsticks down, her appetite suddenly gone. "I'm done eating, Father," she said, standing.
"Tae Yoon Ji..."
"I'll retire for the night," she added curtly, bowing without warmth. Her voice remained respectful, but her eyes were unreadable.
She turned and walked away before he could say another word, her silken skirts swaying with each brisk step. It was rude, yes, but she didn't care. He wouldn't scold her anyway, he never did. Her father, for all his status and wealth, had always been indulgent. It was a kindness that often made him blind.
The moment she stepped beyond the pavilion, the air seemed colder.
He wanted her to play the pipa, an instrument that felt foreign and unfamiliar to her soul, as if the one she had struggled to master all these years wasn't enough. As if the delicate sound of the pipa was more fitting for a woman walking into the lion's mouth of the royal court.
She clenched her fists slightly at her sides. What did he think this was? A hobby? A pastime? Her music was more than decoration and it was part of her plan to win the King's heart.