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if honey is pure, it will burn (chapter 2 pt. 2) | the taste of honey series (18 + only)

pairing: young aristocrat!hyunjin x afab reader | wc: 28.5k | genre: 19th century au, arranged marriage, romance, smut | general warnings: period-appropriate themes, mutual pining, mentions of emotional distress, mentions of period-relevant toxic parenting, heavy fantasizing, voyeurism (accidental), angst, hurt/comfort, fluff. reader is a virgin and it's a big deal. explicit sexual content. MINORS DNI. this work portrays elements/themes that may be triggering, reader discretion advised. explicit warnings under the cut | masterlist. (not written with the intention of being historically accurate)

Some people, you figured, had holes in them, and Hyunjin was like that. It wasn’t even his fault. His light leaked from him, and you were no better than a moth.

explicit warnings (read at your own risk, contains spoilers) : suggestive themes, mentions of sex, heavy and graphic fantasizing. voyeurism (hyunjin @ mc), mc being a virgin is a big deal & turns hyunjin on. masturbation (m, f), pillow humping (f), cum eating, mentions of period-accurate birth control. bloodplay if you squint but in a non-sexual situation (hyunjin gets a small injury), sexual tension.

Every morning, you woke up as Lady Hwang.

And every day, you were becoming a little better at it—at being the Lady of Hwang Estate.

“The blue or the green, my lady?”

You turned to Anhjong, who was showing you the options for your wardrobe of the day. The blue dress was pretty, but the green one had beautiful lace on it, as well as silky green ribbons around the waist.

“Green, Anhjong. With the cream-colored shoes, too.” You took the last sip of your strong tea and put the empty cup back on your table where Cloud, as adorable as ever, was busy eating her breakfast.

“Good choice, my lady.” The maid put the blue dress back where she took it and began preparing it while you were getting rid of your night clothes. “Are you excited to meet the new Head Steward?”

“To be honest, I am mostly excited about having a Head Steward again at all,” you replied, scratching Cloud’s little fluffy head in passing. You carefully folded your nightgown and accepted a white chemise from Anhjong, which you put on followed by your undergarments.

Hyunjin had left with Changbin on their business trip—right before he left, he had finally announced to Changbin that he would no longer be his steward but become his first counselor instead. Naturally, Changbin had tried to refuse him, but Hyunjin was stubborn, and Ha-ri had made her husband take the job, which also came with a beautiful cottage house on the estate.

You were happy for them—you liked the Seo family, all of them. Ha-ri was a friend, and you liked to believe that Changbin was, too. Their children were sweet and kind, just like their parents. You were delighted for them even, but you really needed someone to help you run this manor. It was your first week as Lady Hwang and you were here, by yourself, and had to make all the decisions by yourself, too.

It was a lot. But at least you had Ha-ri.

“Mr. Park has a good reputation,” Anhjong said as she was lacing your corset. “He worked under Lord Christopher for many years.”

“I trust the Bangs to only send us their very best, Anhjong.” And you meant it—Hyunjin himself had asked Lord Christopher for this Mr. Park, who he liked a lot apparently, and his friend had granted him that favor. “He should be here already. Let’s hurry!”

You put on the rest of your gown while your maid was lacing your hair. She was great at it, and knew intricate types of braids. She had promised she would teach you so that you can braid your daughters’ hair someday, my lady.

The mirror in front of you showed an elegant young woman in a beautiful green dress, made especially for her by her friend. You weren’t sure you recognized that woman. The girl you used to be had died somewhere between her wedding night and this morning. The girl you used to believe in many things—in her future, in the beauty of simple things, in the taste of honey. She used to believe in love.

She had been a fool, and the woman you were today had perhaps killed her in her sleep when she was least expecting it. You tried to remember what it had been like to be that girl. Waiting, expecting. Thinking all year long of the letter you would compose for your future husband, but even more busy imagining the things he would say in his letter to you. All this time spent in your bed, clutching those sheets of paper, inhaling them to see if some of his scent lingered on them. You pitied her. That poor girl.

“There you go, my lady.” Anhjong, as usual, placed your pretty braid on your shoulder. She had decorated it with a green ribbon. “Would you like a scarf? It seems a little windy today.”

“The cream one, yes.” Cloud meowed behind you—you usually took her with you on your first walk around the estate, but this morning she would have to stay in your bedroom since you were meeting Mr. Park for the first time.

You went to the small kitten and picked her up to give her kisses and pets. “Ha-ri promised she would send Haerin to come to see you, Cloud. Be a good girl.” Haerin was Ha-ri’s eldest daughter, and she was completely enamored with Cloud. You often spent afternoons with Ha-ri, Haerin and Cloud, sitting in the shade, Cloud in her little basket. The little girl liked to pet the kitten and she would even make sure she had her own cup of milk while the adults were having their tea.

Anhjong had been requested to help another maid with unpacking Mr. Park’s trunks and bags so you let her go. He would occupy a nice, spacious room in the other wing of the manor and you wanted him to feel at home here.

You adjusted your hair, the ribbon in it, too, and your smile. The smile that had been taught to you and that you had learned to wear even when you didn’t mean it. There wasn’t much to do about that. The smile was what you wore on the outside—your insides were adorned with longing and melancholy.

The manor was as busy as always—the hallway was empty, but you heard lively conversations from the floor below. You smelled breakfast, too. Something savory but something sweet as well. You walked slowly, working on taking deep, steady breaths to calm whatever storm was brewing inside of you, the one that filled your nights with nightmares and lustful dreams alike. The very same storm that made you stop in front of Hyunjin’s bedroom and push its heavy door open.

You let yourself into the empty room, breathing in, letting your husband’s scent fill your lungs. It smelled just like him here—like paper, like his cologne, like whiskey. You walked around in circles, feeling the curtains, the books on the shelves, the fabric of a jacket he had left behind. You took the jacket off the back of the chair where it was to smell that, too. Hyunjin’s scent was stronger on it, as if he had worn it on a warm day. You closed your eyes to lose yourself in it, that smell, that memory.

Every morning, you woke up as Lady Hwang, in an empty bed, with an even emptier heart. You woke up tired from your restless dreams. Dreams in which Hyunjin fucked you so hard that you often stirred yourself up in the middle of the night at the sound of your own moans, wet and throbbing between your legs. Some other nights, you dreamt that you waited and waited for him and that he never returned. But the worst were the nightmares—when all you’d dream about was him locking you in a dark room while he fucked Anhjong, or Ha-ri, or your mother.

One time, you woke up and he was in your bed, on top of you, but his body was cold and stiff. Somewhere in the distance, a baby was crying relentlessly. Hyunjin’s eyes were frozen in place, his plush mouth pale and parted open, his body motionless and heavy. Dead. No matter how hard you tried to wake him up, he never moved. You couldn’t move either, he was too heavy. Somewhere, in the manor, a baby would not stop crying, and you knew that you had to go check on it but you couldn’t move.

When you woke up again, for real this time, your cries were so loud that they alerted Anhjong. You were so deeply inconsolable that she had gone outside and made her way to Ha-ri’s house, just by the pine forest, to ask for help.

Ha-ri had given you wine, then whiskey, and a shoulder to cry on.

Since that night, you made sure to drink a little wine or whiskey or cognac before going to bed. It seemed to stop the really bad dreams from happening. Or maybe you forgot them as you woke up—didn’t matter, as long as you stopped screaming yourself awake every night.

You put the jacket back, noticing it had lost some of Hyunjin’s scent already. How long had he been gone?

How much longer would he be gone?

You took one last look at the room before leaving it. You had instructed that nobody but you should enter this room during your husband’s absence—no maid, no maintenance, nothing. Truth be told, you just wanted the room to retain some of his scent for as long as possible. You made your way downstairs, trying not to think about how it had felt when Hyunjin’s pretty cock was throbbing in your hand. Trying to forget the taste of his whiskey mouth.

Chef Sungjae was just outside the kitchen, deep in conversation with a man you didn’t know. You made sure the smile was still on your lips when you approached them—Sungjae dipped his head but the other man bowed courteously. He was tall, with dark hair and soft traits. His clothes were crisp and nice.

“Lady Hwang,” the man said. “What an honor to meet you finally.”

“Please stand. You must be Mr. Park. Welcome to Hwang Estate—and thank you for accepting my husband’s offer. He’ll be glad to find you here when he returns.”

“I simply couldn’t pass that opportunity, my lady.” The new Head Steward flashed a bright smile at you, just as bright as his eyes. His gaze was intelligent but kind. “Even Lord Bang said I would be a fool not to come here.”

Sungjae laughed, so you laughed too. You couldn’t let anyone know the true thoughts underneath your forced joy. Mr. Park smiled shyly. “Breakfast will be served soon, my lady,” the chef announced. “Would you like to have tea, coffee, something with your meal?”

“I’ll have coffee, the usual.” You liked coffee with a pinch of cinnamon in it, and milk. “What about you, Mr. Park?”

“Please, my lady, do call me Seonghwa.” His smile warmed up a little, putting you at ease. “I’ve heard plenty about you and your extensive kindness through Lord Christopher and his lady wife. I would like it if you felt comfortable with me.” He then turned to Sungjae. “I’ll have tea with milk, thank you, sir.”

“Well then, shall we have breakfast outside, Mr. Seonghwa?” You gave a nod towards Sungjae, indicating to him that the maids should prepare the table that was under the large elm tree. “Seems like today is lovely.”

“It is indeed, my lady.” The young man dipped his head and followed you outside, complimenting the estate at length.

“I only just got here, Mr. Seonghwa,” you reminded him. “While I appreciate your kindness towards my husband’s home and land, I have absolutely nothing to do with it.”

“Of course.” A slight flush appeared on the man’s cheeks but he kept his smile and pulled a chair for you when you reached the table under the elm. “Forgive me. I haven’t congratulated you on your marriage, my lady. Please accept my most sincere wishes for this union.”

You motioned towards the chair closest to you and Seonghwa sat down while maids were setting up the table with a linen tablecloth and some cutlery. You made conversation with them, commenting on their wise choice on the tablecloth—it was a beautiful piece with elegant embroidery on it and lace at every corner.

You wondered if you truly meant it, this compliment, or if this was simply the ghost of your mother’s teaching that still haunted you. She had always said that you should make sure the staff respected you and liked you, but that they should also fear you. You weren’t sure how to do that, though.

Breakfast was ham with eggs, roasted carrots and potatoes. You also discovered what the sweet-scenting item that you had smelled earlier was—Sungjae had also added a small raspberry tart with some Chantilly cream. You had picked the raspberries yourself yesterday, spending all afternoon foraging for the wild fruits. They were perfectly ripe and you did not want to waste any—your forearms still showed the cuts from it, and your knees were bruised. But at least it kept you busy.

“This is delicious,” Seonghwa commented after a while. “And it is quite nice to eat outdoors like this. Thank you, my lady.”

“Our Sungjae truly makes some of the best food I have ever eaten.” You knew for sure that you were completely honest about this. “Did you not like the food at the Bangs’?”

“Oh no, I loved it.” Seonghwa ate the last bite of his raspberry tart with a delighted expression on his face. “But this is better.”

You gave him a laugh and a nod. After all, he was right—Sungjae truly made delicious food. Even if you hadn’t been here for very long, you understood that Hyunjin had given him free rein to manage the kitchen any way he saw fit and a near-unlimited budget to buy ingredients and food. And, well, it showed.

“Since it is your first day here,” you told Seonghwa, “Sungjae will come to you soon and ask you what you’d like to have on your first dinner at the Hwang Estate. It is a tradition of the place, I heard.”

“Oh!” Seonghwa’s face lit up and he fidgeted excitedly in his seat. “I should start thinking about it right away then!” He sighed pensively, staring at the gorgeous scenery right in front of you. “What did you have on your first night here, my lady?”

You didn’t let the question melt your smile away. “Oh, my first night here was… unusual, Mr. Seonghwa. It was the very first night I met Lord Hwang.” You decided to make eye contact with the steward, but you couldn't quite read his expression. “I had no say in the menu that night. You could say that I am an exception—besides, nobody would be interested in my ideal meal.”

“Well, I’d like to know!” Seonghwa had a playful smile now, and it was contagious. For the first time today, you smiled and you meant it. You could only indulge him.

“A chef from France visited our city one time, when I was still a child,” you recalled. “My father contracted him for one meal—he made us crepes, with roasted asparagus, melted cheese and hollandaise sauce… I ate so much I thought I would be sick!”

Seonghwa let out an appreciative gasp. “You have refined tastes, my lady. And here I was, thinking of asking for mutton…”

You gave his forearm a few gentle pats. “Go ahead, ask for whatever you’d like. Sungjae’s mutton is exceptionally good, I’m sure you’ll love it. Make sure to give him exact instructions on how you want it prepared and seasoned, Mr. Seonghwa. Our chef likes a challenge.”

Seonghwa nodded and leaned comfortably into his chair, looking around, his gaze lingering on the garden down the hill. “Thank you, my lady. Your reputation precedes you but there were no lies in it—you truly are a kind, generous woman.”

You stared at the garden too, at the magnolia tree. Its flowers would bloom any day now, and you knew that the flowers would be short-lived—you simply hoped that Hyunjin would be back in time to see them.

“Mr. Seonghwa,” you started, your voice suddenly lower, quieter. “What sort of reputation precedes my husband, then?”

The Head Steward turned to you—you caught sight of him at the corner of your eyes, but you kept watching the magnolia branches sway in the breeze. “My lady, I—”

“People seem to judge him harshly,” you went on. “People seem to say he is cold.”

Seonghwa smoothed the fabric of his vest, then his pants, visibly uncomfortable. You gave him time—you were in no hurry. You watched the trees and the flowers in the garden, you listened to all the bird songs around you, always drawn to that one song you simply did not recognize. Was Hyunjin like that, too? Like a foreign bird, one that simply could not be understood?

“I heard no such thing under Lord Christopher’s roof, my lady.” Seonghwa pushed his empty plate just to keep his hands busy. “He has a lot of respect for him. He is quite fond of Lord Hwang, too. So is Lady Bang.”

You nodded slowly. “Yes, indeed.”

“Naturally, I heard the… stories. The tales. Of his old doctor, and—and—and you, my lady. That Lord Hwang had dismissed this doctor from his service.”

“He did, and—”

“But I heard it was because of the doctor’s inappropriate behavior,” Seonghwa said hurriedly, cutting you off. You took no offense, but this time, you did stare at him. He was handsome, but you were making him uncomfortable with this conversation. “Lord Hwang would never let anybody harm you, my lady. I respect that.”

“Thank you, Mr. Seonghwa.” You made yourself smile again, hoping it was at least a little convincing. “I hear our new doctor will be here soon, actually.”

“I’ll make sure everything is in order—”

This time, you cut him off. “No. You only just got here, and I want you to feel at home. I’ll take care of the doctor’s quarters. You meet everyone you haven’t met before, you make yourself familiar with everything. Alright?”

Seonghwa dipped his head low, pressing a hand on his chest. “My lady, thank you.” He was still smiling when he looked up again. “I am available should you need my help with anything.”

The maids were coming back with trays to gather the empty plates and used cutlery. You got up, followed by Seonghwa, and dismissed him politely. “Thank you, Mr. Seonghwa. It was lovely sharing breakfast with you—I’m looking forward to working with you. Don’t hesitate if you have questions or if you just need to chat with someone. When Mr. Seo will return, he surely will have a lot to say to you, but in the meantime… you know.”

“Absolutely. I appreciate it, my lady.” Seonghwa proceeded to help you put together all the plates and put them on the tray for the maids while they folded the tablecloth.

You heard a voice behind you and looked around until you noticed a farmhand waving his arms wide at you, gesturing vaguely in your direction. When he noticed you had seen him, he stopped, and called for you. ‘LADY HWANG! SOMEONE IS HERE FOR YOU!’, and he kept on going but you weren’t sure you could hear everything as he was on the opposite side of the estate. Something about being unsure if he should let them in or not.

“Better if I investigate this, my lady,” Seonghwa pointed out. “I know you told me to see to my room inside, but I will be disregarding that. Forgive me.”

You couldn’t help but laugh—Seonghwa smiled shyly at you and immediately started towards the farm hand. You liked him. He was soft-spoken and sweet and seemed like a good fit for the estate. You only hoped that he could be trusted in the long run… That he would be able to be there for Hyunjin, maybe not in the same way Changbin had been, but something like that.

You followed him, eager to see what the commotion was about. Seonghwa had long legs and walked faster than you, so a conversation was already happening when you made it to him and the farm hand, a boy you had seen around the estate a few times. Ha-ri had told you that Hyunjin had found him at an orphanage years ago and offered him a job on the estate’s small farm. His lordship can’t stand the sight of a child being alone, hungry or cold, Ha-ri had said.

You noticed a carriage down the hill, stopped at the gate. Two horses, two men, carrying one large crate with slits on each side. You frowned, finally turning to the farm boy.

“They say they are farmers, from a few towns over,” he said. “They have a delivery for you, my lady.”

“Well I certainly did not order anything myself,” you pointed out. “I have yet to leave this estate to visit the town.”

“He said that Lord Hwang was sending them,” Seonghwa clarified.

You nodded, feeling a little tense as you wondered what was in that crate. In the end, you told the boy to let the carriage and the men past the gate, watching from your spot near the kitchen. You could smell the roses behind you, their scent carried from the garden by the soft morning breeze. At this moment, you felt your happiness, but you realized it was an elusive thing—it would always evade you, tease you, but it might never make a home out of your heart. So you breathed deeply, letting the floral scent remind you of Hyunjin and his whiskey kisses.

“Should I get someone else?” Seonghwa asked when the carriage had almost reached the end of the path.

You let out a disgruntled sigh. “Feels weird that you and I are in charge of this place and we have no fucking clue what to do, does it?”

Seonghwa was left speechless by your sudden candor but you heard his smile through his voice when he spoke again. “A little, my lady.” There was a pause, and then he added, “Oh, here comes Mrs. Seo, perhaps she heard the horses…”

Ha-ri was indeed coming out from the kitchen door, taking a second to look at the two men who were climbing down the carriage while the farm boy bowed low and said he was going to get Mingi for the horses. Seonghwa went to meet the two men while you stayed behind with Ha-ri.

“Are we expecting some sort of delivery, Ha-ri?” you questioned while the seamstress decided that now was the absolute best time to adjust the green ribbons around your waist.

“Not that I know of, my lady.” She finished redoing the bow and looked over at the carriage. “That’s one large crate, isn’t it? I heard the carriage from upstairs.”

“Hyunjin sends them, apparently.” You couldn’t hear the conversation between Seonghwa and the two men—they were from the working class, as indicated by their clothes and posture. You held no judgment. “Maybe he purchased something while he’s away in the big city.”

“Possible. Lord Hwang does like spending his money.”

Seonghwa had finally turned to you again and was inviting you to join them near the carriage. You lifted your skirt so as not to ruin the fabric at the hem—a habit you did not always keep when Ha-ri wasn’t around—and made your way to the men. They bowed very low while Seonghwa introduced them to you by last and first names. Commoners, but with kindness in their tired eyes.

“These gentlemen come from the town past the river, you must have passed it on your way here, my lady,” Seonghwa explained. “They said they met your husband a few days ago.”

You made them stand up. “Did you, sirs?” you asked, offering them a smile. You meant it this time, for some reason. “I hope Lord Hwang was healthy and well.”

“He was, milady,” the older of the two men told you. “His carriage was damaged right in front of our farm. He needed our help.”

You put a hand over your mouth, suddenly worried, glancing at the large crate behind them. “Oh! Was he, or Mr. Seo, injured?”

“No, no, milady, forgive my father for not making this clear right away,” the other one replied. “They stayed with us overnight and paid us generously. We gave them a tour of our farm, but Lord Hwang was not at all interested in our cows, or our chickens. He sent us here after buying it from us.”

You stared at them, intrigued. The father reached for a bag left on the carriage and pulled out an envelope on which you recognized Hyunjin’s handwriting.

“Buying what from you?” You scoffed, a little nervous, as Seonghwa took the envelope from the man.

“Can’t you hear them, milady?” the son asked you, a smile appearing on his face. “We made sure to take our time on our way so they would be fully healthy and well when they made it to you.”

Hear them? Hear what? You closed the distance between you and the carriage, listening closely. You heard the breathing of the horses, the distant noises of the manor, the bird songs, the breeze… and a low, steady buzzing.

Your mind came to a complete stop and you froze, too shocked to fully process what you were hearing. It took a few seconds before you made eye contact with the farmers again.

“Are those…” you whispered, your voice quivering, “bees?” Behind you, Ha-ri gasped loudly.

“Honey bees, milady, yes,” the father responded with a proud smile on his face. “We had two apiaries and your lord husband showed great interest in them. He made an offer we couldn’t refuse and asked us to deliver one of them to you personally. He said you’re a beekeeper, milady, that you’d take good care of them, that you make the best honey he ever tasted.”

Absolutely nothing could have prepared you for this—you looked around, searching for somewhere to sit as you suddenly felt dizzy, as if you hadn’t had breakfast. You took deep breaths, accepting the envelope from Seonghwa and wasting no time opening it. There was just a short note inside, written on low quality paper with cheap ink, but you would recognize Hyunjin’s handwriting and words anywhere.

Darling,

these two kind men agreed to sell one apiary to me. I may not know much about beekeeping, but their setup seemed proper and the bees were as healthy as they could be, feeding on clover and lavender pollen. I’ve paid them enough to cover them helping you set everything up at the estate, and also covered the fees for them to stay overnight at the town’s inn. May this small gift make your life a little sweeter, less harsh. Much like your presence does with mine.

I hope you are healthy, that things are going smoothly at home, and that I will be seeing you soon.

Sending you my warmest regards, Hyunjin

It took you a long while to get through the letter—so long that the others must have believed you were illiterate. But you read the letter once, and then returned to the very beginning.

Darling. Darling. Darling.

“Gentlemen, may I ask at what time of the day my husband wrote this letter?” you asked, carefully placing it back in its envelope. It was an unusual question, but you needed to know. Darling. Darling. Darling. “After dinner?”

Few things could bother you right now and the puzzled faces of these two farmers was certainly not one of those. “Uh… no, milady—I—”

“It was just before he left, in the morning, milady,” the father replied with a nod. “He asked for paper and ink while Mr. Seo was gathering their things.”

Darling. Darling. Darling. Maybe Hyunjin had still been drunk from the night before when he wrote the note.

You felt Ha-ri’s hand on your shoulder. She squeezed it gently. “My lady,” she whispered. “Are you alright?”

You couldn’t cry. Not now. Not in front of these two farmers, not in front of Seonghwa and not in front of Mingi who was coming to check on the horses. You swallowed your tears but swallowing the thorns of a rose might have been easier.

“Yes, Ha-ri. This is a big gift.” You would cry later, in your bed. You would cry yourself to sleep just like you did every night. Big, yes, but significant was the word you ought to use.

Only Hyunjin knew how you missed it and what it had meant for you to have your apiary at home. Only he could know what this meant for you, the void it had created in your heart when you had to part ways with your passion. With the one thing that had kept you going all these years.

“Where shall we install the apiary, my lady?” Seonghwa asked you, obviously overwhelmed. It was his first day after all, and he certainly didn’t expect he’d have to deal with beehives today.

You took a deep breath, glancing some more at the letter Hyunjin had written and at the hand that was holding it. The same hand that had squeezed his warm cock until he had spilled his seed all over it. The same hand he had held on your wedding day, taking you for your first dance. You had written him many letters with that hand. One for each birthday.

You had hoped for so much. You had hoped that your marriage to Hyunjin would be one of love—but really, did you know what love was at all? If you had never known love, would you know to recognize it?

“Over there, just past these shrubs,” you instructed, motioning at the exact area you had in mind. It would be perfect—there was shade for the beehive itself but plenty of plants and flowers for them to feed on. The view would be nice too, as the lake would be in your vision range as you worked.

The men got to work—carefully, they unloaded the crate onto a wheeled platform brought by a couple of the workers from the estate. Neither of them seemed very comfortable around the bees so you made a mental note—you’d offer them jars of honey as soon as you could. It was still relatively early in the summer so you trusted you’d be able to harvest at least a little of it, if not as much as what you were used to.

You followed them, guided by this brightness within you that the buzzing of the bees seemed to create.

“My lady,” Ha-ri said tentatively. “Would you mind if I went to fetch Hanni? She loves watching the bees gather pollen from flowers in the garden…”

You couldn’t stop a smile from painting itself on your lips. Many years ago, you had been that little girl. Fascinated by the bumblebees on a painted portrait in your house, much more than you had been interested in the main focus of the painting—your future husband.

“By all means, please do. Who knows—in a few years, perhaps she’ll want to learn the secrets of beekeeping.” You liked Hanni a lot. The little girl always had a smile on her face.

You watched Ha-ri walk away but soon reported your attention on the workers and beekeepers when they began opening the crate. While the three of them remained with the hive, the father approached you after taking off his gloves. He reached into the inside pocket of his jacket and pulled out a small wooden box that you recognized instantly. It was a tiny cage.

The farmer handed it to you. “Your queen, milady.”

You took the box in your hand, inspecting it carefully. The bee looked healthy. Her buzzing was steady and strong—she paced the small cage, eager to be reunited with her hive.

“Thank you, good sir. Thank you for everything.” You turned to the now exposed apiary—it was more modest than the one you had known back home but no less practical. It seemed sturdy, too. Already bees were flying in and out of the cracks disposed all around it. Drones, most likely, searching for their queen, which was still buzzing in your hand. The same hand with which you had touched Hyunjin’s lips, feeling their silky texture, their warmth. The hand that you slid between your legs at night when you were hungry for him.

You wanted to be alone with your bees, even for a minute. Still, you took the time to give warm thanks to the farmers who had sold their apiary to your husband—you asked Seonghwa to please escort them back to their carriage and to make sure they would have snacks and something to drink for their trip to the town, where they would spend the night.

The workers carefully picked up the remnants of the crate and gladly walked away—the more distance they put in between them and the hive, the happier they would be, it seemed. You smiled softly. You had never had it in you to be afraid of bees, and it wasn’t for a lack of stings. Naturally, you had known the pain of stings more than once as you did not like to work with gloves. But you got used to it. At the end of the day, this was better than the pain that you got when your mother made you dance for hours on end to ensure that you knew all the steps and could execute them elegantly. Your socks would be glued to your feet after those days, covered in caked blood and shame.

Bees stung and it hurt, but at least you had control over that. At least, you had chosen that pain over all the other achings inflicted upon you.

Feeling the wood and the slight vibration underneath it felt like coming back to life, or something close to it. The bees were flying around you, impatient to find their queen. You weren’t afraid.

Hyunjin had sent you many gifts over the years. Books, expensive silk and perfumes, fancy ink. Some years, he would send bulbs to be planted around your birthday so that tulips and hyacinths and daffodils would bloom around you in the spring. Make sure to plant them near your window, he had written once, so that the colors and beauty of these flowers keep you company until I can.

And then he had given you the gift of this new life. A safe space. Cloud for your lonely days, a bedroom just for you. A home. A bee colony.

So why was there a void in you?

It felt right when you released the queen bee. It felt meaningful, although you weren’t able to figure out why exactly. You watched her fly around her new home, perhaps she was making herself accustomed to it. Then she disappeared into the apiary.

You knew better than to get to work straight away—you’d give the bees some respite after their travels. Instead, you sat against the trunk of a nearby pine to look at the bees from a distance. To take it all in. To listen to their buzzing layered with birdsong, with the breeze, with the sounds of lazy waves flapping in the distance.

If you had never known peace, would you know to recognize it?

You heard Hanni before you saw the little girl—she appeared running with a smile brighter than the sun on her face, followed by her mother, who tried to keep up with her daughter as best she could. You caught Hanni in flight, hugging her and preventing her from going face-first into an apiary full of live bees. Instead, she settled next to you, an arm under yours.

“Aren’t they beautiful, Hanni?” you asked her while Ha-ri, visibly regretting her decision to involve this little bundle of energy into this, plopped on the other side of you, also leaning against the pine. You handed Hanni the small wooden box still in your hand. “That’s where they put the queen bee while they were transporting them over here. Wherever the queen goes, the colony follows.”

“Is the queen pretty my lady?” Hanni asked with big eyes, pulling gently on the fabric of your dress.

You smiled. Ha-ri reached over you to caress her daughter’s arm lovingly. You took their hands in yours, delight spreading in your heart like an invisible poison—you couldn’t help but feel like you were going to pay the price of the smile on your lips sooner rather than later.

“I think that queen bees are beautiful, yes,” you replied honestly. “But we don’t see them as much as the others, and they’re not as fuzzy as the worker bees, the ones you see working to gather pollen on flowers.”

Hanni sat in silence, nodding as she turned her attention back to the apiary. “Is the king handsome, too?”

You giggled. “There’s no king bee. It’s the queen’s world—she is in charge of the whole colony. She inspects honeycombs and makes sure she can lay her eggs safely.” You paused, watching as two swallows took flight from a small crevice in between two bricks of the manor. “The male bees work for the queen, not the other way around. They see that all of her needs are met, and that she’s happy and healthy.”

Ha-ri’s scoff told enough without words, but she still added, “We should have been born bees instead!” If Hanni hadn’t been there, you would have told Ha-ri about the downsides of the queen’s life, too—after all, it wasn’t all easy for her.

Virgin queens murdered each other so that only one remained—the true queen. After the victorious one emerged, she had only a limited amount of time to mate with drones. If she failed to do so due to weather or other unfortunate circumstances, it would be the end of the colony as there were no other eligible queens to carry it on.

Bees had barbed stingers. It meant that once they string, they died.

Not queens, though. Queen bees could sting repeatedly and remain perfectly healthy, for their stingers lacked barbs.

“I’d like to go out tomorrow, Ha-ri.” The day was beautiful. The sky seemed deep, a blue that reminded you of your favorite dress when you were eight or nine years old. Your sister had been jealous of that dress and had ‘accidentally’ ripped it when she had tried to put it on after stealing it from your bedroom. “Let’s visit the town, you, Seonghwa and I. I’d like to find a thank you gift for my husband.” A nice bottle of whiskey, perhaps. So that you would hear a darling spill from his soft lips again.

“Ha-ri, why is everybody staring at us?”

Behind you, Ha-ri gently pulled on one of the ribbons wrapped around your waist, making sure it held tightly after the short carriage ride from the estate to here. The day was blazing hot, sunnier than yesterday had been—if even possible—and you could already feel your hair sticking to your temples.

Next to you, Seonghwa was having a short conversation with the coachman, explaining that you would be quick with your errands.

You looked around, searching for an answer to your question. Ha-ri came to stand beside you, glancing at you with an enigmatic smile on her face. “Because you’re Lady Hwang, my lady.”

“But, how can they even tell?”

“They know you’re Lady Hwang because they recognize the horses and the carriage, yet, you're new in town,” Ha-ri explained. “They know you’re Lady Hwang because of the silk of your dress, your shiny hair, and because it shows.”

The town was small but had many shops as far as you could tell. You were standing by the pub where the coachman usually left the carriage while Hyunjin or Changbin went and did their errands. You had no idea what you wanted to get Hyunjin exactly, but you just knew that the scale of the gift he had offered you deserved at least a little something. It deserved a gift in return, something to let him know that you appreciated his gesture.

Something to let him know that you weren’t upset with him for what had happened the other night. Sometimes, when your surroundings were too quiet, you still heard him apologizing profusely. I’m sorry. Darling, I’m sorry. A voice heavy with shame. With regret, maybe. You didn’t know. You weren’t sure you could read regret in others even though you had known plenty of it.

Lady Hwang. The one thing you had always known you would become.

You cleared your throat, looking away, choosing to focus on Ha-ri and Seonghwa. “Well, let’s not give them too much of a show to watch,” you decided. You were very much aware of Hyunjin’s reputation around town and had no doubt that the circumstances surrounding his firing of Doctor Yun were known by most, at least to a certain extent. It was the first time you ventured out of the estate since the wedding and you figured that a short appearance would be better than spending the whole day out. Besides, you were looking forward to being back home already to take care of your bees.

You walked behind Seonghwa but next to Ha-ri while she told you all the gossip there was to know about each building and shop on the main road. Who was married to who, who was widowed and who was friends with who.

You had spotted a market where a vendor was selling plants and other greenery—you were considering buying Hyunjin seedlings to add even more roses to his mother’s garden when you passed a shop that caught your attention.

Jeon’s. The building was elegantly built and decorated—large windows showed beautiful furniture as well as other decor items inside the shop.

This was obviously Lord Jeon’s shop, and you stopped right in front of it. “Let’s go in there,” you offered. “I’d like to buy a table or two for the setup around the apiary.”

“W—what? My lady, this is the Jeons’ place,” Ha-ri replied. She almost looked frightened, as if something terrible was waiting for you in that store. “Lord Hwang doesn’t shop there.”

For some reason, you thought about queen bees at that moment. “Well I’m not Lord Hwang, my Ha-ri.” You crossed the few steps that separated you from the door. “Besides, Lord Jeon invited us to dinner. I ought to show some manners and go say hi, don’t you think? It’s not like they’re enemies, is it?”

But Ha-ri’s face seemed to tell you otherwise. Seonghwa opened the door for you, though. “I think Lady Hwang is right,” he said. “It might be good publicity for her to be seen in this store—she’s new blood, after all. It could diffuse the tension between the two families. Besides, I doubt that Lord Jeon himself would be in that store today.”

You weren’t sure you understood why there was tension between Hyunjin and the Jeons, but you were glad that Seonghwa supported you. “Ha-ri, you know, if you’re not comfortable, you don’t have to come in.” You looked behind her, at the stores on the other side of the street. “Isn’t that the shop where you buy your fabrics? You can go there if you prefer. I’ll join you in a few minutes.”

“With all due respect, my lady, you’re not going in there without me.” Ha-ri walked past you and entered the shop before you or Seonghwa could.

The store was spacious and well-lit due to the large windows all around the building, letting all the sunshine in. A lot of furniture was displayed, and it was all very elegant and fancy. Chairs and armchairs with expensive upholstery, tables made of foreign wood, shelves with elaborate carvings on them. Clients walk among the furniture, looking at everything carefully.

You immediately located the exact kind of table that you thought would suit your needs. They were at the very back of the store, where the more plain-looking pieces were. They may have been a little less intricate in their design, but they had something else you wanted—they looked sturdy and durable, which was ideal for something that would spend several months outside.

“Oh, these tables…” Ha-ri touched one of them, the same one you had noticed. Made of stained hardwood, it was large, with bulky legs and smooth surfaces.

“Wouldn’t this be perfect for your sewing room?” you asked the seamstress, reading her thoughts. “Do you reckon they have more than one of these?”

As if on cue, a man approached the three of you. He was tall and undeniably handsome. Wavy strands of warm brown hair framed his elegant face, but his clothes may have been even more elegant. Linen, velvet and satin. You heard Ha-ri gasp next to you but made yourself smile your best smile. The very one your mother had taught you.

“You must be Lady Hwang,” the man said, dipping his head respectfully. “I thought I recognized your seamstress. What a surprise to see you here today.” He flashed a friendly smile. “I’m Kim Taehyung, it’s a pleasure to have such a special guest in our store today.”

You scanned your memory for that name but it did not ring a bell. Without missing a beat, you turned to Ha-ri and tried to find an answer in her eyes, but she seemed too stunned to react. Thankfully, Seonghwa was acquainted with this man.

“Mr. Kim, thank you for your warm welcome. We’re delighted to meet you.” He spun on his heels, facing you. “My lady, Mr. Kim Taehyung is Lord Jeon’s associate. He is in charge of the company’s stores.”

You nodded and dipped your head in return, showing respect. “Pleasure meeting you, Mr. Kim. You have a lovely selection of items here. Impressive.”

“This would be the first time a Hwang has set foot in this store,” Taehyung observed, still grinning. “And not only is she pretty, she is also gracious. I never thought I’d live to see the day a Hwang would say something kind about our work.”

You weren’t an idiot—you recognized a backhanded compliment when you saw one. You had been the victim of many of those before anyway, and this Taehyung wasn’t particularly subtle about it. After all, before you became one, there was only one Hwang left, and the disdain this man had for Hyunjin was obvious.

But your experience had taught you one thing: in these situations, the best weapon wasn’t cunning, or sarcasm, or criticism. They would be wasted on people like this man who fed on malice. Kindness, however, could take you places. It used to drive your mother crazy when you responded to her acrimony with a soft voice and thoughtful words.

You took a step toward him, reciprocating his grin. “The honor is all mine, Mr. Kim. In fact, I think I’ll be making a significant purchase today.” You spoke gently, making your voice as merry as you could. “Unless you’d rather not do business with a Hwang?”

A flick of the gaze. A slight change in posture. Your arrow had reached its target, but you didn’t let it show that you had noticed, keeping your cheerful demeanor. Kim cleared his throat. “I don’t see why we wouldn’t,” he responded. “In fact, there’s nothing I’d want more, my lady.” He hesitated, shifting his weight on his other leg. “I hear the wedding was quite an event—congratulations are in order. I hope your marriage will be a happy one, my lady.”

“Thank you very much, Mr. Kim.” You gave the table a gentle tap. “This one caught our attention—do you have more than one of these?”

“I think we do.” He nodded. “But wouldn’t a lady like you be interested in something more… delicate?”

You gulped, swallowing your rage. Something in the man’s behavior painfully reminded you of your mother. Taunting, concealed between lines of rehearsed fake benevolence.

Whatever rivalry may have existed between your husband and this man’s boss, you figured, had nothing to do with you. So why the witty tone, the remarks? The line between warmth and deception was thin. Thin enough that you saw right through it.

“I assure you that I possess enough intelligence to know what sort of table I require, Mr. Kim. I value durability over looks when it comes to the things I buy, you see. I need two of these tables—one will be for you, Ha-ri—and maybe one of these?” You motioned toward another table a few feet away, similar to the one you had already picked, but in a different size. “They’re for my work and Mrs. Seo’s, so we want something we can trust, and I hear you build the very best furniture in the country.”

Taehyung paused, but only for half a second. “Of course, my lady.” He raised his hand, catching the attention of an employee who hurried toward you with a pen and some paper. “It would be an honor to do business with you.” He dipped his head and when he showed his face again, you thought you saw a glimmer of something in his eyes. Something mischievous, but not quite evil. Playful, perhaps. You hoped for his sake it wasn’t mocking. “Please allow me to offer you a friendly discount for your shopping today.”

Politics, nothing more. You knew enough about men to know this—whatever reasons Kim Taehyung had to offer you a discount, they were not genuine. He would be able to use them against you, or against Hyunjin, should he ever feel like it.

“That won’t be necessary,” you concluded. “Thank you very much, though, but I insist on paying the same price as anyone else walking into your store.” You offered the man a smile, making it as real as you could—but still making sure to add a drop of bitterness to it, to make sure he didn’t take you for a fool—then turned to Seonghwa. “Mr. Seonghwa, would it be alright for you to finish the purchase? Mrs. Ha-ri and I will wait for you outside.”

You let out a sigh after exiting the store. The heat was even worse than it had been before, but at least no one had stuck around just to gape at you.

“What an insufferable man,” Ha-ri muttered under her breath. You suppressed a snort—it wouldn’t be very ladylike of you. “You showed him he shouldn’t treat you like a foolish girl my lady.” She groaned. “Lord Jeon is even worse. I wonder if you and Lord Hwang should decline his invitation…”

You nodded, watching the busy street. A little farther, a group of children were playing with a ball, and part of you wanted to join them. But you stayed close to Ha-ri.

“I don’t like to fold, Ha-ri.” You felt warmth spreading within you, almost as if the rays of the sun permeated through your skin. “All my life I was told to be a good girl and taught how to be one—but I would lie if I said I didn’t enjoy using a little bit of contempt on men like them. Whatever rivalry exists between them and my husband, I don’t intend on letting them think they’re better than us.”

Ha-ri watched you with a mix of apprehension and something that looked like approval. You’d invite her to your room tonight and share a bottle of wine—this way, you’d get a detailed list of all the things she hated about the Jeons.

“Let’s get wine,” you told Ha-ri, turning to her. “And whiskey,” you added, hoping they would have something special. You would get a whole bottle just for Hyunjin.

As Ha-ri was telling you about your options between two different stores to make your purchase, yet another, unrelated shop caught your attention. Across the street, a few buildings down from the one you were standing in front of, was a wooden storefront with a large window. William’s Crafts.

“What is that over there, my Ha-ri?” you asked, showing your friend the store with the painted canvases in its windows.

“Oh! Bill’s! Haven’t been there in a while.” Ha-ri offered you a smile. “I bet his hair is all gray now. He sells art supplies, you see.”

You didn’t know Hyunjin—you had moved here just so recently, weren't yet accustomed to your new life. You had never met him before, had never seen him before except for one portrait sent by his family to yours when you were a baby. You didn’t know him except for the letters he sent you every year.

You knew him better than anyone on this Earth, and you had read Hyunjin’s letters over and over until they were engraved in your brain, in your soul.

I was hoping I could send you a sketch this year, but I’m afraid I can’t. Father doesn’t want me drawing, he says it’s a waste of time and gave my pencils away to the Count’s daughter.

Seonghwa was reappearing, climbing down the few steps of the Jeon’s store to join you again. “Ha-ri,” you started, your voice shaking with trepidation, with something darker, too, “let’s go to Bill’s shop right away. I’d like to see what he has.”

Hyunjin may have been exhausted from traveling and from the week of hard labor behind him, but all he felt when he saw the outline of his home in the distance was relief. It grew in his chest slowly, reminding him of the wisteria that grew on the western walls of the manor—vines progressing slowly, becoming sturdier, stronger, until the fragrant flowers bloomed. This is how he felt. Like a sweet scent had established its quarters in his heart.

Because, for the first time in his life, Hyunjin had something to return home to. Something. Someone. You.

Had the apiary made it in one piece? The farmers had assured him they would be able to transport it safely and that the colony would only suffer minimal losses. They had showed him how they would proceed, and had even demonstrated their methods to ensure the well-being of the queen. Hyunjin knew nothing about beekeeping, but these men had seemed like they were capable enough.

Had you liked the gift? Had it made you happy? Happier, at least?

Hyunjin emerged from his distracted state when Changbin nudged him. The carriage’s cabin may have been small—and they may have been just the two of them in it—but Hyunjin had been lost in his thoughts nonetheless, not paying much attention to what his friend was telling him.

It was dusk—the sun had disappeared behind the horizon, cooling the air a little. Still, Hyunjin kept his gaze on the window. “Sorry, Changbin. You were saying?”

“I was asking if the new doctor would be there,” Changbin retorted, obviously annoyed but also amused.

“Unless there has been a change of schedule, Dr. Lee should arrive tomorrow,” Hyunjin reminded him. “Are you alright?”

Changbin chuckled, trying to conceal a grin but failing miserably. “Me, sir? I’m quite alright. It’s you I’m worried about. I haven’t seen you in this state since… well, I don’t think I’ve ever seen you like this.” Seo Changbin was a funny man, and his playfulness always came from a good place. In fact, it was his humor that had kept Hyunjin going a lot of the time, all these years.

Hyunjin played along but kept his composure. “Seen me like what, Changbin?”

Changbin let out a laugh. “Whatever the opposite of sulking is, sir.” He paused, his expression returning to something more serious. “I jest but really, I mean it.” Another pause, longer this time—long enough that they had reached the gate by the time Changbin spoke again. “Are we not going to talk about the other night, Hyunjin?”

There were no specifications required—Hyunjin knew exactly what night Changbin was referring to. The evening with you, in your bedroom, the evening where jealousy and lust had created an ugly storm within him. Not ugly. Mighty would be a more appropriate word.

He had thought a lot about that night, about the things he had learned about you and the things you had learned about him. You had every reason to hate him, to resent him—Hyunjin knew this. The apiary and the bees weren’t a way to make you forget his faults and his flaws, flaws that he had well before marrying you. It was just a way to make your daily life a little better. It was just so you could have something that was yours, and yours only.

Hyunjin had thought a lot about that night, the same way a religious man would think about his god. The same way a man affected by illness would obsess about a cure. And what if there was no cure? What if there was no god to hear his prayers?

He couldn’t stop thinking about you, your lips like satin, your warm breath on his skin. Your hand around his cock, inquisitive, forgiving, smooth. He couldn’t stop thinking about the taste of your mouth and the scent that had lingered on his fingers after you had pressed his hand between your legs. Just a faint smell, sweet, made diffuse with the scent of his own sweat and the floral water your clothes had soaked in. He wanted more of it, more of you. He wanted your scent sticking to him like expensive cologne from Paris, your essence coating his fingers, his cock, his lips—

Changbin interrupted his thoughts, and perhaps it was better this way. “So I guess we’re not going to talk about it.” He crossed his arms over his chest as the carriage slowed down, approaching the manor.

“What is there to say?” Hyunjin meant this. As far as he knew, all that Changbin was aware of was that he had gotten drunk and then you had needed his help to get Hyunjin up the next morning.

The truth, of course, was much worse. Or much better, depending how one perceived it. Hyunjin had gotten drunk on whiskey, but then he had gotten drunker on you and the jealousy stirring up inside of him as he learned about you, and that maid of yours. And yet he had no reason to be jealous.

He wanted to forget your eyes the exact moment you had asked him about the brothels, and the girls. But just like the memory of your scent, your gaze haunted him.

How would you welcome him back home? Hyunjin was no fool—he knew all too well that an apiary wouldn’t suffice to erase his wrongdoings. He just wanted you to have something. He just wanted you to feel like you belonged.

“You are your own worst enemy,” Changbin reminded him. “The only thing getting in your way is yourself.”

Hyunjin felt a pang of anger rise within him but he made efforts to keep his voice low so that he wouldn’t be heard by the driver. “You know that’s not exactly true.” But really, Hyunjin meant, you know I have my reasons. He didn’t want to talk about it, didn’t even want to think about it.

The only thing getting in Hyunjin’s way was his father, and the legacy he had left him with. The Hwang curse, the one he had passed on to you when he had married you. He shouldn’t have kept his end of the bargain—the deal had been between his father and yours in the first place anyway.

He wished he could free you. That he could disappear, get on a boat and fuck off to another continent. They’d assume he was dead and you would become the sole owner of his property. You’d eventually remarry, hopefully to a good man who could give you a child or two before it was too late. A man that wouldn’t be cursed. A man with a heart in his chest instead of a vacant space.

He couldn’t. He simply could not do that for reasons too ugly, too elaborate for him to even think about tonight. This fairytale would never come true, not even if he actually died right here, right now. All of this thanks to his shithead of a father. All of this thanks to the legacy he had left behind.

Hyunjin’s breathing became shallow when the carriage slowed down, then stopped. He turned to Changbin. “I appreciate your counsel, Changbin. I’ll keep that in mind. You should go and find Ha-ri, I’m sure she and the kids missed you.”

Changbin was not an idiot—Hyunjin’s polite way of dismissing him only indicated he wanted to be alone. Still, Changbin nodded. “It was my intention to do just that, sir.”

The night was nice and a warm breeze flew over them when Hyunjin left the carriage. The driver was already getting their bags to a domestic. He was with Anhjong and with another man that Hyunjin finally recognized as Park Seonghwa.

“My replacement!” Changbin had initially wanted to refuse his new position among Hyunjin’s council but in the end Hyunjin had convinced it would be for the best. More importantly, he had made him understand that his upbringing shouldn’t be a source of shame for him. “It’s nice seeing you again, Seonghwa. It’s been a while.”

Seonghwa had been employed under Christopher for many years but had left the Bangs for a short while when his father had become ill. Not wanting to leave his mother and younger siblings in need, he had returned to the farmstead where he had been raised, only to come back when he was no longer needed over there. Christopher had taken him back, naturally—but at the news of his return, Hyunjin had asked if he could perhaps employ Seonghwa. He had always liked him, his soft demeanor, his intelligence. It had been the perfect occasion to finally promote Changbin.

“Mr. Seo, what a pleasure indeed.” The new steward dipped his head with a wide smile. He turned to Hyunjin, dipping his head lower. “Lord Hwang, it is an honor to—” But Hyunjin cut him off when the man went to kneel.

“No, please.” Hyunjin hated this. How people either respected him because of his last name or despised him because of it. As if there was no in-between. “Stand, Mr. Seonghwa. And let me wish you a warm—but late—welcome into my home. Thank you for accepting to come work here.”

Few people actually wanted to work for him. Because of his last name, of course. Thankfully, being a Hwang had the perk of making him rich, which greatly helped when it was time to find staff.

“Thank you for offering the job, my lord.” Seonghwa’s smile grew larger if it were even possible. His eyes shone under the dim light of the lanterns. “When Lord Christopher told me about it… I couldn’t refuse. I’ve always liked your estate, sir.”

Hyunjin felt a strange pride rise within him. There was one thing he did like and it was the manor itself, its stone walls, its large windows, and the pine forest surrounding the grounds. He liked the garden, too, and its fragrant flowers, and the magnolia tree.

“I’m very much looking forward to having you among us, Mr. Seonghwa. Are things going smoothly?”

Changbin seemed to have calmed down, but Hyunjin knew he owed him an apology, and not just for the last few moments in the carriage. He had been insufferable all week, tortured by regret and dark thoughts during the day, and haunted by the memory of you at night. Your delicate hand around his cock… your face as you had tasted and swallowed his cum. He was certain he would become crazy. Insane. That he would have to be institutionalized.

“Quite good, or so I think.” Seonghwa was helping the driver as he piled up bags, and Hyunjin joined them while Changbin was gathering the belongings left on the seat. “Dr. Lee arrived a couple of days ago and he’s settling in well. Oh, and there was a minor plumbing issue in the east wing but it was fixed the same day with no damage, my lord.”

Hyunjin nodded. He’d need to meet with Dr. Lee as soon as possible, but he figured it could wait as it was already late. After all, they weren’t supposed to return tonight—the initial plan involved them staying overnight in the nearby town instead of traveling in the dark, but Hyunjin had offered Changbin to travel for a little longer so that he could be reunited with his family sooner. Of course, Changbin had accepted, and while Hyunjin knew he had been eager to be with them again, he also knew his friend had read him like an open book.

“Thank you, Seonghwa.” Hyunjin cleared his throat, thankful for the darkness. He leaned against the bags, taking a deep breath. “Do you happen to know if my wife has gone to bed?” Ignoring Changbin’s side glance, he went on. “I bought a few things for her on my travels.”

Anhjong had left for a few minutes for the kitchen, bringing back with her a pitcher of lemonade and empty glasses. She had been avoiding his gaze, but did a very poor job at suppressing her amused smile when she heard Hyunjin.

“Ah, we haven’t seen much of your lady wife this week, have we, my lord?” Seonghwa chuckled, sharing a knowing smile with Anhjong. “She’s been quite busy with her apiary.”

Hyunjin’s heart jumped in his chest. “So she likes them? The bees?”

It was Anhjong who responded to him. “That would be an understatement, my lord.” She offered him a glass of cool lemonade, which he accepted eagerly. He noticed it wasn’t quite the same as usual. Just as sweet, but a different kind of sweet. It had been made with honey instead of sugar. “Mr. Seonghwa isn’t exaggerating—we’ve barely managed to keep your wife indoors for more than an hour at a time since she’s received your gift.”

He tried to remain calm and to keep his composure. Hyunjin drank the lemonade in one go, putting the empty glass back on the tray. “She can’t be still out there at this hour, can she?” He couldn’t see your window from here.

“I actually am not sure, but I wouldn’t be surprised,” the maid admitted. “I’ll go get her, my lord.”

Hyunjin sounded a little too keen when he spoke. “No, that’s alright!” He cleared his throat. “I mean, it is late, Ahnjong. You and Mr. Seonghwa deserve to get some rest. Where did they install the apiary, exactly?”

“Oh, not far from the furthermost entrance of the garden, by the pine tree,” Seonghwa explained.

Hyunjin breathed deeply, hesitating. “Then I should go check up on her, make sure she gets back inside. Goodnight, everybody.” He offered a shitty but apologetic smile to Changbin. “Say hi to Ha-ri for me, will you?”

“Absolutely, sir.”

After urging everyone to get to their rooms, Hyunjin started his journey around the manor to reach you. He actually took the longer route just to give himself some time to clear his mind, to think about something other than the ideas clouding his thoughts. Your lips, soft, delicate, coated in honey. Or his saliva, or his cum. Your laugh, the one you had when you really meant it. The letters you had written for him and the sweet gifts you had attached.

There were many things Hyunjin didn't like about himself. In fact, he may have many enemies in this world but nobody hated him as much as he hated himself. But you had changed things. And perhaps you had changed him—it certainly felt like it, although he couldn’t say how exactly. But you were his favorite thing about his life, and had been for a long time.

It was completely dark by the time he reached the spot, but the soft lighting of the dining room window sufficed to tell Hyunjin you weren’t, in fact, working on your apiary tonight. He couldn’t see too well, but he noticed the apiary itself sitting on top of what seemed to be a sturdy table. Another table had been added next to it, with a couple of chairs and some tools and other supplies. He dared not approach—would the bees react to him, attack him?

Instead, Hyunjin looked farther down the path ahead of him. If he followed it, he would continue to circle the manor and eventually pass your window. If I see light, I’ll at least let her know I’m home, Hyunjin decided. It seemed like the sort of thing a husband would do, right?

His mouth was dry despite the lemonade. Would you even want to talk to him? Maybe the time apart had been enough for you to realize what a loser he really was—for all he knew, the reason you apparently spent all your time outside was because you couldn’t bear to be elsewhere. Maybe—

Hyunjin’s train of thoughts was cut abruptly when he noticed the light in your window. It was dim, but it was there. No more than a candle or two, but enough to let him know that you were awake. You liked to read before bed, you had always told him in your letters. It had made him want to be a talented author so that he could write for you, endlessly, story after story.

Instead of heading back inside, Hyunjin decided to go up the outdoor stairs leading to your balcony. This way, he’d be able to make sure you were actually awake instead of knocking at your door and risk waking you.

He wouldn’t be mad if you were asleep. Would it be wrong to stay there and watch you? Just for a little while? He hadn’t been able to stare at you long enough, and maybe his whole entire life wouldn’t be enough anyway. As if your beauty was too grand, too intricate, for him to process in just a few minutes, hours, or even years. It was the sort of beauty that started from within, that grew from your heart, extending to every part of you.

The sort of beauty that his mere existence would be enough to taint it. To ruin it, to ruin you.

Hyunjin heard you when he reached the top of the staircase. The curtains were pulled, but you had left the door cracked open, and the sound came from there. He stopped in his tracks, almost falling down the stairs, listening more closely. He couldn’t believe what he had heard. Surely, he hadn’t heard well. Surely, it was something else.

Until he heard your voice again. Moaning, breathing hard, whimpering. Moans so beautiful it made him want to cry. Moans so beautiful it made his cock twitch, and an aching pressure grew inside of him.

And then the anger came. Were you with a man in there? Were you actually letting a man have his way with you while you thought Hyunjin was still away?

Hyunjin wanted many things at once—he wanted to turn back and run away, far far away. He wanted to barge into the room and kill the man who dared touch you, to make you moan like that. He wanted to sit here on the cool rock of the balcony and listen to you and cry.

But instead, he took a look inside.

When he was little, Hyunjin had ventured out of the manor, craving adventure. Craving solitude, too. He was usually allowed in the garden on his own but no farther. That day, however, he had gone into the pine forest, and he had walked for a long time. Just him, a pen, and a piece of paper. He also kept a bottle of ink in his pocket in case he ran out, but he took note of all the things he saw that day. Deer, partridges, a few minks here and there. Foxes, ravens, all sorts of warblers he couldn’t name. Another strange bird whose voice sounded like a flute. He had thought he saw a bear in the distance but he wasn’t sure.

Anyway—Hyunjin had gotten lost that day following the trail of a badger. He just wanted to catch a glimpse of it and its striking black-and-white face. The sun was already on its way down when he had realized he couldn’t find his way back to the estate, and a wave of panic had spread through him, taking up all the space inside his veins, his whole body, doubling his body weight, or so it had felt like it. There had been many layers to that panic—his father would kill him when he’d find out, and what would the maids say behind his back? Would they blame his mother? Was it too late—could he avoid being caught at all? Surely, nobody had noticed his absence. Right? Right? Right?

He felt sort of like that tonight but instead of surging through him, the state of alarm grew slowly and steadily, setting fire to his skin. He could not look away from the inside of the room, could not look away from the bed.

He could not look away from you.

There was a lot to process and watching you truly felt like being lost in a forest after dark. You were on the bed, on your knees, and your body was undulating much like the branches of a willow on a breezy day, or maybe like the waves of a stormy sea. You had a white nightgown over your body but it did very little to conceal your thighs and Hyunjin could see something in between them. It wasn’t a man, or a woman, and it wasn’t even your own hand.

You were rubbing yourself onto one of your pillows, squirming and moaning and rolling your hips, seeking pleasure in each movement. The moans were quiet as you often bit your lip to prevent being heard. But you couldn’t help it, the little whimpers, the gasps, as you fucked yourself onto that pillow.

Hyunjin watched, stunned, observing every detail of the scene, every detail of you. The white, almost see-through fabric of your sleep gown, allowing him to see your nipples poking through and the soft color of them. He wished it wasn’t so dark and he wished he could see better.

He wished that instead of the pillow, it was him between your legs. Blood rushed to his cock as he watched your tits bounce with each thrust, as your head fell back when the rolling of your hips intensified. He was throbbing already, his erection pressing against his pants almost painfully. He wanted nothing more than to join you and fuck you into your mattress, over and over, filling you to the brim. He wanted nothing more than seeing his own seed drip from the hole he had just fucked sloppy.

He wanted to eat his cum off your pretty cunt and kiss you with his mouth full of it.

He felt his cock over his trousers, imagining it were your hand fondling him, picturing your bare breasts and his mouth over them. Maybe he would cum on them, too. If he could, if he were anything but what he was—the Orphan or Lord Hwang or whatever—he would fuck every part of you. Your virgin cunt, your tight ass, your pretty tits. He would fuck your mouth, watch his cock disappear between your peach-colored lips, and listen to the sound of you choking on the cum he would spurt directly into your throat.

His eyes followed your movement—his hand, too. He rubbed himself to the same swaying motion as your hips. If any blood was still flowing to his brain, he would notice the amplitude of your movements. But all he had in mind was to be in the place of that pillow and to watch you take all of him, just like that, just like the little whore you were.

He had to bite into his fist when you came. You came the same way an angel would ascend from earth after a divine visit—quick humps on the pillows followed by long, languid ones, both of your hands on your breasts, your legs wide open. Hyunjin had been to museums a few times and none of the paintings there could compare to the art that was your orgasm.

Deep, raspy moans, long ones, moans that you couldn’t keep quiet. Your voice made him want to die—if he wasn’t the one making you scream, what was the point anyway? Your voice made him want to live forever, because the existence of you was the point of life itself. You, the perfection that you were, his pretty wife fucking herself—and fucking herself good. Good enough to fill your bedroom with your honeyed voice, in waves of pleasure more beautiful than anything he had ever seen before.

His cock was throbbing and leaking by the time you collapsed onto your bed with a sigh, spent and content. He quickly disappeared behind the door, fearing you might see him now that you were done. But he couldn’t hold himself for much longer. Hell, if you decided to go at it again, he didn’t think he could resist joining you. Maybe he’d fuck you once on your bed, then he’d bend you over your table and fuck his cum deeper into you until he had rendered you properly dumb, until you had lost your words.

The knock on the door inside your bedroom brought him back to his senses. “My lady?”

It seemed to shock you just as much as it shocked him. He heard an abrupt brushing of fabric and figured you had probably quickly covered yourself. “Anhjong? What is it?” Your voice was trembling a little and you were out of breath. He wanted nothing more than to kiss your neck and revel in the taste of your sweat.

“I’m so sorry to bother you my lady, I saw light and…” The maid’s voice trailed off, just for a few seconds. “Lord Hwang just returned and he… he was looking for you, my lady. He went to look for you at the apiary but you weren’t there, and I thought you’d like to be informed of his return.”

The silence that spread in the room was thicker than honey. “Hyunjin? He was supposed to be back tomorrow.” Again, brushing of fabrics, but followed by footsteps now. You had gotten up. Hyunjin gulped and closed his eyes, hoping you wouldn’t be coming anywhere near this side of the room. He feared you might hear his pulse if you did, for his heart had rarely beat so strongly before.

He heard more ruffling and a door being opened. “Where is he now?” you asked. “Did he say why he was back early?”

Hyunjin heard the playful smile in your maid’s voice. “According to Mr. Seo, Lord Hwang tried to insist it was to make sure he would be reunited with Ha-ri sooner.” She chuckled silently. “But I think he missed you, my lady.”

You didn’t say anything for several seconds, and Hyunjin couldn’t hear ambient noises while a breeze blew over. It faded after a while but you still hadn’t spoken.

When you did, it was with a much steadier voice than you had earlier. “How do I look? My hair?”

“Beautiful, my lady. Should I send Mr. Seonghwa to find Lord Hyunjin?”

“No thank you, Anhjong—I’ll find him myself, he can’t be very far.” He heard more footsteps, and the beginning of another sentence, but it was cut off when you closed the door behind you after leaving your bedroom.

… and Hyunjin breathed again, finally filling his lungs and exhaling painfully. He was still dizzy and he knew now it had very little to do with his lack of oxygen. What would you have thought of him if you had found him like this, stalking you during this intimate moment with a hand over the bulge in his trousers?

He knew two things—he needed to cum and he needed to get the fuck out of there. If you had been told he was outside, it was likely that he’d encounter you if he went down the steps and through the main entrance. He did not want you to see him in the state he was in, not after being absent, not after what had happened before he left.

Hyunjin would go through your bedroom and into the hallway and lock himself in his bedroom to take care of the ache in his balls. And then he’d let you see him, perhaps, if he had calmed down. If he could ever calm down.

There were voices in Hyunjin’s mind, and one of them kept telling him that he would never, ever be content, never feel satiated, not if he couldn’t have you.

He smelled you the second he stepped into the room and it made the simple task of walking difficult. There were a few scents floating in the room—the floral water they soaked your linen in, your perfume, and the faint smell of your previous home that lingered on your clothes and your belongings, like the salt of the ocean. But the only scent that seemed to be of any importance to Hyunjin was you—not whatever you sprayed behind your ears. Your essence.

He should have crossed the room and not paid any mind to anything but your bed caught his attention. The pillow was still on it, exactly where it had been while you were riding it and cumming all over it. The bed was unmade, unruly, and he wanted to lie on it and coat himself in your scent. He wanted to wait for you there.

He did not. Instead, he came closer. The bed was still warm but that wasn’t the important part—in the dim light of the candles, Hyunjin could see that the pillow was wet. There was a stain where your pussy had been moments ago, and it glistened under the quivering flames. He choked on his air, his blood boiling under his skin. Surely, this is how dying felt like.

His aching cock begged him to please, please touch the stain, inhale your scent, fill his lungs with it. Naturally, Hyunjin obliged.

He reached for the soft pillow, pulling it towards him and then under his nose. His pulse was so loud that he wouldn’t hear you if you came back into the room but he was past caring. All of his troubles had evaporated into thin air, replaced by the ghost of your moans echoing in his ears and the sweet scent of your virgin cunt. He smelled again, and again, his cock pulsing each time.

Your scent was as pretty as you were. Hyunjin’s eyelids fluttered when his lips accidentally brushed against the damp fabric of the pillow, harvesting a few drops of your juices on them. Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck—

There was no turning back now. Hyunjin inhaled deeply before carefully parting his lips to lick you off the pillow. He couldn’t let it go to waste, could he?

Your taste hit him like a violent storm, like an earthquake, like a song, like the first day of spring. You tasted sweet and tangy with deeper, more complex whispers of salt, musk and honey. One lick was not enough to comprehend the intricacy of your essence—Hyunjin began lapping frantically at the stain you had left while burying his hand into his trousers to relieve the unbearable pressure in his groin. His cock was the hardest it had ever been, and warm to the touch.

He used the pillow to muffle his moan when he squeezed himself. He was close already. He wanted to cum, finally, to rid himself of the ache. He never wanted to cum, he wanted to stay here, lost in your scent, your taste. The pillow wasn’t enough—he needed his face buried into your pussy, your sweet juices coating him, your thighs around his neck, your weight on his throat. It should have been him you were straddling, it should have been his face you were riding. For hours. For days. It didn’t matter if Hyunjin died there because he would have reached heaven before his last breath.

It took three strokes for Hyunjin to cum. He came thinking of fucking your virgin cunt with his tongue and teasing your clit until you sank your finger nails into his scalp. He came thinking of your soaked folds, of your pretty pussy, all creamy, just for him. He came thinking of your moans turning into his name that you were chanting, over and over, as he fucked you. He came so hard that he lost his balance and ended with one knee on your bed as he shot long strings of cum, soiling his pants. He gasped and whined into your pillow and your juices as he pulsed into his palm, his whole body convulsing through his orgasm.

Maybe it took him an hour to recover. Maybe it took him a minute. His cum was dripping down his thigh, almost reaching his knee, when Hyunjin managed to stand upright again. He let go of your pillow, putting it back on the bed where it had been. Hyunjin adjusted his softening cock into his pants and wiped his hand on them. He would need to change. He needed to clean up. You’d smell him and you’d smell yourself on him, too, if you saw him.

So Hyunjin made a run for it, bolting out of the room and carefully closing the door behind him. The hallway was dimly lit, but he noticed Cloud as the kitten chased something. A mouse, or a bug perhaps. She paid him no mind as Hyunjin ran to his room as quietly as he could.

Shame overcame him when he pressed his back against the closed—and locked—door of his own bedroom. It washed over him slowly and he closed his eyes. He could still smell you. He could still taste you. His cock was still tingling with the aftershock of his strong orgasm.

Every time he took a breath, your scent invaded him again, and the taste of your pussy haunted his lips. This whole time, his whole life, he had been certain that by marrying you, he was going to make you miserable—that you’d be a prisoner. A captive of the misery he had put you in.

But now he understood. You may have been a prisoner but so was he. His wrists were bound by an invisible thread made of shame and guilt and gold. He was just as much of a captive as you were, but his goaler had lips softer than silk and a pussy that tasted sweeter than honey. People thought of him as unstable, people said he was insane—but Hyunjin knew that was nothing compared to the madness that would conquer him over time. Simply because you were his wife. Simply because he’d rather destroy himself than letting you pay the price of his father’s mistakes.

Hyunjin jumped when someone knocked at his door. Afraid it might be you, he quickly pressed against the door to make sure that you wouldn’t be able to open it despite it being locked.

He sighed in relief when he heard Seonghwa’s voice. “My lord? Are you in there? Your lady wife is looking for you—she was not outside, but indoors.”

Hyunjin took a deep breath. “Thank you, Seonghwa.” He hesitated. “I realized I was rather grimy after all this travel and that I should change before meeting with my wife. In fact, could you send a basin of warm water, please?”

“Of course, my lord. I’ll make sure her ladyship is informed that you’ll meet her shortly.”

Hyunjin didn’t even respond—besides, he heard Seonghwa’s footsteps as he walked away in the hallway. He didn’t waste any more time and went into the bathroom to undress. Someone must have been warned of their arrival because they had lit up his bedroom already, and the room basked in the soft lighting of a few lanterns and some candles. He watched the flames dance for a few seconds before using a handkerchief to wipe the cum that was drying on his thigh. He wrapped himself in a robe while Ahnjong herself brought the water. She still had this smile on her face that Hyunjin simply couldn’t read.

“Thank you, Anhjong.” The maid also left him with clean towels. “I’ll be downstairs very soon.” He wasn’t even sure he wanted to see you right now, not that the idea was unpleasant, but more because he didn’t know how he would react. And yet, he had missed you. More than he thought he would.

“Actually, my lord, your wife has asked me to let you know she’ll be waiting for you in her bedroom in a little while.” The maid’s smile grew wider but she did her best to conceal it. “She is washing up as well and will be ready promptly.”

Yes, of course—you’d want to wash the scent of sex off your skin before meeting with him. Same as he was doing. In another life, his scent would have been laced with yours. Perhaps he would bathe with you after making love to you, and massage your favorite oils into your skin. Would you let him brush your hair? Would you let him wrap you in soft blankets and hold you until you fell asleep?

This life that could never be. This life that would haunt him.

“I’ll be quick,” he assured, and Anhjong exited the room, leaving Hyunjin alone.

Hyunjin washed up, starting with his face. Despite the warmth of the air, the hot water felt good on his skin, melting the day away, and the sweat, and maybe a little bit of the shame, too. But it would take a lot more than warm water to erase all of it—Hyunjin didn’t think that anything could ever rid him of this burden anyway.

You sat for what seemed like a long while on the stone railing of your balcony. You needed fresh air—your heart was beating in your chest as if you had run laps around the estate, and one might have believed that you had a fever based on the warmth emanating from your skin. But it was not that at all. You were nervous. Excited, maybe. A little bit of both.

Hyunjin was back. Finally.

You had missed him, missed his presence around the manor, missed the sight of him wandering the garden in the afternoon. The sound of his voice, the scratching of his pen on paper, his delicate footsteps. You had missed him and yet you feared his return. He gave you bees. He gave you a colony of bees, you kept repeating yourself. The night was clear and there were stars in it, twinkling and shining and decorating the dark-blue sky. It must have been a new moon because you couldn’t see it. There was a knot in your stomach. He gave you a bee colony, but what did it actually mean?

Would he speak to you gently? Would he tell you all about his business trip, the people he met? Would he tell you about the foods he ate, about the work he did? Would he ask you about the bees?

You looked down at the small table in between the set of chairs that had been placed for your convenience, so you could enjoy your balcony. The bottle of whiskey you had bought for Hyunjin waited here—when he would join you, Seonghwa would take care of moving the other gift you had found for Hyunjin into his room. You hoped that he would like it.

You hoped that he would drink some whiskey, that you would hear him call you darling again, that he would kiss you and touch you, that his tongue would play with yours again. You hoped for more, you couldn’t help it, couldn’t help craving him, his smooth cock, his scent. His voice in your ear, whispering everything and nothing all at once. The look on his face while he came—the ecstasy overcoming him, taking control of his soul. You wanted to feel him again. Taste him again.

Hyunjin knocked at your door just a few minutes later—you were grateful he didn’t leave you to wait for too long, as you were a little impatient to see him again. You didn’t even know how he would behave. After all, after the other night, he had barely talked to you, and then he had left…

You recognized his personal knock. It was short yet melodic. “Yes,” you said, making sure to speak up to be heard. “Come in.” But you didn’t hear the door being pushed open due to how deafening your heartbeat was.

You had forgotten how handsome he was. You knew that he was handsome, but it was as if his absence had made you forget exactly the extent of his beauty. You observed him as Hyunjin closed the door behind him, noticing that he did not lock it. He was wearing a white linen shirt and dark slacks, but his hair was unruly and he seemed tired. Or maybe that was a trick of the light.

He was looking around the room, evidently searching for you. “I’m outside,” you called. “Care to join me for a drink?” You took the bottle from the table, hiding it behind your back. Childish, foolish. And yet. Your skin was pricking from the anticipation of being reunited with your husband, as fucked up as your marriage was.

Hyunjin paused, or hesitated, before crossing the room. You stood as he stepped foot on the balcony, unable to look away from him, his angelic face and the dark locks of hair framing it. His lips like rose petals, his molasses eyes. You froze in place, air stuck in your throat, the memory of his body against yours invading your mind, clouding it.

He froze too, staring at you intently, his eyes going up and down and left and right, waltzing over your body like a skilled dancer would on a dancefloor. And yet, his gaze always returned to yours, although it tended to melt a little and linger on your lips more than elsewhere.

You dipped your head—just a little, not too much so as not to upset him. “Welcome back, Hyunjin.” You smiled when you looked at him again. “I’m happy to see you.”

He did not move, did not bat an eye. Hyunjin stared at you for a long while, a frown forming between his brows. You wanted to jump over the balcony railing and run away in shame.

He must have noticed a sudden change in your mood, but he stuttered when he spoke. “I’m—I’m very—huh—” He gulped thickly and bit his lower lip. “You’re happy to see me.”

He hadn’t said it as a question, not even really as a statement—Hyunjin was repeating your words as if he hadn’t grasped the meaning of them, despite the words being quite simple.

“I’m glad you’re back,” you tried again, hoping the message would reach him, but it didn’t look like it did. You decided to act quickly and pulled the whiskey bottle from behind your back. “This is just a small welcome-back gift. And a thank you gift, too.”

Hyunjin blinked, staring at the whiskey. “For me?”

Would he just repeat everything you said like this until you both grew old and gray? “Yes, for you.” You shook the bottle, inviting him to take it from you. “Be honest with me if you don’t like this. I wanted something special for you.”

Slowly, Hyunjin reached for the whiskey and looked at the bottle under the flame of a candle. “Infused with botanicals?” His voice was soft, low, almost like he didn’t want to be heard. “I never tried that before.” He frowned again, meeting your gaze. “You really didn’t have to.”

“I know I didn’t have to, I wanted to.” You leaned against the railing, welcoming the cool stone under your touch. You paused, searching for the right words, but there was no right or wrong here, just the blunt, simple truth. “You bought a bee colony. For me.”

Hyunjin nodded, putting the whiskey bottle on the table as he worked on opening it. “Yes, it was a pure coincidence that one of our wheels needed repair exactly at this location.” Every word he said filled his mouth like notes played on a piano before spilling from his plush lips like the most gentle breeze. “I… I know it doesn’t erase what I did.” Maybe he found it easier to speak with you when he was looking away from you. “I hope it makes you happier. A little.”

“What you did?” You sighed, hoping he didn’t mean what you thought he meant. “Are you talking about… about the other night, before you left?”

It took several seconds before Hyunjin spoke again. “I should not have disrespected you. I’m your husband.”

Sometimes, you could still feel him rutting against you, your hand wrapped around his pretty cock. Thinking about it made you wet. “You didn’t disrespect me. I’m your wife.”

Hyunjin turned around swiftly, facing you. He was closer now, just inches away from you, towering over you—but you were not frightened, no matter how upset he may look. Darkness may have made a home out of him, but you had never been afraid of the dark. “And you think that I should treat you like this just because you’ve had the misfortune of being promised to me?”

You took a deep breath. To keep your composure. To inhale his scent. He smelled like freshly pressed clothes and sweat and cologne, and you wanted to bury your face in his neck. “It’s not a misfortune.” Why you were happy to be his wife eluded you, but you were, and you couldn’t deny it. “Not to me,” you added, knowing full well he was projecting his own issues onto you.

To relieve his bitterness, maybe. Or something. After all, Hyunjin was an important man—his father may have done what he did, it had only affected his wife and son. It had taken nothing away from the weight of the Hwang name. A weight that burdened Hyunjin… and you, too, now.

But Hyunjin was important enough that he could have married some relative of the king himself. Hyunjin looked like a prince, sometimes acted like one. A tortured one, but still—you knew he didn’t resent you, but you also knew he resented his marriage to you.

Your husband gazed into your eyes, scanning your irises as if you were a book written in a foreign language. You tried to hold his gaze but it was difficult. You wanted to look at his lips, too, to remember what they felt like.

He just shook his head, did not deny your suspicions. “Thank you. For the whiskey.” He wet his lips with one enticing swipe of the tongue. “Let’s have a drink.”

You sat down while he unscrewed the cork, looking away. You couldn’t see much from here, but looking at the dark night was better than the alternative. Not that Hyunjin was unpleasant to look at—quite the contrary.

The more you stared at him, the more love for him grew in your heart, and you knew it could destroy you.

The familiar sound of the amber liquid being poured in your glass brought you back to reality. Hyunjin raised his glass at you after sitting across from you and you returned the gesture, still letting him have the first taste. You did study him as he coated his mouth with the liquid, letting its flavors spread on his taste buds. His expression softened and the corners of his lips turned into a faint smile.

“This is delicious, actually.” He signaled you to have a taste. “I’ve never tasted anything like this.”

Neither had you. The whiskey itself was crisp, yet sweet, and yet undeniably vegetal. It tasted like a summer day. Like freshly cut grass, like rosemary, like marjoram, like bitter orange, like juniper berries. The man who had sold it to you had also mentioned it being infused with saffron and fir needles.

“Oh my god,” Hyunjin added, drinking more, licking every drop of it off his plush lips. “How come I never had this before?” He was staring at the content of his glass as if it contained the answers to his question. The whiskey was darker than a regular one, but you still saw the candle flames reflect on it like a dance.

You chuckled, pleased that your gift had the desired effect on him. “I doubt you often do your own shopping, especially not in town,” you pointed out. “Am I wrong?”

“You’re not.” Hyunjin had finished his glass and was already pouring himself another, not even asking before adding some whiskey to yours. “I’m not very popular, as I’m sure you’ve noticed if you did go.” Suddenly, he frowned, looking at you inquisitively. “You didn’t go alone, did you?”

“I was with Mr. Seonghwa and Ha-ri.” You thought about Kim Taehyung’s condescending attitude, letting Hyunjin drink a few more sips of liquor before breaking the news to him. “I bought a few tables for myself—the apiary—and for Ha-ri’s sewing, too.”

“No problem at all, I will settle the bills at the end of the month.” Hyunjin was still enthralled by the whiskey and the scene was almost endearing. He was now studying the label on the bottle, often returning to a sip or to smell it.

“I paid with my own money.” You put your glass back on the table. Hyunjin looked away from the bottle, his frown returning. “That’s not the point I was trying to make. I bought the tables at the Jeons’ shop.”

You often saw a passing darkness clouding Hyunjin’s eyes, turning them from molasses on pound cake to ink stains on fancy paper. One wasn’t more beautiful than the other, but one made you worry. You reached for him across the table, putting your hand on his forearm. He flinched, but you squeezed him a little tighter. Gently.

You didn’t let him lie to you. You didn’t want him to have to lie to you. “I had been warned beforehand of the… delicate situation between you and Lord Jungkook. And his mother, too.” Hyunjin shot a frightened stare at you. “I decided not to entertain a rivalry between your late father and Lord Jeon’s also very dead father.”

Hyunjin gulped, eyeing his glass, but remaining still. “Was he there?” he asked, his voice so low that you could barely make out the words. “Jungkook?”

“No, he wasn’t.” You let go of Hyunjin, and he reached for his glass. “His business partner made the transaction with us.”

“That Kim guy?”

“Yes.” You paused, hesitating. “What an arrogant prick.”

This stunned Hyunjin. You watched the clouds lift from his eyes, much like the strong winds clearing the skies after a storm. He had difficulty swallowing the whiskey while he suppressed his laughter.

“I couldn’t have said it better.” A smile looked good on him. Like it belonged there. “I hope you didn’t let him talk down on you.”

“I sure as fuck didn’t, Hyunjin. I don’t think I helped your cause. I don’t think I made you any more popular, not at all.” At this, the both of you laughed together, putting your hands over your mouths to cover the noise.

You drank a little while recovering your breath. This is all you wanted. All your life you had known that you would become Lady Hwang—you hadn’t known it would turn out like this. You hadn’t known that Hyunjin would rather be burned alive than consummate the marriage. You hadn’t known that doubt would be at the back of your mind, day and night, as you wondered what you needed to do to make him love you. You had been foolish, but could you forgive yourself for that?

But this—tonight—wasn’t bad. Expensive whiskey and a chat with your husband.

“I don’t care that they hate me,” Hyunjin said after a while. “It’s not like I ever see them anyway.”

You bit your lip with a sigh. “About that…” Concern grew within you, tugging at your heart. You emptied your glass in one go, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand. “Lord Jeon sent us an invitation for a dinner he is hosting, and I already accepted.”

“You did what?”

You had never been afraid of the dark, whether it was in your bedroom, under your bed, in a closet, or in Hyunjin’s eyes. But what about when his gaze turned to fire? You recoiled, pressing your back against your chair. For a moment, you thought Hyunjin would lash at you, but not like a predator—like a wounded animal, desperate, fighting for survival, knowing its demise was inevitable.

Hyunjin’s voice was trembling, but you couldn’t tell whether it was with fear or rage. Maybe, most likely, it was with an ugly mix of both. “When did we receive this letter? And why did you take it upon yourself to accept the invitation without consulting me?”

You held his gaze. You weren’t used to the scene unfolding in front of you. You had heard men raise their voices for much less than this. You had heard men become upset for petty reasons, but you had never, ever seen so much alarm in one before—certainly not for something as insignificant as a response to a letter.

And yet, all that you could see in Hyunjin was terror.

“Your father hated his and they had a rivalry,” you responded. “It doesn’t mean you have to hate him.”

Hyunjin hit the table with his fist—your glass clinked loudly against the bottle, but you didn’t jump. Not on the outside anyway. You expected him to scold you, to rebuke you, you expected him to strike you. Most men would have.

Yet when he spoke, his voice was slow, faint, like his throat was strained. “It’s not about hate. It was never about hate, darling.”

Most men would not hesitate to strike their wives if they infringed such obvious rules, but Hyunjin didn’t need to. All he had to do was let that word dance on his lips, offering it to you like a dagger to the heart.

You pushed yourself up, pacing on the balcony for a few seconds. Hyunjin’s obstinate stoicism didn’t help. Maybe you had wanted him to fight back, to punish you somehow. Maybe you had wanted a reaction out of him, any reaction, no matter the nature of it. Maybe you wanted him to touch you, even if it meant hurting you with a wrath bigger than himself.

His glass was empty and Hyunjin drank from the bottle instead of filling it again.

“I’m going to bed,” was all he said, and he left with the whiskey.

You stared at the chair he had just vacated, your mind as blank as your heart. You tried enumerating all the reasons why you had decided Hyunjin and you should attend this dinner. You had good reasons and they came from a good place, but you understood why he was hurt.

And of course, you should have consulted him before, but doing so would have resulted in his immediate refusal anyway. He always locked himself away, even when he paced the garden, when he was working, when he was talking to you. He locked his heart away, making sure that nothing could ever reach it.

But at what cost?

And now he was going to stay enraged and lock himself in his bedroom and—

You remembered what was waiting for him in his room. The gift you had gotten him—the actual gift, as if a simple bottle of whiskey could ever repay the gesture behind him buying that apiary for you.

You went after him, bolting out of your room to see if he was still in the hallway, but you didn’t even hear his footsteps. You ran after him, only to find him standing in the frame of his door, bottle of whiskey still in hand, but frozen in place.

“Hyunjin…” You looked past him, inside his room. Seonghwa had left the gift exactly where you had asked him to.

An easel made of copper and imported rosewood. With sketching paper and canvases and paints and brushes and pencils, too.

Hyunjin’s father had never let him draw. There was so much darkness that came from the things his father had done—and the things he did not let Hyunjin be. But it didn’t have to stay this way.

“The whiskey was only part of the gift…” Your voice was small, foreign. You realized you were shy, even embarrassed. Now that you were facing it, you could tell how desperate you looked—how desperate you were. Desperate for him. For anything from him.

When Hyunjin turned to you, his eyes were wet. No tear rolled down his chiseled face, as though the abysses of his eyes were deep enough to hold them in, and maybe they were.

“I apologize,” you uttered, approaching him warily. “I’m sorry about Lord Jeon, and the dinner.” You meant it. You hoped he could see that. “I know you’ve been cultivating all those malignant thoughts inside you, and I fear… I fear they will fester, perhaps, some day. That they will take over your heart. I wanted to help you. I wanted to offer you a chance at something else… anything else.”

He turned back, facing the easel again. Seonghwa had left it in the bedroom but not far from the door leading to Hyunjin’s study, right by the window. During the day, he would have plenty of light to paint or draw.

But Hyunjin did not speak.

“I shouldn’t have done this,” you went on, following him into the room as he went in, but still keeping some distance between you two. “In fact, I will draft another letter to the Jeon family right this instant—I’ll explain that I became very ill, that we won’t be able to make it to the dinner.”

It seemed Hyunjin wasn’t listening to you. He left the whiskey bottle by the small table and reached for the easel, caressing the rosewood as gently as if he had been touching a newborn baby, or perhaps the delicate blossoms of a cherry tree. You could hear his breathing, steady but louder than usual. He felt the bristles of the paint brushes, one by one. He studied the paints too, each color, and looked at the tin box containing the perfectly sharpened pencils. They glide like butter, Bill had told you at the crafts store. He had helped you select the absolute best supplies, sparing no expense to make sure Hyunjin could experience art at least once.

It had been taken away from him at such a young age. Too early to be refusing such simple things to a child, whether it was a piece of chocolate, some pencils and paper, or the right to climb a tree. And maybe this was what had made him the way he was, much more than the number of affairs his father had.

Hyunjin’s voice was barely audible. Small, uncertain. “Is this all for me?” Like he couldn’t believe it. Like he didn’t want to believe it.

“Of course it is, Hyunjin.” You took yet another step toward him, and another, until you were close enough to smell him. “You don’t have to like it. If you don’t want any of it, I’m sure we can bring them to Ha-ri’s little girls, they—”

One second, you were standing behind Hyunjin, facing his back as he studied the items before him. The next, he swirled around and pulled you against him. Your body so close to his. Your body belonged in his embrace, it felt like. He closed his arms around you, enveloping you comfortably, squeezing you, burying his face into the crook of your neck. His breath was warm and it smelled like whiskey.

You wanted to ask him to please kiss you again. You wanted to ask him if he had fucked any pregnant women during his trip.

Hyunjin squeezed you tighter. “I love it.” His voice wouldn’t sound any different if he had been crying. “I want it. I want all of it. I want…” But the rest of his sentence trailed off, and you didn’t push it. Your husband kept you in his arms for a long time and you stayed right there, with your face against his chest, listening to his heart. It was slowing down gently.

Hyunjin didn’t let you see his face as he pulled away and you respected that boundary, instead decided to pick up the whiskey bottle to go and pour two glasses of it. As you busied yourself, you listened to noises in your back—Hyunjin discovering his gifts, his soft breathing, his sharp inhales.

You wondered what your life would have been like if you hadn’t been allowed to raise bees and become a beekeeper. How bitter would that have made you?

When you returned to the study, you found Hyunjin carefully placing a canvas on the easel and adjusting it. “I’ll try some of the paint,” he explained, and it was as if he hadn’t been upset at all just moments ago. “I’ve never actually done this before…”

“Then you should try watercolors,” you advised, pulling the tubes from the pile of paint. “Bill said they’re easier than oil.”

“I’ll just do colors,” Hyunjin went on with an enthusiasm you had never seen in him.

He really did just do colors, and you watched him do so. You watched as Hyunjin carefully mixed the colors, making different shades of blue or orange or red before he applied them on the canvas, blending them with a sponge or with a clean brush. Sometimes, he would stop for a few moments and just stare before returning to his paint, mixing new colors and starting over. The glass of whiskey remained by his side, forgotten.

You watched him paint, you watched the way he held the brushes—awkwardly at first, then, with more confidence. He wouldn’t speak, but sometimes he muttered a few words to himself. You didn’t speak either, you just sat on his bed, watching your husband be himself for, maybe, the first time in his life. Soon enough, three, then four canvases were laid around the room to dry, saturated in bold colors. Gradients and blotches and shapes. Colors. You wondered if, perhaps, Hyunjin was trying to show you the colors of his heart. You wondered if perhaps he was just trying to figure out what exactly were the colors of his heart.

You fought it when you became sleepy, lulled by the whiskey and the newfound comfort of this strange intimacy. Hyunjin and you, in the same room, not speaking a word and yet undeniably… together. As normal people.

You fought sleep until you no longer could. By then, most of the candles had burnt out in the room. But this is what you saw as you fell asleep in Hyunjin’s bed—him, in front of his easel, the light from a wall lamp dancing over him and the art he had wanted to make all his life.

That night, you fell asleep as Lady Hwang. When you woke up the next morning, your husband was laying next to you, on his side, with his back facing you. The room was filled with the soft morning light. Hyunjin was there—close, so close, so warm. He smelled good even though the scent of last night’s whiskey lingered on both of you. You touched his silky soft hair, felt the fabric of his shirt under your fingertips.

Every day, you woke up as the one and only thing you had been allowed to be—you woke up as Lady Hwang.

But today, you woke up as the girl who had fallen in love with Hyunjin through his letters, his delicate cursive, his thoughtful gifts, his words, his thoughts, with the unfiltered version of himself he could be with you. Today, you woke up happy.

Few people would care about this, so you had never told anybody before, but one of your favorite things about beehives was the smell of them. This unique scent that you couldn’t get anywhere else, that, truthfully, couldn’t be compared. A beehive smelled like honey left out in the sun, like melted wax with wood undertones. As you moved the bees and reached deeper within the hive, though, you could also get traces of musk and balm and something overly sweet, like rotting fruit.

And you loved it.

You worked with your bees every day, making sure that they were healthy, making sure that their surroundings were clean and filled with pollen-bearing flowers and plants. You had filled the nearby soil with flowers of all kinds—goldenrod, lavender, primrose, a couple of raspberry bushes and some wild rose bushes as well, along with the usual sage and rosemary. With this, you were certain that your wildflower honey would be full of flavor and as sweet as it could be. You should look into planting a few orange trees for the years to come—their blossoms would round up the honey’s taste.

You loved the smell of a hive and the feeling of the bees buzzing all around you as you worked to harvest the honey and clean the nest. You felt at peace here, like this little corner of the estate was yours and yours only. Like you belonged here, in this place, in that very moment.

The sky was blue and the air was warm already, hinting at yet another hot summer day. Life at the Hwang Estate was not bad at all. You may be yearning for a kiss from your husband, or hoping he drank enough whiskey at night and called you darling, but you had everything else. Ha-ri and her daughters and Changbin, who seemed to shine in his new position on the council.

You had your bees, and you also had Hyunjin’s paintings. “I’ve never done this before,” he would say after showing you his most recent creations. He used to blend colors on canvases at first but he was a bit more adventurous now, drawing more complex shapes and adding light and shade, too. For his very first ‘portrait’, Hyunjin had chosen Cloud as his model.

I’ve never done this before, he said once again when he handed you the painting. It was smaller than the others and he had it framed. A proper gift. You hugged him and he hugged you back that time, wrapping his arms around your waist, pulling you closer. Sometimes at night, when your hand trailed between your legs, you still thought about that moment, and all the other moments. You also thought about all the moments that had never occurred. You often thought about his cock and how it had felt in your hand. Often, also, you dreamt about Hyunjin making love to you.

You almost dropped the large jar that contained today’s honey, startling a few bees and causing them to fly away. You sighed, making sure that none of them had been hurt in the process, and gathered the jar from the ground. Some honey had spilled onto the grass, leaving a puddle. You didn’t like wasting honey, but you decided that perhaps some time later a little creature could use it, especially in this heat.

You heard footsteps to your left and, expecting Ha-ri, spun on your heels to greet her. But it wasn’t Ha-ri, and it also wasn’t Seonghwa or Hyunjin, who, sometimes, liked to sit under the shade of a tree and sketch while you worked with the bees.

“I thought I’d find you here, my lady.”

Lee Minho—the estate’s new doctor. He had been acclimating to his new home easily and he was well-liked among the staff. He was soft-spoken and intelligent, and Hyunjin particularly enjoyed sharing a drink with him and Changbin after work. He was a good addition to this home, you thought. He was friendly and yet, he seemed vigilant, always keeping his guard up. In that way, he reminded you of a cat. For good reason, perhaps, as he seemed particularly fond of Cloud—and Cloud of him.

“Doctor,” you said with a smile, still surprised to see him here this morning. Minho spent several days of the week treating patients in the two clinics in town. “What a splendid day, isn’t it?” You had found over time that making small talk helped ease your nervousness around people, making you seem confident.

“Indeed,” Minho responded with that enigmatic smile of his. He was an attractive man with a lot of kindness under the mysterious veil that he kept around him. He pushed his elegant dark hair from over the round glasses on his nose. “Wow, my lady—that is a good harvest you have there!”

You accepted the compliment with a bashful smile—yet another thing your mother had taught you. “Thank you, Dr. Minho. Would you like to have a taste?”

“I’m afraid I can’t say no to that offer.” Minho made his way to you, a little wary of the bees but eagerly grabbing one of the spoons you had brought with you to test your product. He dipped it in the jar, not wasting a second before he ate his spoonful. “Oh, good god, wow…” Minho, however, took his time to savor it, so you gave him the required space.

Instead, you busied yourself with closing the beehive back, ready to let the hive be for the day. You had gathered a lot of honey and, for the first time with this colony, harvested a small amount of honeycomb. And you knew exactly what you wanted to do with it.

“Thank you my lady,” Minho spoke respectfully, dipping his head. “I was told of your delicious honey, but it’s one thing to taste it on a cake and another to have it just like that.”

You shook your head distractedly, now finished with the hive. The honey was in a jar, and the honeycombs in a large pot. You put everything back on the tray, along with the used spoons and your gloves, but left everything on the table.

You knew that Minho’s unprompted visit to your beehive had a purpose. Yes, he was a nice, pleasant man, but above all else, he was a doctor. Your doctor more specifically.

“Your lord husband will surely have a good hunt today, with that spectacular weather,” Minho went on. “I heard he and Changbin left before sunrise.”

You took a deep breath, readying yourself to face Minho’s inquisitive eyes. When you turned to him, you found him shielding his eyes from the sun, licking the remaining honey off his lips. You liked him. Minho. You knew very little about him—you knew that he had a good reputation. You knew that he liked to go fishing and that he always shared some fish with Cloud when he returned. You also knew that he used to work for the Jeons and that he left of his own volition.

“I know why you’re here, Mr. Lee.” You spoke with your voice low but enunciated every word very clearly, so that he, and only he, could hear you. All around the estate, life went on—windows were open, people walked around, busy at work. “I wish our maids had been more… discreet.”

Minho let his arm fall to the side of his body after adjusting his glasses, offering you an apologetic smile. “Don’t hold it against them, my lady—they only worried for your well-being and came to me immediately.”

A surge of rage enveloped you—but the rage wasn’t alone, there was sadness woven into it, despair, and shame, too. “I fail to see what is so worrying about blood stains on bed sheets, doctor. Women bleed once a month, after all—a doctor ought to know this.”

Minho let the sentence hit him and he took it gracefully. If he were angry, he didn’t let it show. Instead, he leaned against the table, never looking away from you.

This morning you had woken up in Hyunjin’s bed—something that occurred more and more often. Not because your husband had decided he wanted to consummate your marriage, no, but because he seemed to enjoy your company more. He liked to paint a lot, but especially in your presence. Sometimes, he’d say, “join me, will you?” and you would. You didn’t really know how to paint but you’d grab a brush and add a few strokes here and there. The more Hyunjin painted, the better at it he became.

The more Hyunjin painted, the more you loved him.

So you liked to be there as much as you could, to take in the sight of him standing in front of a canvas, brows stitched together as he tried to execute his ideas as well as he could. These days, the rooms would remain warm even after sunset, and Hyunjin often painted in just a thin white shirt and light trousers. He was handsome, and peace looked good on him. You knew that this could only be temporary—you knew that Hwang Hyunjin, the one they called the Orphan, the one they said was cruel, would not allow something as ordinary as painting to make him happy.

Still.

You often fell asleep in his bed because you liked being close to him and the sheets smelled like him. Sometimes, you would wake up so close to him that it was almost as if he loved you back.

This morning, though, the bed had been empty—you knew it would be so because Hyunjin had warned you about today’s hunting trip, and how important it was to him. The dinner at the Jeons was in a few days from now and Hyunjin intended on bringing some game as a part of the gift he would offer to your hosts. You’d of course part with a jar of your precious honey and with some seeds for a garden.

You hadn’t however foreseen your body reminding you that Hyunjin refused to put a baby in you and had woken up in a small puddle of your own blood. In fact, your bleeds had been late, which you had blamed on the stress of moving into a new home, so you weren’t especially surprised. You had taken the sheets off the mattress and had gone to wash them yourself, but the maids had come in and offered their help.

Minho took a deep breath, choosing his next words carefully. “I heard there was a lot of blood, my lady.”

Ashamed, you turned away, pretending to adjust the contents of the tray. The honey shone under the bright sun, amber, beautiful. “I assure you I am completely healthy, sir,” you managed, clearing your throat. “This is not an abnormal occurrence for me.”

When you looked at Minho again, he was nodding slowly. “You’re tense,” he pointed out. “My lady, let me reassure you—you have nothing to fear from me. I’ve been forbidden by your husband to perform certain… physical examinations on you, unless he gives his consent before, and unless he is present at the time of the examinations.”

This, you also knew—when Dr. Lee had been welcomed to the estate, Hyunjin had assured you that he was a better man than Yun had been, and that he would make sure nobody ever touched you. That nobody found out about your secret, too.

“I am aware,” you retorted, doing your best to remain calm.

Minho barely let you finish your sentence. “I know about the teas you drink, I’ve seen what you put in them. I know they’re not to settle your headaches or upset stomach. I know what boiled thistle does, I know what ginger root and rue oil do. I know why fertile women take those. So, as your doctor, let me ask you—how much blood was there, and are you in pain?”

Once, your mother had caught you stealing cake from the kitchen. You had been fourteen years old at the time and it had been your birthday cake, which you had been forbidden from eating. You had felt so ashamed. Because it had been your mother finding you eating cake, and because she had made sure that everybody in the villa heard her as she scolded you, calling you weak and stupid, calling you worse things even.

Today, under the unyielding sun, standing in front of Minho, you felt just about the same.

You gulped, feeling the familiar and unwanted prick of tears at the corner of your eyes. “I just—I just want—”

“I know what you want and I’m not judging you for it, my lady.” Minho took a step closer to you, but it was to study you. He silently asked for permission to touch you, which you granted with a stiff nod, and he pressed his hands at specific areas of your neck and under your arms. “In fact, your secret is safe with me. The reason you can trust me is because I will also give you a secret of mine in exchange—it was actually the reason I came to visit you in the first place.”

You looked into Minho’s eyes and saw nothing but honesty, except perhaps a few drops of concern.

You knew about some herbs and their uses—you had heard some of it from Sookie and the rest of the information had been absorbed in your many years of eavesdropping all around your family home. Your older sisters, your mother, your cousins. The maids, especially those who really liked boys. So it only felt natural to try and make some of that tea that supposedly stopped a woman’s fertility.

“Well it didn’t work,” you said ultimately with a sigh, deciding that Minho was trustworthy. “I lied earlier. There was more blood than usual.”

Minho nodded, pulling away from you. “Your blood vessels seem alright. However, for the time being, I suggest you stop consuming the teas, my lady. They are not as efficient as you believe. Nothing can fully prevent pregnancy.”

You swallowed your tears and your pride back, averting your eyes, feeling more and more like a little girl being scolded by her mother, despite Minho’s gentle voice. “It doesn’t hurt though, doctor. It did this morning, but not anymore.”

“Then you will be alright,” Minho assured. “But… should you have been pregnant, this could have been a miscarriage—a bad one at that. Please keep that in mind, my lady.”

“No more teas,” you offered as a promise, your voice weak and small.

“I don’t like that you will be away and that I won’t be able to check up on you tomorrow,” Minho admitted. “I don’t know who Lord Jeon hired to replace me, but whoever it is, do not hesitate to seek help if you feel sudden cramps, or if you bleed too much, my lady. Understood?”

“Understood.” You played nervously with the fabric of your sleeves. “Thank you, doctor. And, huh—please—”

Minho chuckled, waving his hand. “I will certainly not tell Lord Hwang about this. I meant it—a secret for a secret.” With this, Minho produced an envelope from his pocket. “I am kindly asking you if you could give this letter—secretly—to somebody at the Jeons’.”

You took the envelope in your hand, seeing no problem in executing that task. “Of course, doctor.” There was a name on the envelope. “Su-jin?”

“I couldn’t give him proper goodbyes,” Minho explained, his voice suddenly strangled, shoulders tensed. “Although it isn’t enough, I hope this… I hope this can be something like that. A goodbye.”

You nodded slowly, carefully hiding the envelope under the pot on the tray. “Was he a close friend, sir?”

Something in Minho’s eyes revealed plenty about this small envelope and its precious contents. “He and I were very close. Too close,” Minho explained. “Some people… took advantage of that. It ended badly. I chose to leave so that Su-jin could be free and happy.”

Minho had said he and I were very close but you heard the truth laced in between his words. You felt love in his voice. Love, and pain, too. Not that the former could ever exist without the latter, though.

“I see.” You pressed your hand on your chest. “I promise I will deliver this letter discreetly and quietly. I won’t even tell Hyunjin about this.”

“I appreciate it.” Minho smiled at you and, without asking, took the tray from you. “Let me at least bring this inside for you.” He obviously wanted to change the subject so you allowed it. “I must admit, my lady, that I took the liberty to ask the chef if he could prepare red meat and some green vegetables for you. To prevent anemia. But I just said you were craving them.”

“Oh.” You covered your mouth, giggling. “Thank you, sir.” You followed Minho as he took the tray and walked around the manor, circling it to make it back to the front door. The air smelled like flowers and like freshly cut grass. “Did they say… anything else? The maids, I mean. Those who saw the blood on the sheets.”

Minho was walking slowly, much slower than you had seen him before—definitely because he didn’t want to exhaust you. You felt fine, but appreciated the gesture nonetheless. “Yes, but not to me. I heard them speculate over how soon you would be with child.”

A dagger to the heart would have been quicker and painless compared to this. You did not like the taste of shame on your tongue. “I see. Thank you for your honesty.”

“My lady, if you truly do not want to become pregnant—”

“I don’t want to talk about this anymore, doctor. Thank you. The teas were a mistake—perhaps I drank too much of it, too often. I appreciate your concern, but I’ll handle the rest.” It would be very easy to handle as you would never become pregnant.

You had hoped—foolishly—that if you managed to stop your monthly bleeds, Hyunjin would find you desirable the way he found pregnant women desirable. At this point, you were desperate enough that you thought a simple kiss would be enough to set you on fire. You had thought it was hard when he was cold and distant with you but it had turned out to be the opposite—spending so much time with him only made you yearn for him more. Some days, you found yourself inhaling your own hair—the scent of Hyunjin’s bed lingered on it.

“I apologize for this, my lady. I understand.” But you had made it to the front door, so Minho naturally switched the topic of conversation to the beehive and how he couldn’t believe how much honey you had gotten that morning.

He left you by the kitchen, thanking you again for the envelope you had taken from him—you took this so seriously that you immediately went upstairs to your room to hide it under your pillow. Feeling the paper on your fingertips made you nostalgic.

For years—your whole life up until just a few months ago—you only had that to keep you going. Letters. One every year, no more. You still had them, keeping them in a small wooden box. Hyunjin would write about everything, about nothing. For all these years, you had wondered this: how could he feel so close to your heart, yet so far away? And for all these years, you had believed this would be resolved by you finally becoming his wife and moving under his roof. Naturally, you had been wrong. You had been wrong about so many things.

The morning of the dinner at Lord Jeon’s, Seonghwa came to wake you instead of Ahnjong. You found it strange but appreciated the steward’s gentle voice. That morning, you woke up as Lady Hwang, but you felt empty.

“Where’s Ahnjong?” you asked, wishing with all of your soul that you could stay in bed all day. You were tired. “Is she alright?”

“She’s with Ha-ri, my lady,” Seonghwa explained. “They’re packing a few evening gowns for you. Lord Hwang is already up—would you like to have a bath before leaving?”

“Ah, the gowns. Of course.” You smiled fondly into your pillow. “Yes, Seonghwa. I’ll have a bath.”

“Would you like to use the tub in Lord Hwang’s room? I know you prefer it. Lord Hyunjin is downstairs with Mr. Changbin, finishing up some things for work. The room is all yours.”

You accepted Seonghwa’s offer as it was a quite widely known fact that Hyunjin’s bathroom was far better than yours. He bowed swiftly and left the room to prepare your bath and you were happy to find your bed sheets had absolutely no blood on them. The ache in your lower abdomen had completely disappeared too. This was, by far, the worst menstruation you had ever experienced. As if the burden of being a woman in itself wasn’t enough…

You wrapped yourself in your favorite robe and exited your room. From the hallway, you could hear voices downstairs—mostly Hyunjin and Changbin though, apparently giving directions for the factory while they would be away since Changbin would make the trip with you and Hyunjin.

Seonghwa had left a maid to take care of your bath. You recognized one of the young girls who had seen your blood on the sheets the other day but did your best to remain kind and friendly to her. Someday, when you’d have more time, you would teach her about the hardships of a woman, and how she might want to consider facing certain situations in the future. She was young and you didn’t hold it against her. If anything, you envied her. You missed the times when you were ignorant. You hadn’t been allowed to be that for very long, though.

Still, you asked her to leave you alone for the bath. You’d be able to wash your hair on your own and you preferred to soak in the warm water for a long time. The room smelled like Hyunjin, like his cologne, and was still steamy from his own bath. You tried not to think about that too much, about his lean body submerged in water, about his dark hair floating around his porcelain face, about his hand between his legs…

You splashed water on your face and scrubbed yourself clean, still sleepy. You would need strong tea to keep you awake, but you figured you might be able to nap quickly on the way to the Jeons’.

You had rinsed out your hair and were applying oils into it to make it shine when you heard footsteps outside the bathroom. “Seonghwa? Anhjong?”

The footsteps froze. “It’s me.” Hyunjin. “I came to shave and get dressed—I’ll—I’ll come back later,” he added, stammering. Hyunjin seemed to dislike the idea of you naked, almost as if his cock could escape his pants and accidentally fall into your cunt, impregnating you on the spot.

“Don’t, I’m done here, I’ll be out in a second.” This was his room after all.

“We’re leaving in about an hour,” Hyunjin said from the other side of the door. “Are you… feeling alright?”

You left the bathtub as the water was turning lukewarm rather quickly, beginning to dry your skin with the linen sheets provided by the maids. They smelled like the same rose water they soaked your clothes into after washing them. “I’m alright, Hyunjin.” You were suspecting that despite Minho’s absolute silence over it, Hyunjin had heard bits and pieces about the blood on the sheets. If you did trust the doctor, you didn’t always trust the maids to stay quiet. “Just need a minute here.”

“Take your time…” Hyunjin said, but he didn’t quite finish his sentence, letting it trail off instead.

You did your best to wring your hair dry but that was usually something you let the maids do, as your mother had always taught you. Be delicate with your hair, she’d always say. She had been terrified that you’d damage it, especially when you spent time outside in the winter. But you had always liked winter and its eerie silence.

Once you were as dry as you could get in the span of a few minutes, you quickly put on the loose, cream-colored gown that had been left for you. You hadn’t expected company so there wasn’t much here to cover you, however there were a couple of Hyunjin’s shirts hung on the wall, and you picked the blue one.

Your husband was facing the window when you exited the bathroom, his hands behind his back as he stared outside. The view from here wasn’t as nice as the one in your room, but one could see part of the garden here, and the lush pine forest around the estate.

Hyunjin didn’t turn when he heard you. “How was your bath?” he asked. Without letting you answer his question, he went on, “Don’t worry. I’ll have the tub and plumbing of your bedroom upgraded as soon as we’re back from our trip.”

Words could sometimes appear kind in appearance and yet they felt like blades. This was one of those times. “I did not think it bothered you that I used your tub, Hyunjin. I wish you'd told me.”

He did turn to you then, concern written all over his handsome face. “No! No—I just—I should—” He sighed, exhaling a long, tired breath. “I simply meant that I should have provided you with better installations already.”

You gulped, swallowing your pride at the same time. “I like your lavatory,” you admitted, taking a few steps toward him. He stood tall next to the window, his gaze following you, his gaze working very hard not to dip anywhere below your neck. You weren’t wearing anything besides that linen and his shirt, and he must have noticed. “I like your bedroom, too. It doesn’t mean I don’t like mine.” You hesitated, almost reaching for his face to feel the light stubble around his mouth. “I like your company as well, Hyunjin.”

He flinched, turning away, not even pretending to busy himself with something else, simply walking away from you. “I like your company too,” he managed from the other side of the room. Then, tentatively, he repeated, “We’re leaving in about an hour.”

“It takes me twenty minutes to get dressed,” you said. You wanted to smile but the muscles in your face were frozen. All your life you had known that you would become Lady Hwang, but you had been wrong about what it would cost you. You had never imagined that he would turn you into such a desperate, touch-starved fool. “Let me help you get ready, will you?”

Hyunjin glanced at the still unpacked clothes, neatly folded on his dresser. Normally, you left today for the Jeons’ and would return early tomorrow morning after spending the night in a hotel, since Lord Jungkook lived near the city and Hyunjin adamantly refused to sleep in his mansion. Still, to be safe, you would pack enough essentials for a couple of days should the weather leave you stranded away from home.

“I’d like that very much, thank you,” Hyunjin admitted, his shoulders relaxing a little. “I’ll just be… over here.” He motioned toward the bathroom you had just left.

It really only took you a couple of minutes to put everything in Hyunjin’s travel bag—pants and underpants and shirts, but you felt like something was missing. Making sure he wasn’t paying too much attention to you, you decided to take a look in his drawer, as you wanted to see if that was where he kept his hair comb—you hadn’t seen it in the bathroom earlier. You did see the comb but you also noticed something else.

Sheets of paper, envelopes. Some blank, some had words on them. Some had Hyunjin’s handwriting scribbled all over them.

Some had yours.

You gasped, recognizing the letters you had sent him over the years. All of them, seemingly. The older ones were damaged and your handwriting was messy, childish. And yet you saw yourself writing them, sitting at a desk too big for you, putting so much effort in every single word so that Hyunjin thought your handwriting was neat. You would write drafts upon drafts of the same letter, practicing diligently until everything was perfect.

For some reason, you hadn’t imagined that Hyunjin kept those. It didn’t feel quite real despite holding them in your hands and feeling the smooth paper under your touch. You skimmed through a few of them, only catching bits and pieces of each.

My sister came to pester me today, Hyunjin. I was just working at my apiary and she must have been bored. She made fun of me… I do not hate her. I do not resent her. I know she is impressionable, friable, and I know her mind has been poisoned by my mother. Today, she called my apiary stupid, and other worse things. I asked her to leave and she did not. I tried not to listen to her but I wanted to cry. Do you think crying is an act of weakness? I cried once during a big, big dinner. There were so many strangers, Hyunjin, and I was only a little girl. They all looked at me and they would all ask questions to my parents about me… about you, too. You really are famous, do you know that? Anyway… What happened with my sister is that a bee stung her and she accused me of doing it on purpose. She seemed to believe I controlled the bees. As if… Did you know, Hyunjin, that bees die after they sting? I would not want a bee to waste its life on my sister.

-

Hyunjin! I loved the gift you sent me on my birthday. I have never played with marbles before as I was not allowed to. Sometimes, I would sneak out of my dancing lesson and go watch my brother and his friends play, but I could never figure out the rules of the game. Perhaps there are many games and I simply confused them all. But since you sent me marbles, Mother says it’s alright, but I am still not allowed to sit or kneel on the ground as the boys can. I see them come home sometimes, covered in mud and dirt with big smiles. It makes me wish sometimes that I had been born a boy, too. Do you like to play in the mud too, Hyunjin? Do you think that when we grow up and get married, you will teach me how to play the marbles game? Other games?

-

This the second to last letter I will write you, assuming I will no longer need to write you letters once we are husband and wife. In a little over a year, I will travel the long journey to you… I hope you are not too discouraged about it. The reason I am mentioning this is very simple, Hyunjin. We are friends, are we not? So I want you to truly think about it. Should you cancel the marriage, I will not resent you. I know I am not the wife you ought to have been promised, and I know I have my father to blame for this, as he once convinced your father that I would be the best thing to happen to you. You do not need to say anything. You are my friend, Hyunjin, and I only want you to be happy. I lay in bed at night wondering if that is something I will do for you. Make you happy. There are days I wonder what it even means, happiness. I don’t recall the last time I was truly happy, but the closest I get to it is with my bees. What about you, Hyunjin? Are you happy? I hope you are. And I hope that if you choose to marry me, I can at least not make you unhappy. Please, promise me that we will still be friends, married or not.

-

I kept reading the last letter you sent me, do you remember it? In it, you told me so much about fabrics and textiles. From this day I haven’t looked at my dresses the same. I never realized all the work that was put into fabrics. I have been trying to find some knowledge to give back to you, something that you will carry with you the way I carry with me what you told me.

Here is what the beekeeper told me, though. He said that when honey is pure, it will burn. He said that only very pure honey actually burns, and polluted honey melts into nothing, like sugar in tea. He also said this would be a lesson for me later, but I’m not sure what he meant exactly. I tried though. I tried burning honey. It smelled sweet and warm. I poured it on my skin and it burned me but I liked it. Does that mean something, Hyunjin? Do you think that people can be pure, too, or do we all have darkness inside us, making us melt into nothing?

There was a lump in your throat when you decided to stop rummaging through the letters. Reading them all in the wrong order might not have been the best idea either. You realized that you had not kept the drafts of your letters—after the envelope was sealed, you would bring the letters to be burned into the furnace immediately. You knew you ought to do that or else you would drive yourself crazy, reading them over and over, finding reasons for Hyunjin to despise you.

You put the letters back, your vision suddenly blurred by tears. Promise me that we will still be friends, married or not. You wiped your face, finding something else in the drawer. You recognized the delicate ribbon that had adorned your wedding dress. You barely remembered that night and yet you remembered a little too painfully. There had been blood on the sheets that night too, but it had been Hyunjin’s. He had undone this ribbon from your dress so gently that you had almost fallen on your knees. In your life, you hadn’t known a lot of happiness, but you had known Hyunjin’s touch—a little of it, at least—and it would have to be enough.

“Damn it!” You heard Hyunjin’s groan echoing from the lavatory, so you quickly pushed the drawer closed and made sure your face was dry when you went to check on him.

“Is everything alright, Hyunjin?”

He looked at you from the reflection in the mirror. There was a small, red dot on his chin where he had cut himself. “Just a cut,” he said pointlessly. “Don’t worry.”

You knew that, technically, Hyunjin wasn’t used to shaving his own face. It was the sort of thing that Seonghwa would do for him, and yet, today out of all days, Hyunjin had chosen not to call anybody. You were not like your sister—you hadn’t allowed your position or your mother to make you dense, and you read the situation quite quickly. Hyunjin wanted to be with you, and with you alone. He was nervous about tonight, about facing Lord Jeon.

“Let me.” You didn’t wait for an answer and made your way to him, taking the straight razor from his hand. The blade was heavy, sharp, beautiful. The handle was gold-plated and had elegant carvings on it.

Hyunjin stared at you, still through the mirror, puzzled. “But—”

“I’ve learned how to shave a man’s face,” you told him, “and other things, too. Will you please fetch a chair?”

Hyunjin’s lips moved silently as he repeated your words under his breath, looking as if he hadn’t understood you. Still, after a few seconds, he walked away and returned with one of the chairs in his bedroom.

“Sit down, please,” you invited him, cleaning the blade in the shaving mug and preparing the brush and the soap. You retrieved a clean, hot towel and applied it on Hyunjin’s face once he had taken a seat. “You didn’t argue,” you pointed out. “Do you really trust me with this?”

You couldn’t see Hyunjin’s mouth under the towel, but you saw his smile lighting up his eyes. “Are you going to cut my throat?”

“I’ll try not to,” you retorted in the same playful tone. “Don’t move.”

You removed the towel and got to work, but your heart was beating painfully fast in your chest. The last time you had been this close to Hyunjin’s face, he had kissed you. And then he had fucked your hand. He smelled good. He smelled like his cologne and like the shaving soap you were lathering onto his face with the bristle of his brush. His lips were shut tight, but they sometimes quivered when you pressed your fingers on his neck to angle his head to suit your needs.

It became easier after a few seconds when Hyunjin closed his eyes. You watched him then, really taking in the sight of him, the black hair, the cheekbones, the lips. The man that he was and the things he made you feel. The warmth in your chest was the same as the warmth between your legs. You just needed to focus on the shaving part of the moment and not on what you wanted to happen—all that you wanted to do was to straddle Hyunjin and feel him between your thighs. All that you wanted was for him to press his pretty lips against your mouth and kiss you until he bruised you.

But instead, you pressed the blade against his cheek, stretching his smooth skin skillfully. “Ready?” you asked him, making your voice soft.

Hyunjin gave you the smallest of nods, barely moving, humming in approval. “We leave in an hour,” he muttered.

You took a deep breath and, finally, swiped the blade on Hyunjin’s skin. He inhaled as you went, tensing up, but exhaled when you pulled away without having cut his face open. His breath smelled like the lemon and mint water he liked to have in the mornings. He even giggled, his cheeks turning pink under the bubbles. “You’re good,” he complimented. “Good flick of the wrist, steady, smooth.”

“I probably have more practice than you do,” you pointed out, biting your lip to swallow your laughter.

Hyunjin raised an eyebrow but waited until you had repeated the process farther up, shaving the left side of his face first, to respond. “Did your mother make you learn that?” he asked.

“Yes.” You hesitated, looking at the mirror as if it held any answers. But all you saw was you towering over your husband with a blade in your hand, his face so close to yours and yet so far away. “She taught me that good wives shave their husbands and themselves, too. You know. Everywhere.”

Hyunjin frowned, his eyes opening up. He couldn’t move as you had kept on shaving him, now holding him by his chin, pressing the top of his head against your stomach. He stared at you from below, his gaze lingering on your breasts and not shying away from it. You let him. You pretended you weren’t seeing that and focused solely on the shaving. “Don’t look so shocked, my lord. I bet you’ve seen many more pussies than I have, and I can’t be the only woman in this country shaving mine.”

It was physically impossible for Hyunjin to fall down this chair, yet his reaction almost caused it to happen regardless. As if he jerked awake from a bad dream, he straightened up in the chair, giving you half a second to pull the blade away from his face, avoiding cutting him there. In the process, however, his long arm flew by it and he hit the razor with his hand on accident.

He sat straight in the chair, somehow both pale and his cheeks flushed dark. You circled him, bending down to pick up the razor that had fallen by his side. Doing so let you catch a glimpse of his hand—there was a small cut on his thumb where the blade had met his skin.

“Oh—” Quickly, you slammed the razor on the counter and took his hand in yours. A few drops of blood landed on your gown. The flow was continuous despite the small size of the cut. “I’m sorry, I’m—” You squeezed his hand into yours, trying to stop the bleeding.

Hyunjin took a deep breath. And another. He was staring at you, the veil of darkness you had known in him returned to cloud his gaze.

Some people called your husband frightening and you understood why. But you refused to let fear take control over you. His blood was warm and sticky in your palm, reminding you of his seed coating your skin.

When he spoke, it was in a low voice, enunciating every word very slowly. “Why are you doing this to me?”

“Doing what?” You pressed harder onto the cut, afraid you wouldn’t be able to stop the blood from dripping out. Or maybe it was because you liked the feeling of his skin against yours too much. “It was just… humor. Aren’t we friends? Can’t I use the word pussy in front of my husband?”

In that moment, you realized that despite having exchanged letters for all these years with Hyunjin, you didn’t understand him. You understood all the parts of him, though—his fears, his pride, the sadness in his eyes when he looked at the magnolia tree in his garden. You understood his yearning for painting and drawing and why he enjoyed hunting, too. You understood why he was so gentle with Changbin and Ha-ri’s little girls, and why he often asked Lord Christopher for counsel. Hell—it hurt you to think about it, but you understood why Hyunjin kept his heart away from yours. But today, you were realizing that you couldn’t understand the big picture, but that you weren’t to blame. Hyunjin simply would not let you past a certain point. This—whatever this was—was all you’d ever get.

So you did understand that, at least—that you weren’t supposed to try crossing that line.

His silence was deafening. “Hyunjin?” you muttered, releasing your grip on his hand. It fell on his knee, limp, almost as if he were dead, but he was still bleeding, and he was pressing his thighs together.

Instinctively, you brought your hand to your lips, delicately cleaning the blood away with your tongue. You were not afraid nor disgusted by blood, your own or someone else’s, and Hyunjin’s blood tasted like metal, like salt. If this was the only way you could have him, then you would shave him every day in case he got a cut, and keep drinking his blood for the rest of your life.

Hyunjin took a deep breath, obviously trying to stay calm. “I’m sorry,” he muttered, and you watched as his gaze flicked between your face, your lips, your collarbone. In the heat of the moment, the shirt you were wearing over the gown had fallen down a little. “I’m sorry, darling.”

Darling. Your heart raced faster than your brain at that, but you couldn’t keep your thoughts encaged either. He had said it, he had said the word. To you. And he wasn’t even drunk.

You lowered your gaze to check on the cut—it seemed like it had mostly stopped bleeding by now. “Don’t apologize,” you retorted, finding it easier to stare at an injury on your husband than into his molasses eyes, much like you had on your wedding night. How much blood would he spill because of you?

You got up, deciding that you ought to finish shaving him instead of lingering in this lavatory, ashamed and hurt. You restarted the process—the blade, the shaving soap. Hyunjin let his head fall back, allowing you to reprise the shaving.

“I shouldn’t have said what I said,” he whispered, his jaw dancing under the blade as you were shaving him. You liked the sound of that, of the razor gliding over his skin. You liked feeling him close, too. “I know you’re not doing it on purpose.”

“Doing what?”

To this, Hyunjin said nothing. You thought you were used to it, to his silences. Sometimes you would be watching him paint and ask him a question, but he wouldn’t respond right away. Sometimes, you’d get the answer two days later, out of the blue. That yellow in the sunset was a little strange but it reminded me of the marigolds in the garden, so I kept it.

You pressed the razor on his skin, holding his head in place, and scraped the blade across with precision. You had always enjoyed the shaving practices, perhaps more than the dance lessons or mandatory needlework. Maybe because they were also a test of your composure. After all, you had to resist cutting men’s throats open.

“I won’t do it again, Hyunjin, I promise,” you whispered, close to his ear. “Crude humor, I mean.”

He gripped at his pants as if he were afraid to fall down. “No… It was funny. Really, it was. I just…”

At that exact moment, you noticed his tented pants, bulge straining against the fabric of his trousers. You felt a chill on your spine, cold at first, and then warm. The warmth spread to your core and between your legs.

But you shaved him.

“It was unexpected, wasn’t it?” you chose to say to at least have the grace of finishing his sentence instead of letting him make a fool of himself. Your voice was a little unsteady and you cleared your throat, ignoring the way Hyunjin’s gaze caressed you. Because you felt it. You felt his eyes on you and they were like kisses. You felt his warmth, for fuck’s sake you even felt his hardening cock from here…

“Unexpected, yes.” Hyunjin cleared his throat too. “Are you almost done?”

You pretended you didn’t see him adjust his cock through his pants. “Almost. Don’t worry, I know we are leaving soon.”

There were so many things you wanted to ask him, right here, right now. Why are you hard, Hyunjin? Is it because of the joke I made? Are you not used to girls making jokes like that? Because we, girls, jest like that all the time when it’s only us. Do you like that? Do you like it when I talk about pussy? Do you wish you were seeing mine? Do you wish I lifted my skirt to show it to you? Is that why your cock is hard, Hyunjin?

But—of course—you said nothing at all.

When you were done shaving him, you rinsed the razor and quickly came with a wet towel to also wipe Hyunjin’s face. He was still there, unmoving in his chair, tense. You could swear you saw his neck pulse to the rhythm of his heart.

“Thank you,” Hyunjin managed. When you went to pull away from him, he didn’t let you—he cupped your face in his big, warm hand. He was sweating a little. When he touched you, you felt it in your cunt. “We have to talk about something, darling. Will you listen to me?”

Darling. You nodded, unable to speak. Hyunjin pulled you even closer—so close that you felt his warm breath on your face.

“I know about the teas you drink. And don’t resent Dr. Lee for that,” he quickly added when you opened your mouth in protest, “I didn’t hear it from him first. It’s a smaller estate than you think, and the maids like to talk.”

“I—I just—” you stammered, face burning with shame.

Hyunjin clicked his tongue softly, his eyes lingering on your lips. “I know why you were drinking them, but please don’t poison yourself on my account. I’m not worth it.”

“But—”

Hyunjin cut you off. “No buts. I don’t like doing this, but do listen to me now—as your husband, I forbid you to drink those teas, or to take any medicine for… that purpose. You will only harm yourself, and I won’t allow that.”

Hyunjin said that and yet, what you heard was: you can kill your womb, shove any poison you want directly into your cunt, I will never fuck you.

He was still staring at your lips, and you at his. You tried pulling away again, not that you didn’t like the proximity, but because you were feeling a tingle between your legs, and you were afraid to start a fire that couldn’t be put out. Hyunjin let go of you, his arm falling to the side. He was slumping on the chair. He seemed more tired than after a long day of meetings and work.

In the life you had imagined, Hyunjin loved you the way you loved him. If he had found himself needing you, he would have fucked you, quickly, efficiently, deep thrusts. Taking you from behind perhaps, slamming you onto him. You used to think about that sometimes, even before you married him. You still thought about it now that you were his wife, but you were older now, and having him so close yet so far was nothing short of torture. You were tired, disappointed, miserable. Entire nights were spent, covered in sweat, rubbing yourself onto pillows or your hands, cumming and thinking of him while you came.

In the life you had imagined, today Hyunjin would push himself up to kiss you, to devour your mouth, leaving your lips swollen. He’d hitch up your skirt to feel your cunt and groan into your mouth at the discovery of wetness there. He would turn you around, pressing your face against the wall, he would pull out his hard cock from his pants and bury himself into you, stretching you. In the life you had imagined, Hyunjin would fuck you against the wall, rutting like an animal, seeking his release, finding solace into your pussy. He’d call you darling, he’d pull your hair, he’d kiss your shoulder. He would fuck you and you would cling to him as he came. Would you feel it? Would you feel his cum filling you? You liked to imagine that you could, somehow.

But this was not the life that you imagined. Hyunjin did none of that, or almost. He did push himself up, and he did pull you against him. He held you like that, close, close enough that you felt his erection pressing on your lower stomach. He wrapped you in his arms and you listened to his heartbeat.

You held Hyunjin tighter, but he used his hand to lift your face up to him, pressing his thumb under your chin.

“My beekeeper,” he whispered, his breath tickling your skin. “You know I only want you to be happy, right? I’ll never let my shame stain you.”

Your throat was tight as tears welled up in your eyes. You scanned his perfect face, touching it, his soft cheek, his soft hair. You drew invisible lines around his plush lips. “I love you, Hyunjin. I’m a fool for this, but I love you, I really do.”

You didn’t think Hyunjin would have looked any different if you had gutted him alive. Lips trembling, he stayed there, holding you, his eyes in yours.

“We leave in about an hour,” was all he said.

He let go of you and you missed his embrace immediately. Hyunjin left the room, neither quickly nor unhurriedly. He left the room as though nothing had happened, as though you hadn’t stuck a dagger into your own chest and cut it open, baring yourself to him by speaking three little words.

What happened next scared you—you waited a few instants and quickly put back the razor and soap in a drawer. You left Hyunjin’s bedroom to get into yours, cleaning yourself up quickly, summoning Ahnjong so that she could help you dress. You made conversation with her as she was lacing your corset. You chose a pretty gown for the road, a comfortable one. Later, you found Cloud in Minho’s office and saluted the doctor after giving your cat a little kiss on the top of her head.

Ha-ri was downstairs to see his husband off, but she did hug you. You got into the carriage first, followed by Changbin, and then Hyunjin came last. Half of his hair was held by a white ribbon. He wore a linen shirt and black trousers. He looked just like he had the first time you had met him. Handsome, more beautiful than a prince or a princess, even. He did not look at you. He spoke to Changbin a little, but then Changbin dozed off.

It scared you because you felt numb. It scared you because you wished you could cry about it, or perhaps even scream. You wished Hyunjin would hold you in his arms. He didn’t have to fuck you if he didn’t want to, but you liked being in his arms.

Was this it? Was that what it meant to become better at being Lady Hwang? To become numb, desensitized, to have cried all of the tears you had to cry?

The trip to Lord Jungkook’s domain took exactly two hours and forty-three minutes—you knew that because you monitored the time on Changbin’s watch. For two hours and forty-three minutes, Hyunjin did not speak to you. The silence was heavy despite Changbin’s attempt at diffusing the situation. But you looked through the small window, watching the scenery change, watching the towns as you passed them. By the time you passed the gates to Jeon Domain, you thought you had it all figured out.

Some people, you figured, had holes in them, and Hyunjin was like that. It wasn’t even his fault. His light leaked from him, and you were no better than a moth. It also meant that no matter how much love you would pour into him, it would leak, too. In the end, Hyunjin would be empty, and so would you.

But what scared you even more than being numb was how, due to being nervous, you almost tripped as you climbed down the carriage. There was a rather large amount of people to welcome you, all waiting by the large entrance doors. The Jeons’ mansion was huge and very high, and it made you dizzy to look at it and its dark bricks as you exited the carriage.

But Hyunjin caught you just in time as a man who could only be Lord Jungkook approached you. You didn’t even notice him. Hyunjin wrapped his arm around your waist, holding you. You wished you were numb to that, too. You wished that your heart didn’t jump for the shipwreck that your husband was. “I got you,” he said, in your ear, just for you. “Hold on to me. You’re okay, darling.”

Some people, you figured, had holes in them, but you weren’t like that. In fact, it was quite the opposite—there was love piling up endlessly within you, filling every corner of your soul. It had nowhere to go. It just stayed there. Some day, you would crumble under the weight of it. And that, maybe, scared you more than anything else. It was then and only then that you understood what the old beekeeper had tried telling you all those years ago, because you could feel your pure heart as it burned, burned, burned.

... to be continued.

a/n: WOAH.... long time no see for Lord Hwang, right? I'm sorry about the terrible wc and lack of general action in this chapter. I had everything planned but I simply could not write it in less words than this, trust me, I tried. I was so excited to bring you all to Lord Jungkook's home!! So so sorry about this. Thank you for your patience, for waiting for this update, for your support. It means a lot to me, truly.

permanent taglist: @cb97percent @changbinluvr @neosracha @hwan-g @streetlight-s @j-0ne25 @leedunno @aimeexx @hyunskizz @lotus-dly @thestarseeker @suhomylife @abiaswreck @chanlovesme @skzho @binstitsweat @hyunjinswifeee @straydhampir @fwess @skizzel-reblogs @katsukis1wife @chans1aptop @sunlitwilderness @erispancakes @skzfelixlove @hyunsungbased @revehosh @casualtaelyn @yourhwngness @hynjnskz @hyuneyeon

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