an independent and selective writing blog for BAYAN from the manhwa, ELIXIR OF THE SUN. sideblog: hwadam-stories -- canon divergent / oc friendly.
INTRODUCTION.
Welcome to my blog, my name is Moe (she/her) and I'm twenty-four years old (Black and Cherokee Indian). Minors and personals will be blocked.
my current icon border was made by rphbydior
my sideblogs: found here
This blog highly encourages multi-shipping and welcomes pre-established and platonic relationships.
This blog may become an "canon character x reader" since I'm the only EOTS roleplayer here on Tumblr. I'll definitely write most of the main cast and will make a proper list in the future.
This blog contains dark and triggering themes revolving around sexual violence (mentioned for canon only), death, murder, politics, misogyny, starvation, child abuse, harassment, fire, miscarriages, pregnancy, child birth, kidnapping, cannibalism, poverty, etc. Please do not follow this blog if these themes are a trigger for you as they will be a talking piece on this blog.
"ELIXIR OF THE SUN" is a Korean manwha written by Solddam. The Manwha is a light novel adaptation with a total of seven books that can be purchased on ridibooks.com (you'll have to translate them on your own) and I've already bought them for fifteen dollars.
LAWS OF THE PALACE.
Common and respectful roleplay etiquette.
Reblog memes from the source, please and thanks. Also please ask before turning a meme into a thread.
Regarding fanfiction requests, I have a right to refuse any that I don't like / are on my blacklist (pedophilia, beastiality, incest, non-con, etc) I don't mind writing darker and mature themes but I also appreciate the lighthearted stuff just as much. Smut is a 50/50 for me, depending on my mood.
➢ ﹒ ⊹ ₊ ˚ post content: kissing, flirting, teasing, eating, wholesome, fluff, fxm, canon pairing, etc.
➢ ﹒ ⊹ ₊ ˚ summary: It's White Day in the Hwadam Empire, a day where lovers share gifts and spend time together. And there's only one woman within the empire that His Majesty wants to spend this day with.
Bayan sat cross-legged under the shaded pavilion, her black robes pooling around her as she studied the assortment of colorful candies scattered on the lacquered table. Her sharp eyes narrowed as she picked up a translucent red one, holding it to the light like it was a gemstone with some hidden curse inside.
"So... this is food?" she muttered under her breath, doubtful.
Across from her, Emperor Dhan leaned back gracefully against a wooden pillar, one arm resting casually on his bent knee. His crimson robes shimmered like embers in the afternoon sun, but it was his gaze—burning, unwavering—that made Bayan fidget.
“Candies,” he corrected with a faint smile. “You eat them for pleasure, not sustenance.”
Bayan’s lips pressed into a skeptical line. She sniffed the candy cautiously. "Feels suspicious. You sure no one slipped poison in these?"
Dhan’s brow arched. “Do you truly think I would give you poisoned sweets?”
Her expression remained deadpan. “You say that like people haven’t tried worse.”
A low chuckle rumbled from him. “Fair point. But today is different.”
Bayan squinted at him. There it was—one of those cryptic things he always said when he was about to do something outlandishly imperial. “Different how?”
Instead of answering right away, Dhan reached forward, his long fingers plucking a pink candy from the pile. He held it between them, the movement oddly intimate. “Today is a day where a man shows his appreciation for someone special by giving them sweets.”
Her brows shot up. “You’re joking.”
He didn’t flinch. “I’m not.”
Bayan blinked at him, utterly perplexed. “So... you’re telling me there's a whole day dedicated to giving someone candy just because you like them?”
“That’s correct.”
A loud snort escaped her before she could stop it. “That’s the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard. Who comes up with this stuff? Why not give rice or meat—something practical?”
Dhan’s lips curved into a knowing smile. “Not everything has to be practical, Bayan. Sweets symbolize joy. Indulgence. Happiness.” His voice lowered slightly. “Sometimes, it’s good to simply cherish the sweetness in life.”
She popped the red candy into her mouth, chewing thoughtfully. The syrupy sweetness spread across her tongue, and she had to admit—it was pretty good. Still weird, though.
“So... this is what lovers do?” she asked around the candy, her words muffled.
Dhan’s gaze darkened slightly, the flicker of amusement in his eyes giving way to something deeper. He leaned forward, closing the distance between them. “Yes. That’s exactly what it is.”
Bayan’s chewing slowed. Her pulse quickened under his steady gaze, the heat of it wrapping around her like a warm cloak. She was used to his affections by now—the way he sought her out despite the countless concubines vying for his attention, the way his touch lingered longer than it should—but today felt... different.
“Wait,” she said, swallowing hard. “If this is a lovers’ thing, doesn’t that mean I’m supposed to give you something too?”
Dhan tilted his head, his expression thoughtful. “Is that an offer?”
Her eyes darted to the pile of candies. She grimaced. “I mean... I could share these. But they’re really good, so maybe just one.”
His laughter was low and rich, filling the pavilion. “Then I’ll cherish that one as the sweetest gift of all.”
Bayan rolled her eyes, though her lips twitched with a reluctant smile. “You’re ridiculous.”
“And yet,” he murmured, brushing his thumb across her cheek, “you’re still here.”
Her heart stumbled, but she leaned into his touch without thinking. His hand was warm, grounding. It was moments like these—when he stripped away the weight of the crown and simply looked at her like she was his entire world—that left her breathless.
She cleared her throat, trying to shake off the warmth creeping up her neck. “You know, if the other concubines see you doting on me like this, they’re going to lose their minds.”
Dhan’s eyes gleamed with quiet amusement. “Let them.”
Bayan snorted. “You really don’t care, do you?”
“I care about you,” he said simply.
Her breath caught. She wasn’t used to such direct words. In Ganak Village, affection was a rare commodity, twisted by fear and hatred. And yet here he was—an emperor of all people—telling her that she mattered.
“Okay, okay,” she said quickly, trying to deflect. “No need to get all mushy.”
Dhan smiled knowingly but didn’t press further. Instead, he reached for another candy, holding it to her lips. “Here.”
She blinked. “I can feed myself, you know.”
“Humor me.”
With a sigh, she let him place the candy in her mouth, the sweetness melting on her tongue. His gaze never wavered, and for once, Bayan didn’t look away.
Maybe, she thought, there was something to this whole candy thing after all.
︙🌺 A SECRET PROJECT 🌺︙
The warmth of the afternoon had faded into the soft embrace of twilight. Bayan stood near her writing table, chewing her lip as she stared at the blank parchment in front of her. The flickering lantern cast long shadows across the room, but none loomed as daunting as the task she'd foolishly decided on.
A gift for His Majesty.
"What was I thinking?" she muttered, gripping her brush a little too tightly. "Poetry. Seriously? Who do I think I am, some palace scholar?"
Her first instinct had been to cook something—at least she knew her way around a fire and a knife. But food felt too ordinary, and after his thoughtful gestures today, she wanted to give him something meaningful. A poem had seemed like a brilliant idea in the heat of the moment. Now, staring down at the empty parchment, it felt like the worst decision she'd ever made.
"Just words, Bayan. You know words. You yell them at people all the time," she muttered to herself.
Her gaze flickered to the pile of scrolls on the corner of the table—doctrines, historical records, and even poetry collections that Emperor Dhan had let her read as part of her lessons. Well, "let" might be too kind a word. More like ordered her to read. Still, there had been some verses tucked between the dry records. Flowery, elegant things about love and seasons and cherry blossoms.
She grimaced. "Great. Now I just have to not embarrass myself completely."
Her brush hovered over the parchment as she tried to recall the structure of one of the poems she'd read. The characters blurred in her mind, some of them still stubbornly foreign despite her improving literacy. She'd gotten better, sure, but Korean writing was still a beast she hadn't fully tamed.
"Okay, okay. Keep it simple," she muttered. "It’s not about being perfect. It’s about the thought, right?"
Even as she said it, she could practically hear Emperor Dhan's amused voice in her head: "Is that your excuse for sloppy work, Bayan?"
She scowled at the imaginary version of him. "Shut up."
Determined, she dipped her brush into the ink and started writing. Her strokes were shaky, uneven, but she pressed on.
The sun burns red, yet not as fierce as you.
Your gaze a flame, warming my strange heart.
A single ember, unyielding.
Bayan paused, frowning. Did that sound too cheesy? Too dramatic? She wrinkled her nose but decided to leave it. Dhan would probably find a way to tease her about it no matter what she wrote.
After a few more lines, she leaned back, surveying her work. It wasn’t great—heck, it wasn’t even good—but it was hers. That had to count for something.
The door creaked slightly, and her heart leapt into her throat.
"Bayan?"
She panicked, frantically slapping the parchment down on the table and throwing herself over it as though it were a top-secret battle strategy.
Emperor Dhan's silhouette filled the doorway, his crimson robes catching the lantern light. His expression was amused, as though he knew exactly what she was up to.
“What are you doing?” he asked, stepping inside.
“Nothing!” she blurted, too quickly.
His brows rose. “Really?”
“Yes.” She shifted awkwardly, still shielding the parchment with her body. “Totally normal concubine stuff. Sitting. Thinking. Breathing.”
He chuckled, the sound low and warm. “You’re a terrible liar.”
“I’m not lying,” she insisted, though her face was heating up faster than a cookfire.
Dhan’s gaze flickered to the corner of the parchment peeking out from under her arm. His lips curved into a wicked smile.
“Ah,” he said slowly. “A secret project?”
Her eyes widened. “Don’t even think about it.”
He took a step closer, clearly enjoying himself. “Why so protective? Is it a gift for me?”
“No!”
His grin widened. “You’re a worse liar than I thought.”
Before he could get any closer, she scrambled to her feet, clutching the parchment to her chest. “If you sneak a peek, I swear I’ll—I'll—uh...”
“You’ll what?” he challenged, amusement dancing in his eyes.
She glared at him. “I’ll... not finish it, that’s what!”
Dhan laughed, the sound rich and genuine. “Fine, fine. I’ll wait. But it better be worth the suspense.”
Bayan huffed, her heart racing. “It will be. Maybe.”
He gave her a lingering look before turning toward the door. “I look forward to it, then.”
As he left, Bayan let out a breath she hadn’t realized she was holding. Her hands trembled slightly, but she clutched the parchment tighter, determination flickering back to life.
“You’re not sneaking a peek,” she muttered under her breath. “Not until it’s perfect.”
With renewed focus, she sat back down, her brush steady this time. She was going to finish this poem—even if it killed her.
︙🌺 THE POEM 🌺︙
It was a crisp morning, and Emperor Dhan's office was filled with the low scratch of brushes against parchment as his two secretaries worked diligently. Scrolls were spread across the wide lacquered desk, along with reports from the provinces and imperial decrees awaiting the emperor’s seal.
Dhan, seated at the center of it all, exuded his usual air of calm authority, his burning red gaze scanning through a report. Even amidst the quiet industriousness, there was an underlying tension—the empire waited for no man, not even its ruler.
Then came the clatter of hurried footsteps.
Before the secretaries could react, the doors burst open with enough force to rattle the hinges. Bayan strode in, her black robes swishing around her legs, hair slightly wild, and cheeks flushed with determination.
"Your Majesty!" she declared.
Both secretaries froze, their brushes suspended mid-stroke. One of them opened his mouth, probably to remind her of decorum, but she was already moving—straight toward the emperor.
Dhan’s lips curved into a slow, knowing smile.
"Bayan," he greeted, amusement flickering in his eyes. "To what do I owe this—"
Before he could finish, she plopped herself right onto his lap, her weight settling against him without hesitation. His hands instinctively moved to steady her, one resting on her waist.
The secretaries exchanged wide-eyed glances, their faces a mixture of shock and confusion. This was not standard palace behavior.
"Carry on," Dhan said smoothly, waving a hand at them.
They hastily returned to their work, though their ears were undoubtedly straining to catch every word.
Bayan, oblivious to the scandalized atmosphere she'd created, fished a slightly crumpled parchment from the folds of her robe. Her short, stubby fingers—smudged with ink—clutched it tightly, and her bitten-down nails bore the evidence of nervous chewing.
"I made this for you," she announced, thrusting the parchment toward him.
Dhan arched a brow. "Oh? Is this the mysterious project you've been hiding from me?"
"Yes. And don't laugh," she warned, her blue eyes narrowing. "I worked really hard on it."
His gaze softened. "I would never laugh at you, Bayan."
She hesitated, then placed the parchment in his hand. Her heart thumped loudly in her chest as he unfolded it, his expression growing focused. The ink was a little smudged in places, and her writing was uneven, but the effort was undeniable.
The sun burns red, yet not as fierce as you,
Your gaze a flame, warming my strange heart.
A single ember, unyielding,
And I am drawn like dry wood,
Eager for the blaze.
Your words linger like smoke,
Weaving through my thoughts even in sleep,
Stirring restless dreams where no shadows dare dwell.
I would chase that light forever,
If it meant never returning to darkness.
So I offer these humble words,
Woven from ink and heart,
In the hope they can carry even a fraction
Of what burns quietly inside me.
Dhan's thumb brushed over the parchment as he read the words again, slower this time. His expression shifted—no amusement, no teasing. Just quiet, genuine appreciation.
"You wrote this," he said softly.
Bayan fidgeted, her face heating up. "Well... yeah. I mean, it's not great or anything, but—"
"It's beautiful," he interrupted, his voice firm.
Her eyes widened. "Really?"
He nodded, his gaze never leaving hers. "You have a gift, Bayan. This is... meaningful."
Her breath caught in her throat. She'd expected teasing, maybe a playful remark about her messy handwriting. But this—this sincerity was almost too much to handle.
She tried to play it off with a laugh. "Well, I figured you do all these fancy things for me, so I should at least try to do something for you."
Dhan's grip on her waist tightened slightly. "You already give me more than you know."
Bayan's throat felt tight, and she looked away, pretending to brush a non-existent speck of dust off her robe. "Okay, okay, enough of that serious talk. You're making it weird."
He chuckled, the sound low and warm. "As you wish."
Before she could react, he pressed a kiss to her temple, lingering just long enough to make her heart race.
"Thank you for this," he murmured against her skin.
Bayan swallowed hard, fighting the sudden urge to melt into a puddle on the floor. "Yeah, well... you're welcome, I guess."
Behind them, the secretaries exchanged furtive glances, clearly bewildered by the scene unfolding before them. But neither Bayan nor Dhan paid them any mind.
This moment was theirs, ink-smudged hands and all.
➢ ﹒ ⊹ ₊ ˚ post content: kissing, flirting, unrequited love, hurt/comfort, eating, wholesome, fluff, sapphic, etc.
➢ ﹒ ⊹ ₊ ˚ Summary: The year is 1496 during the Joseon Era of Korea. You are a Kisaeng (government-owned courtesan) who has recently been promoted to a higher rank. Your talent has caught the attention of the Empress, and she invites you for a peaceful afternoon picnic by Gwahae Lake.
It was a morning of renewal, the first day of spring, and the air was laced with the sweetness of blooming flowers—pink and white Mugunghwa blossoming all around the palace gardens. The distant sound of laughter from courtiers and the occasional chirping of birds made the palace seem almost serene. You could feel the warmth of the sun as it kissed the surface of your skin. Today was an important day, one you had been preparing for with trembling hands and a heart racing with anticipation.
Her Majesty, Empress Bayan, had personally requested your company for an afternoon picnic. It was not unheard of for the Empress to call upon Kisaeng, but something about this felt different. You weren’t simply a courtesan today. You were her guest.
Why me? The question lingered in your mind, casting a shadow over your excitement.
As much as you had climbed the ranks quickly in only eight months, becoming an Ilpae (일패) felt almost surreal. Many girls worked years for this status. And here you were, an enigma to yourself, invited by the Empress herself.
The palace servants had arrived earlier to dress and prepare you, bringing the finest hanbok you had ever worn—emerald green with pastel pink accents, delicate embroidery, and a handmade gold hairpin with two dangling white pearls. The intricate design left you in awe. Surely, this is far too luxurious for someone like me.
But there was no time for doubt as you were led through the palace to the Empress’s quarters, every step heavy with the weight of expectation. When you arrived at the appointed spot by Gwahae Lake, you were met by the sight of Her Majesty, sitting beneath the shade of a cherry blossom tree, the soft petals falling around her like confetti.
Bayan’s presence was radiant, her calmness commanding. She wore a serene smile as her eyes met yours, their warmth piercing through your nervous exterior. Her royal hanbok shimmered with delicate silk, shades of purple and silver, making her appear almost otherworldly.
You swallowed hard, forcing yourself to speak despite the knot tightening in your throat. "I—I cannot thank you enough for your kindness, my lady," you stammered, lowering your head into a deep bow, arms stiff at your sides.
The Empress paused, her eyes softening. "There is no need for such formality, Y/n," she said gently. "Please, come and sit. The day is far too beautiful for us to be weighed down by titles."
You blinked, feeling your chest tighten as she called your name. No titles? Her voice had a way of disarming your nerves, even as your heart pounded in your ears. Slowly, you raised your head and stepped forward, your hands trembling as you sat down on the cloth beside her.
"I—I'm honored, truly," you continued, your voice faltering. "I never imagined I’d make it this far in such a short time. I’m not like the other high-ranked courtesans, not as talented or skilled as them. It feels… undeserved."
There was a silence that followed your words, the kind of silence that made you want to shrink into yourself. Why did I say that? Self-doubt gnawed at you, but before you could say more, Bayan’s voice cut through the tension.
"Y/n," she said softly, her tone firm but compassionate. "Do you truly believe that?"
Your breath caught in your throat, and you found yourself unable to look away from her gaze. Her hand reached out, gently lifting your chin so your eyes could meet hers. "Your talent is what caught my eye, not your title. It is your ability to captivate those around you, whether through conversation, art, or song. You have a rare gift, one that cannot be taught. And that is why you are here."
Her fingers brushed lightly against your chin, and you could feel the warmth of her touch ripple through you. She thinks I’m talented? The disbelief mixed with a strange flutter of excitement in your chest, your breath hitching at her words. Her sincerity felt like a balm, soothing the insecurities that had plagued you all morning.
"My lady, I…" You tried to find the words, but your voice faltered, caught between gratitude and disbelief.
Bayan smiled softly, her hand moving to hold yours, her thumbs gently tracing the calloused skin of your knuckles. "Do not let doubt cloud your heart, Y/n. Talent cannot always be measured in the same way. You are extraordinary in your own right."
The sincerity in her voice stirred something deep within you, and for the first time, you allowed yourself to believe it—if only for a moment. You nodded, unable to find words, a faint smile tugging at your lips. Extraordinary… in my own way.
As the servants finished setting up the picnic, you and Bayan settled into a comfortable conversation. The lake sparkled in the afternoon sun, and a gentle breeze rustled the leaves above. An array of delicacies had been laid out: sweet rice cakes, fresh fruit, and small sandwiches prepared with precision.
You glanced around, noting the lack of guards. Normally, Bayan’s personal retinue would be close by. Perhaps they were watching from the shadows, or maybe she had chosen to have some semblance of privacy for the day.
"Tell me about your life, Y/n," Bayan asked, her voice gentle but curious. "I wish to know more about the woman behind the title."
"Oh, me?" You scratched the back of your head with a nervous laugh. "There's not much to tell. My family were farmers—my grandmother and mother were Kisaeng before me, and it became my path as well." You paused, smiling softly at the memory of your home. "My mother worked so hard, always with a smile on her face, but… there was a sadness in her eyes, even when she smiled."
The words came out softer than you intended, and you felt a pang in your chest, a melancholy that you had never fully confronted. The weight of inherited duty, the life of a Kisaeng passed down from generation to generation. The tightness in your throat threatened to overwhelm you.
"I suppose we all have burdens to bear," you said, your voice barely above a whisper.
Bayan was silent for a moment, her eyes filled with understanding. Then, without a word, she reached out and wrapped her arms around you, pulling you into an embrace. You froze for a moment, startled by the sudden contact, but soon found yourself relaxing against her, your heartbeats syncing in a gentle rhythm.
"You carry so much on your shoulders, Y/n," Bayan whispered, her breath warm against your ear. "But you do not have to bear it alone."
Your eyes widened as you melted into her arms. Her embrace was comforting, like the warmth of sunlight on a cold day. She’s so close… The realization of her tenderness made your face flush with heat, your mind a whirlwind of thoughts and emotions. You had not expected this level of intimacy, and it left you feeling both vulnerable and cherished.
"I hope I didn’t upset you, my lady," you stammered, your voice faltering as you pulled away slightly, though her arms remained loosely around you.
Bayan shook her head, her gaze soft and reassuring. "You did not upset me. I only wanted you to know that I understand." Her eyes held yours, and you could feel the weight of her words. "My mother was much the same."
There was a shared sorrow between you, an unspoken bond of understanding that made the moment feel heavier, yet somehow lighter. For a while, the two of you sat in silence, the sounds of nature filling the gaps where words could not.
Eventually, you smiled, the weight in your chest lifting as you reached for the flute she had gifted you earlier. "Are you sure I can keep it? It's lovely but…"
"It's yours, Y/n," Bayan said, her hand curling around yours, pressing the flute into your palm. "You may thank me by playing it to your heart’s content."
Your heart skipped a beat at her words, the warmth in her gaze sending a thrill through you. "Thank you, Bayan," you whispered, daring to use her name without a title.
As the day went on, you played a gentle melody on the flute while Bayan plucked a nearby Mugunghwa flower and placed it in your hair. The two of you lingered in each other’s presence, sharing sweets and quiet laughter until the sun began to dip below the horizon.
Before you parted ways, Bayan leaned in, her lips brushing against your cheek in a soft, lingering kiss—a farewell that left you blushing, your heart fluttering with the memory of her touch.
That night, as you lay awake, your mind raced with thoughts of the day.
You had never been this close to someone of such importance before. Her touch still lingered on your skin, a soft warmth that refused to fade even as the cool night air seeped into your room.
You replayed the kiss over and over in your mind, the gentle brush of her lips against your cheek, the way her fingers lingered in your hair as she placed the Mugunghwa there. The Empress had always carried herself with grace and dignity, but this… this was something far more personal, far more intimate.
What did it mean? you wondered, staring up at the wooden ceiling above your bed. You had been trained to entertain, to charm, but this was different. This was not the role of a courtesan—this was something deeper, something that made your heart race and your mind whirl with confusion. Was it affection? Friendship? Or something more?
Her words echoed in your mind: “You do not have to bear it alone.” There was a tenderness in the way she had spoken those words, as though she saw past your role, past the title of Kisaeng, and saw you—the real you.
You shifted in your bed, pulling the blanket tighter around yourself as a soft sigh escaped your lips. Could it be that Bayan, the Empress of the nation, truly saw you as someone more than just a performer? The idea sent shivers down your spine, both thrilling and terrifying.
The next few days passed in a blur of routine and duties. You were busy with lessons, performances, and entertaining officials, but your thoughts kept drifting back to that afternoon by the lake. Every time you closed your eyes, you could see Bayan’s smile, hear the softness of her voice, feel the warmth of her touch. It was maddening, how much you thought of her.
You tried to push the thoughts aside, reminding yourself of your place. You were a Kisaeng, trained to please, to perform. There was no room for personal attachment, especially not with someone of Bayan’s status. But no matter how hard you tried, the memory of that day lingered, wrapping itself around your heart like a vine.
Several days later, just as the cherry blossoms began to fall in full bloom, you received another invitation. The royal messenger had arrived at your quarters early in the morning, presenting you with a scroll bearing the Empress’s seal.
You unrolled it carefully, your heart pounding as you read the elegant script:
Y/n,
I find myself longing for your company once more. Join me this evening in the gardens. There is much I wish to discuss with you.
- Bayan
Your breath caught in your throat. Longing for your company… The words sent a flutter through your chest, and for a moment, you simply stood there, staring at the scroll in disbelief.
Without wasting any time, you prepared yourself, your mind a whirlwind of possibilities. What could she want to discuss? Had something changed since your last meeting? Was this a formal summons, or something more personal?
As the evening approached, you found yourself once again standing in the palace gardens, the setting sun casting a warm golden glow over the landscape. The air was filled with the soft scent of blooming flowers, and the distant sound of a waterfall trickled through the quiet.
Bayan was waiting for you under the same cherry blossom tree where you had shared your first afternoon together. She looked even more radiant in the evening light, her hair loosely pinned up, her hanbok flowing like water as she stood to greet you.
"Y/n," she called softly, her voice carrying through the air like a melody. "I’m glad you came."
You bowed deeply, trying to keep your composure. "It is always an honor to be in your presence, my lady."
Bayan smiled, her eyes crinkling slightly at the corners. "I told you before, there’s no need for formalities between us." She gestured for you to sit beside her, and once again, you felt that strange mix of excitement and nervousness as you obeyed.
For a moment, neither of you spoke. The silence was comfortable, filled with the sounds of nature and the soft rustling of the wind through the trees. You stole a glance at her, admiring the way the evening light danced across her skin, the way her eyes sparkled with something you couldn’t quite place.
"I’ve been thinking about you, Y/n," Bayan finally said, her voice soft but firm. "Since the day by the lake."
Your heart skipped a beat. "You have, my lady?"
She nodded, turning her gaze to the horizon. "There’s something about you that draws me in. It’s not just your talent, though that is undeniable. It’s the way you carry yourself, the way you speak, the way you seem to understand the world with such depth. It’s… remarkable."
You blinked, taken aback by her words. "I… I don’t know what to say."
"You don’t need to say anything." She smiled, her eyes locking onto yours. "I just wanted you to know."
A heavy silence fell between you, and for a moment, you weren’t sure what to do. Her words sent a flurry of emotions through you—pride, confusion, fear, hope. Did she see you as more than just a performer? Was there something deeper behind her compliments?
Bayan reached out, taking your hand in hers, her fingers warm against your skin. "Y/n," she said softly, "I don’t want you to feel as though you’re only here because of duty or obligation. I invited you here because I enjoy your company. Because… I care for you."
Your breath caught in your throat. "My lady, I… I’m not sure I understand."
Her hand tightened around yours, her eyes searching yours for understanding. "I know this must be unexpected for you. And I know our positions make things… complicated. But my feelings for you are real, Y/n. You’ve stirred something in me that I haven’t felt in a long time."
You felt your heart hammering in your chest, a mixture of fear and elation swirling inside you. "I… I don’t know what to say," you whispered, your voice barely audible.
Bayan smiled softly, her thumb brushing over your knuckles in a soothing gesture. "You don’t have to say anything now. I just wanted you to know how I feel. I don’t expect anything from you. I just… wanted to be honest."
For a moment, you could only sit there, stunned by her confession. The Empress of Joseon, the most powerful woman in the land, had just confessed her feelings for you. It was overwhelming, and yet… there was a part of you that had longed for this, a part of you that had felt the same way but had been too afraid to admit it, even to yourself.
Slowly, you nodded, your eyes meeting hers once more. "Thank you… for your honesty, my lady," you said quietly. "I… I’m honored by your words."
Bayan smiled, her eyes softening with relief. "Take your time, Y/n. There’s no rush. We have all the time in the world."
As the sun dipped below the horizon, casting the gardens in a soft, golden glow, you sat there with Bayan, hand in hand, sharing a quiet moment of understanding and possibility. For the first time in a long while, you allowed yourself to hope—for connection, for something more, for a future that felt uncertain but full of promise.
And as you sat beneath the cherry blossoms, the world seemed to fade away, leaving only the two of you, together in the quiet beauty of the evening.
