Chapter Two - The Fractured Blossom

The banquet had ended in a glorious blur of laughter and silk.

I should have been satisfied.

I should have been ecstatic.

I wore the most brilliant Hanbok, I stood at the center of every gaze, and the entire nobility of the empire had whispered my name with reverence.

The emperor's bride.

The future Empress.

But no matter how many compliments I drank in, no matter how many smiles I returned, I could still feel it.

Her.

That silent shadow behind the silk screen.

That sickly, fragile thing who didn’t even need to try, didn’t even need to open her mouth to steal the sympathy of everyone around her.

Chin-sun.

Even hidden, even nearly forgotten, she always stole the softest gazes, the deepest concerns.

Even without a voice, she spoke louder than I ever could.

I ground my teeth silently as I swept down the candlelit halls toward the private garden behind the estate, my skirts hissing against the floor like snakes.

The night air was cool, the scent of plum blossoms sharp and sweet.

The garden, once our childhood sanctuary, now felt too small to contain the storm gathering in my chest.

I found her there—Eunji, the emperor’s precious little sister—seated beneath the gnarled old willow tree, trailing her fingers through the moonlit pond.

She looked up at me with a soft, curious smile.

"Lady Hyjung-Hee," she greeted, her voice gentle and familiar. "Congratulations again. Your house must be so proud."

I forced a smile across my face, bowing slightly.

"Thank you, Princess."

We were supposed to be allies now.

Family.

Eunji patted the bench beside her.

"Sit with me. It’s such a beautiful night. I imagine your heart must be so full right now."

I sat, smoothing my skirts around me carefully.

For a few moments, we simply watched the water ripple, disturbed only by the occasional falling petal.

And yet, even as Eunji spoke about the court, about the upcoming ceremonies, I heard something else in her tone.

Pity.

The same pity Chin-sun received without effort.

The same poisoned sweetness.

I felt it claw at my gut like a living thing.

Finally, Eunji tilted her head slightly, her innocent words cutting sharper than any blade.

"You know... I once heard the Duke speak of his real daughter. Lady Chin-sun. They say she is a treasure of quiet strength. Perhaps, in another life, she would have been Empress."

My hands clenched in my lap, hidden beneath the folds of my gown.

My nails bit into my palms.

Still Chin-sun.

Always Chin-sun.

Even here, even now, on the night meant to be mine.

I smiled—tight, brittle.

"Chin-sun... is delicate," I said, voice trembling with false sweetness.

"And yet...she is so loved."

Eunji nodded, oblivious to the rage blooming behind my lashes.

"It’s a tragedy she’s too frail to stand at court. I would have liked to have a sister like her."

Something inside me snapped.

A thin, sharp crack, like porcelain shattering under pressure.

Before I could think, before I could reason, I was moving.

My hand lashed out, fingers curling cruelly into Eunji’s hair, wrenching her head back.

The princess gasped in shock, her hands flailing to defend herself.

"You think she's better than me?" I hissed, the words hot and poisonous against the cold night air. "You think that broken, sickly ghost should rule over me?"

Eunji struggled, crying out, but I pressed harder, shoving her down against the bench.

Her ornate hairpins clattered to the ground, forgotten among the grass.

"You look at her with those eyes," I snarled, shaking her. "Just like all of them. Just like him!"

I could end it.

Right here.

Right now.

One twist of the wrist.

One hard push.

And no one would ever look past me again.

But fear lanced through me—cold and sharp.

No.

Not here. Not now.

Too risky.

I released her roughly, and she tumbled to the ground with a broken sob, clutching at her disheveled hair.

I stood over her, breathing hard, my heart pounding loud in my ears.

Cursing Chin-sun's name internally with every ragged breath.

"You will regret ever comparing me to her," I spat.

Without waiting for a reply, I turned on my heel and fled into the shadows, the heavy folds of my gown whispering in the darkness behind me.

I didn't return to the banquet.

I didn’t return to my room.

I hid.

Deep within the twisting servant corridors of the estate, I found a forgotten storeroom and pressed myself against the cold stone walls, my breath hitching in my throat.

Think.

Think.

The Princess had seen my face.

She would tell her brother.

The Emperor would destroy me.

Everything I worked for—gone.

Unless...

Unless I found a way to shift the blame.

To weave a new story.

A new villain.

And who better than Chin-sun?

Already sickly.

Already silent.

Already hidden away from the eyes of court.

It would be so easy.

So perfect.

After all, what was another weight upon her frail shoulders?

She was born to bear sorrow.

Born to be pitied.

Born to lose.

A slow, trembling smile curved my lips.

Yes.

Yes, it could work.

But I had to be careful.

The right timing.

The right whispers.

The right evidence.

I pressed a hand to my racing heart, steadying myself.

This would not be the end of Hyjung-Hee.

This would be my true beginning.

Somewhere above, the moon slipped behind the clouds, plunging the estate into deeper darkness.

And in the silence, I began to weave my web.

The palace bells had barely finished chiming the midnight hour when the entire estate erupted into a storm of confusion.

Word of the attack on Princess Eunji traveled faster than wildfire.

Injured though she was, the princess had managed to reach her guards—her torn hair and tear-streaked face speaking volumes before she even uttered a word. The imperial court was already buzzing before dawn, and the Duke’s household, once so careful, so dignified, stood trembling on the edge of ruin.

I was summoned to the family hall before the sun could rise.

Dragged from my hiding place by cold, merciless hands.

I knelt now on the hard stone floor, my skirts pooling messily around me, my palms pressed flat against the ground in a mockery of obedience.

Before me, seated high upon the judgment platform, was Father—the Duke himself.

His face, usually stern but controlled, was a mask of barely contained rage.

His knuckles whitened as he gripped the armrests of his chair.

Beside him stood Commander Jae-hyun, clad in his dark military uniform, the ceremonial punishment stick clutched in his gloved hands.

He looked down at me with cold, blistering contempt, as if I were something filthy crawling at his feet.

The other two brothers—silent, grim—stood watch at the edges of the room, closing me in.

There was no escape.

Not now.

"You will explain yourself," the Duke growled, his voice echoing through the empty hall.

"You will tell us who attacked the Princess. Who dared bring shame upon this house?"

The words were heavy, suffocating.

Every breath felt like swallowing knives.

I bowed lower, pressing my forehead against the floor, hiding the flicker of hatred in my eyes.

Think.

Think.

A trembling breath left my lips.

"I..."

I made my voice small, trembling, pathetic.

"I did not mean to see it happen. I did not want it to happen. But I... I saw it with my own eyes."

Father leaned forward sharply.

"Who?" he barked.

A single heartbeat.

A single breath.

Then I said it.

The lie that would change everything.

"Lady Chin-sun," I whispered. "She...she grew jealous of the Princess. Of my engagement to His Majesty. She..."

I forced a sob into my voice.

"She could not bear it. She attacked the Princess herself. I tried to stop her, but she was too overcome with envy."

The words slipped from my tongue like poison from a snake’s fang.

For a moment, the hall was utterly silent.

Father's eyes widened—first in shock, then in cold disbelief.

He opened his mouth, but no sound came.

Jae-hyun moved first.

Slowly, deliberately.

He approached the platform steps, the punishment stick clutched tightly in his hands, his boots striking the floor with deliberate weight.

He stopped directly in front of me.

And without a word, he brought the stick down against the back of my legs with a sickening crack.

Pain exploded through my body.

I gasped sharply, my hands scrabbling uselessly against the cold stone, tears instantly springing to my eyes.

But I did not cry out.

I dared not.

Another strike.

Another jolt of white-hot pain.

Jae-hyun’s face was carved from ice—expressionless but for the storm raging behind his eyes.

When he finally spoke, his voice was low, dangerous.

"You filthy snake," he said, every word heavy with contempt.

"You think we would believe that Chin-sun—our Chin-sun—would raise a hand against anyone?"

He struck again, this time against my calves, and my body curled instinctively, trying to shield itself.

"You dare spit your filth at her name?"

My teeth ground together as I fought to stay upright, to stay composed, even as agony burned through my limbs.

The Duke raised a hand finally, halting Jae-hyun.

The commander lowered the punishment stick, but his disgust did not fade.

He turned his back on me as if I were beneath even his hatred.

"You are lucky Father is merciful," he said coldly.

"Were it left to me, you would not leave this hall walking."

Father's voice cut through the silence.

"Until the matter is decided," he commanded, "you will remain confined. And if you are lying—"

His voice darkened.

"—you will pray the Emperor shows more mercy than I will."

My body trembled as the guards seized my arms roughly, dragging me to my feet.

Pain lanced through every step, but I kept my head bowed, hiding the furious, festering hatred inside me.

Chin-sun.

Chin-sun.

Always Chin-sun.

But not for much longer.

No.

This time, her silence would be her undoing.

As they hauled me away, the first rays of dawn broke across the eastern sky, spilling cold gold over the estate.

And in the dim, trembling light, I smiled.

The game had only just begun.

The guards confined me to a secluded wing of the estate, but they were fools if they thought walls could contain ambition.

Pain throbbed through my legs where Jae-hyun's punishment had landed, but I bore it silently, cradling my wounded pride like a dying ember, feeding it, nursing it back into a roaring flame.

I will not be discarded. I will not be forgotten.

The plan needed more than words now.

It needed proof.

It needed something tangible the court could sink its fangs into.

And so, with trembling fingers but a razor-sharp mind, I summoned one of the lesser house maids—the ones greedy for coin and easily silenced.

I paid her with a pouch of jade trinkets stolen from the estate’s storeroom, the last of my secret treasures, and whispered instructions into her ear.

By the time the moon rose again, the first piece was in place.

The meeting with Prime Minister Dae-Daeun took place under the veil of the third watch of the night, deep within the estate’s side gardens, where only the rustle of bamboo and the chirp of distant night crickets kept company.

The Prime Minister arrived cloaked and hooded, his face half-hidden in the shadows, but I knew that gait, that prideful tilt of the chin.

The man who had long resented the Duke's influence.

The man who would benefit most from shaking the court’s loyalties.

He did not greet me warmly.

Merely raised an impatient hand.

"You requested an audience," he said, voice low. "It had better be worth the risk."

I bowed deeply, hiding the venomous smile curling inside me.

"I come bearing evidence, my lord," I said sweetly.

"Evidence the Emperor himself will not be able to ignore."

From within my sleeve, I produced a carefully folded bundle:

Torn pieces of a blood-stained sash, identical to the one Chin-sun often wore.

A small, deliberate trail of poisoned powder I had smeared onto the hem of the Princess's sleeve, planted in Chin-sun’s private quarters hours ago.

And finally, forged letters, written in shaky, unsteady script, falsely hinting at Chin-sun's jealousy toward the Imperial House—fabricated confessions, so elegantly desperate that they could pass for a sick, fevered mind.

The Prime Minister took the bundle without a word.

His gloved fingers unwrapped each piece, his sharp eyes flickering with interest.

"You crafted this?" he asked after a moment, lifting one of the forged letters toward the moonlight to examine the ink.

"I simply discovered it," I said humbly, bowing my head again.

"As a loyal daughter of House Yi, I could not bear to see our family fall into disgrace. I act only in the best interests of the Empire."

A lie wrapped in the finest silk.

And he knew it.

But greed was thicker than principle, and ambition spoke louder than honor.

Prime Minister Dae-Daeun tucked the bundle back into his sleeve with a satisfied grunt.

"The Emperor is restless," he muttered. "He seeks any excuse to exert his full authority over the noble houses. A scandal among the Dukes will serve him well. And if you succeed..."

He let the thought hang in the air like bait.

Power.

Position.

Freedom from the shackles of my past.

I bowed again, hiding my triumphant smirk.

"I ask only for the chance to serve the Empire more faithfully," I said.

"And if it is within my lord’s mercy...a place where I may yet stand beside the Emperor, unmarred by shame."

Dae-Daeun chuckled darkly under his breath.

"You are as ruthless as you are beautiful, girl," he said.

"Very well. Your evidence will find its way to the court. The trial will be swift. The verdict inevitable."

He turned without another word, his dark figure swallowed by the twisting bamboo.

I stood there for a long time after he vanished, letting the cool night air wash over my burning skin.

Victory tasted cold and bitter on my tongue.

But it was victory all the same.

Soon, Chin-sun’s name would be dragged through the mud she had always been too delicate to tread upon.

Soon, her silent world would crumble around her.

And from the ashes, I would rise.

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