It was over.

What she had once thought a passing disgrace, something she could soon avenge, had become an inescapable mire. There was no way out—only death awaited Seol Mi-hee now. And the cruelest blow of all was that her downfall had been dealt by her eldest daughter, the one she had cherished most dearly.

Even as Wan-ri screamed and thrashed while being dragged away, Seol Mi-hee did not beg for forgiveness, nor plead for her daughter’s life. Her spirit was too broken, too stunned to summon either strength or reason.

Those who served the Emperor regarded her with nothing but contempt before they turned and left. Only then did Seol Mi-hee begin to wonder—why had the Emperor come in person? In that instant, she recalled the man who had stood at his side: the very imperial physician who had once examined Empress Ryu.

Could it be that the false miscarriage that had led to Lady Seop’s downfall had finally been exposed?

A hollow laugh broke from her lips.

“Ha… ha-ha…”

The prison was sealed so tightly by Prince Ye that no word from outside could reach her. Yet the mere sight of that physician had been enough to tell her: every grand design she had ever woven had crumbled into dust.

Her laughter turned wild, frayed at the edges of madness—until suddenly a chill seized her.

How had blind Wan-ri managed to bribe a jailer and find her way here…?

Then, a voice pierced the gloom.

“How does it feel, Lady Seol, to wear chains?”

Woo-hye stood before her. Dressed in plain clothes, she carried herself with a poise greater than any noble-born daughter groomed from childhood. In her cold, mocking gaze—and in the faint, merciless curve of her lips—was a joy far too sharp to be hidden.

“You—!”

Seol Mi-hee clung to the bars and screamed. In that instant, she realised: Wan-ri’s sudden blindness, her appearance here, and the vile words she had overheard — none of it had been a coincidence.

She had thought her adversary was a powerless young girl and had therefore let her guard down. She had no idea that even her complacency was the result of Woo-hye’s seven years of unwavering determination.

Seol Mi-hee had spent her life looking at the sky, oblivious to the rising waters at her feet — until it was too late.

Woo-hye looked at her with feigned pity.

“Being abandoned by everyone must feel utterly hopeless. When you know someone else is guilty, but it’s you who suffers the consequences, you feel rage and despair, and you wonder if you’ll go mad. Isn’t that right?”

“You wretched girl—I’ll tear you apart!”

‘And, of course, you worry about your family. For me, it was my brother, but for you it must be your children. Especially Sister Wan-ri. To have her sight stolen so suddenly must be terrifying.”

Woo-hye’s voice carried on, light and lilting, as if she were merely recounting some amusing tale.

“And what fault lies with your younger son, whom I have not even had the chance to meet properly? He knows nothing, yet he will be forced to bear the weight of his parents’ sins.”

The more she spoke, the more Seol Mi-hee thrashed around like a maddened beast, howling in fury. Tears streamed from her eyes and burst blood vessels stained them red, as though she were weeping blood.

“Ahahaha!”

Woo-hye clutched her stomach, laughing at the sight. Then, as abruptly as she had begun, her laughter ceased. Her eyes sharpened like a drawn blade.

“You should have known—if you make another’s eyes weep blood, then your own will one day weep the same.”

“What do you know, you wretch! You should have been slaughtered alongside your mother from the very start!”

Yet her venomous curses stirred no anger in Woo-hye. There was something else—something deeper—that truly roused her ire.

“You should have lived on, miserable and wretched, begging for death. But you sinned so greatly that even that fate has been denied you. If you had been just a little more foolish, I might have let you linger in agony for the rest of your days. Why didn’t you?”

Seol Mi-hee hurled curses like a lunatic until she suddenly lurched forward and coughed up blood.

“Khrrk—cough!”

Her body had been weakened by the daily interrogations she had endured, and could no longer withstand the storm of rage and despair raging within her. The internal strain caused blood to seep from her lips. In those brief moments, she seemed to wither, growing old and frail and stripped of all strength as though hope itself had fled her.

Woo-hye gazed at the woman who, just moments earlier, had seemed ready to pounce, but who was now slumped at her feet, trembling uncontrollably. Perhaps, at last, her mother and brother could rest in peace.

“Oh, that reminds me.”

Before leaving the prison, Woo-hye recalled something and spoke with a cruelly sweet smile.

“I should thank you, Lady Seol—for sending me my husband.”

Hyang-eum, who had stood silently in the shadows until then, stepped forward at Woo-hye’s side. Seol Mi-hee, gasping for breath, looked at Woo-hye—then suddenly locked eyes with Hyang-eum.

Hyang-eum looked her up and down with a gaze full of disgust, as though at something crawling, then spat at her feet.

“Serves you right, vile woman.”

Leaving behind Seol Mi-hee’s cry of rage, Woo-hye and Hyang-eum walked out with steps as light as air.

Since it was late, they made ready to take the carriage back to Dan-hwa Garden—only to find themselves face-to-face with San-gyeong the moment they stepped outside.

Woo-hye had not heard that he would be visiting the prison that day, so though she was a little surprised, her smile bloomed with joy.

“Your Highness.”

Seeing Woo-hye hurry eagerly toward San-gyeong, Hyang-eum smiled knowingly and slipped away to leave the two of them alone.

“When did you come, Your Highness? How long have you been here?”

“I accompanied His Majesty in secret when he came. There might have been danger, so I remained nearby.”

San-gyeong had seen the Emperor safely escorted back to the palace with guards of his own, then lingered close by to ensure Woo-hye would not suffer any harm.

“And yet here, with no one watching, you still call me Your Highness.”

At that, Woo-hye let out a soft laugh.

“My husband?”

Only then did a satisfied smile appear on San-gyeong’s lips.

“Yes.”

He said nothing more, only drew her into his arms and patted her shoulder gently—as though to tell her he knew how much she had endured, as though to comfort and encourage her.

Woo-hye leaned her cheek against his chest, no longer scented with silver magnolia but still carrying the warm, calming fragrance that soothed her.

“Did you hear everything I said to Lady Seol?”

“I heard.”

“…Don’t you think I was too cruel?”

As a woman, she longed to show only a gentle, lovely side to the man she loved. She worried that just now she must have looked nothing but vicious.

San-gyeong stroked her hair and said,

“Strange, isn’t it? You were the woman who first tried to stab me.”

“Ah.”

“And not once, but twice. Even though each time, I spared your life.”

“…Perhaps this is a story best left untold, husband.”

When she thought about it, she had already shown him plenty of unbecoming sides long ago.

San-gyeong had often seen her wake tormented by nightmares. He could only imagine how much worse it must have been when she was a child—having lost her family, blind, lonely, and terrified.

“You endured well.”

Just moments ago, she had felt nothing but triumphant—so why did his words, “You endured well,” suddenly bring tears to her eyes?

Woo-hye cried soundlessly in San-gyeong’s embrace. His hand moved gently over her back, steady and unyielding, as if telling her she could shed every tear without restraint.

Gradually, her sobs subsided. She pulled away from his embrace, her face brighter, as though the last traces of grief had disappeared. It was as if she had cast off all bitterness.

The flush upon her pale cheeks, reddened from crying, no longer bore the mark of sorrow. It was instead the hue of a final peach ripening at the close of its season.

At last, she was whole.

“I’m all right now.”

San-gyeong brushed the lingering traces of tears from her face and clasped her hands in his. Her fingers, cool at first, warmed beneath his touch, as though new life flowed into a vessel once emptied of poison.

Woo-hye’s lips curved slowly into a gentle smile as she looked up at him—and in San-gyeong’s face, she saw the same smile reflected back.

He lowered his head and pressed his lips tenderly to her brow.

“Think nothing more tonight. Just rest.”

“Yes, I will.”

It was then that Do-eon, having learned San-gyeong was there, rode up and delivered his report.

“My lord, General Seol has made his move.”

San-gyeong showed no surprise. He had been expecting this for a long time and was fully prepared.

“Has the message reached General Gwak as well?”

“Yes. He has already set out.”

Woo-hye knew that he would soon be marching off to face General Seol in battle. Although it had long been foreseen, the prospect of sending the one she loved into war still filled her with dread.

San-gyeong walked her to the carriage and, before letting her go, drew her into a final, fierce embrace. His voice rang with unshakable certainty, intended for her and the child she was carrying.

“Do not be afraid. Before tomorrow’s dawn, it will all be finished.”

That confidence, that absolute assurance of victory, finally eased the weight in her heart. Woo-hye smiled faintly and nodded.

💍⟡⟡⟡⟡⟡⟡⟡⟡⟡⟡⟡⟡💍

That very night, General Seol’s last desperate attempt collapsed before it could even begin. The night of turmoil ended in complete ruin.