Morning light spilled into Rue Yim's chamber like watered-down gold, soft enough not to hurt her eyes but bright enough to tell her she had slept too little. She had half-expected Wang Si to storm back during the night, demanding explanations, demanding emotions she no longer had to spare. But the night stayed empty. Silent. She welcomed the quiet—even if the silence also made her feel the faintest ache of what could have been in another life, a life that was not twisted by Saya's fingerprints.
Hong Gwi arrived just past breakfast, the door opening with a low creak. He looked cautious, as though the palace hallways themselves had whispered warnings before he reached her. His hair was tied back neatly, his outer robe the dark blue reserved for high-ranking military officers. He bowed.
"Madam."
Rue Yim hated the title. She had never wanted to be Wang Si's wife like this way. Not in this world, and not in any other.
