Chapter 54 — Minwha's Past (Before Everything Broke 2)
Three Years Later
Three years passed like drifting snow.
What had begun as secret lessons beneath moonlight became something deeper — something neither of them dared to name.
They never spoke of love. They never promised forever.
But he sought her first after every court session. She waited for him after every performance.
He no longer needed to stand behind her to guide her sword.
Yet sometimes, he still did.
And she still let him.
By seventeen, Minhwa was no longer merely the most sought-after gisaeng in Hansheng Ge.
She was untouchable.
Because everyone in Hasheng Ge knew— She belonged to the Crown Prince.
At least in spirit.
What she did not know— was that jealousy had been quietly growing.
Among the gisaeng her age, admiration had long since curdled into resentment.
Especially in Jianhe.
Jianhe, who called herself Minhwa's closest friend.
Jianhe, who smiled sweetly and braided her hair before performances. Jianhe, who had also fallen in love with the Crown Prince.
Only Jianhe had understood something Minhwa had not.
Love without status is weakness. And Minhwa had no status.
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Meanwhile, in the palace—
The Empress had already arranged the Crown Prince's marriage. The bride was the daughter of the Minister of Finance.
A powerful alliance. A necessary alliance.
When the Crown Prince heard, he went directly to his mother.
"I will not marry her," he said.
The Empress did not even look up from her tea.
"You will."
"I wish to marry someone else."
That made her pause. Her gaze lifted slowly.
"A gisaeng?" she asked mildly.
Silence filled the chamber.
"You are the heir to this empire," she continued evenly. "You will not disgrace the imperial bloodline for infatuation."
"It is not infatuation."
The Empress' expression sharpened.
"Then it is foolishness."
Their argument shook the palace walls.
For the first time in years, the Crown Prince defied her openly.
For the first time— The Empress truly looked at Minhwa as something more than "fun."
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Three months later, disaster struck.
The empire's disaster relief funds—allocated after devastating floods—were reported missing.
Evidence surfaced.
Ledgers. Seals.
Witness statements.
All pointing to one person.
The Crown Prince.
He was accused of embezzling relief funds for personal use.
The court erupted. The Emperor was furious.
The Crown Prince was confined pending investigation.
Behind the accusation stood a powerful military general— A man known to frequent Hansheng Ge.
A man loyal to the Third Prince.
When the news reached Minhwa, her hands went cold.
Locked up.
Accused of treason.
If convicted— He would lose his title.
Perhaps even his life.
She had never felt fear like that before.
Not for herself. For him.
Then Jianhe approached her.
Tearful. Concerned.
"We must help him," Jianhe whispered.
"How?" Minhwa asked.
Jianhe hesitated, as if reluctant to speak.
"The general… he is often here."
Minhwa stiffened.
"If someone could get close to him," Jianhe continued softly, "we might learn the truth."
Minhwa understood immediately.
Her stomach turned.
"He desires you," Jianhe added gently. "You are the only one who could succeed."
The words felt like poison.
But the Crown Prince's face appeared in her mind.
Confined. Alone.
Weak. Not even allowed to clear his own name.
"If I can obtain proof…" Minhwa whispered.
Jianhe squeezed her hand. "You would be saving him."
Minhwa closed her eyes. Then she nodded.
That night, she dressed not as a performer— But as bait.
The general welcomed her eagerly.
He had always watched her. Always wanted her.
She forced herself to smile. Forced herself to endure.
And when the door closed—
She sacrificed what she had guarded for years.
Not for love.
For survival. For him.
Later, when the general slept, she searched.
Documents hidden beneath loose boards. Letters between the Third Prince and the Minister of Literature.
Records of diverted funds.
False seals. She memorized everything she could.
Before dawn, she sent the information through trusted servants—coded, careful, desperate.
She did not allow herself to cry.
When the Crown Prince received the evidence, hope returned to his eyes.
The investigation reopened. The trail led exactly where Minhwa had uncovered it.
The Third Prince. The Minister of Literature.
The disaster funds had been redirected and hidden within the minister's estate.
The trap unraveled.
The Crown Prince was declared innocent. The general was executed for falsifying charges.
The Third Prince was permanently stripped of influence.
The court shifted. Power returned to its rightful heir.
The Crown Prince stepped out of confinement victorious.
Grateful. Alive.
He thought only one thing— She saved me.
He did not yet know— What she had paid.
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Right after his release, the Crown Prince stormed into the Empress' private chamber…, the weight of his release from confinement still heavy in his chest.
He ignored the guards, ignored protocol—he needed to convince his mother, this time for sure.
"I will not marry the Minister of Finance's daughter," he said, bowing only lightly. "I wish to marry Minhwa."
The Empress' eyes flicked toward him, calm, unshaken, but sharp as steel. "Again?" she asked, her voice smooth as silk.
"Do you truly believe a gisaeng is fit to be your wife?"
He straightened, anger rising. "She is not just a gisaeng. She is unlike anyone else. She is brave, clever, and honorable.
You cannot judge her by her status alone."
The Empress leaned back, steepling her fingers. "Brave? Clever? Honorable?" she repeated, tilting her head.
"Do you not see what she is? A gisaeng will forever be a gisaeng. She sold herself willingly, for influence, for survival, for attention. And you wish to make her your wife?"
He froze. Her words struck deeper than any accusation, cutting at his confidence. "No! That's not true! Minhwa is different. She is not like the others. She is—she is still kept!"
The Empress' lips curved faintly, dangerously. "Is she? Or have you blinded yourself to reality?" She leaned forward, her gaze drilling into his chest. "Ask yourself, my son… do you wish to marry what every man in the capital may touch at will? Do you wish to marry someone whose body, whose service, whose loyalty has been bought and sold as easily as a piece of cloth?"
The room seemed to darken around him.
"No!" he shouted, his hands clenching. "She is not like that!"
The Empress sighed, a sound of both amusement and condescension. "If you cannot accept it from me, then go. See for yourself." Her voice dropped to a venomous whisper. "Go and ask her, and you will see what she truly is. You may think you know her, but the truth will remind you of her place."
The Crown Prince stiffened. "I… I will do as you say," he said quietly, his pride warring with the pull in his chest.
He left immediately, a storm in motion. His every step toward Hansheng Ge was fueled by righteous anger and fierce devotion. Yet the Empress' words rang in his mind like a blade—relentless, sharp, and unyielding.
When he arrived at the courtyard, the familiar moonlit space stretched before him. Minhwa was there, practicing sword dance, her movements precise, elegant, disciplined. But he did not yet know the truth—her sacrifice, her endurance, her courage in the nights she had risked herself for him.
All he knew was what his mother had told him: that she was a gisaeng. And that thought gnawed at his heart.
He called her name.
"Minhwa!"
She froze mid-motion, eyes lifting to meet his, calm but wary.
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"Minhwa!"
Minhwa froze mid-step, her heart hammering. She recognized that sound. That urgency. That storm of emotion.
"Minhwa," he said, voice trembling with fury and fear, "is what my mother said… true?"
Her lips parted, but no words came. Her hands twisted in front of her, gripping her sword as if it could shield her from his gaze.
He stepped closer. "Tell me! Did you… give yourself to another man?"
Her throat tightened. She nodded, barely audible.
The Crown Prince staggered back as if struck. His hands clenched into fists. Tears burned his eyes.
"Why? Why would you… do this?" His voice cracked. "Why… why would you let him touch you?!"
He swung his arm wildly, hitting the wall beside her, the impact echoing through the empty hall. The sound reverberated inside her chest as if it shattered her ribs too.
Minhwa's knees weakened. Her tears flowed freely now, hot and desperate.
She stepped forward trembling violently. "I did it to save you!" she screamed, the sound raw, shattered, full of every month of fear and secrecy.
"I couldn't bear to see you suffer! If giving him… if letting go of myself could save you, I would do it again! I would do it a thousand times!"
He froze, her words cutting through his fury like a blade. He pulled her into his arms. Then he pressed his forehead to hers. His own tears streamed down unchecked. "Minhwa… I…"
She clung to him, sobbing, trembling.
He held her tightly, burying his face into her hair, both of them shaking, hearts raw, mourning what had been lost. Every unspoken fear, every secret sacrifice, every month of quiet suffering poured out between them.
They cried like the world was ending, and in a way, it was. Not the world itself—but the fragile innocence they had once held, the unspoken trust they had nurtured, the life they had hoped to share.
They cried until the morning came.
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Morning light crept through the windows. The courtyard was silent, but neither of them had moved. Their tears had left streaks on each other's shoulders. Their breaths were ragged, hearts pounding, but at least they were together.
By mid-morning, the Crown Prince returned to the palace.
He spoke to no one on the way, leaving servants and guards uneasy. Behind closed doors, he spoke with the Empress.
No one knew what was said. Not the ministers. Not the palace eunuchs. Not even the servants who carried messages.
When he left the throne room, his face was pale, eyes distant, jaw tight.
He had agreed to marry the Minister of Finance's daughter.
The court rejoiced. The alliances were secured. The empire moved forward.
But Minhwa's name, whispered in his heart, was never far from him.
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A month passed.
The Crown Prince's wedding to the Minister of Finance's daughter was complete. Sealed. Celebrated. Announced throughout the court.
Minhwa did not see him once. Not a word, not a glance, not a hint.
She heard the news then cried herself into exhaustion night after night, her sobs muffled by the thin walls of her room.
Sleep offered no comfort; it was only a temporary reprieve from the ache in her chest.
Outside, the world continued.
Other gisaeng, once her peers, whispered and laughed behind her back.
Some mocked her openly, delighted in her humiliation. Others bullied her, pushing and sneering whenever she passed.
She endured it all, her silence a fragile shield against their cruelty.
Then, one week later, a carriage appeared. Black lacquered, gilded trim, drawn by two massive white horses. The guards bowed low as it stopped outside Hansheng Ge.
Minhwa's heart froze.
A servant stepped forward, bearing a folded note sealed with the Crown Prince's personal emblem. She took it with trembling hands.
"Come to the palace. Not as a bride, not as anything grand. Simply as mine."
She read the words over and over. Her lips trembled. Her chest heaved.
It was nothing more than the title of a concubine.
And yet. It was enough.
He had not forgotten her. He still wanted her.
Jealousy quickly spread through Hansheng Ge, but she didn't care.
Her knees weakened. For the first time in weeks, tears formed—but these were not tears of despair. They were tears of longing, of hope, of quiet triumph over the cruelty and shame she had endured.
She prepared quickly, her hands shaking as she gathered her simple belongings. She did not protest. She did not question.
She simply nodded to herself, and when the sedan appeared, she stepped forward to follow it, her back straight, her head high, though her heart trembled wildly.
As the carriage doors closed, carrying her away from the only home she had known for years, she realized: the prince still claimed her.
And in that moment, despite everything—the heartbreak, the humiliation, the loss—she allowed herself to hope.