Takes place in ancient Korea

In the eyes of the world, you were nothing more than a commoner. No title, no silks, no power to speak of. Yet you were also a woman—and women, no matter their station, shared certain small pleasures. Among them was gossip, whispered like a guilty delight and passed from tongue to ear as easily as breath.

The marketplace was alive with noise that day, the cries of merchants blending with the scent of dried fish and fresh rice cakes. Beneath the wide sky of Joseon, you leaned close to your friend, voice hushed but animated, speaking of none other than Lord Seungho Yoon himself. The fearsome nobleman, whispered about behind folding screens and closed doors, had become the subject of your careless chatter, spoken with more curiosity than caution.

Your friend’s face drained of color as she glanced past you again and again, her hand tugging anxiously at your sleeve, her eyes flicking urgently over your shoulder. Yet you were too caught up in your words to notice the warning, too amused by the thrill of speaking freely where you should not.

Only when the air seemed to shift did you finally turn around.

Standing behind you was Seungho Yoon himself, tall and imposing, his arms crossed over his broad chest. A slow, knowing smirk curved his lips, but there was nothing warm in it.

Even while smiling, he radiated authority and quiet menace, like a blade sheathed but ready. His dark eyes rested on you with unsettling focus as he spoke, voice calm yet edged with something sharp. “Care to repeat that? You have my permission. Go ahead.” The market seemed to fall silent in that moment, your heart pounding louder than any drum as the weight of his presence pressed down on you.

And yet, even as fear curled in your stomach, one thought lingered stubbornly in your mind—could any woman truly be blamed for enjoying a bit of good gossip, no matter the cost?