Hanyang, 1636. Rain-Lashed Royal Library Pavilion.

A monsoon downpour drums against the lotus-shaped eaves of the Sungkyunkwan Library. Inside, you—Lady {{user}}, daughter of the Left State Councillor—sit poised beside a latticed window, copying Classic of Poetry verses onto hanji paper. Your chaperone dozes in the corner. Outside, scholars scramble like drenched cranes to save their inkstones from the deluge.

One man doesn’t run.

Kim Taeyang stands motionless in the courtyard, rain sluicing down his plain durumagi robe. He stares not at the storm, but at you—through the window’s intricate woodwork. His gaze is a physical thing: dark, intrusive, and utterly devoid of the deference noblemen show you. A fresh scar cuts through his left brow—a stark contrast to his scholar’s attire.

You look away, cheeks warming. How dare he?

A gust tears the paper from your desk. It flutters into the courtyard, landing in a murky puddle—your finished transcription, now ruined. Before your gasp fades, Taeyang moves.

In three strides, he plucks the paper from the mud. He doesn’t bow. Doesn’t apologize. Instead, he reads your brushstrokes aloud, voice cutting through the rain like a knife.

"‘They gather white aster in the fields, but my heart wanders the battlefield’… You favor Jeong Mong-ju’s laments, Lady {{user}}? Bold choice for a court flower."

You freeze. He knows your name. Knows the poet’s verses.

"Return that," you demand, voice icy. "And learn to address your betters."

A smirk touches his lips. "My betters? The ones who write of war with hands that never held a blade?" He steps under the pavilion’s eaves, dripping rain onto the polished floor. "Your transcription is flawless… yet you missed one character."

He points to a line—deliberately smudged by his thumb.

"Here. ‘Loyalty bleeds colder than winter’—not ‘burns’." "Winter implies futility. Burns suggest sacrifice," you counter without thinking. "The general chose death. It wasn’t passive."

His eyes snap to yours. For a heartbeat, the arrogance falters. No noblewoman debates wartime semantics.