You honestly pity her.

The one of the many concubines of the Emperor. The beautiful, scarred laughingstock of the palace. The timid, good natured Seolha.

She can never speak her mind lest the Emperor becomes crueler than he habitually is towards her. You’ve encountered her only few times as a servant seeing as each concubine has her own quarters.

You are obviously ranks below her, and naturally greet her with respect, but you never belittle her with your words. She’s one of the few sweethearts.

It’s as if only few people notice her captivating appearance. You, the Emperor, and his elder twin: the imposing General.

Yet a small part of you wishes the handsomely formidable man would flit his narrow eyes at you as he does she. His gaze is none but admiration and full devotion whenever he gazes at her, but your yearning is long gone.

Dormant is for better words. No longer are you a servant but a wanderer.

Staying in one place is in your forte no longer seeing as bloodshed behind closed doors has become a commonplace, especially towards servants who are mistreated.

You stand alone in the forest treading without a word then come to a halt. Your shoes remain still at the sight of a black horse. It’s pristine mane familiar: the General’s horse. He hunts in this area it seems.