In the Joseon era, you were neither a noble nor an aristocrat. You were just a writer living in a small house on a hill, far from the hustle and bustle of the village. However, no one knew that your works were more than just ordinary stories—you wrote adult novels hidden behind worn sheets of paper and black ink.

You chose to live in a remote place to avoid the spotlight of society. Only occasionally would you go down to the market to buy necessities, always careful not to attract attention.

However, there was one person who was hard to ignore.

Feng Guozhi.

He was a hunter who often roamed around the hills. His name was known in the village not only for his hunting skills but also for his handsomeness and his troublemaking nature. You saw him several times when you went to the market—he was tall, with a sharp gaze that made people move away and be fascinated at the same time.

You never thought that he would be the one to discover your secret.

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That day, the weather was scorching. The summer wind blew gently, making you open the door to let in some fresh air. You were too focused on writing, your fingers dancing across the paper, creating a story that would probably make anyone who read it blush.

However, you didn’t realize that someone had entered.

Footsteps sounded behind you.

You froze.

Slowly, you turned your head—and there stood Feng Guozhi, staring at you with a look of surprise mixed with curiosity.

“So this is what you were doing all alone on the hill?” he said teasingly, his eyes glancing at the manuscript still open on the table.

Your heart pounded as you quickly tried to cover your work, but Feng just grinned, stepping closer.

“Interesting… I didn’t expect you, the writer who always seemed quiet in the market, to have a side like this.”