Decembers With You

Moonshines on a White Night

Author's Notes: This is a "Finding You" one-shot written in Son Eon Jin's perspective.

—

December 1694
The eleventh month of the twentieth year of King Sukjeong's reign

On these frigid days, north-westerly winds blow relentlessly,
Casting another layer of dullness in my lonely life;
But if it carries your laughter to Hanseong, then let it howl.

I read the poem once more, and I feel the chronic ache in my chest sear my insides.

Then again, I return to the beginning like a fool to mouth the words without uttering a sound, for I only wish to imagine his voice articulating the passion hidden in this piece of poetry - and not mine.

His luscious baritone is engraved in my memory - low and velvety with an air of certainty in it. He can make anyone believe in what he is saying, which explains the countless incidents of me being tricked by this mischievous rascal in our yesteryears.

In all honesty, I think I have lost track of how many times my eyes scanned the parchment in my hand as if by doing so, the beautiful verse in his fine handwriting can spring to life. It is rather peculiar that I hold the thin sheet with high reverence, although I realize that it is because in the past years, life has brutally stripped me off of anything that could bring me joy.

Or perhaps it is because it bears a fragment of his soul.

Why must you do this to us, Kim Tae Pyung? I throw the question to the void. Why are you still holding on to a love that has always been doomed from the start?

Crestfallen, I neatly fold the letter, carefully following the original pleats to avoid adding wrinkles to my recently-acquired prized possession. Then, I stow it away by slipping it inside my white jeogori, therefore keeping it close to my heart before I burn it under the moonlight.

"My lady!" I hear a little voice call out just as I stepped out of the gap in the stone fence near my humble hanok, halting me on my tracks, and it is quickly followed by a series of hurried footsteps.

I turn and see the companion my mother-in-law sent me a couple of weeks back - an undernourished thirteen year-old orphan traded by another clan in our town for a handsome favor from the governor - running towards me with the look of panic marring her ashen face.

"Forgive me for my insolence, my lady. But where are you going at this time of night?" the girl demands through convulsive breaths, all the while keeping her tone hushed in case someone from the household is awake and is lurking nearby.

Lifting the green jang-ot that shrouds me, I hastily survey the surroundings to ensure that the area remains undisturbed before I speak.

"I am only taking a stroll in the woods to clear my mind," I tell her the condensed version of the truth with conviction. "I shall be back soon."

"No, my lady. I cannot permit you to go," the servant grumbles her stern objection, then her tiny hands clutch the sleeve of my jacket to tug at it. "Please. Do not leave the house. If they find out that you are gone, I will be killed on the spot."

At once, I rummage my head for an urgent action plan to keep the child out of danger lest I get caught.

"Hide under the floor of my chamber. There is a portion near the east window with loose planks. Search for it," I dictate to her, forgoing my usual calm demeanor for her to obey me. "Do not come out until I have returned."

The young girl falls to her knees and clasps her hands together to quietly plead, "Return to your hanok and never attempt to escape again - I beg of you, my lady. Have pity on me."