My deep soul

Chapter 5

The morning sun spilled softly over the tiled roofs of the capital. Merchants shouted their wares, children laughed and chased each other down narrow streets, and somewhere in the heart of the city a storyteller had gathered a circle of eager listeners.

“One cannot die so easily,” the storyteller’s voice rang out, old yet commanding. “The woman who barely survived disguised herself with a single mole right here—” she touched her cheek dramatically “—and so no one could recognize her. When you looked at that mole, her whole face seemed to change. And late at night, when the world was silent, she laid her head beneath the man’s and whispered…”

The crowd leaned closer.

“‘Why did we meet?’”

Gasps and murmurs spread among the listeners.

From a short distance away, Jidiwi sat alone on a weathered wooden bench, watching with mild amusement. The story itself did not move him—he had heard countless tales spun for the common folk, fables of love, betrayal, and destiny. Yet today he could not focus. His mind kept circling back to Jinyoen.

*Three days… three days I’ve searched the capital for her. And nothing.*

Then, a clear bell-like laughter floated through the air. His head turned sharply to the right.

There she was.

Jinyoen, standing among the crowd, her eyes bright, lips curved in laughter at the tale. She was radiant in her simple hanbok, the morning light gilding her like a painting.

Jidiwi’s heart skipped.

Before he could approach, he heard a man’s voice beside her.

“Jin, I got everything I need. Let’s go.”

It was Yanwoo, her brother-in-law, holding a basket of herbs and cloth.

“Wait, Yanwoo,” Jinyoen pouted, tugging his sleeve. “This is the best part of the story.”

Yanwoo raised a brow. “Jin, how many times have you heard this story already?”

Jinyoen tilted her head, counting on her fingers like a mischievous child. “One… two… three… ah! This is the fourth time.”

Yanwoo groaned. “Fourth time? Then you already know how it ends! Come, we must hurry back. Dara will have both our heads if we return late.”

Jinyoen giggled, eyes sparkling with mischief. “My sister, your wife. You should worry about her anger, not me. She’ll punish you, not me.”

“Don’t you dare leave me to face her wrath alone,” Yanwoo grumbled, shaking his head in defeat. With that, he excused himself, disappearing into the crowd.

Jinyoen’s laughter lingered like music in the air. But as she glanced to the side, her smile faltered.

She saw him.

Jidiwi—sitting alone, his eyes fixed on her, unblinking. There was no mistaking it: he had been searching.

Her heart leapt, but instinct told her to retreat. *No… not now. Not here.* She lowered her gaze quickly, pretending not to notice, and slipped away from the crowd.

But Jidiwi noticed.

The moment she disappeared, he stood, following her with long, purposeful strides.

Jinyoen darted through the busy streets, weaving between vendors and children. Her breath quickened. She stopped at a jewelry shop, ducking behind the silk curtains at the entrance, her chest rising and falling. She peered out through the gap.

There he was, scanning the street, his sharp eyes searching. But then, as a group of merchants passed by, he was forced to step aside, and for a moment he lost her trail. Believing she had gone ahead, he strode in the opposite direction.

The instant his back was turned, Jinyoen exhaled in relief. She slipped out of the shop and hurried home, her heart still racing.

By the time she reached her chamber, she leaned against the wooden pillar, whispering to herself, “That was too close…”

Meanwhile, Jidiwi roamed the streets until the sun tilted westward. But he found no trace of her.

His jaw tightened, disappointment heavy in his chest. 'So close. I had her right before me. And yet… she slipped away again.'

He lowered himself onto the same bench where he had first seen her, running a hand through his hair. For the first time in years, the Faceless King of Silla felt powerless—not in the court, but in front of a single woman.