My deep soul

Chapter 33

The sky was painted with streaks of pale gold and lavender, the last light of day sinking over the courtyard. Jinyoen stood by the stone rail, her eyes lifted to the heavens, her mind somewhere far away. The summons from Princess Sookmyung still echoed in her head, and though she kept her face calm, her heart wasn’t at ease.

Footsteps approached behind her—measured, steady, but she recognized them instantly. Even before she turned, Jidiwi’s arms slipped around her waist, pulling her gently but firmly against his chest. His chin came to rest atop her head, his warmth seeping into her as though he meant to shield her from everything.

“You shouldn’t have to come,” he murmured, his voice low, carrying a quiet storm.

Jinyoen exhaled softly, a wry smile tugging at her lips. “I wasn’t given a choice, was I?”

At that, his embrace tightened. He tilted his head slightly, his breath brushing her ear. “If I had the power, I would never let you step foot outside the safety of these walls. Not to Baekje, not to war, not into any danger. Not when I know what could be waiting there.”

She turned slightly in his arms, tilting her face up to him. His eyes were dark, intense, glittering with both love and something heavier—fear laced with possession. She reached up, her fingertips brushing against his cheek.

“You forget,” she whispered, her lips curving, “I’m not helpless. I’ve been tending to soldiers and hwarang long before you ever confessed to me. My duty doesn’t change just because danger is closer.”

He caught her wrist gently, pressing a kiss to her palm, then held it over his heart. His voice broke softer this time, though it carried the same unyielding edge. “But you’re not just a physician anymore, Jinu. You’re *mine*. And I can’t—” he paused, swallowing hard as his jaw tensed, “—I can’t bear the thought of something happening to you while I stand by.”

Jinyoen’s heart thudded at his words, the fierceness in them, the almost desperate claim. She leaned into him fully now, letting his arms close around her like an unshakable wall.

“I have you, haven’t I?” she said, her voice gentle but firm. “I’m not afraid.”

For a moment, his expression softened—his obsession melting into tenderness as he studied her face, as if memorizing every line of her. His thumb brushed along her jaw, lingering.

“You trust me that much?” he asked quietly.

She nodded, her black eyes shining. “I do.”

He bent his forehead to hers, eyes closing briefly as though her answer steadied something inside him. “Then I swear, Jinu,” he whispered, his voice rough with promise, “if Baekje itself rises against you, I will burn it to the ground before it touches a single hair of yours.”

Her breath caught, torn between fear at the intensity in him and the overwhelming warmth of being so fiercely loved. She didn’t answer right away—just slid her hands up to his shoulders and rested her cheek against his chest, listening to the steady thunder of his heartbeat.

They stood there beneath the fading sky, wrapped in each other, his possessiveness and her quiet courage twining together like threads of fate neither could undo.

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The morning air was crisp, carrying with it the faint scent of pine and earth as the small group of hwarang rode toward Baekje. The sun was hidden behind pale clouds, giving the day a muted glow, as though the heavens themselves were watching in quiet tension.

Jinyoen sat astride her horse, her hanfu sleeves tucked neatly but still fluttering with the wind. Her eyes lingered on the road ahead, but her lips were pressed into a thin line, betraying the thoughts that weighed on her.