My deep soul

Chapter 35

Jinyoen walked briskly through the bustling streets of Baekje, her hanfu brushing against the cobblestones, the soft clatter of her slippers lost amid the marketplace noise. The caravan of hwarang and princess Sookmyung had gone ahead, leaving her to tend to minor errands and observations of the city.

As she rounded a corner, she froze. A small figure huddled against the wall—a boy no older than seven or eight, his clothes torn and blood staining his knee. He whimpered quietly. Jinyoen’s heart clenched.

She knelt beside him. “Little one, are you hurt badly?” she asked, her hands gentle as she examined the scrape.

“I… I fell… and my mom said never to cry,” he sniffled.

Jinyoen smiled softly, reaching into her satchel for herbs. “We don’t cry when someone helps us heal. Hold still.” Carefully, she cleaned the wound and wrapped it with a clean strip of cloth. The boy’s small hand trembled as he watched her.

“You… you’re like an angel,” he whispered. From the folds of his tunic, he produced a small, delicate hairpin. “I… I want you to have this. It’s all I have.”

Jinyoen hesitated but accepted it, her black eyes softening. “Thank you. Keep it safe for yourself, okay?”

Before they could exchange another word, shouts erupted behind them. A troop of Baekje soldiers stormed the street, their armor clanging. “Stop! You there!” one barked, pointing directly at Jinyoen and the boy.

“What is it?” Jinyoen asked, stepping protectively in front of the boy.

“You’re caught stealing. Take them!” The soldiers grabbed the boy roughly and pushed him into a small cage nearby, his cries piercing the air. Jinyoen’s stomach twisted in horror.

“Let him go! He hasn’t done anything!” she shouted, but the soldiers ignored her. Before she could intervene further, two burly guards seized her, pulling her through the crowded streets toward the palace. Her protests were muffled as she was forced down marble steps into a vast, dimly lit hall.

There, seated atop an ornate throne, the crown prince of Baekje lounged with a dangerous smirk. His gaze locked on her, and Jinyoen felt her stomach tighten.

“Ah! Silla does produce pretty ladies, doesn’t it?” he said, leaning forward. His hand lifted, brushing against her cheek. Jinyoen recoiled instinctively, her eyes flashing with disgust.

“Don’t touch me,” she spat, her voice ringing with authority despite the fear knotting her chest.

He studied her carefully, a glint of recognition in his eyes. “You… you seem familiar. Have we met before?”

Jinyoen’s jaw tightened. She refused to answer, her gaze hard and unflinching.

“Oh! Yes, now I remember. You are Chang Eun’s sister—Chang Jinyoen. How could I forget?” He leaned closer, his eyes gleaming with entitlement. “Such a beautiful lady. And yet, your people came empty-handed, without the gifts that would have bought my favor. So, you will pay the price… personally.”

“Never,” Jinyoen said, fury rising.

The crown prince’s face darkened,  with a swift, violent motion, he struck her across the face. Jinyoen staggered back, tasting blood as her bottom lip split. Pain flared, but so did her anger.

“Take her!” he commanded, his voice like thunder. “Lock her in one of the rooms of the palace. No one is to know where she is. Make sure she cannot escape.”

The guards moved with brutal efficiency, seizing her arms and dragging her through the cold corridors. Jinyoen’s eyes darted around, searching for any way to resist, but the doors slammed shut behind her. The dim room smelled of old stone and dust. Her hair was disheveled, her clothes slightly torn from the scuffle, and the blood from her lip still stung fiercely.