My deep soul

Chapter 37

The Baekje crown prince gave a cruel signal with his hand, and immediately soldiers rushed forward, seizing Jinyoen and the remaining Silla prisoners. Her wrists were bound roughly with rope, her bruised face tilted upward as she was dragged across the courtyard. She stumbled, yet kept her chin raised, refusing to let them see her break. The other prisoners shouted in anger, but they were silenced with spear-butts and kicks.

Jidiwi’s entire body burned with helpless rage. His nails bit into his palms as he clenched his fists, every instinct demanding he run to her side. But he forced himself to stay still under the soldiers’ watchful eyes. He exchanged a quick, unreadable glance with Sunwoo, and that was enough. Plans were forming. Tonight, they would return.

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The palace grounds were hushed, the air thick with the weight of sleep. Lanterns burned faintly on the walls, leaving deep shadows where two figures crept unseen. Jidiwi and Sunwoo moved like panthers in the dark—silent, precise. Each guard that stood in their path was swiftly silenced: Sunwoo with his swift fists and daggers, Jidiwi with lethal precision, his blade glinting only for an instant before the bodies were lowered soundlessly to the ground.

The prison, despite its name “pleasant jail,” was nothing but a cold stone cellar beneath the palace—a mockery meant for political captives. The heavy door creaked faintly as they slipped inside, the stench of blood and dampness striking them immediately.

“Jidiwi,” Sunwoo whispered, pointing at the far cells where the prisoners lay huddled. “They’re here.”

But Jidiwi was already moving, his heartbeat pounding as his eyes searched only for one figure.

And then—he saw her.

Jinyoen.

She sat slumped against the wall, wrists raw and bloodied from the ropes, her lip split, her dark eyes dim but still burning with stubborn defiance. Her dress was torn, streaked with dirt, and her hair hung tangled around her face. When her gaze lifted and met his, the faintest tremor passed through her lips, and for a moment, her unshakable mask cracked.

“Jinyoen…” His voice broke, a mixture of fury and anguish, as he rushed to her cell.

“you... are here” Her voice was hoarse, trembling. She tried to stand but faltered, her knees giving way.

Sunwoo was already unlocking the prisoners’ cells, his movements quick and efficient. But Jidiwi—his hands trembled as he wrenched the lock open, shoving the door wide. He dropped to his knees beside her, his fingers almost afraid to touch her broken skin.

Her bruises. The blood at the corner of her mouth. The rope burns along her wrists. His chest tightened as if a blade had pierced him.

“Who did this to you?” His voice was low, dangerous, trembling with restrained violence. His hand brushed over her cheek so lightly it was almost air, yet even that gentle touch made his jaw tighten at the wince it caused her. “I should have killed them all… I should have—”

“Don’t,” she whispered, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. Her lips curved weakly. “You came… that’s enough.”

Her small, trembling arms suddenly wrapped around him, clinging desperately. She buried her face against his chest, inhaling his familiar warmth as though to remind herself this wasn’t a dream.

Jidiwi froze for a heartbeat, then his arms encircled her fiercely, pulling her flush against him. He held her as though the world itself was trying to tear her away, his hand cradling the back of her head, his chin pressed to her tangled hair.

“You’re safe now,” he whispered harshly, voice cracking. “No one will touch you again. I swear it, Jinyoen. Even if I have to tear down this entire kingdom with my bare hands—I won’t let them hurt you again.”