Moon's Whisper, Heart's Echo

20. The Change

The brush strokes were all wrong. Ji-ah shouldn't have noticed such a small detail about a child practicing his letters, but she did. Min-joon curved his characters with the same deliberate grace Tae-young used - the same careful way of testing the ink's wetness before beginning, the same slight tilt of the head when examining his work.

When had the boy started copying Tae-young's mannerisms?

A wave of irritation washed over her as she watched from the shadowed walkway. Her sister's worried voice echoed in her mind: "They say he spends every afternoon at the archery grounds with Min-joon now." Then the servants' endless chatter: "Did you hear? He bought the boy new practice clothes..."

Even her own carefully arranged meetings with Tae-young seemed haunted by mentions of Lady Nandi and her son. "Min-joon is showing real promise with the bow," he'd say, or "You should have seen how quickly he mastered that new form..."

Min-joon looked up suddenly, dark eyes finding hers across the courtyard. His brush stilled mid-stroke.

"What is it about you?" The words slipped out before she could catch them. "You and that mother of yours that's causing so much—"

"Min-joon-ah!"

Lady Park's voice scattered Ji-ah's thoughts like startled birds. Ink splattered across Min-joon's practice paper as he jumped up, bowing hurriedly before darting toward the sweet rice cake vendor's cart.

Ji-ah turned away, cheeks burning, but not quickly enough.

"What an unexpected place to find you, my dear." Lady Park's mild tone carried an edge sharp as new steel. "Especially alone."

"The seamstress—" Ji-ah began.

"Is in the opposite direction." Lady Park's eyes didn't leave her face. "As you well know."

Min-joon returned clutching his wrapped package, carefully avoiding Ji-ah's gaze. "Master Song said I could wait for eomma here," he explained to Lady Park. "Since lessons ended early."

"That's good, dear." Lady Park's voice softened. "Though perhaps you should wait inside where it's cooler."

Ji-ah knew she should leave. Every lesson in proper behavior demanded it. But her feet seemed rooted to the spot, as if some perverse spirit needed her to witness her own humiliation.

"Why don't I get you fresh rice cakes later," Lady Park told Min-joon gently. "Go on now."

Once the boy's footsteps faded, Lady Park turned back to Ji-ah. "He's a child," was all she said, but the quiet disappointment in her voice stung worse than any scolding.

"I wasn't—" The lie withered on Ji-ah's tongue. What could she say? That she'd followed a seven-year-old boy out of what? Jealousy? Confusion? Some desperate need to understand why he commanded so much of Tae-young's attention?

"Go home, young lady."

Ji-ah fled, maintaining her dignity through sheer force of will. But with each careful step, she felt more foolish than the last. She'd acted like some lovesick girl from a common romance tale, stalking about in shadows and resenting a child.

The worst part wasn't the shame of being caught. It was realizing that she'd become exactly the sort of woman she'd always sworn she'd never be.

Elsewhere, Nandi had been cleaning the same spot for the better part of an hour, the familiar motion failing to provide its usual comfort. Her last conversation with Eun-soo played in her mind like a half-remembered dream.

"Is something wrong?" she had asked, watching Eun-soo's fingers twist nervously in her sleeves. The younger woman had always been so warm, so eager to share every detail of her life.