Tae So stirred from his slumber, his senses gently coaxed awake by a melody so delicate, so pure, that for a moment, he thought he was still dreaming. The music was soft at first, a whisper of dawn curling around him in elegant waves, its notes plucked with such precision that they shimmered in the air, weaving a story older than time itself.
He lay still, his breath slow, unwilling to break the fragile spell of the morning. The music was unlike anything he had ever heard before, not the structured, grand compositions played in royal courts, nor the lively folk songs of village festivals. This was something different, something in between, something untainted by expectation. It rose and fell in soft undulations, like ripples across a still lake, each note more haunting than the last.
Who could be playing music so early in the morning? The sound was not intrusive, nor was it distant. It simply existed, like the wind, like the river, like something that had always been there yet had never been noticed before.
Slowly, Tae So opened his eyes, staring at the ceiling of his chamber. The silk curtains swayed gently with the morning breeze, and the scent of jasmine lingered in the air. Everything was unfamiliar, yet somehow, everything felt different. There was a weight in the silence between the notes, an unspoken yearning carried through the air, something that settled deep within his chest.
He closed his eyes again, just for a moment, allowing himself to be swallowed by the melody. It was beautiful. Not just in sound, but in the feeling it stirred within him, a sensation he could not name, something distant yet intimate, like the echo of a forgotten memory.
And then, as if compelled by an unseen force, he sat up. He could no longer simply lie there. He had to find the source of this music.
Rising quickly, he grabbed his outer robe, slipping it over his shoulders to cover up his inner robe before stepping into his shoes. He didn't bother fastening his outer garment properly; there was no time for that. He needed to know who was playing, who could summon such emotions from an instrument that he felt blessed to have left Jo town.
It was only after the Majestrate of Jo town Hong Gi had left that Prime Minestrr Song Joo made an announcement, one that caught everyone by surprise. They would be leaving the town at once.
Tae So had barely been able to hide his shock. They had only just arrived during the day, and though their presence here had not been particularly welcome with how Hong Gi barged in like he owned the place yet Tae So had assumed they would at least stay for a little while, perhaps long enough to visit the House of Stories or conduct some business before returning home.
But for Song Joo to agree to leave so suddenly meant only one thing Hong Gi no longer wanted them in his town. And if the Prime Minister himself complied without protest, it could only mean there was something larger at play, something unspoken between the two men.
Tae So had no choice but to order his men to begin packing. He did not question Song Joo.
But as they rode through the countryside, he could not shake the feeling of unease.
They had traveled for days, yet instead of heading toward the capital, they made their way to a smaller, far less developed village. The roads were unpaved, the buildings simple and practical, lacking the grandeur of Jo Town. The air smelled of damp earth and freshly cut wood, and there was a quietness here that made Tae So uneasy.
By the time they arrived, it was late into the night. Song Joo had led them to a small residence on the edge of the village, one that had clearly been prepared for their arrival. Tae So was exhausted, too tired to question anything, so he simply ate his meal in silence and fell into a deep, dreamless sleep.
Until the music woke him.
Tae So stepped outside, rubbing the last traces of sleep from his eyes, only to find Song Joo already awake. The Prime Minister stood just outside the main entrance of the residence, his posture straight, his hands clasped behind his back as he listened.
Tae So hesitated for a moment before bowing in greeting.
Song Joo did not respond, but Tae So had come to understand that his silence was often a form of acknowledgment.
A handful of guards had also been stirred by the music, standing at a respectful distance, their faces unreadable.
Tae So did not ask if Song Joo intended to follow the sound. He already knew the answer.
With quiet steps, they made their way through the village, guided only by the melody that wove through the crisp morning air, the wind must have carried it for it to reach them. The sky had begun its slow transformation, streaked with hues of rose gold and soft amber, the world caught between night and day. The scent of dew clung to the earth, and though the village was beginning to wake, there was no sound save for the lingering notes.
The music led them down winding paths, through narrow alleys where the morning mist had yet to dissipate, past wooden houses where shopkeepers were just beginning to stir and it led almost directly to the back of the residence they slept.
And then, finally, they found the source.
She sat beneath a cherry tree in full bloom, the soft pink petals drifting down around her like whispers of the wind.
She was beautiful.
No, beyond beautiful.
She was ethereal. Otherworldly. A vision that did not belong to the dust of this village, nor the rigid world of the courts. She was something in between, something fleeting, something that could vanish like mist if one looked away for too long.
A pipa rested on her lap, its polished wood reflecting the morning light. Her fingers moved with an effortless grace, plucking the strings with a precision that spoke of years of mastery.
Her robes, though elegant, were not of noble quality, yet there was a quiet dignity to them. The golden cranes embroidered upon the fabric seemed to glisten with each shift of movement. It was a garment that had seen time, had been worn and re-worn, yet had never lost its beauty.
Her hair was arranged in an intricate updo, though her ornaments were simple, just a few delicate pins that shimmered as she moved. She was dressed as someone neither noble nor common, neither extravagant nor modest. She was an enigma.
Tae So felt something shift inside him, something unnameable.
Beside him, Song Joo studied the woman with narrowed eyes. He was a man who had seen power take many forms, and he recognized it in her, not in wealth, not in status, but in presence.
The final note hung in the air, trembling for just a breath before dissolving into the morning breeze.
She lifted her gaze.
Her face was unreadable, her expression neither warm nor cold. Yet her eyes large, dark, and filled with something he could not define pierced through him.
She wore no makeup, and there was a maturity to her features, yet she was breathtaking in a way that had nothing to do with beauty alone. It was something else entirely, something beyond skin, beyond flesh.
And then, without a word, she stood.
She did not bow. She did not acknowledge them. She simply slung her pipa onto her back and began walking away.
Something inside Tae So panicked.
He had to stop her. He didn't know why, but he just had to.
But before he could move, Song Joo stepped forward.
"You. Stop!"
His voice cut through the morning air but she didn't stop neither did she turn walking away like she didn't hear them.
Song Joo had to chase her and when he got close, he grabbed her shoulder as a desperate means to stop her as he released it almost immediately knowing it was improper to touch a woman out in the open like that.
For a moment, it seemed as though she would turn, would acknowledge him.
But then, in a blur of movement, she spun, her fist connecting with Song Joo's face.
Tae So's breath caught. His mouth parted in shock. He couldn't believe what he just saw.
The Prime Minister had just been struck.
A whole Prime Minister.
The guards surged forward, hands on their weapons but Song Joo quickly raised a hand as a signal to them not to take any action.
And then...
"Eh... eh.. uh..!"
She waved her hands frantically, her expression a mixture of shock and fear.
Tae So's heart pounded as his eyes widened when he realised what was happening.
She was mute. She was deaf.
Tae So couldn't believe that a deaf person could play a music instrument perfectly like that.
She clutched her pipa close to her chest, backing away slowly as she frowned, watching Song Joo like she had to be wary of him, before turning and walking into the mist.
And for the first time, Tae So felt as if he had just lost something he would never be able to find again.