The wooden gates creaked open as Prime Minister Song stepped into the inner courtyard of pear country yard. His presence was rare here—almost nonexistent. The residence, though grand, was completely unfamiliar to him. Yet today, he had come.
At the doorway, a slender figure stood waiting. Song Jae.
Her sharp eyes studied him, suspicion flickering beneath the surface. She wasn't used to unexpected visits from her father.
"Appa, what brings you here?" she asked, her voice steady but laced with hesitation.
Prime Minister Song let out a soft chuckle. "Can't a father visit his own daughter?"
She forced a smile, polite yet distant. "Of course, you can. It's just... surprising. You've never visited me before."
A long silence stretched between them. Then, he reached out, placing a firm yet gentle hand on her shoulder.
"I know I haven't been a great father to you and your brother," he admitted, his voice tinged with something close to regret. "But I want to change that. From now on, I promise to be there for you both. I will try to make up for all the lost time."
Song Jae's fingers curled into the fabric of her sleeve. Such a thing never happened in the plot of the novel, when she read it. How come things are changing now.
Song jae was feeling some kind of anger in her heart.
This wasn't her. The original host of this body had longed for her father's love, had yearned for these words. But Song Jae… she wanted him to remain indifferent. She wanted the distance.
Yet she couldn't say that. It would be unnatural. Suspicious.
Instead, she let out a soft sigh and smiled. "Father, I'm truly happy that you've been thinking about us."
Her lips moved on their own, and before she could stop herself, tears slipped down her cheeks.
Song Jae gritted her teeth. Not again.
She wasn't the type to cry over sentimental words. But the original host—this body—clung to emotions she did not own. And as much as she despised it, she had no choice but to endure.
Her father, oblivious to her inner turmoil, patted her head lightly. "Come, stop crying you were about to eat, weren't you? Let's have the meal together."
She exhaled slowly, wiping the moisture from her eyes. "Alright. Join me, then."
Song Sena, the ever-diligent maid, hurried to fetch an extra set of plates. The two of them father and daughter sat at the table, the air tense yet civil.
As they finished the meal, her father leaned back, stretching his arms slightly. "Jae, how about we take a walk outside? The fresh air will do us good."
She tilted her head in amusement. Since when does he take leisure walks?
Still, she nodded. "Indeed, Father. I had the same thought. Song Sena, bring me my coat." After it has was already cold now since it was almost the beginning of winter, sometimes it might even snow.
Once she was properly dressed, the two of them strolled through the garden, a soft breeze rustling the autumn leaves.
"So, tell me, Jae," her father began. "What do you think of your new teacher?"
She didn't have to lie about this. "I'm thoroughly impressed with Madam Jung. Her teaching style is exceptional, and her patience is remarkable. I feel fortunate to have her as my mentor."
Prime Minister Song hummed in approval. "Madam Jung and your mother were quite close, you know. Especially when your mother was expecting you. They shared a lovely friendship."
Song Jae raised a brow. This part wasn't in the novel.
"They had an agreement," her father continued. "If you were born a girl, she would take you as her goddaughter. If a boy, her godson."
Her fingers tightened around the sleeves of her coat. "She wanted to take me as her goddaughter… so why didn't it happen?"
Her father's expression darkened. His gaze drifted toward the horizon as if thinking about something that happened in the past.
"An incident occurred at the palace around that time," he said, his voice measured. "She was unable to leave for several years. By the time she was free… your mother had already passed away."
A quiet pause.
"The matter was set aside," he admitted, turning back to her. "But Jae, I want you to know… your mother and I were never a perfect match."
Song Jae stilled. This conversation had taken an unexpected turn.
"I can't disclose the reasons," he murmured. "But I swear to you, I never wished for her death. I had no involvement in it. Do you believe me?"
She did.
Because she already knew the truth.
She had read the novel. Her mother's declining health, the relentless taunts from Concubine Jin about her father's affections—those were what had truly worn her down.
"Father, promise me something," she said softly.
He looked at her expectantly.
"Promise me you won't use my brother and me as pawns for political marriages. Let us choose our own partners."
His eyes twinkled with amusement. "You cheeky girl, trying to escape my grasp already?" He flicked her forehead lightly, making her scowl.
With a sudden burst of playfulness, she dodged his hand and ran forward, a mischievous grin tugging at her lips. Her father smirked and gave chase.
From a distance, Song Nari watched, her eyes wide with shock.
The Prime Minister… playing?
It was unheard of. The man was always composed, always strict—even in his moments of affection.
Yet here he was, smiling. Laughing.
For the first time, he looked like a father, not just a Prime Minister.
And for the first time, Song Nari wasn't sure how to feel about it.
He had never shown this side of himself before to her sister or brothers.
Song Nari's hands clenched around her silk handkerchief, the delicate fabric wrinkling beneath her grip. Jealousy burned in her chest, hot and suffocating, as she watched her father laugh—truly laugh—with Song Jae.
She had never seen him like this.
For years, he had been distant, cold, and indifferent. Even though he may seem closer to her siblings than her elder sister , Song Jae and her elder brother Song Ji but now, with Song Jae, he was different. Warmer. Softer.
Song Nari's nails dug into her palm as she forced herself to turn away before she did something reckless.
Without another glance, she hurried toward her mother's Moon Palace, her mind already spinning with schemes.
If she didn't act soon, Song Jae would take everything.
The scent of jasmine incense filled the air as Song Nari stepped into her mother's chambers. There, seated in front of an ornate bronze mirror, was Madam Jin, slowly combing her long, dark hair.
The sight made Song Nari's blood boil.
"Mother, how can you still find time for this?" she snapped, storming inside. "Father is getting closer to that woman's children. Shouldn't we be doing something about it?"
Madam Jin didn't even pause, her movements as graceful as ever. "No matter what your father does, I still have the final say in Song Jae's marriage," she said calmly.
"If your father tries to interfere, I will have no choice but to bring your grandmother back from the temple. You know he never dares to go against her."
Song Nari frowned. "Are you sure this will work?"
"It has to."
A silence settled between them before Madam Jin smiled, her tone shifting. "Enough about them. We should focus on ourselves."
"What do you mean?"
"The palace event is in two weeks. I plan to invite the court's finest tailor tomorrow to take measurements for your dress—and your sister's."
Song Nari's eyes flickered with understanding.
"Mother, we must not forget to buy a dress for my elder sister, as we usually do. Considering Father's current mood, it's best not to neglect her."
Madam Jin sighed. "Yes, yes, I know. Your brother made an unnecessary comment yesterday that caused a stir. We can't afford more gossip. Don't worry—I'll make sure Song Jae has a dress as well."
She smirked, her voice laced with disdain. "Though, everyone knows she has no sense of fashion anyway."
Song Nari chuckled, the tension momentarily easing. "Shall we call the tailor tomorrow, then? Or simply buy something ready-made?"
Madam Jin tapped her chin. "We'll see."
Elsewhere, Prime Minister Song Myun sat in deep thought. His daughter had changed.
For years, she had been no different from the other noble daughters—arrogant, prideful, obsessed with status. Yet, recently… she had begun to carry herself differently.
He recalled how Song Jae had requested a change in wardrobe.
"Why?" he had asked.
"Because my clothes lack a sense of fashion," she had replied simply. The words had surprised him.
Now, as soon as he returned from court, he found himself heading toward Moon Palace to speak with Madam Jin.
When Madam Jin saw her husband step into her chambers, her heart leapt.
She had expected him to stay away.
"Husband," she greeted sweetly, rising to assist him. With careful hands, she helped him undress for a bath, her fingers lingering longer than necessary.
Later, as he sat on the edge of her bed, freshly dressed, he spoke.
"Tomorrow, invite the tailor. Song Jae needs new clothes." Madam Jin stiffened, but she did not argue.
Seeing her remain silent, Song Myun's expression softened. Satisfied, he decided to spend the night in her chambers.
The next morning, Madam Jin was overjoyed.
She hummed as she moved through the palace, her mood so light that she rewarded all her servants—a rare occurrence.
Yet, deep within, resentment stirred. Song Jae.
That girl had somehow managed to steal a fraction of her husband's attention. And that… she could not allow.
After her morning studies, Song Jae felt restless.
She had spent days confined to the estate, and she longed to experience the city's morning atmosphere.
Turning to her maid, she announced, "Song Sook, let's go shopping today! Staying here is suffocating."
Song Sook hesitated. "We need Madam Jin's permission first—"
"Don't worry," Song Jae interrupted, a smirk playing on her lips. "She won't dare give me trouble now. Come on, let's go!"
With that, she stepped into the carriage, choosing Song Min and Song Sook to accompany her.
The bustling marketplace was alive with color and sound, the aroma of fresh bread and spices filling the air.
As Song Jae stepped down from the carriage, her eyes wandered over the various stalls, searching for something that might catch her interest.
Then, she froze.
A figure stood just a few steps away.
His back was turned, but there was something eerily familiar about him.
Her heart pounded.
He looked exactly like someone from her past life.