Chapter 58.1

Chapter 58.1

Ara turned her head toward the voice.

Crossing the opposite corridor with a steady stride was a man. He was much taller than Yeongso, the owner of this body, and strikingly handsome. His ceremonial robe looked like a matched set with hers, as though the two had been made as a pair.

The man stopped right in front of her. The middle-aged woman slowly released Yeongso’s hand.

After a brief, polite exchange of glances, the woman returned to where the rest of the family stood. Even the young maid stepped back at the man’s signal.

“Truly beautiful.”

He smiled as he looked down at her, clearly pleased with the sight before him.

But Ara couldn’t smile back. Her heart didn’t beat with excitement, nor did she feel the flutter of hope she might have expected.

Instead, she felt strangely cold. A faint aversion rose from the pit of her instincts.

Did Yeongso not marry this man for love?

Of course, among the nobility, marriages had always been closer to contracts for passing down power than unions born of romance. More often than not, they were family alliances, not the fruit of free choice.

“Shall we go?”

Still, Ara found herself hoping Yeongso’s life would be a happy one.

Even if the marriage had nothing to do with love, maybe it could still end in affection overflowing.

She rose with that silent prayer in her heart.

Roll. Something slipped inside the long sleeve, sliding down against her skin.

Puzzled, Ara reached into the silken fabric. Her fingertips caught on something small, smooth, and round, just big enough to fit in her hand.

What’s this?

She carefully drew the object out, her brow knitting the moment she saw it.

Not because it was unpleasant or repulsive.

But because it was dazzling. The gold casing and lavish gems threw off such a riot of colors that the glare made her eyes ache.

Blinking away the afterimage, Ara adjusted her vision and studied it more closely.

In shape, it looked like a compact makeup case, the kind with a lid that flipped open and shut.

It was crafted entirely of gold, engraved with patterns resembling winding stems that wrapped around its top and sides. Across the lid, dozens of diamonds, gold and silver beads, and tiny multicolored jewels no bigger than a fingernail had been set in a circular design, sparkling as though alive.

Even the tiniest details glittered; hundreds of rice-grain-sized gems, pavé-set like diamonds, lined the lid’s center and traced every edge in overlapping rows.

“It must be something you treasure dearly. You can’t seem to part with it for even a moment.”

As Ara lingered over the object, inspecting every facet, the man shook his head with a helpless smile.

“Well, you did say your father gifted it to you with special care. Was it for your eighth birthday?”

At his words, Ara suddenly remembered a past dream.

Little Yeongso, receiving a gift from her father inside a wooden box.

She’d woken before she could see what it was. And now she realized that it had been this.

“But you don’t need a mirror to know. I already told you. You’re beautiful enough as you are.”

A mirror?

At last, Ara understood the purpose of the dazzling object in her hand. It was a hand mirror. And the discovery left her quietly astonished.

This world seemed at least a thousand years older than her own, yet even then, they had the craftsmanship to create something so delicate, so elaborate.

She ran her fingers over the ornate frame, searching for a notch.

Click. The lid sprang open, and the hidden reflective surface shone back at her.

“King.”

Everything around her froze at once, as though someone had pressed pause on a video.

“Don’t you think it’s about time we switched?”

That voice… Seol-do?

The instant Ara recognized it, the dream collapsed. The world turned inside out, ground and sky flipping as if they would crush her.

The kaleidoscope of colors smeared black, as though doused in ink, and then a heavy fever crashed down over her body.

When she finally forced her eyes open, the first thing she saw was a familiar ceiling; the one above her room in the goblin’s house.

Dazed, she struggled to catch hold of her returning senses. From the shadowy figure half-turned away from her, a low voice drifted out.

“I said she’s fine.”

It was Seok-kyung’s, deep and steady.

“I can’t help worrying.”

“Pointless worry…”