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Chapter Text

The Silk Bond

In a rigidly structured society where traditions and appearances defined the value and power of families, heterosexual marriage was not merely an option it was an obligation. The union between a man and a woman symbolized stability, continuity, and respect for the principles governing daily life. For those in positions of power, this norm was more than a social expectation; it was an indispensable tool for solidifying their place within the hierarchy.

In such a context, there was no room for acceptance of differences. Homosexuality, though often whispered about in the shadows, was seen as a deviation that threatened the moral fabric of society. For those who lived under the weight of this secret, heterosexual marriage became a necessary facade, a shield against rumors and criticism that could shatter reputations and legacies.

For Yoon Seungho, a man whose position depended on his ability to project strength and control, marriage was neither an act of love nor desire it was a calculated strategy. Although his heart and passions belonged to Na-Kyum, he understood that society would never accept him as his sole companion. He needed a wife who could fulfill the duty of providing heirs, strengthen his standing, and, above all, ensure that questions about his masculinity and preferences were buried beneath a layer of societal conformity.

In this arrangement, the wife was nothing more than a piece on the political chessboard, a tool to silence rumors and reinforce the image of the Yoon family. Yet for You, the woman chosen to occupy that role, the marriage meant a personal sacrifice: abandoning her own dreams and desires to fulfill a role she had never asked for.

Thus began a union not marked by love but by necessity, in a society that forgave no differences and demanded that appearances always come first. A story where bonds meant to unite became chains, and where hearts, though constrained, still found ways to resist.

The day of the wedding dawned cloudy, as if the very sky resisted the union about to take place. Bells echoed throughout the village, announcing the marriage of Lord Yoon, the eldest son of one of the most influential families in the country. For most, it was a day of celebration, an event that would mark the beginning of a new era of stability and power. But for those directly involved, it was a painful reminder of the sacrifices demanded by duty and status.

She adjusted the ribbon of her hanbok once more, her hands trembling slightly as she gazed at her reflection in the mirror. The fabric was exquisite, adorned with golden floral embroidery a symbol of the wealth and prominence of the Yoon clan. Yet to her, it was merely armor, concealing her reality: a young woman sacrificed by her family, used as a tool for political advancement, like livestock sold to the highest bidder. She knew she was unwanted, merely a pawn on a board controlled by Seungho’s firm hand. Their marriage was nothing more than a way to silence rumors about his masculinity rumors of his preferences that even the emperor wished to avoid addressing.

Across the mansion, Seungho prepared in silence. His expression was a mask of indifference, but those who knew him well were aware of the storm raging within. The night before, his hands had traced the face and body of Na-Kyum, as if trying to memorize every line and detail before facing the inevitable duty that awaited him. Now, standing before the mirror, his reflection stared back with a mixture of disdain and resignation. The weight of the Yoon lineage was a yoke he could not ignore. Though his heart belonged to Na-Kyum, he knew the only way to protect him was to accept her as his wife. Other nobles had lovers both male and female, but the figure of a primary wife was crucial. Her womb could provide descendants, something Na-Kyum could never give him.

The ceremony was a spectacle of opulence. Guests crowded the courtyard, whispering about the bride’s beauty and the Yoon family’s fortune. The young woman walked with her head bowed, her steps light yet firm, aware of every gaze upon her. When she finally reached Seungho’s side, she looked up briefly, and their eyes met. There was no spark, no tenderness only a silent understanding of what they represented to each other: duty and sacrifice.

Na-Kyum watched from the shadows, his heart heavy with a mixture of emotions he couldn’t name. He had been Seungho’s confidant, lover, and the only one who knew his true self. He had witnessed his rage, tenderness, and inner struggles. And now, he had to watch as Seungho took another person as his wife. Though he knew it wasn’t for love, the pain was unbearable.

As the vows were spoken, Na-Kyum remembered the nights when Seungho had promised they would always be together, murmured words shared between kisses and caresses. He knew the love they shared couldn’t be erased, but he also understood that society demanded more of Seungho than he could give. This wedding wasn’t a betrayal but a sacrifice they both had to endure.

When the final bow was made, Seungho took his new wife’s hand for the first time. His grip was firm, almost too strong, as if trying to assert himself even in that gesture. She endured it in silence, maintaining the impeccable composure expected of her. But when she looked into his eyes, she caught a glimpse of something behind the cold facade a spark of humanity that made him more complex than she had imagined, or perhaps a spark of humanity that wasn’t meant for her.

Night fell over the Yoon mansion, and silence took hold of its halls. Seungho didn’t go to his wife’s room immediately. Instead, he stopped in his study, knowing Na-Kyum would be waiting. When he found him, the young man was sitting beside an oil lamp, his hands clasped in his lap.

“Is this what you wanted?” Na-Kyum asked, his voice barely a whisper.

Seungho didn’t respond immediately. Instead, he approached slowly, letting the weight of his presence fill the space between them. When he finally spoke, his tone was grave but tinged with a vulnerability he rarely displayed.

“This changes nothing. You are still mine and always will be.”

Na-Kyum closed his eyes, holding back the tears threatening to fall. He knew Seungho spoke from the heart, but he also knew those words couldn’t change reality. There was now a woman in the house a wife with a purpose he could never fulfill. They locked eyes before Seungho stole a possessive kiss, reminding Na-Kyum who he belonged to and forbidding him to doubt him.

That night, Seungho finally went to his wife’s room. He said nothing as he entered, merely sitting at the corner of the bed and observing her in silence. She didn’t know what to expect, but when she spoke, her voice was firm and neutral, devoid of emotion.

“I’m here to fulfill my role, sir.”

Seungho looked at her, surprised by her frankness. For a brief moment, he thought that perhaps this woman could be more than an obligation. He studied her for a moment longer before leaving the shared bedroom. He had no plans to consummate their marriage.

For now, the mouths that had mocked his masculinity seemed silenced. The marriage contract with her family was strong enough to cover the holes in his life and shield his vulnerabilities from others. For now, everything was fine—as long as she stayed in her place.

That night the young woman could only hear the masculine moans of her husband's concubine. She knew where she was going to be sent to silence the mouths questioning Mr. Yoon's sexual orientation. Although what was difficult to accept was the life she would have to follow in that place.

On the other side of the mansion, Seungho reminded Na-kyum who his man was, using a thin jade bar to insert into his foreskin, while penetrating him from behind, whispering words of love to him, so that he would remember how much he loved him. And perhaps so that he would stop thinking about the woman who would now share the house with them, who seemed to be the trigger for his lover's insecurities.

Chapter Text

 The Shadow of Duty

Dawn at the Yoon mansion always carried an air of tranquil opulence, but to the young wife, it felt like a gilded prison. Her first night in this grand home had been a symphony of uncomfortable silences and empty spaces that seemed to devour any trace of her own thoughts. As she lay in the stifling stillness, faint echoes of pleasure-filled moans spilled from the master’s chambers, a brutal reminder of her place.

Seungho had been brutally clear from the start, his words as cold and precise as the edge of a blade.
“You will fulfill your role as my wife and the mother of my heir. But do not confuse your place here. Na-Kyum holds more weight in this house than you ever will. Stay out of our affairs, and do not attempt to alter what you do not understand.”

She had not replied. There was no room for protest, no space for questions. Her only option was to bow her head in silent acquiescence and play the part assigned to her—just as she always had.

The routine of the Yoon household was rigid and unyielding, something she noticed immediately. The servants treated her with superficial respect, but she could sense the disdain lurking behind their bows. To them, she was an outsider, a tool thrust into a space where she didn’t belong. A figure of inconvenience tolerated but unwelcome.

Each day began early. She supervised meals, inspected the gardens, and ensured every detail of the household ran flawlessly. It was a role she had mastered in her previous home, where she was taught that a woman’s duty was to uphold the façade of stability and perfection, no matter the chaos hidden behind closed doors.

But her greatest challenge wasn’t managing the house; it was coexisting with Na-Kyum.

She often saw him in the hallways, his head perpetually bowed, his gaze averted as though her very existence was an affront. She couldn’t blame him. To Na-Kyum, she was an interloper, a piece forcibly wedged into a puzzle that had already been complete. She was an unwanted presence in his toxic bond with Lord Yoon, an invader in a world where she had no choice but to serve as a pawn.

One afternoon, while arranging flowers in the main hall, Seungho entered with Na-Kyum by his side. Their conversation halted as their eyes landed on her, though Seungho didn’t bother to meet her gaze. He settled on the largest cushion, his presence commanding even in silence, while Na-Kyum stood beside him, hands clasped obediently in front of him.

“What are you doing here?” Seungho asked, his tone dismissive.

“Just tending to the hall, my lord,” she replied, bowing her head deferentially.

Seungho said nothing more, though his sharp gaze lingered on her, as if assessing her worth. Then, he turned back to Na-Kyum, resuming a conversation she knew she wasn’t meant to hear.

It was in moments like these that her position was painfully clear. She wasn’t a wife in the traditional sense; she was a symbol, a carefully constructed façade to satisfy societal expectations. True intimacy and connection were reserved for Na-Kyum, and she had no intention of interfering—not out of respect, but out of fear. To step beyond her bounds would invite punishment, or worse, a life even bleaker than the one she already endured.

That evening, as they shared a strained silence over dinner, Seungho finally spoke.
“You’ve done well staying out of the way. Make sure it stays that way.”

“Yes, my lord,” she replied softly.

Seungho studied her for a moment, his dark eyes searching her face as though hunting for a flicker of defiance or resentment. He found none. The young wife was as perfectly composed as always, her expression a mask of submission that concealed any trace of her own thoughts.

When the meal ended, Seungho rose without another word and left the room, leaving her alone. As she gathered the plates, a wave of emotions she couldn’t name crashed over her—loneliness, resignation, perhaps even a faint twinge of envy. But she pushed them aside, burying them deep within the recesses of her mind.

Her place in this house was unmistakable. She was a shadow, an empty reflection of what society demanded from a wife. And though the pain of her situation was undeniable, she knew she had to endure it—not out of love or loyalty to Seungho, but because it was her duty.

Chapter Text

Days bled into weeks, and weeks into months. The Yoon mansion seemed more prosperous than ever. Allies arrived bearing gifts, the lands flourished under Seungho’s administration, and the servants murmured in hushed tones about how the young lord had solidified his power through marriage.

To those watching from the outside, the union was an undeniable success. But within the mansion’s walls, the air was heavy, cold—an invisible shadow blanketing every corner.

The young Lady Yoon moved silently through the halls, her head always slightly bowed, avoiding any confrontation. She had quickly learned to read the dynamics of the house, where every thread wove tightly around Seungho—and more specifically, around Na-Kyum.

The young wife had never intended to approach her husband’s male lover, not out of disdain but as an instinct for survival. She had heard the rumors long before her wedding, tales of the strange bond that united the two men—a love that defied convention yet seemed to empower Lord Yoon. After the marriage, those stories proved true. She understood her only role was to remain on the sidelines, invisible but efficient, never daring to disrupt the fragile equilibrium.

From her room, she often heard sounds from Na-Kyum’s quarters—laughter, murmured words, and at times, whispers that turned to moans. She would close her eyes tightly, hands clenched into fists—not out of jealousy, but because it reminded her of how foreign she was to all of it. She wasn’t even a part of the equation.

To her, Na-Kyum was like another concubine, but not just any concubine. He was, in a distorted hierarchy, the true spouse. It was evident in Seungho’s gestures, in how his eyes always sought Na-Kyum, in how his mood depended on the other man’s presence. By contrast, she was merely another piece on the chessboard—a concubine of the cold palace, where affection and warmth were nowhere to be found.

Sometimes she wondered what it would be like to be like Na-Kyum, someone who could claim the lord’s heart without fear or shame. But such thoughts were fleeting. The weight of Seungho’s domination, his cruelty wrapped in power, made it clear that such a bond came at a cost.

The first time Seungho spoke directly to her after weeks of silence was during a dinner. The table was long, and only the two of them were present—a constant reminder of the distance between them.
“The clan is satisfied with your conduct. You’ve done well to stay out of the way,” he said, his words more an order than a compliment.

She nodded slowly, never lifting her gaze.
“It is my duty, my lord.”

Seungho studied her with a mixture of curiosity and disdain. It was as if he couldn’t comprehend how someone could accept their fate with such calm. But for his wife, there was nothing to understand. She had been born into this role, groomed to be a tool of stability, and she would fulfill her purpose no matter the personal cost.

That same night, while walking through the garden, she crossed paths with Na-Kyum. The encounter was brief but laden with silent tension. He carried a tray with scrolls and brushes, and when he saw her, he froze.

For a moment, their eyes met. In his, she saw a blend of resentment and curiosity, as though he were trying to decipher her intentions. But she simply inclined her head in a respectful gesture and continued walking, leaving him behind with the certainty that any attempt at closeness would be a grave mistake.

As the months passed, Seungho grew more powerful. Alliances solidified, enemies were silenced, and the Yoon clan’s reputation soared. His marriage had painted him as a respectable man, a model leader. Yet within the mansion, Lady Yoon’s isolation deepened. She had played her role to perfection, but in doing so, she had lost any sense of self. She moved like a ghost through the rooms—always present, yet never truly alive.

One night, as she stared at the moon from her chambers, she reflected on how her life had changed. Before arriving here, she had dreams—small, perhaps, but her own. Now, she was simply a shadow, existing only to reinforce the façade of a man who didn’t see her.

The gatherings at the Yoon mansion were meticulously crafted displays of opulence. Silk draperies, imported wines, and banquets served on fine porcelain plates spoke of consolidated power, of stability no one dared question openly. Yet beneath the laughter and toasts, disdain for Lord Yoon lingered, veiled in polite hypocrisy.

She always sat at his side, in the place designated for a wife, her posture straight, hands resting neatly on her lap. Her role wasn’t to speak but to observe and complement the flawless image Seungho had built. Each scornful glance, every indirect comment, was like a needle pricking her skin. But she never let it show.

The nobles—mostly men—spoke to Seungho with feigned respect, though their eyes betrayed fear and mistrust. They knew the rumors of his relationship with Na-Kyum. While the marriage had silenced much of the gossip, it hadn’t entirely erased doubts about his masculinity or authority. Still, his power was undeniable. With each alliance he forged, with every territory he secured, Seungho tightened his grip, becoming a man no one could challenge openly.

Meanwhile, the wives were ushered into a separate parlor, where conversations took on a different tone.
“You must feel very fortunate to have married Lord Yoon,” one woman said, her voice dripping with mock politeness.

Lady Yoon raised her gaze, meeting the woman’s sharp, too-bright smile.
“It is an honor to serve the Yoon clan,” she replied calmly, her composure unshaken.

The other women exchanged sly smiles, their laughter soft but cutting, as though sharing a private joke.
“They say your husband is... quite passionate,” another woman added, her words laced with insinuation.

They weren’t just mocking her—they were reminding her of her place, that she didn’t truly belong in their world. Her position was a mirage, upheld solely by Seungho’s power.

“Lord Yoon carries many responsibilities. My duty as his wife is to ensure he can fulfill them without distraction,” she answered, her tone measured, leaving no room for further jabs.

But the women continued to scrutinize her, their eyes probing for cracks in her armor.

At one particularly tense gathering, a bold noble made a more pointed remark.
“It’s interesting how marriage has changed your life, Yoon. You seem... more controlled.”

Seungho’s gaze turned icy, his jaw tightening. Lady Yoon, seated beside him, felt the tension crackle in the air but betrayed no reaction.
“Marriage is a useful tool,” Seungho replied coldly. “But my control does not depend on it.”

The room fell silent, the noble’s smirk faltering under Seungho’s piercing stare. The moment passed, but the unspoken truth lingered: Seungho’s reign, like the cold palace he ruled, was as unyielding as it was isolating.

Chapter Text

Na-Kyum had endured countless trials during his time with Seungho—the initial scorn, the brutality, and eventually the twisted love that bound them irrevocably. Yet, he had never felt a pang as persistent as the one that gnawed at him every time Lady Yoon crossed his path within the mansion’s sprawling halls. At first, he convinced himself that her presence was inconsequential, a decorative figure brought in by Seungho merely to satisfy society’s demands. But as months slipped by, it became clear that she was far more than a simple tool.

Na-Kyum often watched her from a distance, trying to understand her. Her steps were always assured, her gestures calm and deliberate. She never raised her voice, yet her presence filled every room she entered. The rumors that had once plagued Seungho—the jeering whispers of his affairs and supposed inadequacies—had all but vanished, and it was her doing.

The irony cut deep. Na-Kyum was the lover, the only one who truly knew Seungho in his entirety, and yet it was Lady Yoon who shielded him from the venomous tongues of society. He couldn’t help but feel displaced, even knowing that Seungho’s love burned for him, that every night his actions left no doubt of his devotion.

One afternoon, as Na-Kyum organized his painting tools in the study, he overheard two servants murmuring in the hallway.

“Lady Yoon is remarkable. She’s silenced even the most outspoken wives. Even the nobles are beginning to respect her.”

“It’s true. But don’t forget—the master only has eyes for his painter.”

The words should have comforted him, but they didn’t. Though he knew Seungho’s heart was his, he also knew that heart was a prisoner to the duties and expectations that Lady Yoon helped fulfill.

Later that evening, as Na-Kyum sat alone in the studio, Seungho entered, his expression serious, his gaze probing.
“Why have you been so quiet lately?” Seungho asked, his tone more curious than accusatory.

Na-Kyum hesitated, his hands gripping the edge of the table. “Am I truly the most important to you?”

The question was simple, yet it carried an unbearable weight. Seungho frowned, his brow furrowing as his jaw tightened.
“Don’t be ridiculous. Why would you ask that?”

Na-Kyum sighed, setting down the brush he had been holding. “Because I can’t help but feel she has something I don’t. Something you need more than you need me.”

The silence that followed was suffocating. Seungho crossed his arms, his expression darkening as he considered his response.
“She fulfills a role you cannot. But don’t mistake that for priority. You are my heart.” Na-Kyum nodded slowly, but the explanation didn’t entirely dispel the unease that lingered in his chest.

The next day, Na-Kyum and Lady Yoon crossed paths in the garden. It was rare for them to speak, but something in the still air that afternoon compelled them to stop.

“You seem thoughtful,” Lady Yoon said, her tone polite but distant. Na-Kyum glanced up, surprised that she was the first to speak. “It’s strange to hear you talk to me. I thought you preferred to avoid me” She regarded him calmly, tilting her head slightly. “I don’t avoid you. But I know my place, and I don’t wish to disturb yours.”

Her words were so straightforward, so honest, that they momentarily left Na-Kyum at a loss for words. Finally, he sighed. “Do you never feel lonely here?” Lady Yoon smiled faintly, a smile that didn’t reach her eyes. “Loneliness is the price of duty.”

Na-Kyum felt an unexpected pang of empathy, but also something deeper—an unspoken connection. For the first time, he realized that they were both trapped in their roles, sacrificing different parts of themselves for the same man.

Na-Kyum had spent months regarding Lady Yoon with distrust, viewing her as a silent threat to his life with Seungho. Yet, bit by bit, he began to understand that she wasn’t an adversary. She wasn’t there to take anything from him, nor did she have any love for Seungho. She was merely another pawn, placed on the board by forces beyond her control.

The meeting in the garden left an impression on Na-Kyum. For the first time, he saw Lady Yoon as more than a decorative figure or a rival. Her words lingered in his mind: “Loneliness is the price of duty.”

A few days later, they crossed paths again in the main corridor. This time, Na-Kyum, driven by impulse, decided to speak.
“Lady Yoon,” he called softly, his voice hesitant but steady. She stopped and turned to face him, her serene expression betraying a hint of weariness.
“Yes?” He hesitated, unsure if he should proceed, but then asked, “Why did you accept this? This marriage, this life?”

The question was bold, but she didn’t appear offended. Instead, she let out a nearly imperceptible sigh.
“Because I had no choice,” she replied simply, her words heavy with resignation.

Na-Kyum nodded slowly, expecting a more elaborate answer, but finding that her raw honesty was enough.
“Does… our relationship bother you?” he asked cautiously, voicing the question that had haunted him since her arrival.

For the first time, Lady Yoon’s lips curved into a small, almost imperceptible smile—one devoid of malice or sarcasm, but filled with quiet acceptance.
“No. It doesn’t bother me because I know my place, and I know yours.”

Her words, so clear and unwavering, left Na-Kyum feeling exposed. He had spent so much time fearing her, jealous of her ability to fulfill a role he never could, that he hadn’t considered what that role meant for her.

From that moment on, Na-Kyum began to see Lady Yoon in a different light. He observed how she navigated noble gatherings, endured the cutting remarks of the wives, and maintained her composure even when Seungho ignored her entirely. There was something admirable in her unwavering resolve, in her ability to bear the weight of a life she hadn’t chosen.

Although their interactions grew more frequent, they maintained a deliberate distance. She knew that getting too close to Na-Kyum might cause Seungho to question her intentions, something she couldn’t afford. Meanwhile, Na-Kyum still felt a residual insecurity, though he couldn’t deny the growing respect he held for her.

One night, sitting alone in his room, Na-Kyum found himself reflecting on all that had changed since Lady Yoon’s arrival. Initially, he had viewed her as a threat, someone who could take away the place he had fought so hard to secure. But now, he understood that she, too, was trapped.

“She’s not here out of love,” he thought. “She’s here because someone decided she had to be. Just like me.”

The realization was bitter but oddly comforting. For the first time, he felt a sense of peace—not just with her presence, but with himself. The jealousy that had once consumed him began to fade, replaced by a quiet understanding of the roles they both played in Seungho’s cold, unforgiving world.

Chapter Text

Seungho held his lover by the back of his hair, carefully stroking his hair as the younger man carefully sucked his cock. When he felt like he was going too slow, he held his head tightly so that he almost choked. Na-kyum's teary eyes only made the whole thing more exciting. He had spent a lot of time working, talking to pompous nobles to keep going. And while Na-kyum was doing his job sucking his cock, an unexpected visitor arrived at his office. His legal wife, the woman he married out of duty and to silence rumors, knew that the woman knew about his relationship with his male lover, but she didn't say anything.

Even if she found them in awkward situations like this one, in at that moment with his lover sucking his cock with need. The woman knocked on the door and ordered him to enter. The woman was not surprised to see the male lover between his legs. It's more Seungho took advantage to almost suffocate him with his big fat penis causing the man to choke and try to separate himself to look at him with teary eyes and then look at the woman at the door. The young man blushed and wanted to stop, but he ordered him to continue. Reluctantly the younger man with brown hair did so.
"What do you need Lady Yoon" asked looking at his wife by name.
The woman approached and handed him an account book. There was a tacit understanding between the two, he already knew that the woman would not appear unless it was important, he opened the book and saw the red mark, obviously showing a change, a lack of money from another region under his command.
"Speak" he said with a sign to the woman who rushed to tell him the situation, the region was adjacent to one of his fierce enemies, a noble man who continued to set fire to his sexual orientation, causing intrigues within the emperor... problems. Since he had gotten married some time ago, he hadn't had them, but it was obvious that for other nobles his presence was a nuisance and the easiest way to attack him was his sexual preferences...

"I'll deal with this later, thanks for the information" He said almost mocking the woman who refused to watch as his male concubine gave him oral sex. The woman leaned down and vanished elegantly.
With a few more licks he came directly into his lover's mouth and forced him to swallow his seed.
“So, why are you blushing so much?” he asked his lover with a characteristic laugh of his.
“She, she was here,” he said shyly
“She's always around here, I don't know why it scares you so much she understands her position” he finally said before pulling him onto his lap and adjusting his ass to penetrate him in that squatting position.
“Master!” The young man moaned as the thick cock entered his body. A pleasure that he loved and that hurt him at times.

Days after

The candlelight in the study barely illuminated Seungho’s tense face. The meeting with the imperial envoy had made one thing clear: the rumors were no mere whispers—they were a direct threat to his position. No matter how much power he had accumulated, he was still beneath the emperor, and a single misstep could cost him everything.

He entered Na-Kyum’s room that night, earlier than usual. The painter was seated on the floor, surrounded by papers and ink, but upon seeing Seungho’s somber expression, he set everything aside and knelt before him.

“What is the matter, my lord?” Na-Kyum asked, his voice filled with concern.

Seungho sank into the chair, resting his head on his hand as he let out a long sigh.

“Things are becoming more complicated than I anticipated,” he finally said, his tone low and weary. “The rumors… the expectations… it’s all catching up to us.”

Na-Kyum leaned toward him, his hands trembling slightly as he placed them on Seungho’s knees.

“If there’s anything I can do to help,” he said earnestly.

Seungho looked at him, his gaze softening at the sincerity on Na-Kyum’s face. He took one of Na-Kyum’s hands and held it gently.

“This is not your fault, Na-Kyum. It never has been.”

Silence filled the room as both men absorbed the weight of those words. Finally, Seungho spoke again, his voice barely a whisper.

“Soon, we may have to make difficult decisions—decisions we won’t like but that will be necessary.”

Na-Kyum looked at him with eyes full of uncertainty but asked no further questions. He knew pressing the matter wouldn’t help.

“I trust you, my lord. I will do whatever is necessary.”

Seungho nodded slowly, though Na-Kyum’s words only added to the weight on his shoulders. For the first time, he allowed himself to doubt his ability to protect everything he had built.

Meanwhile, his wife had heard whispers about her husband’s meeting with the imperial envoy. Though she didn’t know the details, she could sense that matters were reaching a critical point. That night, as she reviewed the family accounts, she reflected on her position. She had spent months as a shadow, fulfilling her duties without question, but now she realized that her passivity would not protect her.

The next morning, Seungho summoned her to the main hall. Though his tone was cold, there was an unmistakable tension in his posture.

“The rumors are spreading. The emperor is watching. We cannot afford any mistakes, including maintaining the appearance of perfection.”

His wife nodded without emotion, but her words were firm.

“I will do what is necessary, my lord. My duty is clear.”

Seungho observed her for a moment, as if trying to decipher something within her. Finally, he nodded.

“I expect no less.”

Though his words sounded like a warning, there was something else in his tone—a recognition that, in her own way, she too was fighting to maintain balance in a situation teetering on the edge of collapse.

Later that day, Seungho found Na-Kyum in the garden, gazing at the sky with a paintbrush in hand. Without a word, Seungho sat beside him, watching the leaves slowly fall from the trees.

“I’ve been thinking” Seungho said after a long silence. “Perhaps this is just another test”

Na-Kyum turned to look at him, surprised by the vulnerability in his voice.

“Do you believe that’s possible?” he asked softly.

Seungho didn’t respond immediately. Instead, he picked up one of the fallen leaves and turned it over in his fingers.

“No,” he admitted. 

The night was cold, but the atmosphere within the Yoon mansion was even colder.

Seungho sat in his study, hands folded on the desk, his eyes fixed on a distant point. Across from him, his wife stood stiffly, her posture rigid as she tried to mask the discomfort she felt.

“We’ve reached the limit,” Seungho said at last, breaking the heavy silence. His voice was firm, but there was a note of weariness in it. “The rumors won’t stop, and the emperor will not be satisfied with empty words” His wife didn’t respond immediately. She knew what was coming, but that didn’t make it any easier to accept.

“And what is your decision, my lord?” she asked, keeping her tone neutral. Seungho lifted his gaze, his expression a mix of determination and resignation. “We will give them what they want. An heir” The weight of his words hit her like a stone. Though she had anticipated it, hearing it spoken aloud made it feel more real, more inescapable.

“I understand, my lord,” she replied, not allowing her voice to betray the storm of emotions brewing inside her.

But Seungho wasn’t finished. He rose slowly, stepping toward her with deliberate movements.

“This is not a request, Lady Yoon. This is what is expected of us. I don’t care how you feel about it. Just make sure this doesn’t become another reason for ridicule.”

His words were harsh, but she knew they didn’t stem from cruelty—they came from the crushing pressure he, too, was under.

“I will do my part, my lord,” she finally said, lifting her chin with cold dignity. “But make no mistake—this won’t solve anything.”

Seungho observed her for a moment longer, as though weighing the meaning behind her words.

“Perhaps not. But at least it will buy us time.”

The next day, as she walked through the garden, Lady Yoon crossed paths with Na-Kyum. Though they rarely spoke, the silence between them that morning felt heavier than usual. Na-Kyum, with his ever-gentle expression, looked up and greeted her with a slight bow.

“Good morning, Lady Yoon.”

She nodded, pausing briefly before replying.

“Good morning, Na-Kyum.”

A brief silence followed before Na-Kyum spoke again, his tone cautious.

“I heard that Master Yoon made an... important decision” Lady Yoon couldn’t help but let out a bitter smile.

“‘Important’? I suppose that’s one way to put it” Na-Kyum didn’t know what else to say. He understood that Seungho’s decision, though necessary, would only make things more complicated for everyone.

“I’m sorry that… you have to go through this,” he said, his voice sincere.

She looked at him for a moment, surprised by the honesty in his tone. Finally, she sighed.

“You don’t need to apologize, Na-Kyum” With that, she resumed her walk, leaving Na-Kyum alone with his thoughts.

Chapter Text

That night, when the time finally came to fulfill Seungho's decision, the atmosphere in the room was cold and tense. Young Lady Yoon sat on the edge of the bed; her hands clasped in her lap.

Red candles adorned the room as if the moment of union was a moment of celebration, for her it was as if a thousand stones were falling on her. On one hand the voices and criticism would fall, on the other she couldn't help but shudder at Master Yoon's cruelty. She wasn't his male lover after all, she was only there to fulfill her duty.

Seungho entered, his presence mesmerizing with the part of his upper clothing discarded and closing the door behind him with a firm movement. There were no words between them as he approached.

She took a deep breath, preparing herself for what was to come. "It's just one more task. Something I must do, I have no other choice."
As he leaned towards her, their eyes met for a brief moment. There was more than just coldness in Seungho's; there was resignation and contempt for what he was going to do, because he was going to do it to her.

However, neither of them said anything. At that moment, they both knew there was no room for emotion. It was a mechanical act, a sacrifice to protect something bigger than themselves.

And it didn't take long for his imposing figure to approach her not like a meeting in something that should be intimate, although for both of them it seemed more like a heavy burden. There were no soft kisses, only the movement of the man's large hands removing her clothes, so he could see her body. Just as expected from someone from a noble house, her skin was milky white and cared for beyond belief, her breasts firm and her pink nipples bristled at the contact with the air.

The woman had the smell of fresh flowers. Seungho, not wanting to stop and make this a circus, with his soft kiss on her neck told her to turn around, to give him the view only of her soft back and ass. She obeyed and he took some oil he had nearby that would serve as a lubricant to be able to continue and finish the matter. He let the liquid run between the curve of the woman's buttocks, causing the woman to shudder, with his large hands he carefully caressed her white buttocks, letting the oil reach her flower petals.

He didn't waste time a few shakes of his hands on his penis, and it was already hard, for some reason keeping her on her back reminded him of Na-Kyum, that way he could feel his excitement grow....

The woman lay down on the bed, with her ass in the air while Seungho finished adding oil on the petals of her closed flower, intact like a precious gift that should be broken. Seungho played with the tip of his penis and the petals of his wife's rose by name. It was different, he could feel the woman shudder at his touch, and he knew it would hurt. But he didn't care, there was no love, there was duty and with one hand on her hip and the other pointing directly at the blunt head of his cock he began to enter the woman's delicate body hoping the oil would be enough to allow him to enter. He could do it slowly or not, he was not a patient man and with one quick movement penetrated her mercilessly, taking with him the virginal barrier and provoking a scream from the woman who was now writhing in pain and trying to get away from him, there was no way he was going to let her get away, he held her firmly in place, enjoying how the virgin flesh of the flower tried to get used to the intrusion of something bigger.

“I can't, please take it out” was the first time he heard a complaint from his wife begging for mercy, because the pain had torn her apart. Seungho was not a man who was going to accept something as mercy, in fact he moved his hips back to let his penis out of the wet cave and the scene became more grotesque with the blood mixed with the oil he used as lubricant. Something inside his eyes turned dark, dangerous and with another movement of his hips he was again inside his wife who complained again asking for mercy, asking for time for her body to get used to it and he wasn't going to do it, he didn't take orders...

But somehow he ended up cumming more than once inside the woman's belly, a woman's body was definitely made to squeeze, to suck his penis as if it had little mouths, to squeeze it, the drops of sweat fell down his body as he moved his hips quickly just like he did with Na-Kyum, there was no delicacy, only satisfaction, only fulfilling his duty... but it tasted soo good! and a dark idea was getting into his head...

The nights at the Yoon mansion took on a new rhythm. Seungho, in his usual calculating way, decided that one night would not be enough to ensure the fulfillment of the duty that the emperor demanded.

Chapter Text