The days grew longer as summer ripened, yet the ache of the past lingered like a shadow across the new life Hae-won and Jin-seo had built. Each morning, the sun cast golden light over the small schoolhouse they had opened—a humble place where village children gathered to learn reading, poetry, and the calligraphy that Jin-seo cherished.
But even in the laughter of children, a quiet sadness clung to Hae-won's heart.
One afternoon, as she folded laundry beneath the shade of an ancient oak, a bundle of letters—carefully tied with crimson ribbon—came into her hands. It was a secret treasure Jin-seo had kept hidden, letters written by Hae-won herself, drafted in moments of solitude but never sent.
Each letter was addressed to her family, her father, even to Lord Kang.
She read one aloud by the firelight:
*"I am alive, Father. Not lost, only found anew. I have chosen a path not laid before me, but one that my heart carved. I forgive your silence, but I hope you will someday forgive me. I am no longer your obedient daughter, but a woman who has learned to live."*
Tears fell, mixing with the smoke and memories.
"I was afraid," Hae-won whispered. "Afraid of being forgotten. Afraid of what love might demand."
Jin-seo took her hand. "Your courage writes a story no one else could tell."
Together, they decided to send one letter—a message of peace and hope—to her father.
Weeks passed.
Then, one morning, a rider arrived bearing a sealed scroll.
Hae-won's hands trembled as she broke the wax.
The letter was brief:
*"My daughter, your name remains in my heart, unforgotten. You have chosen your own life, and I pray it brings you the happiness I could not give. If you ever return, the door will be open."*
She folded the letter carefully, a smile blooming like spring.
The red string wrapped around her wrist.
A bond unbroken.
No longer tied by duty, but by love.
—