Chapter 3

The grand West palace of the Goryeo Kingdom was shrouded in a deep, ominous silence. The air was thick with anticipation and yet, eerily devoid of joy. A lone figure, the Fourth Queen, Mi-ran , struggled in the throes of labor, her cries echoing through the deserted halls. The birth of the tenth princess, Ji-yoon, was imminent, but the excitement that usually surrounded a royal birth was conspicuously absent.

"Hold on, my dear Ji-yoon," the Queen whispered through gritted teeth. "You are not alone. I am here."

As dawn broke, Ji-yoon came into the world with a faint, mewling cry. The midwives quickly cleaned her and placed her in the arms of her mother, whose exhausted face broke into a weary smile. There were no royal fanfares, no grand celebrations—just the quiet, almost solitary bond between a mother and her newborn daughter.

"She is beautiful, Your Highness," the head midwife murmured, but the Queen knew the unspoken truth. The absence of the King and the indifference of her siblings foretold the lonely path that lay ahead for Ji-yoon.

There were four queens of which the King, Byung-ho, married. All Ji-yoon's siblings came from either of the three mother's but her mother, Mi-ran, had Ji-yoon as her first child. Queen Mi-ran is the queen of the West. Queen Eun-jung is the queen of the North. Queen Young-ae is the the queen of the East and Queen Hye-sook is the queen of the South. This arrangement may seem weird but this is how they managed to live in harmony for years.

As the years passed, the stark reality of Ji-yoon's existence became more apparent. Her siblings, much older and engrossed in their royal duties or pursuits, barely acknowledged her presence. Even her mother, burdened by the expectations and pressures of ruling her part of the kingdom, could only offer fleeting moments of affection.

One sunny afternoon, a young Ji-yoon, no more than five, wandered into the grand courtyard, her eyes wide with hope. Her eldest brother, Prince Tae-hyun, was practicing swordplay with a group of knights. She approached timidly, clutching a small wooden sword that was far too large for her tiny hands.

"Tae-hyun!" she called out, her voice small but filled with eagerness. "Can I play with you?"

Tae-hyun paused, his gaze turning cold as he looked down at his youngest sister. "This is not a game for little girls, Ji-yoon. Go play with your dolls."

"But I want to learn," she insisted, her grip tightening on the wooden sword.

Tae-hyun sighed in exasperation, turning away. "You're too weak. You'll just get hurt. Go away, Ji-yoon ."

Tears welled up in her eyes as she turned and fled, her small heart aching with rejection. She ran to her mother's chambers, seeking solace. The Queen, sensing her daughter's distress, took her into her arms.

"What happened, my little warrior?" she asked gently.

"Tae-hyun said I'm too weak," Ji-yoon sobbed. "He said I can't play with them."

The Queen's face hardened, but she stroked Ji-yoon's hair soothingly. "You are not weak, Ji-yoon. You are strong, and one day, you will show them all. But until then, you must be patient."

Years drifted by in a blur of loneliness and longing. Ji-yoon's days were filled with solitude, her only company being the palace servants and the occasional visit from her mother. Her other siblings, wrapped up in their own lives, continued to ignore her existence.

One evening, at a grand banquet celebrating the king's birthday, Ji-yoon found herself seated at the far end of the long, opulent table. The hall was filled with laughter and merriment, but she felt like an outsider, watching from the fringes.

Her sister, Princess Ha-neul, glanced over and smirked. "Ji-yoon, what are you doing down there? You look like a lost puppy."

Ji-yoon's cheeks flushed with embarrassment, but she forced a smile. "I'm just enjoying the feast."

Ha-neul's laughter was like a dagger. "Enjoying it? You look like you want to disappear."

Feeling the weight of the ridicule, Ji-yoon excused herself and slipped away to the palace gardens. The moon hung low in the sky, casting a silver glow over the serene landscape. She found her favorite spot by the old oak tree and sat down, hugging her knees to her chest.

"Why am I so different?" she whispered to the night. "Why won't they accept me? ", she cried.

******

Ji-yoon's tenth birthday passed with little fanfare, just like the ones before. She watched her family from a distance, their lives intertwined with duties and privileges that seemed just out of her reach. Determined to find her place, she decided to seek her father's guidance.

The grand throne room felt colder than usual as she approached the King. His imposing figure was hunched over a mountain of documents, the weight of the kingdom resting on his shoulders. Ji-yoon took a deep breath and stepped forward.

"Father," she began, her voice barely above a whisper.

The King looked up, his eyes tired and devoid of warmth. "What is it, Ji-yoon?"

"I... I want to know how I can contribute to the family," she said, her heart pounding. "What can I do to be useful?"

A bitter smile played on the King's lips. "Contribute? You are just a child, Ji-yoon. There is nothing you need to do."

"But I want to help," she insisted, her voice trembling. "I want to be more than just a burden."

The King's expression hardened. "A burden? Nonsense. Your only job is to squander money and more money. Enjoy the luxuries of palace life. There is no need for you to bother us with such trivialities."

Ji-yoon felt a sharp sting of rejection. "But Father, I—"

"Enough, Ji-yoon," he interrupted, waving her away dismissively. "You are dismissed."

Fighting back tears, Ji-yoon turned and fled the throne room. The cold, impersonal walls of the palace seemed to close in on her as she made her way to her chambers. She had hoped for guidance, for a sense of purpose, but was left feeling more lost than ever.

As she grew older, Ji-yoon longed for the companionship and mentorship of her siblings. She watched enviously as her sisters, Ji-yeon and Se-ra, applied makeup and adorned themselves with elegant gowns. One afternoon, she mustered the courage to approach them.

"Ji-yeon, Se-ra," she called softly, stepping into their lavishly decorated room. "Can you teach me how to use makeup?"

Ji-yeon glanced at her with disdain. "Why should we waste our time on you?"

Se-ra smirked. "Besides, you wouldn't understand. It's too complicated for someone like you."

Ji-yoon's face flushed with humiliation. "But I want to learn," she pleaded.

Ji-yeon rolled her eyes. "Go play with your dolls, Ji-yoon. You're not ready for this."

Dejected, Ji-yoon retreated, her heart heavy with disappointment. The rejection stung deeply, but she was determined not to give up. She turned her hopes toward her brothers, hoping they might teach her the art of swordplay.

Finding Prince Jae-won and Prince Min-seok sparring in the training yard, Yara approached them with a mixture of trepidation and hope.

"Jae-won, Min-seok," she called out, her voice steady. "Can you teach me how to hold a sword?"

Jae-won paused, his brow furrowing. "What would you do with a sword, Ji-yoon? You're too delicate for such things."

Min-seok chuckled. "Stick to your dolls and dresses, little sister. This is no place for you."

Ji-yoon's eyes filled with tears. "But I want to be strong like you."

Jae-won sighed. "Ji-yoon, you wouldn't last a minute. Go back inside where you belong."

With a heavy heart, Ji-yoon turned away, the sting of their words echoing in her mind. Life within the palace walls was becoming increasingly hard for the young princess. Each rejection felt like a stone added to the weight she carried, pushing her further into isolation.